She made him question his approach. She made him question everything that he had convinced himself of in attempting to find a way to save her. What had previously made sense to him, he was beginning to doubt, if only because she relented against his pleas. And yet, he could see no other way around it. She had done those things. That never meant that he didn't love her. Of course he did. But she was... broken. She wasn't herself. And he didn't know why until he rationalized that Belladonna had come about from her guilt. He had convinced himself that she made Belladonna to justify all those terrible things because she had never wanted to do in the first place. Belladonna existed as the devil guilty of all those things, and she was alive for as long as Clover blamed herself and clung to the memories.

At least, that was what Bartos believed.

He never believed that he was right (and yet, why else would he believe it?), but it was all that made sense. He couldn't enforce this on her if she didn't believe it herself, and yet, if he let go of it, what was the alternative? To accept that Belladonna was real? To accept that she was another entity that controlled Clover's body? That she had emerged from nothingness, perhaps - a secondary mind that occupied her brain, created by Vazi? She said herself that the spell had failed. Belladonna was nothing but Clover's own creation.

The plan had gone horribly wrong. She didn't believe him at all, and he fumbled, sputtering out quick and pathetic attempts to counter her - "No, I - I never said you were crazy - my leg - I reached out to you -" And suddenly he felt like all the control he thought he had was slipping away. Had he been so arrogant to think that he could barrel into her and come out victorious?

The forest was so much darker than he'd anticipated.

Bartos sucked in a breath. His heart quivered and his eyes, wide, were beginning to shed their hardness. In its place was slowly emerging fear. Fear that he would fail. Fear that he would lose her. But he had to be strong, and no matter how many times he told himself this, he knew he would never succeed unless he listened. He took another step closer. "I'm not lying to you." The cat's voice was struggling to retain evenness, dropping in volume. "Please, Clover." He sought her gaze still, paused; the wall he'd erected was naught but rubble now. "I was afraid."

And all he could do was deliver those feelings, and those memories, through the link. Fear of Hasira that kept him rooted to the throne, fear for his life that caused him to flee with Quintus. Wishing so badly that he could have done something, and knowing he couldn't. Fear that if he went back, Hasira would destroy him, and leave their children orphaned. The chrysali - they felt like they were all he had left, and how deeply he had wanted her to come back to him, and how he was suddenly afraid that she would do something. How their innocence could have been tarnished, all that he had left of Clover wiped away like Hasira had done. How could he live with himself had he allowed that to happen? How could he live, had he lost them too?

"I was so afraid. I still am." Bartos couldn't help the shaking of his voice, crumpled to a broken whisper. "But I don't want to lose you... I can't. I can't lose you, Clover!" And just as quickly, volume had returned to his voice. A hissing fear fed adrenaline through his veins. Frantic desperation; the memories were vivid in his mind, in the link, as though they were fresh. Everything that he was afraid of coming back as repercussions for failing. He couldn't lose her. "I swore that I would pull you out of this!" There was no other choice. "I'm-" His voice broke. "I'm going to bury her."

No matter how afraid I am. No matter how much you fight it. No matter how wrong you think I am. I will come out of the forest and I will bring you with me. I'll take you to a place she can never get you again.

"Speech"

She closed her eye and clenched her teeth against his weak defense, his shivering, whispered words and his fear he offered to her through the link. She didn't doubt that he loved Wisteria and Hawthorne, she could feel like his love for them the moment they were created, and he'd been sheltering them ever since. She understood then, and now, that he would do anything for them, just like she would. In turning his back on her, he sheltered them both, and she understood that.

But did he do the same for her? Did he try to shelter her from all of the evils of the world out of love, did he try to face his fears for her? No. He had stayed in Pisces and had offered her empty words of support and nothing more. the only time he'd seen what she had become, it was on accident. He never went looking for her, even when his leg healed.

"How can you bury her when she's entwined with me?" She said, without any hope at all. "Tell me, please, and I'll listen."

She looked away, lost. "But if you want to keep talking about love, don't bother. You lost me when you didn't go looking for me, Bartos. I murdered who Pounce used to be in place of you, you, because you sent him looking for me instead of doing it yourself. Because you were too afraid."

Silence.

"I understand you. What you've done is smart, to stay away from a broken murderer, and keep her away from her little ones. On the surface, it's the right thing to do, and I forgive you for that. For their sake, I forgive you."

She looked at him, bleak and empty, dark shadows under her eye. "But to leave me to die isn't love. Love is supposed to make your strong, to brandish a sword and fight the monsters to save her, to comfort her when she's broken inside, to tell her it'll all be alright when she just wants to give up," and then she yelled, suddenly, "And the whole time I've been here, you've done nothing!"

She inhaled and sobbed openly, eye shut tight, her voice like splintered glass. "Why would you love me, anyway? I have nothing to offer anymore, and I'm not who I was anymore. I don't have anything in me anymore. I want to die. I have nothing left, and she stops me every time I try. I have no stories in me anymore, nobody to protect, I have no reason to keep walking except if its towards a cliff."

In her tears and her cries, she heard her voice slithering around her neck, and fresh dread pierced her barren heart. How sad, Belladonna said to her, lips pouting in fake sympathy.

In a heartbeat, Belladonna brought up an image that was placed in the bright light of the link the two of them shared, an image that was overwritten with sarcastic commentary. Look at who she used to be, it said, while younger, more pure Clover, before she had gained her name, met Bartos for the very first time, when her eye was up on the ceiling, wrapped in rapture and open love. Stop, stop, please, Clover begged, but it kept going. Look at how much she's changed. Clover looked down at Bartos and smiled brightly and without reserve, bowing with generous kindness in every bone. Look at who she never will be again. The both of them smiled to each other, feeling shy affection towards each other, new and blooming and innocent.

Every movement that she saw stabbed Clover's heart like arrows, one after the other, every second a reminder of who she used to be, and she cried and howled and collapsed onto the ground, curling herself up into a tight ball, the memory replaying behind her eyes, unable to look away.

Burning, dizzying heat was flushing his face and taking hold of his heart. All this time, he had been worried for her. He had been afraid that she would get hurt, or that she would hurt somebody else, or that Hasira would find him or her or both of them and destroy them. Inability to leave Pisces and the chrysali had seized him and held him there, and it wasn't just fear, it was the broken heart itself; thinking that he had been ousted from Clover's life by her captor and that there was nothing he could do to stop it. His leg was twisted and he was weak. He had never fought another Gembound in his life. He wasn't a fighter - he was a scholar. Even those that could fight, what kind of a creature would he be, sending them to the battlefront on his own behalf? How could he send them to fight the demons that plagued him?

In a way, he already had. She was right. He had sent Pounce to his grave because he was too much a coward to shed the truth. And he knew that he was in no place to force her to choose between them, and he was wrong to have made Pounce suffer in his place. Would she have been satisfied, killing him instead?

She was falling apart, and he could see pieces of her begin to break away, crashing to the ground all around her, as if some great thunderous force was dismantling her bit by bit. She doubted him. She didn't believe him anymore. And it served him right for lacking the courage to go and find her. Some small part relented still, vying to defend himself; I was weak and broken, for all I knew you were out of reach, and they were all I had left. How could I leave them too? How could I lose them? No matter how he spun it, it felt selfish. He regretted having hidden in safety while she tore through the caves. But I can't change the past.

And not only did she refuse to accept his love. She refused to believe that she was even worthy of it, falling and curling into herself, and he felt that darkness and doubt manifest itself and burn the corners of her mind again. "I do love you, Clover." He attempted again, and his voice lacked the strength it once had in its fervent desperation. He crept closer to her. "Please... don't you see? It's eating you alive." Belladonna. All of her guilt and shame and darkness. He refused to accept that she was anything more than that. "I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry... I tried to help you the only way I knew how... and I failed." Bartos lingered there, dropping his gaze. Could she even hear him through the memories? "But I won't fail again. I'm here now, Clover. And what I didn't do before, I'm going to do now. I'm still afraid, but I love you more than that fear. I promise that I won't leave you."

He inched forward again, and now she was just before him, consumed in herself. He could reach out and touch her. The cat hovered, and then slowly lowered into a crouch. "I know what you're remembering. I can see it too." He whispered. You think you have nothing left, but you do. You still have me. You still have Hawthorne and Wisteria. You still have all those who would forgive you, and you still have a life ahead of you. You can rebuild it. I'll rebuild it with you. Please, just step out of the darkness. I'll be there to lead you back.

"Speech"

"I can't, I can't," she cried over and over. He was trying to comfort her now, but it was like trying to move a paralyzed limb - you could tell it to move but it just sat there, a deflated balloon dead on the ground - she wanted to see some hope in this hopeless situation but she was incapable. Despair held her like chains tying down all her limbs as she sunk down into the dark. "I can't," She had gone too long alone and hurting and lost and all she wanted was to give up.

But she lifted her head, her eyes red and her fur stained, wrinkles that belied her age. He was promising to be here for her now, and pain blinded her. She wanted some proof, she wanted to share her despair, she wanted to be left alone, she wanted to scream against all the lies she thought she saw, and the images kept flashing under her eyelids, never leaving her alone, mocking her, blinding her, crushing her chest like a physical blow. She couldn't think straight anymore, and like an animal in pain, she lashed out.

Through the link she reached through with a hand forged of sin and grief and suffering and latched around Bartos' throat, invisible, intangible, made only of feelings and nothing more.

Let me stain you, and I promise I'll believe, the words came from her mouth and bypassed her head completely. Share this pain with me and I'll believe anything you say. You said you won't leave, right? Tell me you won't lie to me again.

The hand tightened around his throat and the nails cut into him, seeping all of her ill feelings straight into him like ink into a lake, diluting and blackening and swirling slowly, and it wasn't until the pain started to leech away from her that she swallowed a shuddering gasp of air and let go, her gaze clearing.

Her lips formed words silently, then her expression slowly formed into grieving self-hatred and she shakily got up from the ground, saying silently to herself, 'I can't, I can't, I can't do this,'

"I need to leave," She said softly. "I'm a monster."

How different would things be if he hadn't left her alone all that time? If he had faced her demon head on, instead of waiting until she was crumpled and broken to tell her that it was all in her mind? Would she have killed him too and claimed him as another trophy; did she view him as another lover to be triumphed, like Hasira? Would he render him nothing more than an idle memory or a story for his children to be told later on...? He would have died for love. His death would have been exalted, for he had done it to save her, even if he'd failed. Would dying a bold, righteous death be better than living with the shame of failure?

Maybe, earlier, he would have thought such a thing. Maybe he even would have believed it. But he was adamant to fight against it. He wouldn't let it poison him like it had poisoned her. Emotion had suffocated him, and he saw what it had done: it had frightened him into erecting a wall between himself and her. It had kept him from her, and it would sever his will to survive. But Bartos was a survivalist at heart, and above all that, he was a zealot of the mind. He would not die. He would persist, he knew this, and he would bring them both out of this, even if it consumed him. He would not fail this time.

"Clover-" He reached for her again, gently, and he was stopped in his tracks. The sudden grasping through their bond had stunned him, and his eyes widened as they met hers, red with tears - but it was the mental flaying that held him at his throat, so suddenly struggling to breathe. And the words came quiet and sickly sweet, and he imagined that it was the same darkness that ruled her demon, because she wouldn't want this. She would never want to hurt him. "I won't lie to you." He shook, wincing against the feeling of suffocation inside his mind. "But this isn't - the way - I won't let you do this to yourself." He resisted with all his might, forging a block, pushing her away - whatever that darkness was lurking within her, he wouldn't allow her to infect him. It wouldn't save her. She was only trying to justify it again.

Still, he couldn't deny all of the shadows that were beginning to crawl in through their bond. No matter how hard he pushed her away, she was strong. She'd always been stronger than him. And they came in screaming and whispering, all of those horrible things, all of that guilt, seeding itself inside of him - guilt that he had failed her, guilt that he had done this to her. Guilt that he could not pull her out.

And then just as quickly it snapped away. She withdrew, unfolding her limbs and rising. He was temporarily lost inside the fog of his thoughts, frantically flipping between the guilt and fresh air, only for panic to quell them both. "Don't leave." Bartos pleaded and rose after her. "Please, I don't want to lose you again."

"Speech"

She shook her head, her legs spasming as she rose, jittery with panic and sick, acidic adrenaline singing in her blood that told her to leave, because she couldn't stay here anymore. She kept shaking her head as she picked up the pieces of herself that had fallen disgracefully and turned to leave.

"I can't," She said again, like a mantra, stuck in her mouth. "I can't stay without hurting you, and I have too many ways to do so. You'd have to keep me in a cage and bind my mouth to keep her from poisoning you and lying to you, you'd have to pry away my gem so I couldn't cast magic against you and poison your mind, you'd have to keep me in the dark so that she could never get out and hurt our children, because all she wants to do is hurt others. And even then, with all of that taken away, I can still hurt you through the bond."

She stopped.

"I can't...." She said softly, sniffing a little. "I need to..."

With this bond between them, it didn't matter if she left, Belladonna could still hurt him if she wanted to, could still control the throne and hurt him. Clover was the one who had made this thread, so it made sense that she could break it, right?

In her dark and despairing mind, it made sense. Bartos didn't know the extent that Belladonna could hurt, and if this kept on, eventually her poison would sink its claws into Bartos and he would seep it to their children. Her head only saw the worst possibility as the inevitability, and she needed to stop it.

She picked up the bond with a sort of numbness and fogginess in her head that told her she was doing the right thing. She would do this, for him, and she would set him free.

She tightened her grip around the bond, giving it more and more pressure till it started to splinter.

And again his selfishness begged him not to accept what she was saying. She was so stuck on her curse, so convinced that all she could do was harm. "That's not you." He cut in, shaking his head. "You're stronger than that. I know you are." He insisted, stepping after her as she went on and on, spilling all the ways that she could hurt him. And yet... even if she hurt him, he would forgive her, because her mind was broken and all he wanted was for her to come back. All he wanted was for them to be happy like they had been before all this. He knew that somewhere, deep down, that part of her was still alive. Even if it existed just as memories, it was alive. And he knew that he could pull it out. He just had to keep trying.

But then he felt it, that telltale tug. And suddenly everything that he felt in her, that festering darkness and hatred and shame and everything that poisoned her was beginning to fall away. Those feelings were flickering in and out like a dying firelight, struggling to remain lit; there was only so much oxygen left and it was beginning to fade. "Stop!" For as much as he wanted to scream through the bond, he couldn't. In despair, it was his voice pleading to her, hoping to break into the air, unable to be ignored. And he wrapped his arms around it, and he tried so hard to hold it all together, resisting against her destruction. "Please don't do this. Don't give in to this. Clover, just listen to me!"

"Speech"

She was a festering wound, a fatality waiting to happen, she was nothing but a leech on Bartos and she couldn't keep bringing him down with her. She was a lost cause, and even though it hurt, it hurt, it hurt so much, she couldn't keep haunting him like this. She offered nothing but heartbreak to him, and for all of the good memories they'd shared, for all they'd created...he deserved to be let go.

"I'm only hurting you, Bartos," Clover whispered, feeling his desperation, his will to keep the bond going. It was too late, far too late, and she was too far gone. "My clever cat...I wish things could've been different." She covered his will with her own grip, and she looked him in the eye, feeling all of his horror, his pain, his fear, for one last time, and gave a bitter smile, returning his emotions with her own pure wish that she could be there, for him, for their children, and her knowledge that she couldn't. "I love you, Bartos. That's why...." She held the bond over his hands and tightened, tightened, feeling the shattering sound resonate deep within her chest. "I have to do this." It kept breaking, further and further, and then, suddenly it gave, like a glass tunnel that connected their hearts splintered and collapsed, the flying debris of it piercing her chest, making her double over and gasp for breath.

It hurt, it hurt in its sudden absence, its destroyed glory, and through it all, a sick and twisted laughter echoed in her head, growing louder and louder as she moved her legs and took one step, then two, away from Bartos. She had to leave....leave, and never come back.