00 found it difficult to put a name to the feelings he felt around his fellow changelings. Accomplices. Training partners. Trainees.

For one, the fact that any feelings that occurred at all made it difficult. It was a discomfort that clawed through the numbness of their life, but they found space to enjoy it.

Sitting with 02, with his volunteer paperwork stacked high in the dim light. Sitting with him silently, scribbling out reports until the sun peeked through the windows.

Cards with 03, followed by letting her gloat about her given victories. Followed shortly by her superior insight to his poor deception, the demanding of rematches that demanded they ‘actually try this time.’

Silent moments with 04, staring into her face in the moments when they thought she didn’t notice. Sometimes she looked so much like them that it hurt, left a strange burn in their chest, their stomach. A somewhat forbidden question that bubbled to the surface every now and then. What if the two were blood?

Walks with 05, where they barely understood the persona and ramblings that the sniper took up. The personas that some of the others took up baffled and confused them, but they still listened to the stories 05 spun and took note of the photo inside his locket.

The carving of the hearts with 01 was a quiet, focused affair. As they diligently severed arteries and freed the fading warmth from his chest, 00 could not help but let some of 02’s sentimentality seep into them. In a way, they envied the corpse.

The King Consorts death had been a shock, but it was quick. A sharp stab of pain, and then nothingness. So many in this world would live and die alone - but they had given Septime Alessian a different fate. With their deaths moments apart, their hearts carved out in tandem, these two would be together in death as they were in life. They did not know Septime well, but he had seemed so stressed and lost in the final moments of his life. Now, he looked so peaceful, wrapped in his love’s arms. An embrace that would stretch into eternity. It was somewhat romantic, if they thought about it.

It was perhaps greedy, but 01 was preoccupied with her own task. Silently, 00 slipped the wedding ring from Septime’s finger. They could not bear to think of taking King Aymeric’s ring - they had not been the one to take his life, after all. But staring at this small thing that had not been enough to save Septime’s life, they imagined all that it meant. The ring of someone who perhaps was once deeply loved, and was loved in return. The symbol of a promise, a sharing of responsibility, an equal shouldering of burden. A desire for protection that was simply not enough in the face of a blade.

Silently, they slipped it on their finger.

Staring into the cloudy lifeless gaze of the King Consort, they took solace in the fact they had given his death meaning. Given it care that perhaps a thug in search of gold and glory would not. With the warmth of his heart still in his hands, he had one final thought.

Rest well, Septime Alessian Le'joie. He pocketed the heart. Rest well.