"Lia! Lia!"

It was another muggy night in another cheap hotel - the cheaper the place, the less attention likely to be attracted - and Durand couldn't sleep for the heat. There was enough money to pay for separate rooms but the walls were thin and there was no way to block out d'Eon's words. Durand could imagine him, tossing and turning and sweating, and wished he didn't have to deal with it. Robin, however, carried on snoring gently, and Teillagory had gone out, 'to catch the night air' as he put it.

Durand wondered what it must be like to be possessed. Until a few weeks ago he never even really believe such things existed; it was merely another set-up by the Church, he thought, to scare devout Frenchmen into allegiance. Yet here he was, a companion to a young man tormented and undoubtedly possessed by his sister's soul, and someone who Durand had cared for deeply at that. How must it be for d'Eon, then, when it could not be doubted that he had obviously been closer than anyone else to Lia? D'Eon claimed that he could not remember what happened in the moments of possession, and he was no liar. Yet Durand had also seen a change, slowly but surely over the time the group had spent together, whenever possession had taken place. At first d'Eon had asked what had happened, disbelieving that he or even Lia could have been so violent as to kill so readily. Now, he only blinked, faltered in his step, perhaps allowed the emotive and physical exhaustion to overcome him and fall, only to be caught by Teillagory or Durand himself - but never questioned what he - or rather, Lia - had done. Perhaps it was more like sleeping and dreaming while in the possessed state. Or perhaps not, perhaps more painful than that; d'Eon always seemed to come to himself with a headache, however long he might sleep after a transformation. And Durand was convinced there was more to it than that in any case. D'Eon was a knight above all, and was not deceptive by nature but was nonetheless capable of hiding his pain from others. Any fool could tell that d'Eon despised being fussed over, so was very likely keen to avoid being seen as weakened or in pain.

"No, Lia! Stop! Don't-"

"In the beginning there was the word... Deliver my soul..."

Durand sat up quickly, ignoring the blood rush to the head as he pushed away the sheets and stumbled out of bed. Lia's voice was unmistakable - for whatever reason, Lia had seen fit to borrow d'Eon's body once again.

"The Lord brings my soul out of trouble... He cuts off my enemies and destroys all those who afflict my soul..." Her voice steadily rose in volume and became something fierce, furious. Durand burst into d'Eon's room, not bothering to think about anything else as Lia's voice intoned the final words he had become so familiar with.

"In the name of that truth and loyalty... I shall have my vengeance!"

Her eyes, and not d'Eon's, stared past him as if they did not notice him standing there at all and he was thankful that she held no sword in her hands, because at that moment he wouldn't have put it past her to swing at anything that displeased her. How tortured her soul must indeed be, Durand thought, for her to feel such rage even as she gazed at something beyond him that he himself could not see. The sheets pooled around her feet and her hair hung long down her back like some ghostly apparition, awe-inspiring and at the same time utterly terrifying. And then suddenly she was crying, desperately, as if even she couldn't contain such hatred that she must have been feeling.

In hindsight it might have not been the best idea for Durand to walk over to her and, with no hesitation whatsoever, deal a resounding slap with his palm on Lia's cheek. Certainly she might have turned on him and killed him with her bare hands had she turned her eyes on him to see, but by then her spirit had abruptly vanished as suddenly as it had descended, leaving d'Eon breathing as heavily as if he had been in the longest sword fight of his life.

D'Eon swayed and fell, and Durand caught him reflexively, lowering him back onto the bed. Hyperventilation more than anything, Durand decided, since Lia had not used d'Eon's body to fight this time, and had come and gone surprisingly quickly. And d'Eon, although his eyes flickered beneath closed lids as if he was again asleep and dreaming, was still breathing too heavily for comfort, only putting more stress on his body.

"D'Eon! Wake up!" He would have used his hand again if he had needed to but d'Eon, spirit fled to wherever it was, seemed to respond to his friend's words.

"Durand...? What-" He sat up suddenly and clenched his teeth, one hand on the side of his head in an attempt to ease the headache that suddenly raged almost as fiercely as his sister's soul had.

"Are you alright?"

Slowly d'Eon removed his hand, revealing his face to Durand. His eyes were mercifully clear even as the tear tracks were still wet, and he swiped at them before answering. "I'm fine. It was... I was dreaming. Or Lia was. It's hard to tell what she sees and what I see." He straightened, becoming aware of the fact that his comrade wore only the pair of travel-stained pants that had lain beside Durand's bed - the only thing he had really taken the time to do before confronting Lia's soul. D'Eon himself, Durand noticed, was still almost fully clothed despite having retired to bed while the sky had barely darkened. Durand didn't comment, but shrewdly decided that d'Eon had simply been too tired to even bother undressing before collapsing on the bed - no doubt the days of constant travelling plus the added burden of being the vessel for an unruly spirit had taken their toll.

"I'm sorry, I woke you."

Durand started, realising he had been lost in thought. "No - I was already awake. I hard you talking in your sleep-" He cut himself off, not wanting to reveal too much.

"What did you hear me say?"

"I don't know; you weren't speaking coherently", he liked smoothly. "Although I hard Lia's words clearly enough", he added as an afterthought.

"I see. God, my head..."

D'Eon must have been tired indeed, Durand knew, to admit to being pained.

"My face hurts as well - that's never happened before."

"Er, yes, well... I couldn't think what else to do so I tried to slap you back to consciousness."

"You did what? That was foolish! If Lia had turned on you-"

"I know, I know, I would have paid in blood. But she didn't and we're both just fine, so here we are... are you sure you're alright?" For d'Eon had put his hand back up to his head, groaning.

"I'm fine, I just need to- hey!"

"Relax, I'm just checking... ah. It seems you have a fever. It's the heat, and the stress put on your body doesn't help. I'm going to get some water." Durand left the room with his customary lack of fuss, leaving d'Eon to his thoughts. When he returned, d'Eon was standing and had drawn his sword, gazing at it like he could find all the answers he sought engraved on the blade.

"D'Eon!"

"I'm still here. I was just checking... see? There's still traces of red here, but no words. The words always come whenever she... whenever her soul..." He trailed off and turned away, but not before Durand saw d'Eon's expression. It was for this reason that Durand was more gentle than usual, guiding d'Eon back to bed and handing him the glass of water, standing over his friend to make sure he drank it all.

"We can't have you too weak a condition to travel - we need to carry on tomorrow; we can't stay in one place too long."

"I'll travel in whatever condition I am in the morning", d'Eon retorted, stung. "You needn't worry about me."

"Hm. Someone should, and it seems you yourself don't. Lie back down and try to rest - the fever is not serious and should pass as long as you get the rest you need."

D'Eon did as Durand asked but turned his face to the wall, resentful. Durand himself sat on the bed without waiting for an invitation, recognizing the need to put his own instinct - to leave and let d'Eon sort out his own emotions - aside. "Look, nobody's questioning your determination or your strength. You're a loyal knight and an excellent fighter. But as a knight you have to know where your own limits lie, and also come to terms with being as human as anybody else. You're not invincible, d'Eon, and you have to face up to the fact that because of Lia you're more vulnerable than most, and need to be aware of how to deal with it. The best thing you can do right now - For your quest and for Lia if not for yourself - is to allow yourself to sleep."

Silence on the other side of the bed. And then a quiet: "I know it. I'm sorry... and thank you, Durand."

"Of course. Anytime you need humbling, I'm the man to call upon", he said with the usual roguish grin. "Sleep well, d'Eon." He exited the room and shut the door most of the way, being sure to leave it open a crack and waiting a few moments before slipping back into his own room. He was back in bed and cursing the warmth of the room before Robin rolled over and opened his eyes.

"Left for a midnight stroll, did you?"

Robin's voice didn't surprise Durand in the least. Young Robin might be, but he was no fool either. "I went for a drink, I was thirsty."

"I see. Did you by chance happen to visit Sir d'Eon on the way there?"

"He wanted a drink as well. Seems the weather doesn't agree with a few people."

Robin closed his eyes again. "You're strange. Sometimes you seem so insensitive, almost to the point of being cruel. Yet at other times... Goodnight, Durand."

The older man heard the bed creak in the room next door and only smiled. He would have to watch that Robin - and d'Eon too, for that matter - did not see too much. He was, after all, unused to being moved to compassion.