Monica probably should've made him stay last night. Maybe if he had, he would've told her about his plan and she could've stopped him from going through with it. He held so little regard for his own life at this point that it scared her. Sure, he was fine… this time. Nothing was stopping him from doing something like this again. She understood his hate for the king—she even shared it. Zyph knows she's been trying to connect the murder of her mother to him for the past six years now, but that did not mean she was willing to resort to self-harm to inflict harm on him as well. There was something fundamentally wrong with a philosophy that did not protect the one abiding by it somehow.
Foster plowed on, ignorant of her worries, "Why? It's simple: I shall not cause harm, directly or indirectly, to the king, the royal family, or the court. While a member of the knightage, if I come across a potential threat to the previously listed individuals, I will do everything within my power to end such a crisis. I may not interfere in any way in the politics of the kingdom while a knight. I am a sword and a shield of the Ether kingdom, and that is all I am while a member of the knightage. There's a nasty trap in the wording of this vow. It lists four tenets that a Knight of Ether must abide by, but I'd bet neither of you ever noticed the first is unlike the others: I shall not cause harm, directly or indirectly, to the king, the royal family, or the court. Every other tenet ends with the retirement of the one who took the oath except this one. It ensures the dog trained to bite can never turn around and sink its fangs into the hand of the one holding the leash.
"Since the wish of the heroic vow is weighed against the will of the first king, I figured making a wish that broke the vow of the knightage, while still being a reasonable request, would pit the will of the first king against the sacrificial life force imbued into the knight's vow. Had my plan been successful, either the heroic vow would've won out, and we would've had a peaceful transfer of power today, or alternatively, both vows would have destroyed each other, eliminating the pesky first tenet. I then could've killed the king right there in the throne room, taken the crown off his corpse, put it directly on Randall's head, and sworn him into office myself. Long live the Ether royal family, yada, yada, yada. Apparently, the first king disagreed with me." He said it lightly, almost jokingly. He said it as if his life—his soul was of so little significance.
Monica rounded on him, fury bubbling up from deep within her, "You've failed to mention how, regardless of the outcome, you would've ended up like this—with your soul in pieces. You act as though you are disposable, as if pain inflicted upon yourself is not also inflicted upon me, and Regina, and everyone else who gives a rats ass about you. Not the Hero, Foster Gray, but the person. How is throwing your life away like this supposed to be of any comfort to us—or do we matter that little to you? Do the Black Griffons who died for you matter so little?" She was breathing hard, tears streaking her visage.
Foster looked away from her, "I helped you, and Randall, and Regina in the only way I know how. I'm sorry if that makes me a disappointment in your eyes. Would it be better if I told you my motivations were entirely selfish—that I don't care about the future of Ether and just decided that I'd rather die than walk around with that leash on my neck forever? A small part of me does feel that way. Perhaps the black griffons would be glad to know that Foster Grey, the leader who abandoned them to their fates, had his soul destroyed by the very vows that bound him to them. Besides, what value is there in a soul stained by as much blood and war as mine?" With his tone flat and dead, he delivered truths Monica never wanted to hear. She could feel her world crumbling around her. This wasn't right. How could he say his soul was tainted in such a way? Monica would never forget the quiet immensity of his soul and the way reality itself seemed to bend to his presence, its purity, and clarity only distorted by the wounds he'd inflicted upon himself.
Words were becoming difficult, "But I… You… Foster—" the crisp sound of a slap cut off Monica. Regina loomed over Foster; arm already cocked to deliver another blow.
"Who said I wanted your help, asshole. Look what you've done," Regina grabbed him by the jaw and forced him to look at Monica's pitiful form. Overwhelmed by a gripping sense of sadness and shame, Monica's knees and back bent under the weight of his gaze until she was a shriveled ball crouched on the floor, hugging her knees.
The click of heels on the wood floor approached Monica. She looked up to find herself enshrouded by gray feathered wings and embraced by clawed arms. Regina, beautiful in her Zyph body, held Monica in a way nobody had since her mother died. When their heads pressed together, the platinum thorns encircling her brow shrank away from Monica as if their harmful points were only for Regina to bear. Pressed close to her ear, Regina spoke, "Why don't you wait in the hall? I think I just heard Aurora and August arrive."
Monica whipped her eyes and nodded. The wings receded as Regina shifted back, and Monica stood up. She looked Foster directly in the eye and said her final piece, "We were once in opposite positions, do you remember? After my mother died, I was ready to ignore the ward on the crown and attempt to kill the king with my bare hands. I marched out of my room that day with the full intention of making an attempt on the king's life, failing, and getting myself executed. But as soon as I stepped through the door, you were there—like you'd known exactly when and what I was about to do. Do you remember what you told me that day?" She waited for a response.
"…Of course… Of course, I remember." Monica could tell he was trying so, so hard not to look away.
"You told me that if I was prepared to kill myself, then I'd better be ready to slit your throat as well." When the words left her lips, he gave into his urges and looked away. Monica turned around without another word to either of them, cast a cleaning and cosmetic spell on her face, and walked out to the awaiting August and Aurora.
~~~
FOSTER:
If you are prepared to kill yourself, then you'd better be ready to slit my throat as well. Foster had said those words to Monica when she was at her lowest. When she was pathetic and vulnerable, just after she had discovered the brutalized corpse of her mother. He remembered what she looked like then. Her eyes had been lightless, gripping a dagger she knew would never meet flesh. Was that how Foster looked in her eyes? It was certainly how he felt. Well… maybe that wasn't entirely right. He felt more like he imagined the dagger would've—unused in a novice's hand.
His chest was throbbing, he'd said the pain was gone but he was lying. Lying to himself, probably.
"Did you really say that to her? Kinda cheesy, no?" Regina sounded faintly amused.
"Shut up. She was in a bad spot, and I didn't know how else to get through to her."
Regina sighed. "Look, Foster. I won't tell you you shouldn't have done what you did. I probably would have done the exact same thing if I were in your shoes."
Foster waited for the other shoe to drop. The silence stretched on.
"but..."
"No buts about it. I don't like that you did that, and I wouldn't have done anything different if I were you."
"That's… pretty hypocritical of you." Foster pointed out.
"Well, imagine our roles were reversed; how would you feel?"
Throwing his hands up, Foster huffed, "Fine, I see your point, but if we both share the same perspective, then what would you have had me do?"
"Just tell me the next time you plan to do something incredibly dangerous and stupid, and I'll help you minimize the risk," she summoned her scepter, beginning an advanced soul-mending spell, "And since I'm prone to the same stupid and dangerous impulses, and you can help me come out in one piece. Is that a deal?"
"Fine, you have a dea—AHHH!" The white-hot pain of soul mending fusing some of Foster's cracks back together sealed their deal.