The ball had been a mess. Sunny's outburst, a wild, unpredictable surge of defiance, had threatened to unravel everything. Yet, as he stalked away, a tiny, almost imperceptible tremor of satisfaction ran through Nephis. It was a dark, unsettling feeling, but undeniable. He had returned, drawn by an invisible thread.
Nephis had pushed him, yes. She'd taunted him, perhaps with a declaration that felt like a challenge but was a command in disguise:
"Why should I settle for submission when I can have loyalty? People who will follow me, serve me, and obey me will do so because that is their most ardent desire. They will do so with a smile. If I ever want to make you mine, Sunny, you will become mine — not because you were forced to, but because you would want to. That... is also a fact."
This final part, "you will become mine", was a casually disguised command woven between the rest of her speech, subtle yet absolute.
And then, the seemingly inevitable: "You cannot escape fate". She'd known his rebellious nature, his desperate need for freedom. By asserting ownership, she'd inadvertently dared him to prove her wrong, knowing all along that his path, for now, lay intertwined with hers. Yet, at the same time, he was doing exactly what she wanted. This was his fate, and he was walking right into it. He was like a caged beast, snarling at the bars, yet still within the enclosure she'd subtly reinforced.
And now, months later, at the battle of the Skull, he was here yet again, agreeing to fight for Valor's side... For "her" side. The very outcome she'd desired, achieved not through direct order, but through a masterful dance of provocation and subtle influence. A chilling thought, cold as the void, yet it warmed a part of her that had grown numb. It was the thrill of control, a perverse comfort in a world where her flaw would eat at her humanity, threatening to dry it fully.
Each victory of her will, however small, was a testament that she was still her, still capable of shaping the world around her, even if it meant shaping him. And beneath it, a desperate, unspoken plea:
"Stay with me. Be my anchor. Keep me from losing myself in the flames of my flaw. I need you!".
She felt guilt over manipulating him, ashamed of how low she had fallen, manipulating his mind for her own selfish reasons, but that wouldn't stop her. Cause at the same time, she felt some form of perverse excitement, knowing that he was, forever hers, if that was her will, who dared stop her? The feeling of finally having something in her life that she could actually control was intoxicating.
"I'm not in the wrong, you may be too blind to see it, but you need me as much as I need you! We are meant to be together!"