Return of the Terrible Twins

I'm sure you remember the lovely Kalincka and Moody Disorder, who wrote, 'And Finally, the Perfecting of Man'? The cringe fic that included moments where my only reaction could be expressed in a gif? Well, I'm in a particularly good mood for once. I decided to visit the (thankfully small) Arno/Napoleon pairing, and was treated once more to this devilish, disastrous pair. No more snarky one-sentence replies to reviews, so on we go.

From the author's note:

Well, being honest, if we had followed the historical facts, half of the characters present in this text would not be there, but where would the fun be? Suddenly here, we had fun writing this and we hope you will like it too! I'll turn it over to Charlie because I'm sure he has something to say too: D

According to the authors, this story takes place in 1808, where Arno is 40 years old and Napoleon is four years away from his disastrous Russian campaign. De Sade would be 68, and Napoleon would be 49. These guys are getting up there in years, so the 'hotness' aspect of the same-sex pairing deteriorates the older male characters get. Regardless, historical accuracy is not the point of this story, as the authors have said, so I'm not going to get too stingy over it.

Arno crouched in front of this heap of bones and detached the skull from the rest of the body, giving him a hateful look in passing. The bitterness was still deep, even after all these years. If he could have, he would have smashed it on the ground, but it would have been too generous: this last rest had to be lost in oblivion, it was the best possible punishment. No historian could find it among the catacombs, and that was all that Germain deserved: that we forget it. Let him disappear, and take with him all the misfortunes he may have brought.

I would like to point out that while this paragraph isn't bad per se (it isn't bad at all, in fact), these stories always use Élise as a Red Herring: Arno still mourns for her, or longs after her, but will quickly throw that away as soon as Napoleon or de Sade enters the picture. While it's true people suffer mourning differently, scientifically it takes at least two years for someone to 'overcome' their grief (you can't truly overcome loss, you just deal with it). In this pairing, Arno always says how much he loves Élise yet will turn around and fuck Napoleon in the ass, for example. It's not consistent, and it's not a proper build-up.

A gloved hand came to rest on his shoulder, pulling him out of his waking nightmare. Napoleon stared at him, his face neutral but his eyes filled with an anxiety usually foreign to the general. Arno shudders - the place was not common, the moment either, and the character in front of him even less. But there was something in these pupils so cold and so distant, a kind of familiarity and detachment from the outside world that he still couldn't quite grasp. Something almost like comfort.

Again, not a bad paragraph. But the subtle 'something about this person does X' sets up the ground for the future romance. These two have known each other for quite some time. I'm not sure why Arno would be surprised at any new emotion considering how analytical he is. But I digress.

The assassin preferred not to raise the writer's pike.

"And what makes you say that?"

"Oh, a lot. But I must say that the fact that you do not seem disturbed by the presence of my hand on your thigh is a very revealing clue. "

Arno quickly released his hand, sighing. De Sade broke out in a clear laugh that only added to the young man's weariness. 

Coming off of the 'Wine Afloat' story, where Arno was horribly sodomized, this comes off as a walk in Mr. Roger's neighbourhood. At this point, Arno isn't a young man anymore. He's 40 years old, and de Sade, who is 68, still has it in him to touch Arno on his thigh whenever he feels like it. Never change, ladies.

"Too bad," lamented the writer. It was nice.

"I'm not here to be appreciable," retorted the assassin.

"So why are you here? To wander around pretending to listen to me? It hurts me, Arno," said De Sade falsely sad. "You know how much I like your spread. "

He winked at him wanting to be sensual, but which only created disgust in Arno. Another tired sigh escaped him, and he swept the room they were in more out of habit than real interest. 

I think at this point de Sade himself should know Arno does not reciprocate any of his actions and no attempt of him being sensual is going to work. Putting your hand on someone's thigh in a clearly sexual matter when the situation doesn't call for it isn't 'sensual' in the least. Not to mention telling someone how much you like to see their spread legs. That's called sexual harassment, you know.

Sade raised an eyebrow, in a very elegant and lustful manner, eager to know more even if the name of the concerned seemed obvious.

"Doesn't your man have enough soldiers to protect himself?"

"It's not for him. It is for his beloved. "

Unwittingly, Arno had spat out these last words in a bitter tone, which, moreover, amused De Sade enormously.

"Could it be bitterness in your voice, my dear Arno? It is an ugly asset for an assassin." 

I'm getting the implication Arno is angry at Napoleon for marrying Josephine and loving her. I don't see why. He had Élise, and loves her still, and he's bitter over Napoleon marrying a woman he was infatuated with and was even cautioned not to marry because she was too old? Even de Sade knows Arno is jealous. Not a good look indeed.

Arno was not the type to blush, but if he had been, his cheeks would probably have been colored a beautiful peony color. It was too much for his friend - could he really consider it that way? - which exploded with laughter, failing to fall back.

Is he blushing because of jealousy? Lost love, lost chances? I don't know. Blushing Bride Arno is pretty common, because people blush for no reason apparently.

The Marquis had a peculiar way of laughing, he noted, trying to remain insensitive to his mockery. Usually, we only saw him chuckle or sport a petty grin; but at that moment, the man seemed really amused, as if he had faced the fall of a particularly comic play. Arno frowned and clenched his teeth. There was nothing funny about it.

"Well ... the older sighed, wiping a tear of laughter. You took good care not to reveal your devastating humor to me…"

"There is nothing to laugh about, finally! "

Indignant at these taunts, the assassin started pacing back and forth in the small room, muttering unintelligible insults in his beard. Resentment? What next ! He had every right to be annoyed by the whims of Bonaparte, he was even rather healthy to be. 

To be fair, Arno...it is pretty damn funny. You're getting upset for zero reason. de Sade knows you're angry Napoleon's love is for someone else (not really, though), and he's poking you with a hot iron. For once, I'm with him on this brigade. You're being resentful for resent's sake, and you're annoyed because...? I don't know, the War of the Coalition (s) doesn't affect you, and neither did the invasion of other countries? Just Napoleon asking you to protect Josephine, whom he divorces in two years?

I'd dare say there's something to laugh about.

Arno took a long breath to clear the urge to slap this man. What idea had he also had to come and complain here? He knew perfectly well that De Sade was of no use in this kind of moment.

But who else could he have talked to?

Your journal? You're not the kind of guy to be really open about your emotions, Arno. You're an introvert. And if you knew de Sade would be of no help, why did you go to him? To get a reaction? To have an old dude pull a Quagmire on you? I don't know what you're doing, Arno, but 40-year-old you is a dumbass.

Arno sighed. For some time his life had no longer made sense. If he had been told months earlier that his daily life would amount to having to endure the company of an ambitious little moron and a perverse and debauched author ... Frankly, he didn't see how it could be worse.

He missed Elise. 

Napoleon is ambitious, but moronic he is not. Arno should have realized Napoleon is a brilliant commander and was able to turn the peasant fighting forces of France's revolutionary army into an organized one. He was outnumbered and managed to score victory from superior opponents. 'Headstrong' would be a better description, especially since you two go tête-à-tête a lot.

Note: when you say, 'it can't possibly get worse', it's going to get worse. Two, you don't miss Élise that much. I know you're going to fuck Napoleon. No point in bothering with a Red Herring.

He turned away from where he was for a moment, as if he was going back. But it was too late, it always was, and it had been for years. Mourning weighed on his shoulders every day a little more. Sade's gaze became more insistent, and it was the only thing that brought him back to reality.

Arno is being uncharacteristically moody, and I can't tell if it's because of Élise or Napoleon having a falling out with his wife. Either way, I can't stand bitchy Arno. Sass, I can take. Bitterness, understandable. Depression? Oh yeah. But this? Still don't know where it's coming from.

Arno was not the only one annoyed by this ostentatious publicity. Napoleon had confessed to him the day before that the little game led by his wife could annoy him, but as he displayed his timeless neutral air, Arno did not know if it really bothered him.

Arno should've been completely aware of Josephine's spending habits. She was a known gambler and spendthrift, and a connoisseur of roses. Her manic spending was one of the reasons Napoleon divorced her - her not producing an heir being another.

Clearly, the situation does bother him, so why did you write 'he wasn't the only one annoyed' to 'he wasn't sure if it bothered him'? It's a contradiction. You need to pick one.

In any case, all this excitement in no way facilitated his work. The street bordering the huge building was teeming with people, so it was almost impossible to make your way to the big golden doors. The assassin prayed that inside order would have returned, but given the effervescence of this evening, he hoped nothing more. He sighed, bored in advance, before standing up, leaving his squatting position on the edge of the roof to move with a flexible step towards the window he had spotted earlier. It overlooked the interior of the building, and it was not really difficult to sneak up to the guest of honor's box. He still had a little time left, and to be honest, he didn't really want to hurry for that mission; one last time.

...He is a Master Assassin. He can get into any building he wants to. Crowds are not a problem. Have you ever heard of 'blending in', Kalincka and co? You mean to tell me he's never seen the inside of the opera let alone how popular operas are in France? If it's not difficult to sneak into the guest of honour's box, why are you concerned about the crowds? 

OK, someone needs to strip Arno of his Assassin title. For real this time.

But tonight, only the richest could strut between the richly decorated walls. Arno, not being at all familiar with this social class, therefore found himself without the slightest distraction. Bonaparte had not even arrived yet, and knowing him, he would make his entry at the last moment, surely in the most grotesque way possible. All he had to do was kill time in any way, and going behind the scenes seemed like a great solution. 

I really have no idea why these people think they know canon. Arno came from a wealthy background. While in the de la Serre estate he was raised as their ward, he knows what wealth is. He's clearly seen what opulence is. Now he suddenly doesn't. Yeah, gonna need to turn in those robes, boyo.

Bonaparte was known for being 'fashionably late', and speeding through the streets in his carriage. I don't know why Arno is surprised at this either. He's known him for 15 years.

Napoleon was jaded, as usual. He stared at an invisible point on the stage, comfortably seated in his seat, listening to his wife talking about everything and anything with a distracted ear. Joséphine, for her part, had already ordered a drink - even though the performance had not even started - and analyzed the other boxes with a piercing look, judging the different distinguished guests one by one. Arno thought she was pretty ridiculous, wondering again and again how Bonaparte had been able to fall in love with a woman so different from him. 

I really don't like this attitude of Napoleon being an asshole to Josephine. Yes, in many respects she deserves it: she's a spendthrift, wasting money the nation doesn't have, and she cheated on Bonaparte. Yet it was Napoleon who courted her, not the other way around; he knew she was older, previously married, and still fell in love with her. Even after his divorce he still loved and respected Josephine, ordering that her title of Empress be kept.

It is true Josephine was very different from Napoleon. But you know what they say: opposites attract. Or in this case, opposites bitch and pout in an opera house.

Since this early evening promised to be quiet, the assassin allowed himself a short break, the time to appreciate in turn the quality of the opera. For his first performance, he had to admit to being blown away by the power and vocal control of the singers. And even if it was difficult to understand the lyrics because of their lyrical surges, he managed to pick up a few jokes and other puns that made him smile several times. 

While Arno may not have attended many operas himself, opera was a huge pastime for the French. There is simply no way he does not know about plays being performed or who sings what, especially since the opera was prominent in the Revolution. These are two French people writing this fic and they do not grasp that fact. Sad.

Arno was just as bored, well, rather annoyed. This evening was certainly pleasant, if we took into account the magnificent opera which had just been played, but there had not been the slightest problem, and Arno found himself once again annoyed to be used only as a simple bodyguard. Not that he would have liked an attack to have really happened - far from it, he still kept a certain moral - but he would simply have preferred not to be invited to this outing. As he stepped out of the main hall, he vowed once again never to be fooled by Bonaparte and his whims. 

Why are you annoyed? The Brotherhood was tasked with looking after Napoleon, making sure he didn't go too far or sympathize with the Templar. I have no idea why Arno is acting like a bratty kid here. He says he will 'never again' be fooled by Bonaparte and his whims, which I know is bullshit. I also have to ask: at what point are you being fooled here? He's the First Consul. He took power from a coup. What do you mean you're balking at playing the bodyguard for the Emperor of France?

OK, hand over those clothes.

He let out a shiver of disgust as he felt the blood run down his neck and over his suit. Arno hurried to throw him into the discreet and pestilential corner of an alley. 

You could've dragged him by his feet, you know. Or used some sort of cloth to mop up the wound. You killed the guy, you should've known a corpse in an opera house is sure to incite a riot.

Arno decided that the First Lady no longer needed his protection, and he turned on his heel, blending into the crowd with ease. Behind him, he left a stubborn and contemptible man, and he did not feel the least regret; apart from perhaps a slight feeling of frustration at this attitude. To calm his feelings, he began to wander the streets, mixing with a strangely dense night crowd. It was not the same type of population as during the day; already, the children had deserted, all returning to hide under the roofs. Then, few nobles or bourgeois dared to venture into these neighborhoods when the moon was high in the sky, for fear that any misfortune would happen to them. 

This 'stubborn and contemptible man' you feel jealousy over because he's fucking a woman and not you. You'll have no issue falling in love and spreading your love juices up where the sun doesn't shine. I know this because it's that predictable. Arno doesn't feel regret now, but he will. Why? Because plot, that's why.

Arno raised an eyebrow, jaded. Was this man stupid or without any survival instinct, he had no idea, but in any case he did not seem to measure the posture in which he was, that is to say alone facing a over-trained assassin and happy to be able to evacuate all the rage accumulated towards this damn Bonaparte.

This occurs after Vidocq sics Arno on a bunch of guards following him, because the lad is a bonafide troll. But it does amuse me to hear Arno ask if the Captain of the guard has any survival instinct or is stupid. It's what I like to call a little case of projection.

I still don't know why Arno is enraged at Bonaparte. Probably because his dick isn't getting sucked.

Vidocq's mocking laugh was too much for his battered nerves. He rushed on Arno like a bull in charge, sword in front and vein beating furiously at his temple. The assassin only had to sigh aside and push him on the back of his foot. The captain, carried in his fall, crashed hard on the ground, breaking his teeth as he passed. And there was no respite as Arno shot his last bullet in the back of the neck, ending his suffering. 

While this takes place in the wrong part of town, using a weapon in the dead of night and where other soldiers are lingering nearby is a bad idea. This was an opportunity to use the Phantom Blade, or driving a sword through the guy's neck when he was down.

Bad ideas, bad ideas all around.

Arno sighed again, not knowing what to answer. What could he say to such a kid. That Bonaparte had been on his nerves for months and that he dreamed of sending him for a walk but that he was unable to do so, that his only friendly relationship consisted of a writer with inappropriate ideas, or that he spent his days and his nights rehashing Elise's death over and over again, destroying the little life he had been able to build? 

Yeah, but why is he on your nerves? Kalincka and Moody Disorder have not given an adequate reason. There are indeed plenty of reasons to be angry at Bonaparte - starting foreign wars being one of them - but all of this centres around Arno being mad at Napoleon not loving him. I think. God, I don't know.

Also, why is your relationship we de Sade 'friendly', when you openly say he disgusts you?

“I knew I was right. Rumors go fast in Paris, you know. "

Arno froze.

" Rumors ? "

Vidocq nodded, smiling mischievously, happy with his little effect on this assassin who was thought to be unshakable.

"Yes, a few comments here and there ... Your friend is being watched closely, and they say he spends a good deal of his time in the company of a hooded man." 

Vidocq laughed again when he saw the older man's dismay. Arno stopped walking for a few seconds, long enough to give him a stern look. 

You've had 15 years to get used to this, Arno. And if you're getting caught lounging around and ogling at the First Consul, that's entirely on you. You've got no pragmatism to speak of. You're a shitty Assassin.

The assassin glanced at him, sincerely surprised. He did not know - in reality, there were many things he had lost sight of since 1794. Bonaparte had particularly needed his time.

Reality was like a punch in the stomach. He spent most of his time with Bonaparte. Even when he had free time, he went to see him at his office, taking news from the newspapers when he was on a mission away from Paris. Bonaparte had become omnipresent in his life without him even realizing it. And it was becoming a problem. 

OK so this is the first indication I see where Arno copes with his loss and Master Assassin duties by hanging around Napoleon all the time. Both of these men were extremely busy, so I can't see Arno by Napoleon's side 100% of the time. Conveniently, Arno reads newspapers when Napoleon is involved, but doesn't read them when it comes to cultural events like the opera.

It should absolutely be a problem, because you're making it so. You're not blending in, you're haggling like an obsessed Twitter fan.

"What else is said about Bonaparte and me?" He whispered in a white voice.

Vidocq's smile widens when he hears this question. He pretended to think for a few seconds just to admire Arno losing his legendary calm, then answered in a falsely innocent tone.

"Oh, lots of things. Do you want directly between the worst, or do I start with the most correct?"

"Hell, let's get to the point! You can see what I'm talking about, don't be an idiot because you and I know very well that you are far from it! "

Vidocq chuckled, a happy air winning all his gestures. He pretended to nod before answering in a detached tone:

“I love the rumor that lends the First Consul a lover. Really my favorite."

Gotta hand it to you, Arno. The guy who spends nearly all his time with the Emperor of France to the point he admits it's problematic is shocked people spread rumours about it. Gee, you couldn't have fooled me! And don't be so white, Arno. I know you crave the cock. Now all you have to do is get Napoleon to bend over.

"What?" he barked, turning his head so quickly that he nearly dropped his hood.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. It's not the most popular, but I like it," the wanderer calmly conceded knowingly.

"Since when ?"

"I do not know. It was not me who launched it. Don't you think it lacks a bit of precision?" Asked Vidocq innocently, crossing his arms.

Arno sincerely regretted having killed the members of the Guard who were chasing him. Or even to have let him help him solve these murders years ago. His life was truly carnage. It feels like one of these bad novels popular with young women. 

Oh, that's fucking hilarious. The lack of self-awareness is very telling: this fic is like one of those bad novels popular with young women, and it's written by women who think they're better than those Chick-lit authors. Every time I see an author insist they are not like E.L. James, the more likely they are. This amount of moodiness, bitchiness, and generally bullshittery smacks of female erotic novels...because it is one.

And who is spreading such dastardly rumours? The one and only Marquis de Sade.

For a moment, he imagined himself retracing his steps, going towards the famous brothel of the Court of Miracles and strangling the man without a single word. Then he thought he would have liked it, so he immediately dropped the idea. It must have been visible on his face, as the thief's smile widened once more - a few more sentences and he would have laughed, he realized with a growing sense of humiliation. 

You know why he's doing it: jealousy. He knows you've got a thing for Bonaparte so he's taking the initiative and humiliating you first. Eventually you'll grow to like it, so don't protest it.

The box in which he had kept Élise's letters. He had promised to read them only in the most serious situations. And ... It was a serious situation. He was lost. Lost in his life, lost in his task, and above all, lost in his relationships. Only Elise - well, her words - could help her. 

Yeah, but why are you lost? There's no reason for you to be. Is this all because of rejection?

What should he do? What should he do? He no longer wanted anything, he didn't know if it was still worth it - was he still worth it, anyway? He wanted to sleep, and not be woken until all the agitation of the outside world had passed.

Instead, he heard himself speaking without really doing so:

"What am I doing, Élise?" "

I have no idea. I'm still wondering why Arno is lost or why he's being so moody. He's a man, he's not on menopause. Or is he?

I don't know what Arno should do or what 'it' is worth anyways. Is he talking about falling in love with Napoleon, or what?

As if she could have answered him. But somewhere, the flying words seemed to take an awfully heavy weight from his shoulders.

"I don't know what to do ..." he muttered in his hands, his voice hoarse. 

Neither do I, because I have no idea what is happening.

He dropped back onto his pillow, his ears buzzing and fatigue clouding his mind. Everything was mixed in his head. The laughing face of Elise. The petty smile of the Marquis. Bonaparte's stern look. Angered, he went to bury his face in the covers. The truth was far too difficult to accept.

Yeah, but WHAT, though?

He thought about what he might have said. And unconsciously, he constantly fell back on the state of anger he had felt when the First Consul had dismissed him as a simple pawn, visibly annoyed that we could - once again - attack his life.

Arno clenched his fists.

" I resign. "

There was a great silence.

" Sorry ?" Replied Bonaparte, dumbfounded. 

For one, Arno is not a mercenary. He's an Assassin. He was never indebted to Napoleon nor did he work for him. This isn't a job. I don't know why he is resigning for a position he willingly took on - it was never permanent. Being an Assassin means you never directly serve any leader or higher power, but the needs of humanity.

Reminder: Napoleon asked Arno if he could act as a guard during the opera scene. He did not order him. Arno took it willingly. This entire fight is useless.

For the first time, he saw him lose his mask of seriousness, displaying a genuinely bewildered look; and Arno felt satisfied, to have attracted the attention of someone who thought he was above everything, even if he could not help returning constantly to his side.

"You heard me right. Find someone else to do the dirty work," he said deliberately coldly.

"And can I know the reason for this sudden turnaround?" Bonaparte ordered, clicking the words against his tongue.

I'm wondering where this turnaround is coming from myself. Arno is not a hired man. He always plays by his own rules and keeps himself at a distance. He's getting angry at playing the dirty dog yet he took said jobs willingly. He never had to. He's getting mad for making his own choices?

Christ, Arno. Go get a bib. You 'can't stop going back' to the man. Some masochist you are.

He had quickly recovered his sufficient and pompous attitude; with the exception that Arno easily noticed the tick that waved his hands, closed in two clenched fists, which jerked from time to time as if agitated by his own will. The assassin knew he only showed it when he was taken aback by an incongruous situation - and that it irritated him all the more. The man couldn't bear to lose control. What happened when it was taken away from him?

Why are you acting shocked at his moods? You've known him for 15 years. You're an analytical man; you've seen him in combat and in shreds of his personal life. Don't pull a surprised Pikachu face when things don't go your way.

The badly concealed nervousness surprised him, and strangely, that comforted him. Whereupon he did not know; or rather, he refused to know. But he who had hoped for a cold farewell - because yes, Arno considered their exchange as the last - found himself faced with the unforeseen anger of a lion, which he could not manage. 

This isn't going to be the last exchange. It's a bold-faced lie.

"Reasons personal . Is that all you can find to justify your little whims? I expected more from you, Arno. "

Bonaparte had spit out his name with such aggressiveness that Arno did not know whether to laugh or cry about it.

" My little whims ?! repeated the assassin with a bewildered smile of the arrogance of his interlocutor. "Excuse me, citizen , but I don't have to lift a finger to get an army to protect me. Think about it the next time you decide to fire me like you did. " 

I'm watching this entire fight unfold and I have to wonder, as I have this entire story: what on Earth is Arno bitching about, exactly? Being a pawn? Being forced to serve Napoleon for ten years? You were never forced to serve him, Arno. It was your choice.  

"Moderate your words. Remember who you are facing."

"Oh, but I know that very well," Arno said, narrowing his eyes. "You have been the most needy of my time in the past ten years. I saved your life by risking mine more than once. I know you very well, Bonaparte. "

The name almost scratched his mouth. Opposite, the sparkling eyes of the First Consul struck him on the spot.

1. Why was Napoleon needy? 2. Why did Arno listen? 3. Didn't Arno have other things to do? 4. What are they fighting about, exactly?

"I doubt anyone like you can know me."

"Do you doubt? All right, let me prove to you that for once you are wrong." Arno walked over to him, looking threatening. "You are an odious man, Bonaparte. And not only with your subordinates, with everyone, even with those who care about you. You are incapable of having even a correct word for someone, and sometimes I wonder if you can feel something. You are only an ambitious moron whose too great pride will kill you. "

Arno looked at Bonaparte, out of breath with his tirade. The words were out without him being able to control them; finally, he had been able to confess and especially to tell his four truths to this First Consul of shoddy who had been beating his mind for far too long. 

OK, this offers me some more clues. Arno tells Napoleon he's an odious man who doesn't care for anyone but himself, and that angers Arno because he doesn't reciprocate the feelings he has for him. In this dialogue Arno is even confessing Napoleon doesn't treat Josephine right, the woman Arno feels is a roadblock between him and his love. Clearly, Napoleon wasn't so odious to keep Arno from coming back and taking missions, over and over and over again.

Then, with a simple gesture, he placed an index finger on the cockade of his assassin's uniform. A relic, so old, a memory of the time when Élise bought him one. A bauble that he should have removed a long time ago from his coat, but that he could never bring himself to make; Bonaparte traced the red, white and blue outline, getting closer and closer to the heart with circular and slow movements. Arrived at his destination, he exerted cold pressure, dropping words as heavy as stones:

"In this case, this is the last time we speak, Arno Dorian. Remember me when I would have raised France higher than all those before. Remember me when you return to your theater cafe, with wine for company only. "

Arno lost control. It was too much at once, the pressure suddenly dropped. On their own, his hands grabbed the sides of Bonaparte's overly clean uniform and pulled him toward him, so that their noses brushed against him and he felt his warm breath against his lips. Thus, Arno could not look away, and drowned in the overflow of emotions that expressed Bonaparte's eyes. 

 This is the scenario which belies the hatefuck/hate kissing scene. Arno, who railed against Napoleon for being odious and for using him, goes straight into a locking lips session because Reasons. Usually, with fights like these there's a reason and a motive as to why the characters are railing into each other. Arno, who has expressed nothing but disdain, suddenly confesses to love. It doesn't make sense, but it doesn't have to: the bad romance of those 'female' romance novels shines through.

"Go ahead, Arno. Do what you have to do. Kill me. "

That's what he should have done, instead of violently crushing his lips on his. Arno saw Bonaparte's bright eyes widen in amazement, his fingers tightening on his cockade. He remained frozen, too shocked to react, his brain bubbling in search of some rational explanation for what was happening.

And Arno ... Arno no longer thought. Arno was holding him there, suffocating the tissue he had between his fingers, trying to get a vain response from his mind to this completely irrational gesture, and he felt he was kissing his whole soul; a desperate act.

It's irrational, but you do it anyways. You find the man odious, yet you kiss him anyways. You find him moronic. You say he's a man who cares little about anything but his own ambition. And yet here you are.

The craziest thing was that Bonaparte answered him. He felt fingers gripping fiercely the other side of his coat in addition to his cockade, and his lips against his move to answer him . His breath no longer existed, neither did his reason; everything was mixed and Arno did not even know, after the fact, if uninformed eyes had been set on them during the exchange. All he remembered was that after the kiss, he sharply pushed away the First Consul, exchanging a last look with him - and just seeing the ocean dismantled in his eyes, the shock was just as present - before running headlong towards an elevator which took him far, far over the rooftops of Paris when he cut the rope of the counterweight. 

Sure, it's crazy. I mean, these two were bitching about nothing and they make it all up with a make-out session. Works every time. More so since it's a man you find 'odious', but that's in name only. You'll happily fuck him later.

 It was then that he realized what he had just done, and his legs dropped him miserably on the tiles. He sat there, seated and haggard, and the sensation of the lips on hers that had answered him seemed to him straight out of a dream.

What had he just done ?!

You had a fight, you kissed the man you denied your feelings for. You finally realized he was the source of your moodiness.

In harsher terms, you went full retard.

Despite the fact that he deliberately shunned his gaze, Arno could perfectly imagine the expression of the marquis; eyebrows frowning in an expression of exaggerated surprise, his hand freezing in the middle of his gesture and his various necklaces wiggling to the rhythm of his stupor.

"So ... If I can sum it up, my dear Arno. You finally kissed this little general-"

"First Consul."

"That is not the question. So I said, you FINALLY kissed him and then you are… gone. Without saying anything. " 

This has entered teenage romance territory: 'LIKE, OMG, DID YOU FINALLY KISS HIM?' 'Yes, I did!' 'OMG WE GOTTA TWEET ABOUT THIS!'

Need I mention this romance, even if it's one of those 'enemies to lovers' romance fics, has no build-up? You don't just go from a huge fight where the character legitimately despise each other to a kissing scene in the next. It's completely unrealistic.

"You ruined my perfect plan, Arno. I who have gone to such trouble to-"

"I was sure of it ! Why do you always have to get involved in everything ?! Look where I am now! "

Arno buries his face in his hands, dejected. If the day before he thought he had lived the worst possible night, at least he had slept a minimum, while this time he had spent the last hours turning and turning in his bed, looking for an explanation, a reason , anything that could explain his completely insane latest acts to him. 

Reminder: Arno is 40 years old here. Apparently he has forgotten to act like an adult and does not comprehend that actions have consequences. de Sade started the rumours he was fucking Napoleon in the first place; now, those rumours have an element of truth to them especially since Arno kissed him. He's acting like a teenage girl.

He would have dreamed of being able to assassinate the marquis as he had thought himself capable. Instead, as soon as he had set foot in the brothel where his charming target resided, he had collapsed on the sofa by his side, his eyes vague. Lethargic, Arno had not even deigned to pour himself a glass, preferring to drink directly from the bottle of wine which he had found on the coffee table, to end up resting it in a low noise.

He really had to give an interesting show, since De Sade looked at him with a critical eye, which, if he didn't know him, could have passed for anxious.

Nonsense.

I'll say. It looks like de Sade set him up for failure. Instead of acting like a sensible adult, these two grown men throw bitch fights that properly belong on Live PD.

And no, de Sade is not anxious for Arno. The only time he's ever anxious is when Arno refuses to allow him to sodomize him.

The marquis was not worried, let alone worried about him. The only thing that seemed to interest him was his little scheme which had failed, because Arno had run away.

The memory knocked him down even more, and the assassin raised his head with his hands to hold out one towards the bottle he had put down. Along the way, the Marquis' fingers came to tap him on the hand to forbid him to refill himself, with the added bonus of a severe look.

Oh for God's sake. 40 fucking years old. Not 24 or 14. Get over yourself.

"I'm not sure alcohol can cure all of your problems," De Sade said in a soft voice.

"At least it will allow me to forget," growled Arno, sinking back into the back of his chair.

"You know, I don't know what to admire most about you, between your incredible capacity for self-destruction, your admirable inclination for denial, or your beautiful face."

"No need to pour into the descriptions, marquis, replied the assassin coldly. Keep nice words for others. "

Look, I don't know where this infantilism is going to lead, but I don't like it. When Arno isn't being raped, sexually coerced, or written as a bottom with no personality, he's written like a contradictory, unsure 16-year-old who doesn't know what he wants in life. Yes, he kissed Napoleon. So what? He doesn't need to dwell on it. He clearly found Napoleon distasteful. Why should a kiss make it all better? Maybe I'm using too much analytical thinking here, a trait Arno does not have here.

"What I mean, Arno, is that you think too much." He put his thin finger on his temple, looking much more serious than usual. "It is time to calm the storm, right?" Your little general, he won't escape you. He's like you. He thinks too much. And his buttocks are just as nice to look at. "

The marquis stole a kiss from him, smiling mischievously, taking advantage of his state of total stupor, and finished his glass of wine in one go. He didn't wait for Arno's answer to leave, he already knew it. The poor assassin does not even react, if he thought too much before, at that moment, he no longer thought.

de Sade and Napoleon hated each other. The latter for his pornographic slander, and the former for his attacks on him. de Sade wouldn't compliment Napoleon's ass even if he was tortured to confess. The only ass de Sade has eyes for is Arno's - and I'm surprised he didn't sodomize it at least once.

By the way, de Sade is 68 years old here. Way past his prime. No way would kissing him be sexy.

And then, the slap. Elise. Bonaparte. They were the same. Ambitious. Blind.

But not as much as him.

Bonaparte was the worst, he was imbued with himself, burned head, undecided, greedy for power; in short, he was a perfect idiot, but an idiot he needed. An idiot he had to protect from himself.

"We are the same, you and me. " Had he once said. And he hadn't believed it. Because he was just like him: too narrow-minded to open my eyes to the truth.

OK, here lies the contradiction: Arno has internal dialogues where he lists all of Napoleon's faults and how they conflict with his own. Arno believes he 'must' protect Napoleon from himself, and how he's too narrow minded to see the truth.

Now, these contradictions can work well if the story has a degree of internal logic. Here it does not: it is scattered all over the places and none of the pieces fit. This jigsaw is fundamentally broken. Also, writing Arno as 'narrow minded' is OOC: he is not narrow minded, and by the time he was in his forties he was one of the most intelligent and analytical Assassins around. This denigration of his character is common in the M/M stories he stars in. None of the authors care, or care to notice.

But Arno, what he wanted was above all to protect others. He did not seek the glory, power or cheers of a crowd; no, what he was looking for was that sparkle in the eyes of those who mattered, and for which he would have sacrificed everything. Willing to do anything to achieve his ends - except that his ends were not the same as those of Bonaparte, that was all. 

Really, all he wants is Napoleon to feel proud of him. That's all. Did it need 15,000 words to get this point across?

France could well wait for a morning. Josephine too, since he dismissed her without further explanation and without worrying about the murderous look she threw at him when he refused to explain the why of this sudden turnaround. So she spent time in the Luxembourg gardens, and he himself sat at his desk, his eyes riveted on the piles of paper that littered him.

Everyone's emotions are running high here. In fact I'd like it if someone where to start stabbing someone else. It'd at least bring a logical conclusion.

"How dare he…" he gritted between his clenched teeth. How does he dare ! "

How dare he, yes! Being part of the bodyguard of the most important man in France was no small feat. And refuse such an honor for simple words that are a little too harsh? What a little- 

Arno was never officially your bodyguard. He occasionally took up that spot when it was needed. He was never beholden to you, and vice versa. You knew this. So why are you pulling the 'How Dare He' card when you knew Arno would've never accompanied you on your military expeditions? Come on, now.

Vidocq shrugged and rolled his eyes.

"I just helped you. Frankly you were ridiculous. Ridiculous ”, and Vidocq insisted well on each syllable. "In addition, all your history prevented me from working with Arno, since he was always busy with you, and therefore apart from going to visit the prefect-"

I hate it when NPC characters speak so much sense in shitfics. Yes, Napoleon is being ridiculous. I don't know why Arno was always busy with Napoleon, but let's roll with it for a sec. Is it any wonder people started spreading rumours? If so, why didn't Arno pick up on Napoleon's feelings earlier? There were plenty of opportunities to start shagging!

"I don't know what drove you to take me home for this stupid date, but you made me lose a precious bodyguard." Hopefully, during your trial, you will be sent to the galleys instead of being sentenced to death. "

His prisoner's eyes widened in surprise. For a moment, he thought he saw a worried gleam in his eyes at the mention of the galleys, and while he thought he saw him rebelling against the threat, he shirked his hand over his mouth, frowning:

"Ah. So it didn't go well?" Was all he asked, in a voice that was both inquisitive and surprisingly innocent.

Dude. Arno wasn't your bodyguard. He chose to be your bodyguard when you needed him for specific missions. Get real here. You don't own him, he is not your guard dog. Vidocq is triggering you because he's asking all the right questions.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this."

"What can you know?" he asked in a voice as cold as Russia. And what interest do you have in getting so involved in these matters? "

The convict frowned, as if it flowed naturally. He adjusted his jacket which, if it was not torn as he had pointed out earlier, would soon fall to dust because of the mites, thought the First Consul who squinted in disgust.

What was it supposed to be like in this grand game of matchmaker? A happy ending? Steamy anal sex in Italian palaces? What? In either case, Vidocq as much as de Sade was responsible for spreading the rumours around Arno and Napoleon. Both didn't really care whether the feelings they felt were genuine. In this instance, Napoleon is angry he's being confronted with Arno's 'resignation' to a job which wasn't even permanent.

Logic? Little. Hotel? Trivago.

" Oh. This is interesting. "

He suddenly let go, as if Vidocq's words had burned him. Nobody had to know what had happened. Nobody, and especially not this shoddy thief. What Arno had done tugged at him, to the point that not a minute went by without bitterness, misunderstanding, anger but also desire disturbing these thoughts. 

Come on. It's been 15 years you've been working with Arno, and all of  sudden these feelings come up? It's not like you ever made a secret about your passion for Arno. Remember the rumours? Not good for the Emperor of France being convicted of sodomy. Even though homosexuality was decriminalized in 1791, it was for personal affairs only. Being publicly convicted would earn him the humiliation and mockery of the world.

If you love someone, or desire them, bitterness shouldn't be in your mind. Internal conflicts can be common, but these stories always over-dramatize them to the point of them becoming unbelievable.

Unconsciously, he came to caress his lips with his thumb, in a touch much more delicate than the brutal kiss of the day before. This loss of control irritated him to the highest point, he had never let himself go like this.

However, this insane act could have had good repercussions, he had secretly hoped that his obsession for this vulgar assassin would have disappeared after such an event. But no, in addition to the practical consequences of the thing, his obsession had worsened, he had only that in mind, more than Arno's face, his laughing expression when he roamed the rooftops of the city, his hard lines when he concentrated and ... 

Napoleon has denigrated Arno this entire time, and only now has wetdreams about him because it's convenient. We went from 'odious man' to disgustingly arrogant, to a guy struggling over thoughts involving a sex Assassin.

Wew, lad.

The way the other had spoken stopped the First Consul, who deigned to turn his head to listen to the rest. There was seriousness in the sentence, something which made him much easier to be attentive - he hated people who were not capable of seriousness, of a certain rigor of conversation, something which was essential for run a state. And although the man who had decided to infiltrate his apartments to spoil his life looked like a solidly built guy, he saw clearly in his game. Napoleon could not help seeing that face slightly chubby and this tousled hair the reflection of an unbearable kid, even if he was visibly far from being sixteen; so a little seriousness, in this conversation about killing someone, greatly appeased him. 

Vidocq is 32-33 years old by this point, so he's not a kid. He also was on the run from the law, and wouldn't start turning his life around until 1811. He is a grown adult who's developed a knack for analyzing people, so him pissing off Napoleon is pretty funny. I'll say he's stealing the show here, the same as Dumas did for Kalincka's larger fic.

Bonaparte cut short the discussion with a quick wave of his hand. His mind was already muddled with a thousand contradictory thoughts, imagining all possible scenarios, he did not need such remarks on his dress more.

Arno wouldn't care about his clothes. He would probably be more concerned with the situation itself - secretly, Bonaparte hoped that the assassin was not surprised by his arrival, that he awaited him with the same impatience that is gnawing at him today.

"What would the assassin do in such a place?"

"You can call him by his first name, you know. We are no longer close to that. "

Vidocq, knowing Bonaparte wants to reconcile/have some sexy times with Arno, takes him to the Cour des Miracles, where Arno is hanging out. The problem is, this place was paved over and re-designed by the early 1800's. The authors admitted sticking close to history wasn't on the bill, so let's roll with this. Why would Arno, who is a full grown adult and capable of finding other places to lay low, go to this place? Why is he drowning himself in drink? Doesn't he know better?

No answers, my friends. Just a load of bullshit.

Even before Napoleon could brandish his saber to disembowel it, he had decamped into an alley that the First Consul had not even noticed. Annoyed, he looked up, to meet those of the assassin leaning on one shoulder against the same wall.

Alone now.

Bonaparte slowly advanced towards him, his heels snapping on the cobblestones in religious silence. Arno made no move, barely raised his head when the First Consul stopped before him, keeping a reasonable distance, however.

"Arno."

"Bonaparte. "

The exchange was so acidic that Napoleon was already preparing to leave. If even the assassin didn't put his own in it, they would never be able to explain themselves.

Here we go with the moodiness again. From confused same-sex feelings, to intense passion, we're back at square one with these assholes hating each other. All this because Arno was 'annoyed' at playing the guard dog.

"I hope you've thought through your decision overnight, Arno."

Napoleon tried to contain his impatience and annoyance at the other man's lack of responsiveness, but the tremolos in his voice betrayed him.

"Is that really why you came here, Bonaparte?" Arno laughed badly, which contrasted with his usual kindness. "Don't make me think that's what you're worried about, I know very well what made you come back."

" I don't allow you to-"

"I don't need your permission . "

Let's go over the situation: after a bitter fight, Arno kissed Napoleon. Both of them are confused. Arno has a mid-life crisis, and decides to drink his dignity away. Napoleon throws a tantrum on how Arno has such 'nerve'.

It is true that Arno never needed Napoleon's permission to do anything: Arno doesn't give a damn about hierarchy, and he lets you know that. He's happy being a man in control of his own destiny. Not here, though. Apparently bitch fights happen when a guy says he's done playing the willing bodyguard.

Bonaparte backed away, meeting Arno's threatening gaze. His dark, hypnotizing pupils seemed to probe the depths of his soul with such violence that his stomach was overturned. That and the fact that the assassin had gotten so close to him that he could not look elsewhere, Napoleon was in a position of inferiority from which he did not know how to escape. 

Now that is Arno: in-your-face, don't-give-a-shit persona. But that's the only time you'll ever see the real Assassin. He promptly disappears, because this 40-year-old man needs to discuss his fee-fees in a safe space.

Their lips brushed for a moment - Arno had learned the lessons of the Marquis well - without ever touching himself. Napoleon only had to make a gesture, a sketch of movement to repeat the same pleasant and intoxicating error.

"I want to know the reason for this ... This gesture," he replied calmly - at least as much as he could.

Arno placed an authoritarian finger on the stripes of his uniform. A reminder of what the First Consul had done on his cockade, the last time they met, and ... 

Dude, you know full well what this is. Let's be real here: it's all about your hidden feelings. You can't control Arno and you know it. You're in love with each other and you decide to do the gay thing and beat the ever living shit out of each other - or psychologically manipulate each other, that works too.

"The reason, Napoleon Bonaparte, is that I'm tired of staying there and seeing you all collapse without my being able to do anything about it." I no longer want to endure your unbearable impetuous general manias without having my say. It is enough. It is because of this that I lost it before. And I will never do the same error again. "

He's saying this while going through a mid-life crisis, and after having a drunken episode where he can't comprehend how he feels for Bonaparte. He pulls the Uno reverse card and tells Bonaparte he 'won't make the same error again' - even though he did, twice - and is complaining about Napoleon being self-destructive...as if the previous foreign wars and failures like in Egypt didn't teach Arno a single thing. Holy fuck, this guy is dense. 

There was something incredibly striking about the determination visible in Arno's eyes, Napoleon thought, not looking away. He had always been curious, in a way, about the tendency of the assassin to always come back to his side without having much to say; it was nice for his ego, sure, but he had always wondered how a man could spend his life serving others. And now, as he rebelled against authority, he realized how the roles had been reversed.

It was no longer just Arno who was dependent on him. Napoleon Bonaparte had fallen into reciprocal.

We're back to square one: Arno hates being Napoleon's lapdog, but doesn't really hate it as he keeps coming back to Napoleon's side. Arno has never been one for taking orders, yet spends all his time around the Emperor. Arno was never, and has never been, dependent on Napoleon. He is made that way by matter of convenience. It was his choice to guard Napoleon. He was not forced. This entire spat between them could have been prevented had they acted like 40-year-old men instead of bitchy teenagers.

With Vidocq safe, Bonaparte was able to focus again on the assassin. Arno wasn't even in trouble, he just finished throwing the last man still standing on the ground, without showing a single ounce of fatigue or weakness. This idiot even had the time - and the arrogance - to raise his head towards him to give him a malicious smile, before climbing the wall to escape the wrath of the guards. 

There are still Royalists lurking around? Thought they were on their last legs by now. Naturally, when it comes to fighting Arno knows what he's doing. When he's doing other things, like expressing human emotion or logic, he has a mental breakdown.

He was on the verge of breathlessness when entering his room, and it was with a certain pride that he discovered Arno's half-surprised face. He didn't even give him time to react, or even to speak; in three steps he was against him and kissed him with a passion that Arno did not know him.

The amazement passed, the assassin had taken his cut face, a hand slipping all the same at the back of his skull to come to get tangled in his locks of hair, causing his bicorn to fall in the process. 

That's nice. After all the drama and fighting, these two can now have a make-out session. It's too bad it came out of nowhere like the Royalist ambush.

The kiss was long and languid, witnessing several years of restraint and tension to burst the ceiling. How many times had they secretly dreamed of this moment? How many times had they each fantasized about such an act, imagining what it would be like to feel the heat of one against that of the other? 

I'll be honest. I have always hated the 'How long have they waited for this moment' cliché when it has been backed with nothing but mutual disdain. We went from 'ugh, this guy is onerous and an asshole and I hate him and never want anything to do with him' to 'God finally I'm kissing him woo wee look at my boner.' It's outright bipolar with these mood changes.

Arno seemed to understand that this was the closest thing to what he was capable of in terms of an apology, and he looked at it for a moment without saying anything. For a moment, the First Consul thought he was going to refuse and he annoyingly felt his heart lift in his chest. Then the assassin leaned down again, taking the time to kiss him again:

" I accept. "

Arno decides to accept  position he willingly took, then left, and bitched about for being 'forced' on him. Makes total sense.

The night had been ... eventful. It was with a light heart that Napoleon had fallen asleep on him, dropping for once all of his barriers to be totally naked in front of him, in all senses of the word, thought Arno with a laugh.

Élise would probably be proud of him. By taking a look at the painting he had kept in his memory, he thought he saw a spark of mischief shine in his motionless pupils, and strangely, it warmed his heart despite all the nostalgia and lack he could feel. 

'Probably' is a real stretch. You're 40-years-old, and still have no heir. You squander it on anal sex with a man who is married. 'Probably' includes having an emotional tangent on how much you hate Bonaparte before throwing yourself into his arms over a situation which could've been resolved in five minutes.

But hey, that pairing, though.

Bonaparte added nothing, respecting the silence of his lover. He had known Elise very little during his lifetime, just a few brief interviews of which he had no memories. But he knew how much this wonderful woman had counted in Arno's life, and he could never pretend to replace her in his heart. He liked the place he already occupied, and he knew that Arno would stay by his side, whatever he could do. 

He has no reason, though. He would've been concerned with Napoleon invading country after country, as well as implementing a dictatorship in France. He 'can't replace' Élise, yet he is. Arno decided to forgo all logic and reason so he could fuck his friend.

Speaking of favorites ...

He sighed once more, tossing the coin into the air, to catch it with an expert hand. Although the little masquerade between his favorite assassin and this blind First Consul was fun for a while, seeing them spinning around quickly annoyed De Sade. Oh, he was not against the tension, the electric glances and everything that could take the scenes up a notch; but sincerely, as much? It had become laughable. He was a good spectator, but up to a point. There was a time when the protagonists had to get down to business.

This thing was a set-up. I still have no idea how it managed to come to fruition, given how much legitimate hatred there was between these two characters. All this over a bodyguard position!

And then ... Seeing Arno also destroyed also had his entertainment limits. The assassin was nothing but an empty shell over time, and seeing him shoot that same burial head under the shade of his hood had become tiresome. A little change in his roughly managed life was more than welcome, even if the Marquis was still amazed at the attachment capacity of his favorite. Seriously, devote oneself to Bonaparte ... We found better than a little general puffed up by pride, he thought with a touch of bitterness. 

Always fun to see a person you allegedly care for be 'destroyed' all because he loves someone else. Also, why is de Sade angry now? He spread the rumours, he set up the whole thing. Now he doesn't like it and fully intends Arno to crumble along with Napoleon's reputation? Some love this guy has!

Finally, the damage was done. It wasn't like Arno escaped him either. He had noticed the slight redness spreading on his cheeks the last time he kissed him again. But he hoped that Bonaparte would not occupy all his time. He still planned to take advantage of his favorite assassin, and above all, the softness of his lips. 

You are 68. Arno is 40. You are not young anymore. A double-timer and an old timer...quite the combination.

In the end, it turns out this whole calamity was a set-up by de Sade and Vidocq. For what? I don't know, it was never explained. In this 15,000 word one-shot, no reason was given as to exactly why Arno was angry over a position he willingly took. He didn't like being Napoleon's guard dog, yet he couldn't stop being at his side or performing missions for him. Whose fault is that? Or did the authors seemingly forget this little bit of self-awareness? Arno was never employed by Bonaparte. They disagreed fundamentally during their lives, and Arno was never one to be anyone's toy.

I assume he was angry because of Josephine, even though Napoleon was seeking elsewhere for a new wife and had had several affairs. Josephine and Napoleon cheated on each other, but Napoleon still reflected her. She served as the 'beard' in this fic; the icky female who gets in the way of the gay love. I assumed he was angry because of Napoleon's dictatorship and dictator attitude, what with all the insidious descriptions Arno tossed at him. However, all of that is conveniently tossed aside once Arno kisses Napoleon - an act he regrets and wonders why he did it. This is a 40-year-old man who cannot sleep because he kissed a man who has feelings for him. What?

You'd think these two would be aware of one another's cues, but no. Arno acts like an emotional teenager, refusing to discuss why he does not like serving Napoleon rationally. He was moody and troublesome for zero reason. Arno at this age was very analytical and introverted, so I have no clue why he's acting like a kindergartner denied the rocking chair. The authors may think it looks cute, but it doesn't. This whole plot could've been solved had either man acted rationally. They didn't, and the ridiculous Royalist ambush and Vidocq/de Sade set-up smacked of a badly written dollar-store erotica novel.

No matter who Arno is with - Napoleon, de Sade - he seldom acts like a rational man with his own shit in gear. He throws tantrums, he can't listen to rumours, he can't talk things out, he can't be reasonable. He's angry at his love being denied and shocked when it's finally given to him because he's never been loved before.  Then, he thinks Élise would've been proud of him.

You can't be proud of a bitchy, moody 40-year-old man who doesn't know what opera houses are, what having a talk means, or whether he is bipolar or not. Arno is a man. An adult. Make him act like one. But with these two authors, I'll be happy to take his Master Assassin uniform and toss him into a woodchipper. The only whine I can bear to understand is that of the machine sucking in his bones.

Friendly reminder: this whole thing could've been prevented had Arno told Napoleon, rationally and logically, why he didn't like being his bodyguard. The authors don't have the wherewithal to think this far ahead, so, like their longer de Sade/Arno fic, it speaks pretty, it reads pretty, but the logic is dumb as fuck and don't expect to save any brain cells from it. I'd like to burn that white flag of surrender, please.