Grouse Thicket thou bleeding piece of earth

He could see the effect his words had on the silver wraith. He saw how her hackles bristled, saw the way her tail lashed in anger, but he also noticed that she did not attack him. Instead, she stood there, tense, muscles taut beneath her pale pelt. She resisted the urge, disobeyed her instincts...for what? Nicolas. Truly, Sargent wondered why. His alter ego used to be someone interesting, someone worth being friends with, someone worth fighting for. He used to be someone Sargent liked.

But then, he descended into madness. Nicolas wove his spider web, caught those unlucky enough and manipulated them to do his bidding, he was charming, but he was cruel, way crueler than Sargent himself. He played people, made them live for the sole purpose of pleasing him, made them dance for him; they became his puppets, and him, their master. 

Nothing could bring him back; he was gone, or so they thought.

When Nico surfaced from his madness, he had changed drastically. He became so...suppressed, so...respectful, so...scared of the possibilities. He kept to himself, repressed himself, became-became so controlled and so unlike who he really was. Sargent knew Nico better than most, of course he knew, he shared the same body, even the same mind as his alter ego.

And while Nico might've told others that the two of them were enemies, Sargent knew better. Nico needed him to live, just as Sargent needed him to survive. Sargent represented the past he so hated, the past he wanted to escape from, and the past he so desperately needed. He represented everything Nico wanted, everything that he used to be, good and bad, and everything he loathed. 

Sargent was who he was, and despite whatever Nico said, his alter ego needed him. Nicolas deWinter needed Sargent to live and prosper and survive, and while he might deny it, Sargent knew what the truth was, and he relished in the fear that he knew Nico would've felt. This was his fate, and neither of them would be able to escape it. They could only accept it.

"Now I'm hurt, sweetheart," Sargent's face morphed into one of mocking hurt and he grimaced at Shalon's words. Despite his seemingly malicious exterior, the man was not as cruel as others made him to be, as unfeeling as others wanted him to be. He had emotions, just as every other wolf had, and even he could feel things other than anger, frustration and indifference. Nico obviously wanted him to be some sort of monster, unfeeling and merciless, because it would be easier for him to think of his alter ego as some sort of unwanted creature. But the truth was far from that; they both knew it.

With every step the wraith took, Sargent swam backwards. He knew what she wanted to do, what she wanted to accomplish, and he couldn't let her do it. He simply couldn't. She spoke to him-no, not to him, to Nico. She told Nico that she might love him and Sargent sent her a pitying look. "He won't hear you," he replied, "and I'm not Nico." I won't ever be Nico. She leapt into the water, and instinctively, Sargent swam away, away from her jaws. "You don't understand," he called, his voice eerily calm as he attempted to excape from this disaster. "Even if you do manage to drown me. Nico can't come back. He can never come back," Sargent smiled, a grim smile but dancing with cruel humour. Cruel, mocking humour.

"Nicolas needs me to live. Without me, he is nothing, and he cannot survive. He knows that, but he'll rather die than accept it," Sargent smiled sardonically, watching with impassive green eyes as the other girl followed the silver fae. "He's a selfish little bastard. You might think you know enough, but-" he kicked at the water, swimming urgently away, "-he hasn't told you everything. Bastard has a suicidal wish," Sargent laughed humourlessly, "You're giving him what he wants. What you don't want."

And with that, realisation dawned.

He allowed them to push him down into the water, allowed them to do whatever they wanted with him. He would obey, he would drown, if that was what they wanted him to do. And when it was all good and done....they would see what they'd really done.

And then they would know, they would see, they would realise that they shoud've listened to him all along.

His lips hitched upwards into a shadow of a smirk and he submerged.