"Nothing," he answered immediately, without taking the time to examine her question. There was obviously something, because if there was no benefit to keeping her alive he would have killed her a long time ago. She had always been more trouble than she was worth — and yet.

"I was going to work around your fertility issue," he pointed out, disproving his own claim. He
lifted his hand off of her throat but remained where he was, straddling her waist. "But I can't work around this. If you're not willing to live in the same house, to put on a good show of being normal, to put in any effort whatsoever — then you can't be my wife," he said hotly. He felt as though he'd said too much, but he wasn't sure why that would be so. If he was going to kill her anyway, it didn't matter what he said now, did it?

After a pause, he continued. "I was going to offer to divorce you. Or stage your death, if you'd rather keep living in the woods. But you didn't come back." How could he trust her to keep up the end of any deal — divorce or life in the shadows following a faked death — if she couldn't follow such a simple directive?

  

There was enough subconscious doubt in his 'nothing' for Tig to grow indignant rather than jaded and self-destructive. With the removal of his hand from her throat her fury was ignited even further. "You really think those are options?" She leaned forward and propped herself on her elbows for lack of being able to assume a more aggressive position. "You think I really want to live in a forest for the rest of my life? Well it was fine until I had nowhere else to go, I can't go live as a human anywhere because I don't have my fucking wand and I don't have any clothes! I can't do anything illegal without telling you but how the hell am I going to contact you without money or more law breaking? Who knows how much time i'd have! And divorce?!" She could offer no real reason why divorce was as ridiculous a suggestion as her intonation was implying but the idea of it repulsed her all the same.

"Unless you know how to remove an Unbreakable Vow then my life will always be intertwined with yours, I'm tethered to you forever so there really is no option but you or death. You've made me your creature, my life is yours." As fired up as Tig was she had no filter to speak of and would likely regret it all once - if - she got the chance to think about it. "I am your wife and if you can't accept that anymore then you know what you can do about it." She tipped her chin upwards to draw attention to her throat, not that she thought he'd need the hint.

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Her rant wore on his nerves, to the point that he regretted removing his hand from her throat. It would have been easy to shut her up with a bit of well-placed pressure if he'd still had his fingers around her neck, but since he didn't it would have taken a conscious movement on his part and he didn't want to give her the satisfaction of letting on how irritated he was becoming. She had something of a point about the Unbreakable Vow, too, which didn't help his mood any. He hadn't taken that into account when calculating how to move forward in the situation, which in retrospect was a glaring oversight.

If they parted ways, she would never be able to attach herself to another man — but that was hardly a fate worse than death. The prohibition on leaving the country might be more problematic, but she could certainly find a way to live within those bounds. As for the other two clauses, those could have been used to argue the merits of letting her live, not the other way around. He'd been hung up on her disobedience when he'd summoned her, but with the Unbreakable Vow in place, he didn't really need to trust her. The amount of trouble she could get into without causing her own death would be limited.

It aggravated him that he was having to reconsider his plans this late in the game. "The entire Unbreakable Vow was your doing," he spat angrily. "Jaunting off across the continent without so much as a goodbye." He may have been the one to set the terms, but really, what choice had he had? No one else, he was convinced, had ever had to deal with such a willful and pointlessly spiteful wife.

"What do you want, then?" he asked, glaring down at her. "Do you want me to kill you?"

  

Was he really asking or just toying with her out of irritation? For once she seemed to have made him angry without intending to, although she wasn't sure it counted when she wasn't all too sure what her intention had been. If he was really asking, if his mind wasn't fully set, then maybe she didn't have to die. However, she wasn't quite sure how to go about it, it seemed every time she had to talk herself off the ledge it got more difficult. Then there was the question of whether it was worth it. If she did manage to talk herself out of death then it probably wouldn't last long if she continued as before but if she behaved then she might very well wish she'd breathed her last right there and then.

Was prolonging her life at this point worth sacrificing her pride?

"I think I'd rather not die quite yet." She spoke with a degree of unintentional levity which she managed to flatten upon continuing. "And I cannot abide the thought of living out my days here nor could I consider divorce." Tig paused for a split second, pursing her lips as she anticipated her next words. "The very thought of you remarrying..." she told herself that she diverted her eyes for dramatic effect but her embarrassment was quite real. "I couldn't contain my jealousy." Tig balked as the word left her mouth. "So I suppose what I really want..." With some difficulty, she forced her eyes back to his. Here came the hardest part. She told herself he'd see through her easily and she'd be dead before she knew it, she'd only have to be disgusted by her own words for a short time. "...is one more chance. This time will be different. I left because I couldn't stand to be near you."

She seemed to have hit a stride of sorts and suddenly it seemed almost easy. "And I've since come to realize the reason is that I feel for you a level of affection. I have grown, dare I say it, fond of you." If she lived she was going to have nightmares about this speech for weeks. There was a good chance she'd overdone it in which case she looked forward to the sweet embrace of death where she wouldn't ever have to wonder if the ease with which she lied had anything to do with it all being based in truth.

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She would be jealous if he remarried? She was fond of him? Was that the reason she spat vitriol at him every time they encountered each other, why she said things like you can keep your damn respect? Why she'd run off to the continent for two weeks without so much as a goodbye? Why she'd spent months out of the past year scavenging in the woods rather than coexisting in the same house as him? Those things certainly didn't seem like they could stem from affection, but who was he to say? He'd never understood the emotions other people had. Antigone was even more of an enigma than most.

"Fond of me?" he repeated incredulously, leaning away from her slightly and raising an eyebrow. His expression seemed to say prove it. A small part of him did believe her, because as far as lies went, this one just made no sense. It was too far-fetched for her to have just made it up on the spot, particularly if she was scrambling to try and save her life. Even if he did believe her, would affection change anything?

"Since when?" he asked suspiciously, but immediately realized there was a far better question to be put to his wife: "Why?"

  

It seemed for a moment as though he was buying it, that she might just be able to talk her way out of this one. However, she hadn't taken into account that he might ask questions that she couldn't answer. If she didn't say something then he'd see her lies for what they were and her chance would be lost and now that she'd entertained the idea that he might not kill her she couldn't subdue her survival instinct.

But really could he have asked a worse question besides why?

"You- You're-" Unable to think of a plausible answer fast enough she fell fell silent for a few seconds, growing more flustered by the second as she felt her last chance slipping through her fingers. Frustration ultimately won out. "Just- Listen," she snarled. "I hate you, I hate how you don't do what I want you to, I hate that you always have the upper hand, I hate that you make me so angry that all I want to do is claw your eyes out and smash your stupid head in while also needing to be... close to you. I don't understand it so I can't damn well tell you why!" As her thoughts caught up with her words, she finally realized her lies weren't so far from the truth as she had wanted to believe. Her demeanor changed and the tension seemed to seep out her, as if she was admitting some sort of defeat. She turned her face so that her cheek pressed against the dirt and she didn't have to look at him. "Sometimes it seems like you're the only other person who's real."

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   Ophelia Devine

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This made more sense. It was a more familiar narrative, at any rate. Tiberius still didn't understand how she'd made the leap from I despise you to I want to be around you, but at least the starting place was more reasonable. Maybe this was how strong emotions worked — or maybe it was how they worked for Antigone, at least. What was even more convincing than her words was the way her whole frame seemed to slump as she said them. Antigone was a creature of pride before all else, and her body language implied that he had won something from her, even if he didn't understand what.

"So... you want to come back to Oakshire Hall?" he asked hesitantly, not sure if that was really where this conversation was leading or whether he'd missed some other implication. Ever since she'd introduced emotion to the conversation, he'd felt more than a little lost. Maybe that was part of her endgame — but the way that she wouldn't meet his eyes seemed to say that it hadn't been her original plan.

  

Tig vaguely wrinkled her nose at his words. "Want might be a bit strong." After a beat she added, "But I suppose so." While he seemed to be entertaining the idea of keeping her alive, Tig resented that he hadn't otherwise acknowledged what she'd said which simultaneously was a relief because she didn't exactly want a deep meaningful nauseatingly icky conversation with him. Ever.

She started to feel defensive as a result which probably wasn't the best thing considering how easily he could decide to end her life at any moment. "Is that going to be a problem for you?" she asked as dispassionately as she could muster.

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A wave of relief went through him at her response. He hadn't realized until that moment how hesitant he had actually been to kill her. Now that there was a viable alternative, he was eager to seize it — even if that meant trusting a woman who had demonstrated time and time again that she couldn't be trusted. It didn't make any sense; logically, he ought to have just murdered her. He ought to have done it long ago. Maybe, despite all odds, he'd grown fond of her, too.

"No," he said briskly, climbing off of her and turning away while he dusted off the knees of his trousers. "But you shouldn't be seen in this state. Not even by the servants. I'll leave my bedroom window open," he decided. "Find a way in. You can go back to the house once you've bathed."

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   Antigone Lestrange

Much like a cat it would appear she had nine lives after all. The question was, how many of those nine had she already used up? Tig sat up as soon as he got off of her, eager to resume a more assertive position.
"Your bedroom window?" she repeated, doubting whether he was serious. "That's all well and good for you," Tig rose to her feet, "you've got wings."

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Tiberius smirked, even though she wouldn't be able to see while he was facing away. It felt good to hear her acknowledge the accomplishment of becoming an Animagi, even in an offhand way. Never again would she be able to lord over him her supposed superiority in that field of magical study.

"You'll figure it out," he said with a dismissive shrug. Glancing over his shoulder, he added in a menacing tone, "And if you flit off on another month-long holiday to the woods — I'll find you. And I will kill you."

His parting threat delivered, Tiberius turned into a falcon and flew away, feeling altogether satisfied with how the entire interaction had played out.