A/N: Did not like seeing Zwei make that (albeit adorable) face in the last chapter. Sad! :'( By the way... good intentions do not make bad deeds inexcusable! Vincent is still a jerkface (but I still love him). Also... I'm sorry, Ada just does not like me right now.. She won't talk to me... I still really want to write a real VincexAda full one-shot though... and I will as soon as I'm able.

Warning: SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 61!

Disclaimer: Don't own.

Blissful
~pinkhearter13

She likes doing as she's told.

He makes her feel powerful. The power strengthens her limbs, pushing her to greater feats, and they thrill and excite her, they make her feel higher and higher and brave and strong and above all others at his side. She knows it isn't true, but he lets her pretend, because as long as she can hold his hand, and leap into his arms, and feel his lips upon her forehead—it's enough.

But sometimes an inner voice warns her to doubt him. Somewhere inside a timid, pathetic voice tells her she's weak, that nobody loves her, that she can't win.

It's pointless listening to the voice because Vincent sees her more than Echo, Vincent trusts her more than Echo, andVincent loves her more than Echo! She knows this. She believes things won't change.

She'll do whatever he asks, "stay here, and keep those officials under control until I say otherwise," and she'll stay there, and stay awake, even if it means days, and keep those officials under Doldorum's control until he says otherwise. She'll breathe her last breath even while he laughs at her obeying a final command, and she'll die happy doing it! She'll do anything for him, because that's how she earns his love.

But as she sees her shining knight in armor walk away, return with another man he has protected, kneel before another man, show rare expression in front of that other man—she starts to wonder—and listen.

A tool.

A tool broken in half, and the other half whispers you can't win under tears and pleas and begs for her to keep playing his game anyway because she's the better of the two of them.

A mask that shelters the weakened, vulnerable, conditioned heart that couldn't handle the endless abuse, the soul that split in half just to be able to bear his disappointment.

And Zwei's the half that bears it.

These thoughts cross her mind, but she won't listen to them, because he says to just do this one thing, and he'll love her that much more. She was built to love his love, and she's addicted.

As always, she'll just pout for a moment—and then she'll push those thoughts aside.