Nerves and uncertainty were generally not emotions Sasha associated with being in the Astronomy Tower.  Even during the course of the myriad of detentions or any number of the uncomfortable conversations they've had, the tower still felt more like home than his own house ever had.  But, today, Sasha knew exactly what this meeting was about and, for the first time, he found himself climbing the stairs with a noticeable degree of reluctance and trepidation. 

He still wasn't certain giving Professor Trishna the letters had been the right choice.  He knew Kronos would disapprove and he knew why.  Things were changing, the tenuous equilibrium that had been established was swiftly losing his balance and it was his fault.  Because he couldn't keep his mouth shut.  Because, despite all the faith the man had put in him, Sasha had not done as Kronos had advised. 

Sasha had no idea how to set things right or even what right was anymore.  Or if it was even possible to avoid irrevocably disappointing - and losing - someone else before the confusion settled. 

"Sir?" Sasha paused in the doorway before stepping inside.  He didn't bother to pretend like he didn't know what this was about.  He'd been expecting it for two days.  The next words were just as automatic and habitual as they were earnest.  "I'm sorry." 

The letters had been terrible. It had taken him hours to get through them - most of them he'd had to put down every other paragraph to get up and pace the room. Others...others had made him sick to his stomach for a myriad of reasons, and the worst part was they were probably the same reasons Sasha liked the letters - which just made everything worse. He'd even cried at one point, partially in fury and frustration, and half in...well, he didn't try to analyze his own emotions much. Sasha's words about Tapendra himself had just made his stomach twist in gratitude and despair, and the similarities...

But the themes in the letters were the worst of all - the things Kronos encouraged, the way he spoke of others, the way he spoke of Sasha. The use of the word son over and over only confirmed that everything Morgan had said was spot on.

When Sasha arrived Tapendra was sitting in one of the alcoves, the letters spread on the coffee table in front of him and Kepler in his lap, the cat's loud purring audible in the otherwise unusually quiet tower. He looked up as Sasha approached,  and his eyes gave away what he had hoped not to, the bloodshot and slightly puffy look to them quickly hidden by his glasses as he looked away again.

He let his breath out. This was going to be serious, and he'd decided he was going to go about this as rationally as he could. Bloody emotions.

"That's alright," he said, waving to the opposite couch. As the boy crossed the room, Tapendra turned to look at him.

"This isn't going to be easy, Sasha," he said. "And I'm sorry for what - for what this is going to be like. But I really-" He cut off for a moment, stroking the top of Kepler's head. "I need to know. This is...I'm scared for you, Sasha. Downright terrified."

He shook his head, picking up the letter on top. It wasn't the most recent one, but it was the one that had made him pause the most. "Thank you for not Imperiousing me," he said, quietly.

Sasha's eyes traveled over the letters scattered over the coffee table suddenly feeling more exposed and unsure than he had in quite some time.  He knew things weren't alright - he had been trying to gradually allow himself to accept that ever since Halloween.  But, he still couldn't allow himself to believe that those letters strewn across the table and the man behind them were part of the problem rather than the solution. 

The Ravenclaw crossed the room and lowered himself onto his usual spot on the corner of the couch.  He crossed his legs up underneath him, and clasped his hands together in his laps, his fingers interlaced.  He couldn't quite look over at Professor Trishna so his gaze settled on the letter Professor Trishna had exposed by lifting the topmost one. 

"And I'm sorry for what - for what this is going to be like. But I really-I need to know. This is...I'm scared for you, Sasha. Downright terrified."

Sasha visibly flinched, a guilty grimace flickering across his features and he closed his eyes, feeling a sudden surge of regret.  "I'm ... I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have dragged anyone else into this.  I should have kept my mouth shut."  Everything would have been easier.  "I shouldn't have put my stupid name in the goblet." 

"Thank you for not Imperiousing me."

The Ravenclaw looked up, startled and quickly shook his head.  "I - of course not! I cou- I wouldn't.  I swear ... I wouldn't do anything to you.  He doesn't know who you are - I haven't told him.  You're like ... he knows that.  I've told him I won't do anything like that and he knows it.  He accepts it.  I know you don't trust him, but ... why don't you trust me?" 

Tapendra looked up, and did not interrupt Sasha. Frankly, as much as he'd been terrified at the time, he was glad the boy had put his name in the cup, had gone to the Tournament - and had done as well as he had, too. For all the emotional distress resulting from it, Tapendra was glad to know.

"I'm glad you put your name in, Sasha," he said. "Even if it's made things difficult - you've grown more than I realized, and I should have given you more credit for that. I'm glad that you proved me wrong and made the school - and me - proud." He smiled, looking back down to the letters.

He did look up again at the boy's comment, in surprise. "I trust you, Sasha," he said, after a moment - and then he looked back to the letters, selecting the one he'd been looking for. He looked at it for a moment, before his blue eyes met Sasha's over the parchment. "I wish I could trust you implicitly, but..." He shook his head. "These letters are just...everything you said about him, it's -"

He cut himself off, looked down at the letters, and took a deep breath. He wasn't going to get emotional - he knew he would, eventually, but he wasn't going to allow himself to rant or rave or even get angry, if he could help it.

"He speaks of your parents extremely dismissively," he said. "He calls them, what was -" He picked up a letter, setting Kepler aside as he crossed his legs. "Ah, yes - your guardians and the little girl. And then you mention that he met your father?" He picked up the other letter, turning them both to face Sasha.

"What happened when they met? Why do you think he chooses to address your family in such a dismissive manner?"

Sasha's expression revealed he didn't share Professor Trishna's certainty as he shook his head.  That was just another point of confusion in this whole bloody mess.  He tried to smile when the professor, again, expressed his pride - and he knew it was genuine pride.  He remembered that day - the joy, the excitement, the feeling of accomplishment and he'd been more grateful for the support he'd had than he could express.  But, the smile didn't quite reach beyond his mouth. 

Why, then, did he doubt himself more now than he had before? 

"These letters are just...everything you said about him, it's -"

"They're strange," Sasha conceded, dipping his head.  "He's...he's eccentric.  They're not...I don't read them like Biblical truth.  He's- he likes the flamboyant and ornate.  It's like reading Baron Lytton or other purple prose.  You've kind of got to overlook the, you know, decorative stuff." 

The writing matched the man and, for a moment, uneasy hope replaced Sasha's trepidation.  That had been a fact Sasha had accepted sometime after the first few letters.  If this was all about a man's unique writing style, maybe this could all be resolved easily and smoothly.  Kronos would never win any awards for academic writing but that was just him.  "They're just quirks.  I know how to read past them.  Like he says, if you don't know him it might seem strange and unnerving.  But, I do.  I know him." 

Sasha grew quiet and shook his head, looking down at his hands, his face turning a brilliant shade of red.  He did not want to talk about last Christmas or his parents.  The couch next to him shifted, slightly, as Baldur jumped up on the cushion next to him and nudged his nose under Sasha's folded hands and, subconsciously, the boy unfolded his hands to stroke the dog's head. 

"It ... I ... I don't know.  He doesn't ... he didn't like them.  They were sending me away so I could be fixed.  When I wasn't at the winter horse show, Kronos came looking for me and my stepfather ..."  Sasha shook his head and then added, sharply, with obvious bitterness.  "Kronos isn't exactly the type of man my stepfather approved of.  When he found him in our barn, he ... "  Sasha closed his eyes and shook his head, only opening his eyes again after turning to look up at the curved, domed ceiling. 

Tapendra looked at Sasha carefully as the boy spoke. The words were worrying, for a simple reason...but for now, he let the boy finish. Sasha's reaction was more or less what he had expected, and he wished he didn't have to bring the boy's mind back to that. But...Kronos hadn't liked Sasha's father. For all the extremely vague references he'd heard of the man through, he had to admit he probably wouldn't have liked him either.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, fingers intertwined. The man's words in his letters had never struck Tapendra has anything other than sincere and literal - as terrifying as the interpretation was. The question he had, then, was simple and direct - and he asked it in a simple tone.

"How do you know that?" He asked, looking at Sasha levelly.

"Because!"  Sasha replied, lifting both hands in a gesture the suggested he thought the answer was obvious.  Despite the apparent surety in his answer, there was no imminent elaboration.  The Ravenclaw stared blankly at the letters for several long moments, both hands still raised. 

What kind of answer did Professor Trishna expect?  How did anyone know the answer to such questions with anyone?  Slowly, Sasha lowered his hands.

"Because...because I know him!  That's just how he is.  He likes flashy and dramatic and ... I don't know.  Because, it's not just in the letters - that's how he decorates his homes and how he talks and ... and that's just him.  He's never lied to me.  I know I can ask him anything and ... I have!  He's never gotten angry, he's never gotten ... even when I make mistakes."  Sasha shook his head.  "Even this ..." He gestured at the letters.  "You know...chances are, he'd forgive me.  Even though I have no right to expect it."

"He has no reason to deceive me.  And, even if, you know, he does believe it ... that's what other fathers do!  They believe in their sons and he's ... he's the first person that ever really believed in me.  Why is that so bad?"

In Tapendra's experience, if that was how people decorated their homes, and talked, and wrote their letters...it was hardly some flashy bit of prose. It was an integral factor of their personalities. And in the case of Kronos...it confirmed the man was horrendously unhinged. Enragingly so, to Tapendra.

"Parents believe in and love their children dearly, Sasha," he said. "But they also feel disappointment and try to guide their children through their mistakes, and feel anger when their children disobey. That's just how life is - and no loving parent gives up. But he - he never chastises you, is disappointed or upset with you - he's always proud even when you do things he asked you not to do. He's like a perfect parent, isn't he?" His expression, although pleasant, had an odd edge to it. He didn't believe Kronos's instant pride for a second. No doubt the man had been angered, and sat down to write the letters in a calmer tone. After all - being perfect was such an in with Sasha, wasn't it?

"He seems to view himself as above the judgement of mere mortal men," he said, sitting back and cupping his raised knee. "Why do you think he views you and he as a special breed, and treats all others as inferior beings?"

Confusion and uncertainty fluttered in Sasha's expression before he dropped his gaze to the floor between his feet.  He was trying, but he was having a hard time relating, nevermind understanding, what the professor was explaining.  "No loving parent gives up," Sasha repeated, an obvious bitter and distrusting edge to his voice. 

"He's like a perfect parent, isn't he?"

The Ravenclaw grew quiet and very still.  At first, he didn't know how to respond.  When Professor Trishna first posed the question, Sasha simultaneously experienced two vastly different emotional responses.  On one hand, he wanted to dismiss the question, demanding to know why that was so bad.  On the other, he wanted to acknowledge it, yet defend it at the same time.  The silence ticked on as Sasha desperately tried to find a way to reconcile the two different responses while also trying to ignore the fear and sadness all the uncertainty invariably brought with it. 

Finally, after several long moments, Sasha shook his head.  "I never claimed he was perfect.  No one is.  Lord knows I'm not and he's got to know that by now.  Even still, he is proud to call me his son.  As is - as I am, I'm good enough for him." 

"He seems to view himself as above the judgement of mere mortal men.  Why do you think he views you and he as a special breed, and treats all others as inferior beings?"

"I don't know," Sasha answered, weakly at first, shaking his head.  "He's...arrogant in some ways."  Okay, maybe a lot of ways.  "I ... I don't know why he is.  I can guess - but, I don't know for sure.  But, I don't think that way - I don't think I'm superior to everyone else.  And, it's not like he's the only one - my parents saw almost everyone else as beneath them.  I never blindly believed it from them.  I don't from him.  But, he's the first person that's ever believed so much in me."

Tapendra couldn't help but recall the Librarian's words. Oh yes, Sasha was perfect - he was showing that perfection now, in his blind faith. Tapendra could feel his palms sweating, could feel the frustration and anger welling up in him. He didn't know how he could get through to Sasha about this. He knew what could - would - become of the boy if he failed, and the prospect made his heart sink.

No - he wasn't going to give up. Giving up was just unthinkable. If the boy refused - if he threw him out - he'd decided his path then. He didn't want to go through with it. The very thought made his heart sick, his stomach ache. But he'd do it, because it was the right thing to do.

And he'd probably be killed because of it. Bloody morals. Sometimes he envied the Librarian his icy demeanor.

He let his breath out. "No," he said. "Your parents were a bit snobbish, maybe. Upper class, thought others were lesser in status, perhaps. Kronos...the man in these letters..." He looked down at the papers, waving a hand. "He talks about other people as if they're animals. They're not really people to him. He uses them like tools and disposes of them when he's done, and doesn't think twice. He even enjoys their misery...and encourages you to relish in it, too." He looked at Sasha sharply.

"Did your father ever suggest that you abuse your maids, your servants? Did he encourage you to enjoy their misery?" He sat back, shaking his head a bit. "Sasha, do you understand why people find this man so troubling? Why what he does and how he treats people is wrong?"

Again, the Ravenclaw grew quiet.  He wanted more than anything to find something, some hidden piece of evidence that could refute Professor Trishna's words even in some little small way.  Anything that would create just enough doubt to sustain the illusion.  But, this time, there wasn't anything to be found. 

What the man said was true.  There was no denying it - he could only turn a blind eye to it, as he had in the past.  "No," he admitted, quietly, slowly shaking his head.  Gerhard had never tolerated any sort of disrespect towards any of the family's staff.  They were employees, they were of a lower class but Gerhard had been far too much of a business man to have not recognized the value of investing in his employees. 

Sasha leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees and his head on his hands.  His stomach twisted uncomfortably, painfully.  Finally, hesitantly at first, Sasha nodded his head, his eyes squinting shut.   

Tapendra let out his breath, leaning back into the cushions. The boy was silent, but the single word had been enough to assure him a little bit, Continuing was difficult; Sasha looked down enough that he was tempted to stop, to leave it there, and to let the boy have some space.

But - no. Progress was being made. He couldn't back out now and let Sasha sew up the holes in his rationales with lies and false hopes.

"You were right," he said, looking away towards the windows, which showed a simple but dazzling field of stars. "About Mister Morgan. He and I spoke, back on Halloween..." He looked back, blue eyes carrying that edge again. As incomplete as Tapendra's image of the Slytherin head was, he felt a strong need to help the man, and help his friend too, if he could.

"His loved ones are being held hostage. Kronos has him on a leash, their lives dependent on Kronos's goodwill towards Mister Morgan - and dependent on his cooperation with Kronos's plans for you." He ran a hand through his hair. "Kronos knows this - arranged it personally. And he still encourages you to exert your authority over him, to laugh at his expense."

So, Sasha's hunch had been correct but woefully incomplete.  It had been easy enough to guess Mr. Morgan wasn't providing him tutelage out of any interest in Sasha or, even, a strong sense of devotion to Kronos.  But, that was as far as he'd allowed himself to ponder the situation.  He'd convinced himself his lessons were a simple, less-than-desirable work assignment - one that would bare unfortunate consequences should he fail or refuse. 

He'd never considered - never let himself consider the full extent of how the man was being compelled. 

"That's ... that's not what I want," Sasha said, weakly, shaking his head.  "I didn't .. I haven't done that!  I haven't laughed at him, I ... I didn't ... The only time I did, you know, 'exert authority' was with the box.  The music box."  And that, at the time, had seemed frivolous and unimportant. 

The doubts and questions were building and growing, moving swiftly to that dangerous precipice.  It felt a lot like the first, great drop on an old rollercoaster - things started moving slowly, steadily, creak-by-creak to the top.  Whenever he got close enough to catch a glimpse of the other side, it was clear once it dropped over, it'd all come tumbling down fast.  And, he knew what he'd find on the other side was terrifying.  Usually, Sasha abandoned the ride long before that - finding some homework or activity to distract his mind with. 

Whether he was wrong or right, something had always seemed very clear to him.  Things were so much safer on this side than they were on the other. 

But, such was not an option now.  "I don't ... I can't do this," Sasha said, lifting his head, his gaze landing somewhere halfway between himself and Professor Trishna.  "If ... if I'm wrong, then ... it means ... I can't betray him!  I can't do this.  You don't understand!  Without this, I'm ... I'm ... what am I?"  Sasha's gaze finally settled on the letters stacked on the table.  "I can't lose anyone else."

Tapendra's hard gaze softened again as Sasha stuttered and half-started his way through the logic, the boy's struggle all too familiar to the professor. It was hard not to quietly finish the logic the boy brought up, though, and his voice was quiet, level.

He crossed his hands in his lap. Kepler slid down to his side, the fluffy cat rubbing his head against his knee and purring - an odd counter part to the tension that was making Tapendra a little sick to his stomach. "He's encouraged you to see people like he does. To use the people around you as stepping stones to what he sees as  greatness and power."

He straightened his back a bit. It was difficult not to reassure the boy, to reach across the gap and at least place a hand on his shoulder, as he so habitually did.

Tapendra took a small breath before he spoke, tone calm and level, gaze back on Sasha and unwavering. "You never told him who I was," he said. "Why?"

"But, I don't!"  Sasha insisted, finally focusing on Professor Trishna.  "I don't think that way!  I don't see people like that!  You don't ... you don't think I do, do you?  Like I said, I don't read them as if their scripture.  I don't ..." 

Sasha's voice trailed off as he grew still, again.  The rollercoaster was creeping over the top to the the other side and Sasha's mind was starting to connect various comments and conversations.  Before, when they were simple, scattered comments, Sasha had simply accepted as confidence boosters.  Only when they started connecting together did they start to seem unsettling and, as long as he avoided an idle mind, he'd managed to keep that at bay. 

"I'm his heir," Sasha concluded, quietly, the blood slowly draining from his face, his features growing uncharacteristically pale.  What, exactly, did that mean?  For the first time, Sasha found himself wondering whether that meant the same thing to Kronos as it did to him.

The Professor's question was painfully, strategically placed.  On the heels of his mind already starting to fit the pieces together, the question only reminded Sasha that there'd always been that little trickle of doubt. 

Sasha licked his lips and shook his head.  "Because, if something happened ... "  Sasha's voice faltered, slightly, and he looked back over at Professor Trishna.  "If I was wrong, I knew it was safer.  I knew I wouldn't forgive myself if something happened.   I know he wouldn't do anything to me but,-  I didn't intend to tell you, either.  Everything seemed safer, easier to control if everyone ... everyone was kept out of it."