Mentally, she'd begun a countdown until she was no longer Mrs Leia Malfoy. Some days, she was thrilled, while others.. she secretly didn't want it to end yet.

Sitting quietly in the office of Matilda Bascott, the head of the Wizenmagot, Ruby smiled at the older woman as she glanced over the list of signatures provided to start the petition for the Ministry to clear Draco Malfoy of all charges laid against him.

"Mrs Malfoy."

Ruby couldn't help the weird response in her chest, "madam?"

"You are aware this petition may take years, and it may do little good, yes?"

The redhead nodded, "of course. It's worth a try. Draco Malfoy did nothing that the rest of us didn't do, and we're labeled heroes."

"The Malfoy's are Death Eaters. They've killed and had people killed."

“Were.” She corrected. Her head tilted, "Draco isn't a killer. I killed more people in the war than he did, and I'm not charged with anything."

"You didn't fight for the Dark Lord."

"So, I happened to be on the winning side. That doesn't make Draco's reasons any less just."

The older woman stared before signing the paperwork, "you and all parties included will be notified of your trial dates. You, and as many as The Wizenmagot wish, will give your testimonies to Mr Draco Malfoy's innocence."

Ruby stood, reaching to shake the woman's hand, "thank you. I look forward to it."

                                                     --------

A full month after she went back to being Ruby Potter, she stood in front of the Wizenmagot and their first testimony. Of course they'd picked her brother first. She regretted saying she looked forward to it, she’d been stressed and anxious the whole wait for this first testimony.

Harry looked toward her with a small smile before he started speaking, giving his testimony. He agreed with what she'd told Madam Bascott, he had also said Draco wasn't a killer. He'd been tasked with killing Dumbledore, but Snape had committed the act. Harry called himself a witness to this event.

Ruby hid the shock, she hadn't known, but there were a lot of secrets she and Harry still kept from each other. He'd been the first she told about this plan, and he had jumped onboard immediately.  

He went on to tell the Wizenmagot that he didn't think it fair for Draco to have a bad mark against his name for protecting his family, that Harry had also done what was necessary to protect his family and friends.

                                                      --------

Two months passed, and she stood once more, looking at the men and women of the Wizenmagot. Neville Longbottom had been their next decision to testify.  

It had been an interesting day when she'd went to him for his signature. They'd talked for a long time, he'd given her the strangest look.

His speech hadn’t been at long as Harry’s. And she was worried that they wouldn’t think her friend was sincere.

                                                      -------- 

Ginny had been next. Had OPENLY expressed the feud between the Weasleys and the Malfoys... but her closing statement had nearly made her cry by the shear honestly of it.

If you can pardon Severus Snape for his crimes, what makes Draco Malfoy any different?

                                                     -------

Luna Lovegood. Then Hermione Granger. Those hadn’t been strange, she’d almost expected that they were calling people who were close to Harry. They had the privilege to deny the request...

So, she’d waited through them all.

                                                      -------

A year and a half after she was no longer a Malfoy, Ruby looked at her feet as she waited to be escorted into the court room where she would give her testimony. She had gotten to see the other five people give theirs, but she hadn’t seen Draco at any of them. Did he know? She looked formal, dignified, with her red wine hair pulled up tightly into a tight bun, wand shoved in it like she'd worn in school. She waited until the official opened the door.

"This way, Ms. Potter."

Following, chin lifted, she wondered if she looked professional enough. A hush came over the occupants, she could hear the tick of her heels hitting the hardwood floor. Maroon, the color of her hair, the color of Gryffindor. The shoes were meant to be a private stab, she supposed that's what Mrs Malfoy intended when she gifted the shoes to Ruby for her last birthday in the family. The heels, thin golden spikes with a golden snake wrapped around it, the snakes even had rubies for eyes. She guessed the plan backfired, because they were her fave pair of shoes. And the only color in her ensemble today.

"Good afternoon, Ms Potter. We're gathered here today for your testimony, and the final ruling on Mr Draco Malfoy's pardon. Proceed whenever you're ready."

Whenever she was ready, she’d been ready over a year ago, now she wondered if her courage had drained away over time. Blinking slowly, she looked down at her feet briefly, then back up, “ladies and gentlemen, I have been at your offices, and in this chamber for the last year. Professing to you the innocence of a man whom is being held to crimes he didn’t commit.” Her fingers laced in front of her, an effort to keep her hands from waving around. “You have made a point to only question people who were opposite him in the war, I have to wonder was that in hopes someone would give you more reason to convict him? Draco Malfoy is no killer. I have known him since I turned eleven.”

She turned, getting the whole of the Wizenmagot in her gaze, she almost wished Dumbledore was still alive and a member so he could hear her tangent, her defense of the former Slytherin. “I have been a member of The Order of the Phoenix since I was fifteen. That first year I was tasked with espionage and the assassination of three death eaters. Will you charge me with these deaths?” She didn’t pause to let them answer, she went on with her head count, “my second year as a member, I was tasked to shadow a one Severus Snape. Which given my particular skill set, was very easy. Thirteen followers died that year by my wand.. or hand. Will you charge me with these deaths? Or am I pardoned due to my duty to the Wizarding World?” She turned her back on them as she started toward the back of the chamber, hazel eyes made a quick scan. Her subconscious had been looking for Remus, her heart reminded her that he was dead. Her eyes found Draco instead, she wondered if everyone could hear her heart beating as loudly as she could.

Her tongue darted out quickly, licking her lips as she forced herself to turn away. What have I done? Too late to be a coward now. She had to have known eventually he’d be there. Even if they hadn’t informed him of the earlier testimonies, or he just hadn’t shown up, he’d surely be there for the verdict... right? Merlin’s balls, this is.. “My point is.. you cannot accuse Draco of crimes, and allow me to walk without the same black mark.”

“Ms Potter, we have expressed to you multiple times, you did no-”

She inhaled, “I was on the winning side of history, yes I know.” Her interruption caused a shuffle around her, not only among the Wizenmagot. “I would apologize, but I find the charges brought against him to be entirely hypocritical and unjust.” Her temper could cost her everything she’d worked so hard for, but.. there was almost no stopping it now. She paced, looked like a caged animal, “I spent five years in close quarters with The Malfoy family. I have learned many things about them, and the most important thing that I know about them is that they will stop at nothing to protect their family. I did everything I did to protect my family, I am no different than the Malfoys. Harry did everything he did to protect his family. Every person who fought in the name of Hogwarts and the Wizarding World did everything to protect their families.” Her anger seemed to be smoldering, but she looked around the chamber again as she spoke. Taking in as many of the faces as she could, many of them had fought at Hogwarts.

Her gaze found Draco again, his face showed nothing more than curiosity, and she felt like she was in school again and unable to tell who he was and what he was thinking. She’d spent years sleeping beside him, and suddenly she wondered if she’d ever known him at all. Too late now.

An older wizard cleared his throat then spoke, “that is all well and good in a fantasy, Ms Potter, but your tone seems to suggest some deeper emotion behind all this effort. Are you perhaps in love?”

She heard the soft and short chuckle, she knew the sound of her former husband’s rare laugh, but it didn’t sooth the roar welling up inside her. No, not a roar, the venom.. A snake was a better comparison of her now, poised to strike earlier. Now it would be over. “Do you wish to invalidate my testimony with some emotion that you deem irrational? If an emotion like love were behind my motives, you could easily dismiss all of this as the whims of a young woman.” She stepped forward. She’d been a Potter her entire life, she’d been raised by a werewolf and loved him as her father. But she’d never felt more AT HOME than she had with The Malfoys. She’d always been expected to be a certain kind of person, but she wasn’t a lion. She wasn’t loud, she wasn’t entirely brave, she wasn’t confident. She was ambitious, she was loyal to those who deserved it, she would save herself and very few before risking it all for EVERYONE. “I was never a child raised on the fairy tales of a prince falling in love with the poor maiden. I’m not a fool to confuse and mix my business with emotions like love. I am only concerned with my friend being charged with crimes he didn’t commit!”

She was met by silence, then Madam Bascott spoke, “I think it would be best to convene now for our decision. Please wait in your seats quietly. Ms Potter, you may return outside the chamber, or remain there.”

She couldn’t move, her feet seemed frozen, so the redhead simply nodded. When the chamber emptied of Wizenmagot, “I’ve fucked everything.” Her voice a soft whisper, drowned by the sudden conversations starting around her. Hands lifting to set on the back of her neck, she inhaled deeply, then exhaled almost tiredly. A familiar tingling crawled over her skin, that feeling she always got when she was being watched.. especially by someone who wanted her attention. She went with the feeling in her gut that caused her to turn toward Draco again, walking toward him. Her feet felt like she was walking through water, slow.. a struggle for each step. She hoped she didn’t look like it.

“Potter.” 

Potter. “I thought we were pass that.”

“How long have you been planning this?”

To the point, she supposed she did love that about him. No small talk, no minced feelings, no sweet nothings. Because there was and is nothing. Her thoughts were more brutal than anything in the war. “Is that really important?”

A blonde brow lifted.

“Just.. let it be, Draco. It doesn’t matter how long.” The details don’t matter. They did to Draco, she knew that, but she could never figure out why. Maybe he’s always looking for an ulterior motive. Did she blame him though? She was a Potter by birth. What other reason WOULD she have for doing this?

“Ruby!” Her brother’s voice drifted over the conversations around them.

Her eyes never left Draco’s, even if her neck was starting to hurt from how tall he was above her at this moment.

“Rue, why would you do that? They could send you to Azkaban for that confession!” Harry sounded more worried than she’d heard him in years.

It took actual effort to look toward the green eyes of her brother, blinking slowly, “then let them.”

“Do not throw everything away, Ruby!” He sounded desperate, “I can’t lose anyone else!”

She smiled at Harry, softly.. tiredly, then looked back up to Draco with the same smile. “They won’t.” It’d be a lie if she said she believed her own words, but taking a step back before she turned away. Her heels clicked as she walked back to the center.

“She will throw away the rest of her life trying to defend you, and I can’t figure out if she owes you something or if she did fall for you.” Harry’s voice was low to Draco, his knuckles rapping on the wood of the railing before he stomped away in irritation.

                                                   -----------

An hour passed, her feet thought it had been seven. She’d went from standing still to pacing in a wide-ish circle, then back to standing still. She’d stretched her arms over her head, the laced her fingers behind her back. She’d ignored her brother trying to get her attention, and she’d at least shaken her head no to Ginny. Nerves. She had tried to not look in Draco’s direction, but she glanced.. not once, or twice, but close to ten times of trying to LOOK at him without actually looking at him. She didn’t want to make eye contact again, her stomach swam even just seeing him in the corner of her vision.

Ten more minutes passed before the Wizenmagot re-entered the courtroom. Suddenly, she was afraid. Suddenly, her body felt heavy and hot. Suddenly, she though the room was spinning.

“We’ve considered the testimonies. While we consider Mr. Malfoy’s choices during the war to be heinous.”

Ruby’s mouth opened, she meant to argue.

“As there is no evidence that he committed any crimes, we cannot charge him with mere association to the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord himself. It has come to our attention that The Malfoy family has spent the last year as prisoners of the Dark Lord. We hereby exonerate Draco Malfoy of all charges against him.”

The readiness to fight drained from her body quicker than it had built up. An inhale of breath, her eyes burned. I did it. It had taken two years, but she’d done it. Her hands covered her mouth as she turned, finally looking toward Draco again. Eyes widen, tears blurring her vision slightly. What was there to say now? He stood, gave her a nod and the barest stretch of his lips before he moved to leave with the others in the room. What did I expect?

Exhaling, she couldn’t help the ball of disappointment in her stomach as she left out the witness’ door of the courtroom. Greeted by her brother and Ginny shortly after, but the sound of heels clicking came toward her. Her head turned and she stared at Narcissa Malfoy making her approach with all the grace she’d ever seen the woman muster. She’s always so beautiful.. Ruby’s throat felt tight as she tried to swallow, tried to breath.

“Ms. Potter.“ The name sounded like it was meant to be an insult in Narcissa’s tone, “I would like to thank you for you efforts in clearing my son’s name.”

“That’s unnecessary, Mrs. Malfoy. It was the right thing to do..” Probably the second or third most Griffyndor thing she’d ever done in her life. Her eyes drifted away from the older woman, finding her former husband’s back to her. She had yet to figure out why she’d went through the effort now..

“Draco sends his gratitude as well.” The matriarch nodded briskly before quickly taking her leave.

Ginny snorted, “that was interesting.”

“I’m an idiot...” Ruby mumbled, sighing loudly. “Let’s go to the shoppe, I need something deadly sweet.”

#TheTruthInTheLies #BlacklistRP

Co written by @TomKeenDSM & @LizzyKeenDSM

Tom - ”I never dreamt I’d fall for her or be willing to truly die for her either, but then my life has been full of the unexpected.” -Sitting at his computer grading science project papers he keeps watching her. Lizzy was important not just to Reddington but to /him/ and as each day went by the connection grew stronger. She is the light in a very dark tunnel of lies and deceit. Mulling over different scenarios of how to get her to disappear with him was what was on his mind but how would be do it and keepher trust, when he’d already lied so much to her...-

Lizzy - Woke up by the sound of the neighbours next door. Moving her hand along the mattress to find his place empty. When her eyes spruce open to wonder where Tom would be. Her mind goes wondering if Tom has made it to bed before she fell asleep last night. When she picked up her cellphone to check the time. 05.37 am was being shown on the clock. When Lizzy pulled the bed sheet off her body to get out of bed to go and see if Tim was around the apartment. She exited the bedroom to walking straight into the living room calling out Tom name. Are you here Tom? Checking each room in the apartment with no answer. When she walked back into the kitchen diner. Tom and I were taking things slowly but somehow I gave him a key to my apartment without thinking. Maybe with the long shift, I work. Lizzy Switched on the coffee maker to make some fresh coffee. Her mind was thinking where Tom could be when she noticed on the calendar n the wall that Tom was away on a teaching training course tonight. She slapped herself on the head ”Liz you are idiot forgetting about Tom being away, she was glad she hadn't sent sent out a text to him.

He was in Denver doing a presentation on his latest findings. Maybe it was the stress of the case she has been working on in work when she was just missing Tom. She stood up to walk over to the coffee maker to fill her coffee cup with caffeine that she desperately needed. When she sat her coffee in the breakfast table to get her bag to fill out the file case of ”Raymond Redding” making her way on to the bar tool drinking her coffee reading everything they had on this man. She spends the next hour or studying the man the man Raymond Reddington who has been running from the FBI for the last two decades. This wasn't going to be a case solved overnight when she was due back in the office. In the next half hour.

When she left the file on the breakfast table to jump in the shower quickly to fresh up and do her bathroom business. Coming out the restroom to walk into walking in the closet to put on her black trouser suits with a smart top and sensible shoes. Tieing her hair up in a pong tail. To walk straight back into the kitchen diner. Putting her file back together with her notes, she had made earlier. She held her file sliding back into her bag. Sometimes she wished she could talk to Tom about her work life but she couldn't without breaking protocol. When she picking up her empty coffee cup placing it the sink before leaving Her apartment. When she typed up a text to Tom. ”Good morning, sorry I missed you last night. I hope to see you soon. Have a safe trip home, miss you. Liz.

Tom: -He had indeed graded homework but now he was disappearing into a crowd of people with a target not far away. Her text came in and he smiled, he shouldn't be carrying his regular phone but being separated from her messed with his head to bad so he kept it close, making sure to turn it to mute though. Today he looked nothing like a geeky teacher with glasses, dressed in leather he slipped into the BDSM club following his prey. This should be quick and painless for both of them, bodies moved with lust, and his mindset changed slipping into his role so easily. Standing at the bar he took his overcoat off sure to be in his prey's line of sight. Hubert had a certain type and he'd done all possible to meet that. Hair dyed dark black, blue contact's in he met the man's eyes temporarily then looked away putting on a blush which wasn't easy but years of deep op covers had its perks. Sipping his drink he looked up at the accountant who walked over to him and boldly ran his hand down Tom's chest, leaning in he whispered. "Come with me, I'll make all your dreams come true."

Lizzy - When Reaching the office after stopping by the nearest Starbucks to collect the coffees that everyone likes including her own latte. while carrying a tray of selected coffees for Ressler, Aram, and Cooper. She checked her phone to see if Tom had replied, with a smile on her face just thinking about, before she took a few minutes to switch her mind from him to her job. When she straight into #FBI mood. When he went into the Cooper office to find and catch up with the team to see what she had messed so far in this morning. With the large frame of Cooper, sitting in his desk with his hands across his hands wanting an update on the blacklist and where we were with the Raymond Redmond. Liz passes the coffees around the room as she begins to talk bout Redmond on his adventures of when he was in France. When her cellphone rang she stopped to put her coffee down on Cooper desk to pick up her cellphone with the interruption of a pizza place calling as the caller I.D. She excused herself for a second to take the call.

Tom - -Hubert had been taken out the service entry and put into the awaiting van. Tom had a secure location he’d sat up to do his interrogation and having successfully getting his mark there he cuffed him to the chain link fencing that would be his temporary home.- We can do this the

easy way or the hard way it’s in your hands. I need the back door instructions you added to the Prometheus software program you wrote. -Hubert glared and Tom decided to give him a little taste of what was to come. Flipping the switch on the generator he picked up the batteries cables giving him a little jolt.-

Lizzy - Lizzy had stepped back into the office from taking the phone call from the pizza man. Who's wasn't the actual the piazza man but no other than Raymond Redmond, she couldn't come out to her team that she was in direct contact with him just yet. Since we just starting to work on the cast of the Blacklist and Raymond Reymond. Which will become to have him on handle leash when needing information but not being at his backing call either when he wanted to know where certain drug busts were about to happen. Picking up her coffee and drinking it. Trying to grasp the facts of what she has messed since the call. Listening to the facts around the case of how exactly Reddington was going to be using on this one. When Lizzy had finished her coffee and caught up. When she started to going to get the facts about the blacklist. Ilya Koslov is a former KGB intelligence officer and a childhood friend/lover of

Katarina Rostova

. Also, Ilya is one of Raymond Reddington´s oldest and dearest friends and they seem to know each other since they were children. After Katarina Rostova staged her suicide in Cape May, Ilya helped her disappear. Ilya devised the plan to impersonate Raymond Reddington in order to gain access to the money the Cabal placed in his name to frame him for treason, so they could fund Katarina´s new life. A year later, Ilya was called by Katarina Rostova´s father

Dominic Wilkinson

to a meeting at a cafe in Belgrade. Dom told Ilya that his plan with Katarina didn´t work and informed him that Katarina´s enemies joined forces and formed the Townsend Directive to hunt and kill her. Afraid that the Townsend Directive could harm his granddaughter

Masha

, Dom enlisted Ilya to help him kill Katarina to calm down the Directive and keep Masha safe. Still in Belgrade, Ilya, following Dom´s plan, lured Katarina to an ambush where he and Dom tried to kill Katarina with a car bomb in front of the whole Directive, but they failed and ended up killing her new husband instead. After that, Ilya went into hiding. He started a family and left the life of espionage and crime behind him, though he still kept in touch with Raymond Reddington.

Cooper threading his finger through his hands before standing up. “ Go and get her and bring her in Ressler and Keen”

Within a few minutes, Ressler and keen were heading out of his office and on our way out of the office. To break up the conversation from work. Gessler talked about other things outside of work since their days were long. When Ressler asked, “how was Tom doing?” she simple replied “He's good, I'm just glad he has a boring (Not tell him I said that) and safe Job and is not in the front line with us. “

Tom - -He'd effectively extracted information from his new friend and gave him a dose of medication that would wipe out his short term memory. Leaving him in an alley it would look liked he'd over indulged in his extra curricular activities and none would be the wiser. Paying his information off he got his things packed and ready. His mind on Elizabeth now, this was all necessary to keep her safe.

Lizzy - Arriving at the apartment of ex KGB intelligence office. Lizzy and Ressel knocked on the door and waited with their badge ready for a reply. Since they were here to bring in Katrina Rostona. When their we're voices coming from the apartment but no one was going to answer. Knocking on the door a second time. When Ressel and keen separated. Russell moves away from keen to go and find the fire exit and keen listened through the door. Knowing whoever was in the apartment were making a fast getaway through the outdoor fire exit. When Lizzy stop and pulled out her gun opened the apartment door. “This is the FB” when she entered the apartment checking each room.

Tom - -Boarding a plane he sat back, his mission complete for now he could get back to what he was really meant to be doing "protect Elizabeth".

Lizzy - Lizzy started searching each room of the apartment that seemed to be abandon. When she reached for her weapon sweeping the apartment. When a masked person came at her knocking her down from behind jumping from one the bedroom she hadn't reached. When Lizzy gun fell free from her hand and the attacker and she fought for the gun.

Tom- -Landing at the airport he took his car home and found an empty house. Pretty normal thing considering Lizzy's work, he got cleaned up and started to make some dinner so when she did get home she's have something good to eat.-

Lizzy - Lizzy wrestled with the intruders tacking him when she got to the gun. Using her weapon to hit him across the head and rolled him onto his front with his hands across the back handcuffing him up with her cuffs. You will are coming with me to answer some questions after you have received some medical care for the blood coming from the top of his head. Lizzy had secured his hands with her handcuffs before getting herself as him onto their feet to exit the room to way their way outside to the local police taking him away to the hospital to be examined. When she stopped to phone her partner Gessler. With him on his away back. She had some time while waiting for Gessler she typed up a text to Tom. “Hi babe, I hope you are doing okay. Hope to see you very soon L x”

Tom - -Texting her back.- I’ve made spinach manicotti for dinner a Spanish flan. Beware I may eat it all if you don’t get here soon.

Lizzy - Liz smiled reading his text. When she instantly reply*

Mr keen that's sound like some kind of threat. You know threatening FBI agent could come with consequences even for you Tom. I'll be home to see you very soon. Dinner sound amazing should be there in 30 minutes babe. *Lizzy puts her phone away and wait for zessler to come back to head back to the office to finish up for today.

The Spy: A Subjective Book Review

  Just to be clear, I suggest you have a good cup of coffee -or favorite soothing beverage- to go with this piece because it will be a long one. Alright, so one of my favorite authors, Paulo Coelho released a book this year titled The Spy. This book was particularly different than his usual norm since it grasped the biography of a figure rather than the usual fantasy-based wisdom stories of his. 

 The book revolves around the real-life eventful story of Mata Hari an exotic dancer/courtesan who happened to witness and be part of the verge of WWI, her past, her lies, and the truth behind her execution. The entire story in short was that Mata Hari, wasn’t always really Mata Hari. She was once a Dutch young school girl who went by the name Margareta and lived peacefully in the wealth of her family in Holland. Her whole life started to escalate however, when she lost her mother at a young age and attended a private school -the only place where she had a chance to learn- and was constantly sexually abused by the school principle. She was the most beautiful girl in class, and so being threatened that if she ever says a word she will be permanently expelled and grow to be an ignorant and an illiterate. She tolerated it all, until around the age of 19 when she met a Dutch officer, Rudolf Macleod, who was stationed in Indonesia and was searching for a bride to live with him abroad. Margareta took this chance as a way to salvation and I quote “There was my salvation! Officer, Indonesia, strange seas, and exotic worlds. What more could a young woman want from life?” Little did she knew that she was step closer to a miserable life-changing phase of her life. She lived in Indonesia for quite some time and got to know the local customs and culture. It was obviously a tradition for all the wives of the officers to know each other, be jealous of each other, and meet in special ceremonies. Margareta was miserable in her life in Indonesia, and was constantly abused by her husband. She lived in some kind of luxury but was in her own living hell. She gave birth to a daughter and a son, her son was killed, no friends, no companions, and a constant drunk, abusive, and cheating husband to deal with every night. Until one day, there was a local ceremony where all the officers accompanied by their wives had to attend. Margareta attended with her drunk husband searching for some kind of alternative company for the evening. She met another officer who was also accompanied by his obvious miserable wife. She conversed with him through the night but couldn’t help notice the look of despair on his wife’s face. Suddenly his wife stopped the entire dance event and declared loudly and I quote “I fought for our love with all my might, but today it’s run out. The stone that weighed on my heart is now a rock that will no longer let it beat. And my heart, with its last breath, told me there are other worlds beyond this one, worlds where I don’t have to always beg for the company of a man to fill these empty days and nights.” and by that the officer’s wife shot herself to death and bled at Margareta’s feet. There it was really, the turning point, the life-changing epiphany that hit Margareta so hard she packed all her belongings and her daughter to get on the first ship back to Holland with or without her husband where she said and I quote “I had been baptized with the blood of Andreas’s wife and through that rite, I was freed forever, though neither of us knew how far this freedom would reach.” After not so long, Margareta, haunted by the thought that her misery could take her where Andreas’s wife went, she abandoned her family in Holland and moved with nothing but one suitcase to Paris, the city where dreams came true, and decided to try all her efforts to build a life of immortal fame and reputation or so she thought. With a few lies, a few made up stories about her exotic life in Indonesian’s culture and a new fake identity, Mata Hari was an established renowned exotic dancer from “the far east indies” that brought a contemporary -completely made up - culture of dance and seduction that drew a thin line between the usual cheap cabaret style and authentic erotism. She was so desperate for freedom that she created a whole other fake life for herself driven by despair. A few steps up the ladder of fame, she was a star at the peak who didn’t go far enough in her age until she experienced the usual “fall from grace” every famous figure faces eventually. Again she was possessed by the fear of desperation and failure to be who she created her self to be, she was willing to use all the powerful and resourceful “man-friends” she gained so far in her career to help her escalate back to the top. Little did she knew that greediness was like fire, a little is good to keep you warm and well-driven but too much of it will burn you to ashes. With lots of events taking place at the beginning of WWI, In my opinion, Mata Hari’s greediness, lies, and ultimately vanity along with other contributing external factors led her to fall a trap of a conspiracy planned by notorious, dominant and avaricious authorities seeking vengeance from all foreigners. She was convicted for espionage for the german intelligence as well as for being a double spy against the french. Soon after the conviction, her lawyer Mr.Clunet; failed to win her case and to gain pardon from the president and therefore was executed by a firing squad somewhere close from Saint-Lazare’s prison, Paris. The government never revealed were her body was buried. According to habits from that time her head was cut off and handed to government representatives. It was kept in the Anatomy Museum on Rue des Saints-Pères, Paris, but after an unknown period of time her head disappeared probably stolen from the institution. It’s important to note that Mata Hari’s life events were extracted from the series of letters exchanged between her and her lawyer Mr.Clunet during her period of imprisonment. The following are a few quotes from the book of which I found to be self-reflective and debatetul at times. 

When Margareta was still young and innocent and before her mother died she asked for her to come for a little chat, her mother handed her a packet of seeds that rendered Margareta confused and said “They’re tulip seeds, the symbol of our country. But more than that, they represent a truth you must learn. These seeds will always be tulips, even if at the moment you cannot tell them apart from other flowers. They will never turn into roses or sunflowers, no matter how much they might desire to. And if they try to deny their own existence, they will live life bitter and die. Flowers teach us that nothing is permanent: not their beauty, not even the fact that they will inevitably wilt, because they will still give new seeds. Remember this when you feel joy, pain, or sadness. Everything passes, grows old, dies, and is reborn.”  

I loved the way Mata had her own way in observing the behavior of humans whether it was based on their nationalities or gender, these are a couple of funny quotes “Men, however, always feel the need to explain something”, and another one when she first arrived to Paris “Apparently foreigners were not welcome, and Parisians thought they were superior to all other people of the earth.”    

No matter how far she went, that never changed the fact that she was a mother that has abandoned her only daughter back in Holland and was haunted by the guilt of that occasionally in different phases of her life of fame, she wrote in melancholy between the walls of her cell “The lines of these newspaper clippings seem like pieces of a broken teacup, telling the story of a life I no longer remember. As soon as I get out of here, I will have the clippings bound in leather, each page with a gold frame. They shall be my bequest to my daughter, as all my money was confiscated. When we are reunited, I will tell her about my life and when she asks me about Margareta MacLeod I will reply that I do not know who that woman is. All my life I’ve thought and acted like Mata Hari, the woman who has been and always will be the fascination of men and the envy of women. Ever since I’ve left Holland, I’ve lost all sense of distance and danger. I arrived in Paris with no money and no proper wardrobe, and just look at how I’ve moved up. I hope the same happens to you.”

One of my favorite parts of the book was when Madame Guimet gave two pieces of advice to the rising star Mata Hari when she first arrived to Paris. Mata was still young and was still building her career by performances here and there. The first wealthy man to have sponsored and represented her first performance in Paris was Madame Guimet’s husband. Madame Guimet, being one of the wealthiest women in France back at the time, invited Mata to a stroll along the banks of Seine. Madame Guimet started “My first piece of advice is the hardest, and it has nothing to do with your performance. Never fall in love. Love is poison. Once you fall in love, you lose control over your life. Your heart and mind belongs to someone else. Your existence is threatened. You start to do everything to hold on to your loved one and lose all sense of danger. Love, that inexplicable and dangerous thing, sweeps everything you are from the face of the earth and, in its place leaves only what your beloved wants you to be.”  I know what you might be thinking, exaggerated much? Well, I’m going to have to debate Madame Guiment on this one. You see, I agree with her that Love is poison. If you swallow it all in whole it will probably kill you mentally but balanced proportions of it can actually strengthen your emotional wellbeing. Frankly speaking, this doesn’t only apply to Love, this actually applies to all forms of human emotions including (care, kindness, generosity, sadness, grieve, power,..etc). I think the key were most people go wrong with is failure to balance which renders a person engulfed in their own feelings and miseries. This brings us to the second piece of advice Madame Guimet gave Mata “When a woman or a man is abandoned by the person they love, they are focused on their own pain. No one stops and wonder what is happening to the other person. Might they also be suffering, having left behind their own heart to stay with their families because of society? Every night they must lie in their beds, unable to sleep, confused and lost, wondering if they made the wrong decision. Other times, they feel certain it was their duty to protect their families and children. But time is not on their side, the more the moment of separation grows distant, the more their memories are purified of the difficult moments and turn into a longing for that paradise lost.”  

Mata Hari had a fair share of coming across some of the most influential figures of history. She made me laugh when she dared call the father of psychiatry Sigmund Freud “The man that made it acceptable for people to accept their wrong doings because it was really not their fault, it was rather the fault of their childhood gone wrong.” or perhaps when she met Pablo Picasso after she accepted an invitation to his gallery opening by Madame Guimet and described him as “I was extremely embarrased by that ugly, wide-eyed, impolite man who fancied himself as the greatest of the greatest.” and actually spent that evening instead conversing with his “italian more interesting friend” the artist Amedeo Modigliani who also offered her a great piece of advice “Know what you want and try to go beyond your own expectations. Improve your work, practice a lot, and set a very high goal one that will be difficult to achieve. Because that is an artist’s mission: to go beyond one’s limits. An artist who desires very little and achieves it has failed in life.” 

Another interesting encounter was when Mata Hari first confronted her feelings out loud in front of her manager Astruc who was probably her only “truthful” friend. They escaped Paris’s rushed and busy life to spend one afternoon at the coast-side of Normandy. They stood by the beach surrounded by children playing mindlessly with sand and seagulls hovering over them in cults. That was when Astruc asked her why she looked miserable he thought she was happy with all this fame and she replied in rage “It’s because I dream of being accepted and respected, though I don’t owe anything to anyone. Why do I need that? I waste my time on worries, regrets, and darkness. A darkness that only enslaves me, chaining me to a rock where I’m served up as food for birds of prey, a rock that I can no longer leave. Back when I was in Holland they taught us they cycle of life and that is: you are born, go to school, and attend university in search of a husband. You get married -even if he is the worst man in the world- just so that others can’t say no one wants you. You have children, grow old, and spend the end of your days watching passersby from a chair on the sidewalk, pretending to know everything about your life yet unable to silence the voice in your heart that says “You could’ve tried something else,”” Mata Hari’s words ringed bells in my mind. Her thoughts seemed very similar to mine. She continued “As I faced my wounds and scars I began to feel stronger, My tears did not come from my eyes but from a deeper, darker place in my heart, telling me a story that I didn’t even fully understand in a voice of its own. I was on a raft sailing through total darkness, but there, far off the horizon, was the glow of a lighthouse that would eventually lead me to dry land if the rough seas allowed, and if it was not already too late.” and then finally I found someone that agrees with me when she said “I had never done that before. I thought that speaking about my wounds would only make them more real. And yet the exact opposite was taking place: My tears were healing me. It did not matter who was listening; what mattered was leaving the wound open for the sun to purify and for the rainwater to wash.”   

Another beautiful moment was when Mata acknowledged herself uniquely different saying “In any event, I felt completely different from all the other women. I was an exotic bird traversing an earth ravaged by humanity’s poverty of spirit. I was a swan among ducks who refused to grow up, fearing the unknown. I was alone.” Additional bells rang in my mind whilst reading these words. 

And I hate how some people today depict life as a portrait of perfection on their social media and their fake smiles with their false pretenses and false causes. I detest the way some people think this life is a miniature form of a designed portrait where everything either goes as planned or else the sky will fall and the world will fall apart with it. My point was undoubtedly supported by Mata Hari’s quote “I was not looking for happiness, but rather what the french called la vraie vie, a true life, with its moments of inexpressible beauty and deep depression, with its loyalties and betrayals, with its fears and moments of peace.”  

I loved how Mata Hari relied so much in her writings on authentic pieces of renowned literature, like when she fell in love with that Russian Soldier in Vittel and she used to recite him a passage from Song of Solomon “The one my soul loves” and perhaps the even stronger metaphor was when she described herself as the nightingale from Oscar Wild’s The Nightingale and the Rose  as she concluded her letters to her lawyer by saying “That was my life; I am the nightingale who gave everything and died while doing so.” 

The final chapters of the book reveals the letters that were from Mr.Clunet to Mata Hari. He finally confessed the reason why he took her case even though everyone knew it was a definite one when he said “I do not intent to prove my incompetence with this defense, because I was not in fact the terrible lawyer that you often accused me of being in your many letters. I just want to relive my ordeal of the past few months. I was in every way trying to save a woman I once loved, though I never admitted it.” He was clearly in a great deal of emotional pain while she was locked up with little hope of her freedom when he said “We go from euphoria to despair several times a day” Although he loved her deeply he was completely honest with her when he explained why despite of the conspiracy that was taking place behind her back it was her vanity’s fault for dragging the final verdict of execution. He said “Reading your testimonies before my arrival, I saw you were much more interested in showing your importance than in defending your innocence. You spoke of powerful friends, international success, and crowded theaters, when you should have been doing just the opposite. showing you were a victim to the general management of the counterespoinage service.” I must agree with Mr.Clunet on this one, after all vanity is the devil’s worst sin. 

Finally, I loved how Mr.Clunet had shed light on a very essential root of which the tree of love grew from which is trust. He beautifully summarized the greek myth of Psych and Eros  and then said a few words that touched my heart deeply “Each time I recall this myth, I wonder: Are we never able to see the true face of love? And I understand what the Greeks meant by this: Love is an act of faith and its face should always be covered in mystery. Every moment should be lived with feeling emotion because if we try to decipher it and understand it, the magic disappears. We follow its winding and luminous paths, we let ourselves go to the highest peak or the deepest seas, but we trust in the hand that leads us. If we do not allow ourselves to be frightened, we will always awaken in a palace; if we fear the steps that will be required by love and want it to reveal everything to us, the result is that we will be left with nothing. Love does not obey anyone and will betray those who try to decipher its mystery.” and in his final words of defense of her innocence in his letter he said “Because when we truly love, we know others and ourselves better. We do not need words, documents, minutes, statements, accusations, or defenses.” 

  In conclusion, that is if of course someone bared to read this never ending book review to reach to this part, I honestly think the book opens your mind to different aspects of the story itself. It definitely revealed to us parts of Mata Hari’s life in a more poetic way rather than how it’s usually put in historical books of biography. She definitely died of a sin, but her sin was not espionage or treason like they claimed, her deadly sin was vanity and vanity, like I said before; is the devil’s worst sin. 

Waiting for a lovely feedback of what you think whether you read this Mata Hari book, another Mata Hari book, or simply just read through this review.  

Regards to all of you dear readers. 

If You Are Gilgamesh And Did Those Things (An Espionage Husbands Fic)

*eating diagonal-cut toast* Remember what I was saying about how that chunk from the Epic of Gilgamesh gives Espionage Husbands? Well, I decided to take the dialogue from that chunk and use it in a fic. I also used this fic as an excuse to try and figure out Fury's character a bit more, because I will admit he's sort of difficult to write, but I think I'm managing alright. Join me in my sadnesses, won't you?

There wasn’t a body, but there was a grave.

Actually, it was Fury’s.

It was a week after Talos’s death, and Fury had had the second name carved on the headstone, right above his own name, just hours ago. Their names should be blazed across the stone together, as they should also be burned into the history books—if their parts in this war were remembered at all. After life united, death united, even if their mortal bodies couldn't moulder and rot in the same place, was the only way Fury could think of it without falling apart.

....Besides, Fury had all the memories the two of them had made together, and the love they had shared was still treating brokenly in his chest, so when he eventually was interred beneath that stone himself, he would bring the most important parts of Talos to their shared grave at last.

Still, Fury hadn’t been the same since he left Talos’s body, still bleeding, on that battleground. Since that soft, strong presence had vanished from his side. He hadn’t eaten much, and the face that met him in the mirror looked like every moment was spent reliving the one where he’d watched Talos die. He couldn’t seem to get the stunned pain out of his eyes.

Sonya stood beside him at the gravesite. Fury wasn’t sure what she was doing there; he had visited her for intel and she had followed him.

“The Nick Fury I knew back in the day wouldn’t take it so hard,” Sonya said. “He was a lot tougher. Less emotional. He was the man who was a thorn in Drakov’s side, who battled Hydra, who took on the world and won. If you are Fury and did those things, why are you so thin, and your face half-crazed?”

Fury was tough. And while a large part of that toughness was having strong emotions to bolster his stubborn resolve, he had, over time, become a sort of legendary figure, and nobody believed that legends could bleed from their hearts. (Although, if anyone cared to remember that Fury had disobeyed direct orders during the Battle of New York; that he had been a man of enough faith to bring the Avengers Initiative to fruition; that alone should’ve been proof that his heart was not cold.)

He knew Sonya personally liked to believe him emotionless because she couldn’t understand being able to do the things Fury had done with an active heart. She certainly would never see the kind of emotion in him that had allowed him to fall in love with a former enemy.

“I have grieved—is it so impossible to believe?” he asked, exhausted. “My friend who went through everything with me is dead!”

All the things Sonya had listed, he and Talos had done together. Talos fed him the intel, got his own men in covert positions, made sure Fury would be going in informed and prepared so he wouldn’t be taken down. Talos was the half of Fury that nobody saw, the part that lived in shadows and stole others’ faces and never returned to the same apartment twice. Everything Fury had lived through since 1995, he had lived through with Talos secretly by his side.

“No-one grieves that much,” she said. “Your friend is gone; forget him. No-one remembers him. He is dead.”

Then she turned and left, and Fury sank to his knees on the grass.

Nobody probably did remember Talos. He was a Skrull—he had died in his Skrull flesh—and he was easy to overlook. He had fought for humanity…or for Fury, at least, and yet he could be written off as simply another one of the fallen enemy.

“Talos.” Fury ran his fingers over the freshly-carved letters. “Talos,” Fury called out. “Help me. They do not know you as I know you.”