It's cold. I can feel my whole body shivering to try and keep me warm.

No...

I'm not cold. I'm in pain. My body is vibrating with pain. Lots of it. Everywhere. In my muscles, my bones, radiating through every inch of me readying to tear me apart.

I try to move but can't. My arms are being held in opposite directions, holding my body weight while my feet dangle off of the ground. I try to speak but my voice is gone. I try to open my eyes but they're too heavy, exhausted from the pain. Tears roll out of them though, running down my cheeks and falling to the ground.

"She's awake."

Will. It's Will - he can help, he can -

"Is it our turn to play yet?"

My whole body stops its shaking at the sound of that voice.

That's impossible. She's dead - I killed her. How-

"I thought we were playing," another taunts.

I killed him two. I killed both of them, and I dug up their bodies to prove it.

Eleanor and Charles. How are they alive? How are they here? How am I here?

Where is here?

"Enough."

The whole room goes into instant silence at his voice. The voice. The one that runs in my mind and pulls at the memories I try to hang onto. The one that belongs to red eyes and cold hands. Hands that have my body shaking again in fear.

I never used to fear. I would smirk right back at it and cut off its head.

Now it rules me. He rules me.

I hear his footsteps. Hear Will's retreat and him replace where Will was standing right in front of me. This time I keep my eyes closed, no longer fighting their heaviness to look around the room and find someone who will grant me mercy.

I focus on the room when his hand lifts to lay against my stomach.

It smells the same. Full of the scent of my vomit and shit that they rarely bother to clean. You'd think they themselves would tire of the smell and clean it every other day at the least, but they never seemed bothered.

His finger draws a horizontal line at the base of my torso, running back until it's at my center and he lays his hand flat against the skin there.

I don't like this room, but I like the cold ground. It's the most comforting thing in here. Even the torches are less warming.

"You are going to be my greatest weapon," he whispers. The tear of it drags claws along my back and heats the feel of the chains against my wrists. They've taken the ones on my ankles off now that I'm too weak to fight against them or kick them where it hurts. I try to do so now, but I don't do more than twitch.

I forgo movement and focus on my voice, gathering the tiniest bit just enough to respond. "I will never be yours."

"What makes you think that I was talking to you?" His finger runs in a circle this time, his nail taunting me despite its sharp, feather touch.

My gut pools in cool dread, and I feel it. The one he was really talking to.

His hand moves upward and finds my chin, lifting the weight of my head with ease despite the ache of my neck. His nail digs into my skin, harder and harder until I obey his silent command and open my eyes to meet his. I'll never forget the darkness of his eyes and that bright red that threatens to consume your every thought.

"Lovely as it is to see your eyes..." His other hand raises, the other shifting to lay against the side of my head.

I want to cry. I want to beg and plea and cry until he lowers his hands and grants me sleep, but I won't. I won't because I am not weak. I don't beg and I don't plea and I especially don't cry.

His other hand rests against my other cheek, and despite my fight to keep my breathing even and controlled, it turns quick in anticipation and fear. I know what comes, and I know what I'll lose, and each time is worse than the last.

"Can't you have you trying to go and destroy my weapon, now can I?"

Pain fires in my head and I know I'm screaming, I can feel the scratch of it in my throat along with the blood it brings, but I can't hear it. Not over the loud noise of the pain and the cackling of everyone else in the room. Eleanor, Charles, the guards - even Will laughs. A man I had thought would help me be relieved of this hellscape enjoys the sight and sound of me suffering to live.

On and on his hands stay where they are and I feel myself slip away from me bit by bit. He keeps going even when they release me from my chains only to lay me down on the table and break my body.

Back and forth they hurt me.

They tear my muscle and rip away the best parts of me.

They laugh and they swarm, spitting horrid words, and the pain never stops.

Crack.

"No one's going to save you."

Pop.

"You'll never see them again."

Somewhere another woman screams, only she's laying in a bed, and they're only tearing apart her body.

"You won't remember them."

"Any of them."

I shoot upward, sleep now a faraway thing as my heart races and sweat coats every inch of my body. I should be hot, but I'm freezing. My whole body shakes uncontrollably, and I can't breathe, and I can't see...

It's dark. Why is it dark?

I feel panic start to take over and I try to settle it, but every time I try to look for light and find nothing but darkness, I think of that room. The table, the chains, the cold floor-

Two hands find my face and the world tilts. I know what comes next. I know the pain and yet I don't remember the last time.

I can't feel that again. I can't. I can't, I can't, I can't-

"No!"

I shove away the hands and scramble to stand. The hands return and I throw them off again, and then arms wrap around me and hold me tighter. I shove and wiggle against their chest, hating the touch of their skin and the feeling of being trapped. "No!"

Light suddenly flares to life, flames bursting in bunches around me. It only makes it worse. Their heat, the burn, the damnation of it.

I don't know where to go or what to do. I'm trapped.

I'm trapped.

I'm trapped.

"Shhhh. It's okay, Claire. You're safe. You're safe."

I stop fighting when I hear it. There's no scratch to his voice. No coldness to the arms that hold me nor the hands that cradle my head and run soothing strokes against my back.

It's not him. It's not him, I repeat to myself. It's Darius. It's Darius. It's not him.

"It was just a nightmare, Claire. You're safe."

I look around at the fire, realizing that it's not a fury of a wall, but a few dozen candles scattered around the tent. The large tent that we put up after joining the King and Queen of Corvina just outside of the city, and Kat and Thomas decorated with all too brandish furnishings for a singular night stay.

I'm not trapped, and I'm not in danger.

I'm safe.

It's not Xaxias here with me, it's Darius.

I want to look at him, to make sure his eyes are green and not red, but his arms keep me fully against his chest now that I've stopped fighting against them. "You're safe, Claire."

I don't what it was - his voice, his words, his reassurance - but it cracks something in me.

I burst into tears. I grab his shirt in a tight grip and just...cry. I cry about my dream, I cry about my family, my friends, my pain, and my losses. I cry until my body is shaking with it and I can't stop. I cry, and he doesn't let me go. He just rubs my back and repeats those two words, and that only makes me cry more. I don't know how long I do, but I vaguely recall people rushing in and their voices muffled from my sobs. They left, but I know they're not asleep. Not yet.

I only stop when my throat is raw and my tears have all run out. My body stops shaking shortly after, and then it's just his fingers still trailing up and down my back in a pattern that never falters. I want to cry more but I manage to hold it in. Unlike my running nose.

Saints, I hope I didn't get nasty boogers all over his shirt. That would be really embarrassing.

I want to thank him, but it doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel like enough.

Something about the silence is oddly soothing. Something about the quiet and the warmth of both him and his fire. Where the nightmare was filled with my scream and their cackling as they broke my bones and my mind, this is so peacefully silent.

So...safe.

Sniffling, I unfold my leg so that it's not at a weird angle between us and scoot further into him. I listen to his heartbeat, how it's slow and unworried, beating strong in the face of everything. I keep listening to it until my own heart beats the same rhythm and I open my eyes. They latch onto something shining brightly against the firelight. A ring, hanging at the end of a chain around his neck. I remember seeing the chain and wondering what hung beneath his clothing, but I never asked. I figured it was something personal, and that if he wanted to share it he would. I have no idea what the ring means, but it does seem like it'd be personal.

I still admire it. The unscratched silver band and the two jewels it holds. One's blue, the other a bright green. It's unbelievably simple yet extravagantly beautiful. Something a woman would wear. Not a wedding band, as those don't normally carry two jewels, but perhaps a family heirloom. Something his mother gave him. Maybe they represent his twin siblings. One for each of them.

The more I look at it the more I wonder about its purpose. Then I begin to think that I know the names of the jewels. From whatever forgotten treasure left in my mind, I slowly come into the names of them.

The blue one isn't a sapphire. It's too light to be the darker jewel. Blue diamonds are too light and more translucent. Azurite usually changes shades when exposed to different lighting, and this one isn't doing that. So it has to be a...a...topaz! It's a blue Paraiba Topaz. A representation of eternal love and faithfulness, I think, and the same shade of my wolves,

It doesn't help me figure out the meaning of the ring, so I look to the green and bite my lip in concentration. It could be an emerald, but the coloring of the jewel has more yellow in it than an emerald. Garnet is too dark, and Alexandrite is too blue. There are so many green jewels, and it takes me forever to find the name.

Amazonite...

Aventurine...

I don't think it starts with an 'A' but a 'P...'

Peridot. It's peridot, representing harmony and peacefulness. It still doesn't tell me what the ring means, but at least I found the names before my crumbling mind nearly drove me crazy about it.

Trying to find the names after long minutes causes a yawn to rise. I didn't think I'd want to go to sleep after the nightmare, but I do. Darius notices it too and finally loosens his arms to let me go. Something about the lack of warmth has the cold slithering back up my arms and dragging down them as Xaxias's nails did in the dream scares me.

"Please stay," I say quickly. I look into his eyes and find that sea-green staring back, though the flames do wonders to make them glow. "Please."

He keeps staring for a moment, which makes me feel like an idiot for asking and an even bigger idiot for asking him to sleep with me. I mean I didn't mean for him to sleep with me in that kind of sense, I just...I don't want to be alone - and yes, I am well aware that his cot is not too far from mine, but sleeping alone feels...well, lonely. It makes me wonder if something won't reach up and grab me in my sleep.

I hold my breath until he nods, and then we both kind of just awkwardly sit there. I move first, shifting to lay on my left side and leaving enough room for him on the other. He does, and I suddenly realize how stupid of an idea this was.

The cot is way too small for two people to lay on comfortably. I shouldn't have refused Kat and Thomas's offer to set up a whole bed in here, but we got here at midnight after Rohana and the others returned from their recon, and I was all too tired to wait another hour for a whole ass bed. I do wonder how they planned to get one though, seeing as we didn't bring a whole caravan with us.

His chest is once again right in front of me, and I keep my eyes strictly on the ring, though I'm beginning to regret that seeing as it lays beneath his shirt and in front of his exposed skin.

This is terribly awkward.

"Are you alright?" I nod but don't dare to make any other movement. Our bodies are already so close that moving would likely cause the two to meet, and who's to say it won't be in an awkward place?

Despite my earlier yawn, my eyes stay wide open. I lay there and hope he falls asleep first, but every time I glance up to check I find his eyes just as awake as mine. He gives me a small smile every time, but my awkward ass just looks back down, then panics and looks straight, and quickly sets back onto the ring.

I can't look anywhere without feeling scandalous. It's ridiculous.

Some minutes later though, when I forced my mind blank and my eyes shut to try and bring sleep, it begins to pull me under. I feel my body relax and the weight of it go with gravity. I'm beginning to finally fall into its last descent when he shifts and my eyes roughly open halfway to make sure I'm not taking up all the space.

The space between us has definitely closed, but I find myself not minding it. Instead, I tuck my arm into my own chest with the other and forgo a pillow, resting my forehead against the comfort of his shoulder. My eyes close for another second before opening again, instantly finding the ring. I dazedly touch it with my finger and turn it in between two. I know I probably shouldn't be touching it, but I can't help it.

I'm still turning it when my eyes notice something. There's an engraving on the inner part of the band. It takes some squinting in the dimming firelight, but I slowly make out the tiny curling words.

Find Your Heart's Home

I stare at the words, not really capable of trying to piece everything together. Not when another yawn finds me. Before I drift into sleep, I submit to the idea that pops into my mind and slip the ring onto my ring finger. It goes on easily. A little bit big, but not by much. I stretch my fingers if only to really see it on. It really is beautiful. A thing carefully crafted and made with the hands of someone who took great care in making it their own. It may not be considered grand enough for a Queen, but I take pride in simple things like this. They always seem to carry more beauty than ones with loads of diamonds placed on them, but it's not mine.

I slide it off my finger, somehow feeling lost without it. I go to sleep rubbing the inner part of my finger, as if I could still feel it there, cool against my warm skin.

I do dream the rest of the night, but I don't have a nightmare.

I dream of that ring. Of it back on my finger and me fiddling with it after this war and all the death and bloodshed. I dream of the world after it too. Of how Ker will find a way to be more unified after the fight, and how everything will be decorated in celebration and appreciation of life and that given to us.

When I wake up once again wrapped in Darius's arms, I find myself sad. It was a rough night but I got a peaceful sleep afterward, and yet, it was all just a dream. The singing, the dancing, the laughter of kids and mothers and fathers in the streets. It wasn't real. But it will be.

The thought alone had me jumping out of bed the moment that sunlight peeked through the slip of the tent flaps, and quickly dressing for training. Darius seemed happy to see me moving with more life than he could muster in the thirty minutes it took for him to get out of bed. Well, technically, I had to recruit a few of the Bhaltayr to help me in literally pulling him out of bed. He laid on the ground for a while until Gabe got annoyed and dumped a bucket of water on the King.

Let's just say that training started right after that.

I got lost in the movements of warm-ups and drills and then the cool-down. I did want to sit and enjoy a good breakfast, but Kat practically shoved the food down my throat before dragging me back into the tent with my mouth still trying to chew through some sloppily buttered bread.

She threw me in a bath and scrubbed until she got to my last layer of skin. I thought getting stabbed would be more painful. She threatened to test my theory when I said as much.

My motivation earlier left me, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I was acting like a child the whole time she spent rubbing me in oils and pulling on my hair until it settled and dried into the waves she wanted. I don't know how she did it, but I was sure glad it was over. At least, that was until she started putting stuff on my face.

I sneezed. Four times.

The woman uses quite a bit of whatever orange-scented powder she packed in a jar. At least she added some shiny dust and a liquid that made my skin look glowy. I'm still marveling at how she got my eye color to pop in a handheld mirror while she rifles through a trunk in the corner. She wasn't even on my eye for that long, and yet, I can't help but feel like it's a whole new me. She even got rid of the dark circles under my eyes.

"How the fuck did she do that?" I whisper to myself.

"Here we are." I put the mirror back down on the small table and turn to her. She holds a green skirt in her arms and smiles down at it. "It's tea-green and it has silver metal floral framework on your torso and along your spine, and matching leaf shoulder pieces that release to the draping sleeves - trust me, you're going to love it."

She ushers me behind a changing curtain and helps me into it. It slips on easily despite the metal pieces she mentioned, and I admire the feel of the soft fabric while she clips the separate metal collar at my back. Without the collar, I'm pretty sure the dress would fall right off me, and I'd rather not flash the whole of Ker. She was right about the dress though, I'm in love with it and the silver leaves over my shoulders, kept in place by a single draping chain falling across my sternum, just above the dress's sweetheart neckline.   Sheer cape sleeves drop straight from them, not covering my arms unless they too fall at my sides.
Its all so intricate, the metalwork impeccable in its detailing for the vines and flowers all along my front and transitioning to my back, only following the line of my spine up to the collar, leaving the rest open to the air and untouched. That combined with the two slits in the flowing skirt makes it rather hard to not have goosebumps.

There's really nothing to it more than fabric and metal, but it looks and feels untouchably beautiful.

Kind of like that ring Darius has.

My thoughts tingle at the thought of the ring. They fade when Kat disappears and walks back with two hands full of jewelry that are exquisite. Baroque earrings adorned with silver crystals and blue stones in one hand, and a silver crown with small droplets of blue gemstones in the other. Not to mention the silver chain armlets with six matching blue droplets hanging loosely on her wrists, and the livery collar with Thralia's crest at its center.

"What is this all for, again?" I ask, scared that this is all too much responsibility on my part to not lose these or get them dirty.

"You're meeting with ten other kingdom rulers today, Claire. You can't go introducing yourself as the Queen of Thralia looking like you just fought a bear through the mud."

"Why not?"

She gives me an incredulous look that has me holding back a laugh. "B-Because you're a Queen and have a sense of dignity."

"Says who?" She looks about