#dec2022

“A bit,” You nod. When he deflates and begins to fiddle with his armor, you wince. You’re definitely not helping his nerves, “She loves you, Phillip. Nothing could make her say no. All you have to do is ask the question and we’ll handle the rest.” 

As if on cue, Pinto ducks through the willow branches; your last detail, falling into place; or rather, walking into place. You kneel down into the soft grass as Pinto gazes up and lets out a garbled, fey version of your name. 

You’ve come to know every fairy, pixie, and wallerbog by name since coming to the moors. And though you’d never, ever admit it, Pinto has been your favorite so far. The spiky little fairy is loyal and tenacious. If you ever found yourself in a pinch, you trusted Pinto to get you out of it. Now, though, you’re trusting her to get you into one. 

“Perfect timing, Pinto. I need your help.” 

She tilts her head and poses you a question. You don’t speak the language she does, but you understand the meaning well enough—with what? Pinto asks. 

Laying your hand on the soft grass at her feet, she takes the cue, hopping into your palm. The look on her little face is very serious and you smile. Your chest is filled with excitement. 

“Alright, here’s the situation…” 

Pinto is suitably filled in and plays the role of distraction perfectly. You watch from the crowd of creatures, trying to hide your excitement; Aurora is your dearest friend and confidant, you want nothing but happiness for her. 

You see how Phillip brings her joy. The smile on her face and sound of her laughter is enough to banish any sadness from your heart on the worst of days. Aurora has been a loyal, true friend, and you’re honored to orchestrate this proposal for her after all she’s done for you; giving you a home when you arrived in the Moors wounded and alone, giving you a family in herself and the fey folk, and introducing you to Maleficent. 

Though as the willow fairies swarm and dance, revealing the overjoyed couple, you worry you’ve somehow betrayed Maleficent by doing this. A pit forms in your stomach as you watch Diaval fly towards the Dark Fey’s nest. 

But a pair of arms wrap around you and there’s a laugh in your ear. The worry melts away. 

“Thank you, thank you!” Aurora giggles.

“Don’t thank me! Your dashing Prince did all of the hard work.” 

Aurora pulls back, holding your hands in her own, “Without you, my Aunties or Pinto would have led me to the wrong tree. You’ve worked hard too.” 

“It isn’t hard work when it’s for you.” You say softly, honestly. 

Her eyes are glazed with happy tears and she throws her arms around you again. You laugh as you’re spun, the soft grass tickling your ankles, little fairies giggling with the two of you. Life had once been so cruel and now you know only joy. How lucky you feel. 

But the pit sits in your stomach again. 

Your friend must be having similar thoughts, if the hesitance on her face means anything. She bites her lip uncertainly and plays with your hands still in her own. 

She asks quietly, “How do you think my Godmother will react to the news?” 

“I think she’ll be… happy that you’re happy… eventually.” 

Aurora grumbles and pulls away, pacing back and forth while you watch on. You see Pinto mirror her behavior out of the corner of her eye. It takes all your willpower not to also join in, but you decide to remain strong for all of you. 

That strength nearly crumbles when you hear Pinto gasp and the Aunties yell to hold on. 

The great force of her wings nearly drives you back, but you remain mostly in place. You stand back by the willow as Aurora and Maleficent talk. Though now and again you can feel eyes on you, boring into your skin, and you shrink bit-by-bit. 

You were taken by Maleficent the moment you saw her years ago. 

When Aurora and the fey folk dragged you wounded to the former’s throne, you had wondered if the injuries would overcome you. You had mourned the life you didn’t anticipate getting to live. But in what you believed to be your last moments, you were grateful to be surrounded by beauty and kindness. 

Then Aurora called out to Maleficent, and she came. Her abnormally bright eyes landed on you and you knew nothing else would compare. 

She healed you, slowly and carefully, at Aurora’s request, talking all the while though it was clear she was uncomfortable. The days after she made herself scarce and you felt the loss keenly. 

Since that day, there was rarely a time when you strayed too far from the Dark Fey. You had no desire to be anywhere she wasn’t. Her dry wit and humor put you off at first, but the sincere emotion behind them endeared you to her. Maleficent had become your greatest confidant. She’d also stolen your heart, though you’d never dare tell her.

“I suppose you had something to do with this union.” Maleficent says, loudly, and you know she’s talking to you. 

You meet her eyes and nod, “And if I did?” 

“Then you can find another nest to sleep in.” 

“Godmother.” Aurora murmurs. 

Maleficent rolls her eyes, glaring at the girl. Aurora only stares back. 

“You at least could have warned me.” Maleficent says. 

Crossing your arms over your chest, you raise your eyebrow. Had you told her the surprise would have been spoiled and she knows that as well as you. You also worry, secretly, that the to-be groom would’ve disappeared. 

“You’d have reacted no better two days ago than now, Maleficent. Your nest would have been in shambles and I’d be warning off concerned fairies instead of celebrating with Aurora.” 

Maleficent’s head tilts to the side. Her eyes are more intense, extra focused on you. 

“Aurora, will you leave us?” 

Shooting you a look of concern, Aurora nods. She wanders completely out of the clearing and you want to yell after her. You do no such thing as Maleficent steps forward and closer to you. She’s notably missing her staff; her steps still uneven from the years she’d adapted to living without wings. 

Fierce green magic spreads from her palms where she clenches them at her sides. You ache to take them in your own, to soothe her emotions, but you fear it’s unwanted. 

“You didn’t tell me.” Maleficent whispers. She almost sounds betrayed. 

“It would have upset you.” 

“I’m far more upset now.” 

“I want her to be happy, Maleficent,” You say, pleading, “Is that so terrible?” 

“She’s happy here. A whole kingdom loves and attends to her everyday. She wants for nothing. Her happiness doesn’t need to come from that boy, not when she has me. Us.” She says fiercely. 

The magic in her hands flares. You take her hand this time, feeling the power seep into your skin when you lace your fingers together. Maleficent stares down at your joined hands. 

“You’re right. She doesn’t need him to be happy, but if he brings her joy, why should we deny her that? Love isn’t so terrible.” 

“Love doesn’t always end… well.” 

You see the fear in her face, and can feel the effects of it seep into your skin. You want to do a number of heartless things to the late King Stefan; though not for the first time. 

Maleficent means well. Her love for Aurora is what changed her and made her whole again, but it didn’t heal the scars her Father left behind. It isn’t so simple, unfortunately. Your heart aches in your chest to take away her pain and fear. But if you don’t let her feel it and come to terms with it, she’ll never come to terms with Phillip and Aurora’s marriage. 

“It doesn’t always end terribly either.” You say. And in a moment of madness, your mouth opens, and you say more, “I mean, it can’t, right? Not when we’re so content.” 

Maleficent’s eyes widen and your heart drops. Did you really say that? You could kick yourself for letting your traitorous mouth give you away. But you can’t, not when you’re pinned by a pair of bright eyes, emotions behind them you can’t decipher. 

Aurora and Diaval had prodded you to confess for so long and you chose the worst moment to do so. You’re even more embarrassed when you notice Pinto to your left, watching with barely concealed interest, eyes moving back and forth between you and Maleficent. 

“What do you mean by that?” Maleficent asks slowly. 

Gathering the fractured remains of your courage, you swallow. 

“It means that I love you, Maleficent,” You whisper, “I’ve held it in worrying it’d be too much for you… but say you want me, and I’m yours. I think I have been since the night I met you.” 

There it is. 

The truth, unfiltered, and honest; out in the open with the rest of the swirling feelings. You avoid her eyes and stare intensely at your joined hands. You suppose it’s a good sign that she hasn’t pulled away yet, at least she’s not disgusted. 

Silence stretches on and you wonder if she’s plotting your murder. It’d be a good time, with Pinto being the only witness. She might not go through with it immediately though if it’ll sully Aurora’s happiness and you hope you’ll at least get to see the wedding. 

You try to distract yourself with the details; will it be here in the Moors or in Ulstead? Will Phillip’s parents approve of the union? Will they approve of Maleficent?

“How can you love me?” Maleficent asks. 

Meeting her eyes, you’re surprised by the confusion in them, like she expects you to change your mind. 

“How could I not?” 

“I’m not good. I’ve taken lives and will likely take more, I’ve done horrible, evil things.” 

“I know.” 

“You… know.” She says slowly. 

Careful not to startle her, you place a hand on her cheek, feeling her cheekbone dig pleasantly into your palm, “I know. It changes nothing.” 

Maleficent looks at you like she can’t understand you; like she’s fathoming how you can exist. You vow that she’ll never again have to wonder how someone could love her. The rest of your days, you’ll use every bit of your power to prove her worthy of true, honest love. 

It surprises you how quiet the Moors are around you. Not even a breeze is blowing through. You wonder how many fey folk Aurora has watching with her, waiting for something. If you’re being honest, you’re waiting too. 

You decide to stop waiting. 

Leaning forward slowly enough to give Maleficent an out, you press your lips to the Dark Fey’s. She tastes like the berries growing inside the crystal caves. Her lips are soft and pliant, moving carefully against your own. 

Beyond initiating the kiss, you back off, letting Maleficent guide you through the motions. It goes without saying that this is one of the only kisses she’s shared. She’s an excellent kisser despite the lack of experience; though that may just be your delight at not being pushed away or rejected. 

When you pull away, you’re still curiously alone. Then you hear a garbled noise that sounds suspiciously like finally! from your feet. Pinto is looking up with delight and you laugh. Maleficent chuckles too. 

But when you look up, she’s not looking at Pinto. She only has eyes for you. 

You try to hide your blush as fairies flood the clearing, Aurora following behind. Her smile is knowing. Blushing even brighter, you meet Maleficent’s eyes when you hug her daughter, and let yourself sit in the joy. 

1 - 01/12/2022 : a young Ru! about 14 i think, i was having thoughts about her childhood and how she'd be in school etc

2-5 - 04/12/2022 : vampires.. hehe... thats all x ,, also more little ru, thought she would have a friend, she doesn't keep up with her into adulthood though, but i think Ru thinks of her a lot. also one of her in another outfit, i think she'd constantly have those claires rave ball earrings in like i did LOL

6, 7, 8 - 05/12/2022 : was thinking of what she'd wear to her school disco, somethin trendy, this would have been 2002, i was alive but not old enough to remember how teens were dressing lmfao, but anyhow i love this outfit, something she'd never wear otherwise, but she tries to fit in a bit.. also another little Toni, shes not emo enough here tho

9, 10 - 07/12/2022 : no idea whats going on here x ,, toni suspects homosexual activity, also was playing around with my Rouxls design again (i still dont know how i should be drawing him)

11, 12 - 08/09/12/2022 : TOLD U, we are at last at my current MTT design :D i love how he looks, so funky...

13, 14 - 10/12/2022 : more MTT, wanted to solidify the design, so drew him in a fun pose, still to this day this is one of my fave drawings. since Toni is, or was, like a genderbent human AU version of MTT, i was thinking of playing with her design to reflect that, i didn't go with it tho, still, it was fun to play around with

15, 16 - 18/12/2022 : idk why i lied like that in my last post LOL, i didnt draw the full digital lammy piece for awhile, but this one is definitely closer to the design i went with for her, think i based the digital one on this drawing too. More teen Toni too! i love this drawing its like the quintessential Her, esp her eye design, im glad i went and revised that, bc i know she had raccoon eyes

17, 18 - 21/12/2022 : another fiddle with my Rouxls design, i don't hate this one tbh.. also tism creature Ru

19-22 - 27/12/2022 : i think i found some random pencils and felt like inking and colouring a drawing, not my fave thing but heres a Ru in colour, the rest of the stuff i did this day i like a lot more. Next is an updated version of my gijinka of Rusty from Little Robots, idk if i ever even posted any of the old art i did for this, but heres her again <3 then just a Ru in the festive spirit, cosy jumper and a mug of somethin, i like this one bc shes just so squinkie......

23 - 31/12/2022 : last of 2022! this was done midnight before NYE itself, idk whats going on but i like it, i was thinking about what designs i could make for acrylic keyrings, and the rest is just random x

“I’ll risk it,” You smile, “I might be able to help out. At the very least, I’ll distract her for a few minutes.” 

Roy nods and you step out in front of the Elias Clarke building. You weave through the crowds and inside without a hassle. The attendant stands up straighter upon seeing you, even after all this time. Nodding in greeting, he lets you through. 

The crowds seem to part as soon as you’re past the front desk. Tall, rail-thin models step out of your way, some even stepping out of the elevator when you get in. You want to shake your head at the treatment. 

It’s a short ascent to the Runway offices and you can see why Emily is so stressed. Models and staff scamper past, barely looking your way. The front desk is in shambles as several men in suits hound the receptionist. 

Milena, the poor girl, looks absolutely beaten. You check your watch and find you have a few minutes before Miranda is expecting you. 

“Is there something wrong here, gentleman?” You ask smoothly, stepping in beside Milena like it’s your rightful place. 

The tallest and meanest of the bunch turns on you. His suit is rumpled like he’s been tugging at it nervously, face red and splotchy with anger. 

Milena cuts in softly before he can throw anything your way, “They keep saying Miranda is expecting them, but they’re not in her schedule.” 

You pat her shoulder. 

“We do have an appointment!” He almost shrieks. 

You look him up and down, raising a brow. It shuts him up long enough for you to dial a familiar number. You hold up a finger to the men while the line rings. 

His fists clench at his sides. He looks like the lawyer type, which means he’s not used to being made to wait, let alone by a woman. 

“Miranda Priestly’s office.” Emily’s clipped voice comes down the line. 

“Hi Em,” You say sweetly, “I’ve got three men waiting with Milena, claiming they’ve got an appointment on the books. Is there anything in her schedule?”

“Of course not. She has lunch with you.” 

“That’s what I thought. Thank you, Em.” You return the phone to the cradle and give a sharp smile, “You’re not on the schedule, gentleman. I trust you know where the elevators are and if you’ve forgotten, security will be more than happy to escort you.” 

“I’ll have your job, Miss—” One of the other men says. 

You grin deviously, “It’s Mrs, actually. Mrs. Priestly.” 

All three men blanch. Milena tries to cover her grin as you step around the desk. She discreetly dials the security line, watching you with bated breath. 

The tallest doesn’t look so mean now. When you step up to him, he takes a half-step back. You almost regret Miranda not being here to bear witness; you learned it from her, after all. 

When the elevator sounds and the doors open, the head of security and two of his burliest men step out. Milena nods in the direction of the three men you’re staring down. Tearing your eyes away for a moment, you nod.

“Clark.” You acknowledge the head of security. 

“Mrs. Priestly,” He says, “Is there a problem here?” 

“No problem. These gentlemen just need some assistance finding the lobby.” 

Clark nods and his two men step forward and usher the red-faced men from Runway. You watch them go with a satisfied smile. Folding your arms over your chest, you turn to the man at your side.

“Do we know how they got up here?”

“Front desk says they had an appointment with Mr. Ravitz this morning. They must have come straight from his office.” 

Your lip curls, “Irv. Of course.” 

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” 

“That’s all, Clark. Thank you.” 

He leaves without further fanfare. You watch as he sends a warm smile Milena’s way. Her responding blush makes you pause. Interesting development, you think, trying not to let your thoughts show on your face. 

Collecting your bag and accepting Milena’s heartfelt thanks, you continue back towards Miranda’s office. You wince when you catch sight of a clock. You’re five minutes later than you should be, but all you can do is hope your wife isn’t too upset. 

Following the familiar pathway to the offices, you try not to shake your head when nearly a dozen models and staff members scare upon seeing you. Honestly, you think, I wasn’t nearly as bad as Emily. Must just come with marrying the Editor-in-Chief, you decide. 

Speaking of Emily, the brit is boredly explaining something over the phone. You offer a small wave and she sends you a surprisingly-genuine smile. 

Miranda isn’t alone in her office; you can hear her soft voice bickering with someone else. Peering in, you see Nigel standing in front of her, hands motioning this way and that as he explains something. 

Knocking on the office door, “Uh, am I interrupting?” 

Both look up. Miranda’s severe expression softens slightly. When she checks the watch on her wrist, her lips purse and you know you’re not getting away with your tardiness, but she doesn’t say anything about it. 

“Not at all, darling. Come in.” Miranda stands. 

You meet Nigel in the middle of the office and exchange air kisses. He pulls back and looks you over, nodding approvingly. 

“New boots?” He asks. 

“They’re last season, actually.” You say, then stage-whisper, “Don’t tell Miranda.” 

“Oh honey, I wouldn’t dare.” Nigel winks. 

He gives Miranda a small nod and takes his leave. You cross around the desk to accept your usual kiss on the cheek. She’s a little slower to grant it today and you lean back, raising a brow.

“You’re late.” 

“There was a situation at the front desk,” You answer easily, “I would have been early, but Milena needed the help.” 

“If she needs help doing her job then perhaps she’s better suited for employment elsewhere.” Miranda says. 

“You know that isn’t what I meant.” 

“Do I?”

“Miranda.” You glare, “If you fire Milena I’m going to be extremely cross.” 

She rolls her eyes. Pulling out a few paper menus, she hands them over, and you peruse today’s selections. Smith and Wollensky rests on top and you try not to laugh. Miranda always puts her preferred option on the very top, but lets you have the final choice. 

You could go for a steak. And you should probably tread carefully with your lateness. 

Handing over the Smith and Wollensky menu, she nods, looking pleased. She calls Emily in to rattle off your orders while you move over to the couch in her office. 

Emily takes the notes dutifully. You wonder where the new second assistant is, having heard some interesting murmurs about her over the past few days. Emily was suitably frustrated with her—as was Miranda—but Nigel and Serena had been a little more kind. She was out of her depth, but meant well, that was the final verdict. 

You hardly notice when Emily leaves until Miranda sits down next to you. Leaning back against the couch, she eyes you. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask. 

“Like what?” 

“Like you’re trying to figure me out.” 

Miranda chuckles, “Darling, figuring you out will take more than my lifetime.” 

“I can never tell if statements like that are a compliment or insult.” You narrow your eyes. 

“For you?” Miranda raises a brow and pretends to think on it, before her face softens infinitesimally, “A compliment.” 

“Miranda Priestly, are you going soft on me?” You tease, but lean into her space, “Imagine what that’d do to your reputation.” 

“I have.” 

There’s a look in her eyes you can’t decipher. You try not to think about it too much, stealing a quick kiss, trying not to badly damage her lipstick.

“So, tell me about today.”

The room is freezing despite the roaring fire and furs on the floor. It feels like a trap. Sir Maynard is always the one to escort you to your Queen, his hands startlingly gentle even in the beginning; A rapport and trust building between you as your affection for Queen Ravenna grew. Fear courses through you at the thought of something befalling him. 

But nothing inspires more fear than her brother. You don’t know his name, don’t care to, for there’d always been a curious distance between the two of you. Whispers of his… proclivities reached you, and you operated under the assumption they reached your Queen too; your heart had always been warmed by the idea of her keeping you safe, even from her own family. 

Now, you wonder how you’ve deluded yourself into believing you’d ever be away from him. 

“An escort is unnecessary, Sir,” You say, trying to infuse your voice with strength, “Queen Ravenna knows I’ll come to her willingly. Though I thank you for your willingness to assist.”

His advance on you is swift and sure. In a second, his face is inches from yours, eyes boring into you. You look anywhere else. The unpleasant warmth and stench of him make your stomach twist. 

“My sister, for some reason foreign to me, may let you get away with what you wish. Watch your tongue around me unless you want to put it to good use.” He punctuates the statement with a glance downward. Your face burns with shame and rage. 

“I’d sooner lose it.” You snarl. 

A hand clasps itself around your neck and the point of a dagger is aimed at your chest. Your skin bends to make space for it. One wrong move and it will slice through, spilling blood on the dress you adore. 

You want to believe you’re protected, but you can’t say for certain; you can never say anything with certainty about your Queen. Wisely, you stay silent as he increases the pressure of his weapon and his hand. 

“You’re a stupid, vile girl.” 

The hand around your throat tightens.

“And one day I’ll have the luxury of doing what I want with you.” 

He steps back, infinitesimally, and his hands fall away. One pulls at the sleeve of your dress and pulls it down your arm, the neckline moving with it. You shiver as more of your skin is exposed to him. He stops before any of your chest is bared. 

With a lazy spin, he slashes downward. The skin splits open. You let out a pained noise, clutching your hand over the now-bleeding gash. The Queen’s brother pulls a white handkerchief from his belt and presses it into the wound roughly. Wincing, you flinch away, but hold the cloth in place. 

“Fix your dress,” He snaps, “My sister is waiting.” 

You pull up the sleeve and neckline so it hides the reddening handkerchief. A threat lingers in his eyes as he watches, then shoves you ahead. Dark soldiers flank your sides. You shiver against the chill in the air and follow their lead; you know the way just like the route to your own rooms—down several twisting halls, a few sharp lefts, and you’re before her doors—but they’re taking you somewhere different. 

Instead of the final left, you take a right. You’re brought to two large, iron doors, etched with sigils and writing you can’t understand. One of the guards pounds his fist against the door three times before opening it. 

Across the expanse of dark stone and pillars she stands facing away. Fire rages in the center of the room, drawing her full attention. You can feel the warmth of it from here and wonder how she can stand to be near it. 

“I’ve brought the girl.” Her brother says. You jump, having forgotten he was there. 

She turns and her eyes find you in an instant. You can’t help the blush you’re sporting, bowing your head and offering a polite curtsey. A smirk pulls at her mouth. 

The smirk drops as she addresses the other occupants in the room, “Leave us.” 

The soldiers offer bows and turn in sync, stomping out of the room. Her brother hesitates. His eyes flicker to her and then to you, giving you a long, serious look. Then he follows the soldiers. Your blush has vanished by the time he’s gone. 

“You kept me waiting.” She says, low voice covering the expanse—both physical and mental—between you. You’re relieved to see her shoulders relaxed, “You never keep me waiting.” 

You can sense the question in her statement, can practically hear her shouting what was more important than your Queen? But instead of raising her voice, she tilts her head, and waits. 

Lying has never been a skill in your arsenal. And with your Queen looking at you like she’d unwrap your flesh from your skeleton should you cross her, you’ve never had the guts to try. 

Skating the truth might work, you decide, “I was speaking with your brother, My Queen. He offered me a lesson on courtesy.” 

She huffs out a laugh. 

“I’d say that’s one skill you don’t need a lesson on.” 

You blush. Now that the danger of tripping her wrath has truly passed, you take slow movements to her, coming to stop at the bottom step leading to the room of fire. Her eyes are intrigued when they look down at you. 

“And what skills do I need a lesson on, My Queen?” You ask. 

She lifts an eyebrow. 

You’re quick to correct, “Ravenna.” 

Ravenna’s eyes slip closed like her name from your lips gives her power. There’s a split second of bliss there, like when you’ve finished your usual duties with her, but it feels more intimate this time. You look away. 

A blush pulls at your cheeks and you can’t fathom why; you’ve seen her in various positions and states of undress, heard things drip from her tongue that’d make any reasonable woman melt with shame. You’ve never had an issue being a witness before. You blame it on the heat radiating from the room behind her. 

Fingers tilt your head back to look her in the eye. Ravenna’s closer now, armor clad body nearly pressing to your own. A finger, adorned with a black talon, scrapes along your bottom lip. 

Her kiss is demanding and brutal when you’re locked in it, claiming every inch of you she can reach. You let out a whimper against her. Teeth find and tug at your lip, insisting on torturing you just within the bounds of what you can handle. You’re running out of air but can’t make yourself pull back. 

Ravenna’s taloned hand ghosts down your neck and makes you shiver. You feel her grin against your lips when she starts to move to your chest and you moan pathetically, pushing yourself into her embrace. She freezes before fully touching where you desire. 

You laugh against her, used to her teasing, but you open your eyes to shards of ice staring you down. 

Her eyes have landed just about where her hand is and you gaze downward, freezing. There, next to her hand, blood has seeped through the exquisite fabric. Some of it stains her fingertips. You feel lightheaded. 

“Take off your dress.” She commands, no longer Ravenna, but your Queen. 

“My Queen, I…”

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.” 

The control she had before is gone. When you step back to pull down the top of your dress, she stays rooted to the spot. Her eyes are sharp, deadly, and you know armies trembled beneath this gaze before but you’re not, whether it be stupidity or comfort. 

Pulling down your dress reveals the bloodstained handkerchief and you peel it off of your skin. The gash is angry, blood still seeping from it, though in smaller amounts this time. You don’t dare wipe it away. 

Ravenna steps to you and brings her own hand out to touch at the gash, hand shaking with barely contained rage. You try and fail to stop your wince. 

“They’ll pay in blood.” Ravenna forces through gritted teeth, “Tell me their name.” 

You go cold. Her brother has been her longest and fiercest companion, even uttering his name would assure her rage be directed at you. She’ll choose family everytime. You don’t want to die, not when there’s still so much time you haven’t shared with her. 

“I…” 

“A name!” Ravenna shouts. 

Shaking your head, you try to pull back, but her left hand clasps around your arm. You’re caught in an iron grip. 

“You’ll be furious with me.” You whisper, voice pleading. 

“We’re beyond fury,” Her voice trembles, “A name.” 

Wincing and looking at your feet, you accept your fate, “It was your brother.” 

Emotions from defeat to pure hatred flicker behind her eyes before she settles on one; betrayal. Her hold on you loosens and you step closer, reaffirming the contact. She doesn’t react to it. 

A vulnerability lingers in her muscles as she deflates, a lone tear tracking down her porcelain cheek. You ache to wipe it away. She’s staring past you, mind caught in something you can’t hope to understand. You remain an anchor to the physical world as you take her hand and bring the palm to your lips, your own tears falling onto the skin. 

“I’m sorry,” You whisper, not sure she can hear you, “I spoke out of turn and upset him. It was my fault.” 

Her hand tightens around your own. 

“He knows the limit.” 

Ravenna drags you to the door and your heart nearly beats out of your chest. She’s reached her limit with me, you think, as she throws open the doors with an ease that startles you. 

“Guards!” She shrieks and they come running.

You wait for the command that will sentence you; you wonder if she’ll do it herself or if she’ll just have you thrown onto the streets to rot with the people. Will she slit your throat or take your heart? 

Her hand ghosts over the gash and the lingering pain fades. Looking down curiously, you find the skin mended. 

“Take her to her rooms.” Ravenna commands the guards, “And bring me my brother.” 

Eyes widening, you examine her face, shock rendering you speechless. Her face remains the portrait of indifference as you’re led away. Disbelief floods you when you’re in your rooms, even as your ears hear the screams across the castle, and even as the whispers tell you he’s dead.