a new tale unfolds...

It was a dark and stormy night, and the room was cold as ice when you jolted awake. Your entire frame trembles as you press your palm to your chest, your neck, nails scratching at your skin as if to purge the dregs of a dream most unwelcome.

Cold-numbed fingers, an overcast sky with only one source of warmth to serve in place of the sun. A blade as clear and pure as water, its translucent surface stained red with...

Your nails dig deeper, biting sharp crescents into the flesh; in panic, you reach out for something, anything to anchor yourself—

"Ow!" The other occupant of your shared bed curls away from you, clutching his nose; Ajax, who had been peacefully asleep — and hogging all the space on the mattress, for that matter — was now groggily awake.

"Ugh..."

Your brain takes a moment to reassess the situation, the gears slowly dialling down in your head.

"Sorry," you mumble hoarsely, the grip on your throat loosening just a bit. "Nightmare."

That gets his attention, and in your darkest hour you can vaguely make out the silhouette of Ajax, his hair all squashed to the side and sticking out at odd angles — he must've been sleeping on it — crawling from his place on the opposite side of the bed, his eyes still half-squinted from sleep.

"Wha haffen?" He mumbles as he draws close, his blue eyes blinking almost owlishly; somehow in spite of your shuddering, it takes all your willpower to smother a giggle at how silly he looked in the moment.

Unfortunately, it does not go unnoticed.

"Ah, you're laughing at me. My own beloved." Shaking his head, Ajax flings the rumpled blanket over the two of you anyway. "First you smack me in the face and wake me up in the middle of the night, now you laugh at me. Woe is me."

"I didn't mean to," you snicker right into your sleeve. "You just looked so funny."

"Funny? Me? Funny?" His arms enfold you, drawing you right into the crook of his neck as he pulls you back into the mound of pillows. In this moment, Ajax is naught but all-encompassing warmth, seeping into your frozen bones as he cradles your head close. "I am the one and only apprentice of my master and the only one who has grasped the reins of the Foul Legacy. And yet you think me a clown?"

You press your lips together tightly to suppress yourself, allowing the silence to speak for you— in response, Ajax throws his hands up in despair.

"I thought you looked like an angel the day we first met. Who knew angels could be so cruel?"

You finally give up on any pretenses and laugh out loud — right into the side of his neck — as you snuggle close, an unspoken gesture of appeasement; he twitches ever so slightly as your arms wrap around his shoulders.

"...Well, I suppose it's fine to be a clown every once in a while, if angels can laugh like that."

"Yes, yes," you hum. "Such a loyal jester I am blessed with."

"Well, since I conveniently happen to be awake at this hour, this loyal jester wants to know what kind of dream bothers your noble mind."

His fingers gently trace constellations between your shoulder-blades, patterns from an unfamiliar sky that he'd once seen a glimpse of, very long ago— you knew because he'd told you little bits and pieces here and there over the years, tracing them into the lines of your palm till they settled right into the cracks.

"Well, for starters, it was an awful one."

"How bad? Did I eat the food you'd carefully hidden away for another time?"

"No." You shuffle uneasily. "Not that awful."

"So tell me then. What's on your mind?"

For a moment you freeze, your vision flooded with the colours of recollection. White snow shining like moonlight, crimson blood spilled like a thousand rose-petals. A haunting blue gaze that pierces through your soul and doesn't see you as you anymore.

You pull away to look Ajax in the face; he stares right back, concern already pooling in the corners of his eyes.

"I dreamt that I did something very bad." Your voice cracks— oh, you cannot lie to that face, no matter how hard you try. "Punishable by death, even. And I was on the run."

"Now that's a bit hard for me to picture." His voice is light, though the slight furrow of his eyebrows betrays him. "But what happened next?"

"You were searching for me." Your resolve dwindles with every word. "You were my executioner."

One heartbeat.

Two heartbeats.

Outside, the rain slows its downpour, holding its breath as if to hear his response. Ajax gazes at you for a little longer, the pads of his fingers pressing into your shoulder a little firmer than before.

"Just so you know," you begin, wondering if you should even finish your train of thought. "If something like this ever happens to us—"

"Don't." His voice trembles, ever so slightly. "Don't say things like that. Not even as a joke."

Unable to bear the weight of his gaze, you curl deeper into the blanket, tucking yourself into his side to slot in like a puzzle-piece. "I'm sorry. I know it's not fair."

"It's not that."

"I know."

"I'm not angry at you either."

"I know that too."

"It's just a dream." Ajax says firmly, though it sounds more like reassurance for his own ears rather than yours. "A bad dream, that's all. It won't happen to us."

The words die in your mouth, and you can only trace circles into the crook of his arm in silence.

In truth, you really didn't have many precious things left in your life; the cold had taken much from you, and it was only the nature of winter to soon take everything else you held dear. It was something everyone — be it travelling merchant, wandering adventurer, child of the Hearth or scholar of the Forest — prepared for as soon as they stepped foot in Snezhnaya. Such was the gift of the Tsaritsa to her people— here in her lands, the lost would always find what their hearts yearned for, but there was always an equally dear price to pay.

And yet you could do nothing to suppress the way your heart trembled at the thought of the vast debt you accumulated day by day. Unease weighed down on your chest every morning you woke up to joy, the insidious whispering in your head that knew things wouldn't last, and that someday the Great Snow would come to claim its payment. With creeping fingers of ice, it would split this temporary bliss open like a pomegranate, and claim what you treasured most within.

On the day of reckoning, would you even surrender willingly? Would you be able to let go of him?

"Ajax, listen to me. If I ever..."

Your grip tightens on his sleeve, tense and desperate. "I want you to choose your life more than anything. It'd break my heart if something happened to you, and– and— I don't think I could..."

In the darkness, his hand makes its way to yours and clasps it tight, callused fingers threading through your own like a woven tapestry.

"Shh, shh." Ajax soothes. "I won't let that happen. I promise."

"...Sorry."

"For what?"

"For waking you up. For this."

"No, no. I could feel you shaking already; even if you hadn't smacked me—"

"I am so sorry."

"— I would've woken up anyway. And besides..." The curve of his Adam's apple bobs up and down as he speaks. "We still have much to do, don't we?"

"...We do?"

"Of course we do. Great and mighty foes for me to defeat, fantastical stories and tales from other lands for you to collect as we travel." His voice takes on a teasing note. "And don't forget, the trophies from the monsters I hunt shall all be dedicated to you."

"No thank you." You grimace. "If we bring them home and you go gallivanting on your own, I'm going to be the one left wiping them. Do you know how much dust gathers on scales and horns?"

"Very well, I'll only bring home the ones that are easy to clean."

In the dark, you can almost reach out to trace the curve of his smile with your finger. His eyes shone even in the darkest abyss, glowing with an eagerness to seize tomorrow's bounties with his own two hands– a trait of Ajax that you always secretly admired, yet could never dream to achieve.

"Oh, and I can't forget how many sights we must see– there are so many places I must take you, all of them beautiful. And with good food too! I'm sure you will love it."

"I'm sure I will," you whisper, hardly daring to break the spell.

"And of course we'll come home to go ice-fishing in the winter, just the two of us."

"Must it be in winter?" Your gloom is quickly dispelled to be replaced with horror; a shudder runs down your spine at the thought of yourself swaddled in beast-furs and huddled by a tiny hole, a fishing pole sticking out of your frozen hands while Ajax laughs, clearly unbothered by the endless snow. "The lake is frozen all year-round. Can't it be in summer instead?"

"In the summer, then." Ajax only smiles wider at your predicament, and rough, battle-scarred fingers gently brush the hair out of your face. "We'll go fishing in the summer, and I'll catch a big haul for us to eat for dinner."

"And maybe I'll catch some too." You murmur softly. "Not as many as you, though."

"Of course not. I can't be beaten at fishing."

"Always so competitive." In spite of your complaint, you can feel a smile growing again. "And then after that, we'll invite the family over for dinner."

"Yes," he breathes, almost like a prayer. You silently agree with his unspoken plea— to live the simple and quiet days together, and nothing more.

"I'll keep the little ones entertained while you prepare the food."

"What story will you tell them this time?"

"A new one, maybe. One with a happy ending— Anthon was so upset when I finished 'The Nightingale and the Rose' last time."

"I was, too." Strong arms shift to cradle you close, tugging at the blanket to wrap about your face. "Heroes' tales always deserve happy endings. The Nightingale should've had one."

"Hm," you mumble drowsily. "I think you're right."

Your thoughts drift away to another time — be it dream, daydream or perhaps even a distant memory — Tonia's fingers skillfully weaving strands of your hair into clumsy, uncertain braids, the weight of Anthon leaning on your shoulder and the warmth of Teucer curled up in your lap before the fireplace. A familiar mop of reddish-orange hair brushing your forehead as Ajax leans close, his blue eyes reflecting the gentle flicker of the fire, freckled nose scrunched up as he smiles all the brighter. And of course, his energy is infectious— so you cannot help but to give him a smile in return. Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow would come for you both— tomorrows laden with laughter as golden as honey, tomorrows filled with the sorrow that came with parting and tomorrows bursting with the joy of reunion as you found each other again. No matter what came to pass, Ajax believed in a tomorrow with you by his side— to him that was the absolute truth, and so that was what would always be.

The rain completely stops, allowing the sound of deep breaths to fill the empty space where the pitter-patter of raindrops once had been; Ajax lies still as your racing heartbeat eases in your chest, the sound of his own heart lulling you to a now-dreamless sleep.

It was a dark and stormy night, and the room was cold as ice when you jolted awake. Your entire frame trembles as you press your palm to your chest, your neck, nails scratching at your skin as if to purge the dregs of a dream most unwelcome.

Cold-numbed fingers, an overcast sky with only one source of warmth to serve in place of the sun. A blade as clear and pure as water, its translucent surface stained red with...

Your nails dig deeper, biting sharp crescents into the flesh; in panic, you reach out for something, anything to anchor yourself—

"Ow!" The other occupant of your shared bed curls away from you, clutching his nose; Ajax, who had been peacefully asleep — and hogging all the space on the mattress, for that matter — was now groggily awake.

"Ugh..."

Your brain takes a moment to reassess the situation, the gears slowly dialling down in your head.

"Sorry," you mumble hoarsely, the grip on your throat loosening just a bit. "Nightmare."

That gets his attention, and in your darkest hour you can vaguely make out the silhouette of Ajax, his hair all squashed to the side and sticking out at odd angles — he must've been sleeping on it — crawling from his place on the opposite side of the bed, his eyes still half-squinted from sleep.

"Wha haffen?" He mumbles as he draws close, his blue eyes blinking almost owlishly; somehow in spite of your shuddering, it takes all your willpower to smother a giggle at how silly he looked in the moment.

Unfortunately, it does not go unnoticed.

"Ah, you're laughing at me. My own beloved." Shaking his head, Ajax flings the rumpled blanket over the two of you anyway. "First you smack me in the face and wake me up in the middle of the night, now you laugh at me. Woe is me."

"I didn't mean to," you snicker right into your sleeve. "You just looked so funny."

"Funny? Me? Funny?" His arms enfold you, drawing you right into the crook of his neck as he pulls you back into the mound of pillows. In this moment, Ajax is naught but all-encompassing warmth, seeping into your frozen bones as he cradles your head close. "I am the one and only apprentice of my master and the only one who has grasped the reins of the Foul Legacy. And yet you think me a clown?"

You press your lips together tightly to suppress yourself, allowing the silence to speak for you— in response, Ajax throws his hands up in despair.

"I thought you looked like an angel the day we first met. Who knew angels could be so cruel?"

You finally give up on any pretenses and laugh out loud — right into the side of his neck — as you snuggle close, an unspoken gesture of appeasement; he twitches ever so slightly as your arms wrap around his shoulders.

"...Well, I suppose it's fine to be a clown every once in a while, if angels can laugh like that."

"Yes, yes," you hum. "Such a loyal jester I am blessed with."

"Well, since I conveniently happen to be awake at this hour, this loyal jester wants to know what kind of dream bothers your noble mind."

His fingers gently trace constellations between your shoulder-blades, patterns from an unfamiliar sky that he'd once seen a glimpse of, very long ago— you knew because he'd told you little bits and pieces here and there over the years, tracing them into the lines of your palm till they settled right into the cracks.

"Well, for starters, it was an awful one."

"How bad? Did I eat the food you'd carefully hidden away for another time?"

"No." You shuffle uneasily. "Not that awful."

"So tell me then. What's on your mind?"

For a moment you freeze, your vision flooded with the colours of recollection. White snow shining like moonlight, crimson blood spilled like a thousand rose-petals. A haunting blue gaze that pierces through your soul and doesn't see you as you anymore.

You pull away to look Ajax in the face; he stares right back, concern already pooling in the corners of his eyes.

"I dreamt that I did something very bad." Your voice cracks— oh, you cannot lie to that face, no matter how hard you try. "Punishable by death, even. And I was on the run."

"Now that's a bit hard for me to picture." His voice is light, though the slight furrow of his eyebrows betrays him. "But what happened next?"

"You were searching for me." Your resolve dwindles with every word. "You were my executioner."

One heartbeat.

Two heartbeats.

Outside, the rain slows its downpour, holding its breath as if to hear his response. Ajax gazes at you for a little longer, the pads of his fingers pressing into your shoulder a little firmer than before.

"Just so you know," you begin, wondering if you should even finish your train of thought. "If something like this ever happens to us—"

"Don't." His voice trembles, ever so slightly. "Don't say things like that. Not even as a joke."

Unable to bear the weight of his gaze, you curl deeper into the blanket, tucking yourself into his side to slot in like a puzzle-piece. "I'm sorry. I know it's not fair."

"It's not that."

"I know."

"I'm not angry at you either."

"I know that too."

"It's just a dream." Ajax says firmly, though it sounds more like reassurance for his own ears rather than yours. "A bad dream, that's all. It won't happen to us."

The words die in your mouth, and you can only trace circles into the crook of his arm in silence.

In truth, you really didn't have many precious things left in your life; the cold had taken much from you, and it was only the nature of winter to soon take everything else you held dear. It was something everyone — be it travelling merchant, wandering adventurer, child of the Hearth or scholar of the Forest — prepared for as soon as they stepped foot in Snezhnaya. Such was the gift of the Tsaritsa to her people— here in her lands, the lost would always find what their hearts yearned for, but there was always an equally dear price to pay.

And yet you could do nothing to suppress the way your heart trembled at the thought of the vast debt you accumulated day by day. Unease weighed down on your chest every morning you woke up to joy, the insidious whispering in your head that knew things wouldn't last, and that someday the Great Snow would come to claim its payment. With creeping fingers of ice, it would split this temporary bliss open like a pomegranate, and claim what you treasured most within.

On the day of reckoning, would you even surrender willingly? Would you be able to let go of him?

"Ajax, listen to me. If I ever..."

Your grip tightens on his sleeve, tense and desperate. "I want you to choose your life more than anything. It'd break my heart if something happened to you, and– and— I don't think I could..."

In the darkness, his hand makes its way to yours and clasps it tight, callused fingers threading through your own like a woven tapestry.

"Shh, shh." Ajax soothes. "I won't let that happen. I promise."

"...Sorry."

"For what?"

"For waking you up. For this."

"No, no. I could feel you shaking already; even if you hadn't smacked me—"

"I am so sorry."

"— I would've woken up anyway. And besides..." The curve of his Adam's apple bobs up and down as he speaks. "We still have much to do, don't we?"

"...We do?"

"Of course we do. Great and mighty foes for me to defeat, fantastical stories and tales from other lands for you to collect as we travel." His voice takes on a teasing note. "And don't forget, the trophies from the monsters I hunt shall all be dedicated to you."

"No thank you." You grimace. "If we bring them home and you go gallivanting on your own, I'm going to be the one left wiping them. Do you know how much dust gathers on scales and horns?"

"Very well, I'll only bring home the ones that are easy to clean."

In the dark, you can almost reach out to trace the curve of his smile with your finger. His eyes shone even in the darkest abyss, glowing with an eagerness to seize tomorrow's bounties with his own two hands– a trait of Ajax that you always secretly admired, yet could never dream to achieve.

"Oh, and I can't forget how many sights we must see– there are so many places I must take you, all of them beautiful. And with good food too! I'm sure you will love it."

"I'm sure I will," you whisper, hardly daring to break the spell.

"And of course we'll come home to go ice-fishing in the winter, just the two of us."

"Must it be in winter?" Your gloom is quickly dispelled to be replaced with horror; a shudder runs down your spine at the thought of yourself swaddled in beast-furs and huddled by a tiny hole, a fishing pole sticking out of your frozen hands while Ajax laughs, clearly unbothered by the endless snow. "The lake is frozen all year-round. Can't it be in summer instead?"

"In the summer, then." Ajax only smiles wider at your predicament, and rough, battle-scarred fingers gently brush the hair out of your face. "We'll go fishing in the summer, and I'll catch a big haul for us to eat for dinner."

"And maybe I'll catch some too." You murmur softly. "Not as many as you, though."

"Of course not. I can't be beaten at fishing."

"Always so competitive." In spite of your complaint, you can feel a smile growing again. "And then after that, we'll invite the family over for dinner."

"Yes," he breathes, almost like a prayer. You silently agree with his unspoken plea— to live the simple and quiet days together, and nothing more.

"I'll keep the little ones entertained while you prepare the food."

"What story will you tell them this time?"

"A new one, maybe. One with a happy ending— Anthon was so upset when I finished 'The Nightingale and the Rose' last time."

"I was, too." Strong arms shift to cradle you close, tugging at the blanket to wrap about your face. "Heroes' tales always deserve happy endings. The Nightingale should've had one."

"Hm," you mumble drowsily. "I think you're right."

Your thoughts drift away to another time — be it dream, daydream or perhaps even a distant memory — Tonia's fingers skillfully weaving strands of your hair into clumsy, uncertain braids, the weight of Anthon leaning on your shoulder and the warmth of Teucer curled up in your lap before the fireplace. A familiar mop of reddish-orange hair brushing your forehead as Ajax leans close, his blue eyes reflecting the gentle flicker of the fire, freckled nose scrunched up as he smiles all the brighter. And of course, his energy is infectious— so you cannot help but to give him a smile in return. Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow would come for you both— tomorrows laden with laughter as golden as honey, tomorrows filled with the sorrow that came with parting and tomorrows bursting with the joy of reunion as you found each other again. No matter what came to pass, Ajax believed in a tomorrow with you by his side— to him that was the absolute truth, and so that was what would always be.

The rain completely stops, allowing the sound of deep breaths to fill the empty space where the pitter-patter of raindrops once had been; Ajax lies still as your racing heartbeat eases in your chest, the sound of his own heart lulling you to a now-dreamless sleep.