"Aurora." Eadric warns before the silence lingers for too long.

"It's true. It was his drink that was poisoned, and it was poisoned by Lux Cantavit."

"Clear the room! No one but royalty and required personal stay." Apache announces, and just like that everyone but Apache, Eadric, Eerika and I clear the room with haste. Even Lakote is escorted out which pisses Eerika off greatly. Just what I need. She turns on me first.

"Do you have any idea how inappropriately you're acting, voicing your suspicions so brashly? Speaking in such a manner endangers our entire tribe of mass panic! You need to go." Eerika hisses, clearly fueled by nothing but her hatred towards me.

"Sure, no problem. And when the Desert Clan hears word that your Commander somehow survived and you'll have no plan on how to go forward without avoiding war, I'll be out safe, peaceful in the woods while mass panic does ensue and innocent lives are taken."

"You have no idea what you're talking about." Eerika declares, her eyes narrowed dangerously towards me.

"Maybe not, but I do know I'm the only one with answers regarding this," I say before motioning to Eadric's state, causing him to bristle. "The Desert Clan was responsible, and their numbers have grown extensively, their armies large and readied for battle. That's the only proper explanation as to why they came here in person with a new leader. She's calling the shots and I've seen eyes as feral as hers before. She wants his blood."

"If Lux Cantavit was really responsible for this, then why are you still here?" Eerika suddenly asks, causing me to scoff at her inability to analyze genuine information right in front of her. Really, these people know so little about actual strategy and war tactics, all they see is those to save and those to kill.

"Because they poisoned his glass, not mine." I answer after some time, only for Eerika's lips to spread into a cruel grin.

"No, I mean why are you still here. Cowards like you always run in the face of battle and you've certainly got the experience to do so."

I swallow at her mocking words, at the sly raise of her eyebrows as she surveys the room, as though daring anyone to respond. By the time her eyes are back on mine, I am ready to talk. "Because a coward like me also has basic intelligence and knows well enough that if I were to leave here now, with Lux Cantavit troops likely still roaming your lands, I'd be in immediate danger of being kidnapped and held as ransom as well as for information regarding your clan. If only you weren't so stupid you would've been able to see this yourself." I finish with a sarcastic, woe is me kind of voice.

That pisses her off well enough as next thing you know her hand goes to her blade, but Apache's is over hers in an instant.

"Your Highness, please. As disagreeable as the current circumstance may be, these events of late have proven we need Aurora here whether you've come to terms with such realities or not."

"Apache, I will pull rank if it comes to this."

"Then I'll pull mine."

We all look to the source of the noise, Eerika's challenging expression dropping as soon as she realizes it is her brother.

"Eadric-"

"I told you all, she stays. We need to appear as a united front while facing Lux Cantavit, especially while I still have yet to figure out what they've got planned for us now that this little endeavor of theirs has failed."

"Should we prepare for war?" Apache automatically questions.

I wince as a sharp pain suddenly emerges in my head as I recall the last time I heard Apache say such words. During the war against the Mountain. I recover quickly, however, forcing the memories to their proper space at the back of my mind as I force myself to focus on the conversation at hand.

"It would be irrational at this point. We have only just achieved liberation from the Mountain, let the people enjoy their newfound peace while we send a messenger out to call for a meeting here between all clan members. We will discuss further action then."

"Yes, Your Majesty. When shall the meeting be held?"

"Two weeks. Give Lux Cantavit two weeks to take actions against us. I wish to test out their new Queen. Also, say nothing regarding this recent incident. The people can't know the spirits of their King ever wavered."

"Of course, Your Majesty. We'll get the word out of the meeting immediately." Apache confirms before bidding his Commander a brief farewell. His two guards that always seem to accompany him followed in suit.

"I need to speak to Lakote about this." Eerika suddenly announces before turning completely to her brother. "If you would rather I wait to watch over you, I can do so, Eadric."

"No, Eerika, that won't be necessary. You should go inform the troops of the meeting. Increase their training hours if necessary, but say nothing. I don't want to cause widespread panic."

"Of course, brother. I'll go inform the troops of this now."

"Thank you," he tells her, honest, and I notice a little crack in Eerika's armor as she gives him a slow nod, taking his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze before exiting the tent with haste to follow her Commander's instructions.

"That just leaves you and me." I note aloud as I take in this current situation. The guards present are posted just outside the tent, and the tension in the room is more prevalent than ever, yet when Eadric meets my gaze, I raise my eyebrows challengingly, as though daring him to tell me to leave.

He  seems too exhausted to tell me to go in the harsh manner he likely wishes to, and who could blame him. He almost died last night, several times. That could wear a person out, I imagine. Then again, I do not even really have to, not after Trident.

"You don't have to be here." Eadric mutters bitterly after taking a moment. He is probably sure I do not even want to be.

"Yeah, well you didn't spend half the night operating on yourself and cleaning up blood vomit." I inform him with just as much condescension.

He scoffs, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Nobody asked you to do that. You could've just left me to die."

"Damn, if only I had realized that sooner. Once you were out of the picture, I could've celebrated my personal enjoyment of you not being here to irritate me all while the clans go to complete shit without their leader. Talk about a missed opportunity." While most of my statement had been tainted with false optimism, the last sentence just comes out dark, harsh, evident of my irritation towards his current lack of common sense, even while he is heavily medicated like this. That is probably the only reason why I am still standing here alive. This is not the way to talk to a patient post surgery.

"I don't need this right now." He tells me, tensing some until he winces, his teeth gritted. His hand goes to his stomach.

"Let me." I tell him as walk towards him to check out the bandage myself.

"Back off." He commands, raising an arm that I luckily dodge with ease now due to his grogginess.

"Nice try, dear, but thanks to the practice I got last night, that trick no longer works on me." I inform him, ill-humored before ripping the bandage off with one abrupt yank.

"Et sanguinem infernum, are you trying to kill me?" He nearly shouts, causing me to roll my eyes.

"Just shut up and put your head back if you don't wanna watch." I instruct him distractedly.

He scoffs before practically slamming his head back onto the table in defeat. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, his body sheen with sweat and overheated, surely, but even then I can tell this bandage is soaked with Fibrinous Exudate, not sweat.

"I'm going to have to change your bandages more often." I say with a mouthful of wrap between my teeth as I rip a piece off.

"That's not going to work." He declares in a gravelly tone, an arm over his eyes. "I can't be stopping in here four times a day, people will ask questions."

"Oh no, I'm afraid four times a day is the normal rate. You're going to have to be raised to at least six times, at least for the first week, and that's after you remain on lockdown here for a bare minimum of seventy two hours."

"That's not happening." He tells me again from the same position.

"Then get an infection that keeps you in here bedridden for a month. It's up to you." I tell him straight up.

"Honesty. One of your best qualities." He gets out after a moment.

"Unlike you apparently." I suddenly retort, finally prompting him to lift his arm from over his eyes in order to look to me.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asks with a skeptical edge in his voice.

"It means I now know everything." I tell him, my tone firm.

His eyes narrow. "Know what?"

"About you. About how you became their King." I say, motioning to the soon to be busy streets beside us.

Instinctively he looks to the streets as though checking to make sure no one has heard us. By the time he slowly turns his head back to me, his eyes are all fire. The veins in his neck are bulging.

"What do you know?" He asks lowly, clearly struggling to restrain himself as his hands are clenched into painfully tight fists at his sides, his knuckles white.

"I know you were basically a bastard. I know you grew up on the streets fighting for food and shelter until Apache took you in and trained you to become a warrior, to make your family proud. I know you became the Commander of the clans and King of Nocte Cantavit by killing the previous one. I know you formally challenged him in a fight to the death, and I know you challenged him because-"

"Why," he suddenly interrupts, seething, "why did I kill him?"

"Because he killed your father."

Suddenly I find myself ducking as Eadric's hand swipes out, splaying a mass of supplies and the tray filled with the shards of the urn all over the floor. He continue his rampage, throwing countless objects at the wall until his bloodied hands roughly find the collar of my shirt before violently yanking me up so I am just over his panting form. My face is only inches from his, his face flushed from his rampage as the guards frantically burst through the opening of the tent.

"Praece-"

"Out! No one comes in!" Eadric roars, sparring a brief, furious glare their way which is all it takes for them to scurry out of the room as fast as they had come in.

"Who told you this?" Eadric growls, his raging eyes suddenly back on mine. After I take too long to answer, he responds with another sharp tug that forces me to bracket my hands along either side of the table beside his head in order to keep my face from bashing into his.

"Apache did." I manage, my tone quiet but eyes eyes still wide due to his feral behavior.

"That son of a bitch, I'll kill him for this-"

"Do you hear yourself right now? You need to calm-"

"No! You don't speak unless I permit you to."

"Are you serious-?"

He cuts me off with another sharp tug. "Now answer this: what else did he tell you?"

I sigh, in no hurry to reveal anything but more than aware of what will happen to me if I refuse to speak up.

"Answer me!" He shouts again, causing my to flinch as my ears start to ring.

"He told me the previous Commander ran his sword through your father. That you held him in your arms while he died. He told me that you couldn't save him-" I am then cut off yet again, a strangled cough coming from my throat as breathing starts becoming a little difficult for me with his fists against my throat.

"I swear to god I'll execute him for this!" Eadric hisses. His grip over my collar tightens to an extent where I have no choice but to put one of my hands over his in order to push it away from my jugular.

"That's enough, Eadric, you need to stop this-"

"He had no right to say those things about me, to speak of my father's death! He had no right-!"

"I know!" I burst, effectively cutting him off as his glowing eyes suddenly meet my burning ones.

He seems to come back somewhat then, blinking some before looking to his grip over my collar where he finally loosens it some. He does not release me though, not yet.

I have no possible means of rationalizing what I do next, but for some insane reason I find myself placing both my hands along either side of his burning cheeks, holding tight to his head and neck as my thumbs press firmly into the corners of his eye sockets. "I know." I tell him again, my eyes wide as I look intently into his. Our chests are pressed together now, his still heaving into mine as I try to get him to subconsciously match my breathing.

"How could you?" He just mutters helplessly, like he is lost, completely and utterly lost, and I nearly forget how to breathe because it is so unbelievable how well I recognise this expression.

"Because I lost my father due to the actions of a leader too. Because I watched, first hand, my father die right before my eyes. I saw his pain, his helplessness, and then... there was nothing. I know."

His lips are still parted, his hands now over my bare forearms as he looks into my eyes, searching for any sign of doubt, of recognition. "How did he die?" He suddenly asks, seeming to have finally calmed somewhat.

"It doesn't matter." I mutter without much thought before pulling away. I begin to turn from him until a hand regrips my collar again, not letting me off so easily.

"How did he die?" Eadric just repeats, sterner.

I sigh, allowing my eyes to drop from his invasive gaze. "He was executed, placed into an airlock that was opened soon after, exposing him to space. He died from oxygen deprivation and negative pressure." I explain, my heart dropping.

A moment of silence passes.

"I haven't spoke of my father's death since it happened." I say, not really directed to anyone.

"Nor have I." Eadric answers regardless.

I swallow thickly then, taking a moment to blink back the tears before we seem to come to some kind of unspoken resolution. Eadric releases me soon after.

"I still don't trust you." He suddenly declares soon after I have kneeled down to start picking up the mess he managed to make. "Don't think that's changed."

"I don't." I tell him evenly as I rise, setting the the pan filled with all kinds of stern material back onto the counter.

"And I may never trust you again." He adds.

"I'm aware." I confirm, then spare a quick glance to see him watching me closely with disdain, as though just looking at me is enough to disgust him.

"Already back to square one, then?" I suddenly ask, referring to the rocky grounds we had been on when I first returned here. He still looks at me with the same repulsion now as he did then.

"Guess so." He just mutters before picking up one of the unopened bottles of Lunaluceat. He rips off the cork with his teeth before settling back and taking a large swig out of it.

The following three days are, to be precise, a living hell. No matter what I do I seem to be forced face to face with some absurd form of punishment for what I had done to these people. Anytime I decide to take walk around the village I am greeted with disapproving glares, the clinic just to check on Eadric with his constant condescension and alone back at the house I am taunted with the memories of the old leaders who resided here not so long ago and yet it feels like a lifetime has passed. Nightfall brings no relief. No matter where I turn I seem incapable of catching a break, and I come to wish more and more with each day that passes that I was back out there, deep in the woods, protected by the heavy blankets of trees and the peaceful solitude of dark caverns and heavy rainfall.

Unfortunately it has been made clear that this is no longer a possibility for me.

Following those three excruciatingly long days, Eadric is permitted to go back to the house now that the stitching has sealed his wound for the most part. He is irritable the first night back, clearly upset at having needed me to help him even after taking the Lift, but he is the one who insisted on coming back here despite my protests. None of the others seemed to put much weight to my opinion either, they all just want their Commander back. Eventually Eadric manages to settle into the bed, his body covered in a cold sweat due to the strain of the journey up here as he busies himself with a book I chucked his away upon him complaining over his restlessness. Well, not exactly complaining. He had not even uttered a word, really, but staring blankly at the ceiling was telling enough.

"You know," Eadric begins later that night as I tend to the fire, "you have the voice of a Queen."

"What?" I question, already shaking my head dismissively as I continue to prod the wood.

"You have the voice of a Queen." He just repeats, clearly not willing to drop this.

I scoff, not even lifting my eyes from the gentle flames as my exhaustion leaves me too dimmed to challenge him.

"I'm serious." He declares, and I spare a glance to see his eyes have not even lifted from his book. "The voice of a Queen; commanding, flat, weighed down by the realities no one wants to face."

"I feel as though this is intended to insult me." I note nonchalantly as I set down the fire rod and walk over to the bed.

"Not insult." Eadric declares as I get into the bed, facing away from him. "To clarify."

"To clarify what, exactly?" I manage, already half asleep as I burrow further into the covers.

"How damned you are to this life. A raging, widely feared King aside his unrelenting, morally compromised Queen. You're forever interlaced to this fate whether you wish it or not."

"And you aren't?" I challenge, now stilling from my place under the heavy pelts.

Eadric answers me with nothing more than silence, and yet that night, when I wake screaming and frantic from the bodies that are everywhere, his arms are around me in an instant. My chest is heaving, my hand shakily coming up to scrape the damp sections off my forehead as the burnt bodies sear themselves into my mind, their flesh charred and eyes smoldering as I recall the ring of fire that killed so many on my account.

I am pretty sure at one point I try to pry him off, but his arms are like iron vases, locking me in place as I force the acidic bile back down my throat. His leg comes over my own, dragging my feet in place between his as he growls in my ear, "If you kick me one more time."

"I'm not apologizing." I manage, my voice hoarse as I continue to try to get air back into my lungs.

"I figured as much." He tells me just as simply before burrowing his head behind my own. The stubble over his chin is scratchy against the nape of my neck as he mutters from somewhere under my hair, "go to sleep."

His body is half over mine and I find my cold sweat heating up with his body heat. My heart is hammering desperately from under my ribs, and for a fleeting moment, I just need a way out. His unwavering heartbeat, I can feel it thudding gently against my skin when he presses his chest to my upper back, so I try to concentrate on matching mine to his. He unconsciously shifts closer. I tear a piece of dry skin off my lips them before licking the cracked flesh, urging myself to breathe. Eadric's breath grazes my neck and shoulder as I feel him nod, his arm tightening around me. I suppose some time passes, where my futile attempts at falling back asleep prove to be continuously redundant, and I find myself giving into yet another restless night of unease as I busy myself with trying to remember what exactly I had dreamt besides those torched corpses, to see if anything else significant had stuck out to me. But all I can account for this chilly night is generalized, undesignated pain, loss, and the fear those bodies wrought in me, the pure hatred so prevalent in their glowing eyes reflecting the flame that consumed them, that is soon to consume me.

Eadric seems to be the only one I wake with my nightmares. Funny, that he has to pay for them too. He makes a soft, sleepy noise into my hair, prompting me to shift away from him, wriggling from beneath his heavy arm so he is no longer suffocating me with his weight. His arm instinctively tightens.

"You're not going anywhere but to bed. Go to sleep." He mutters exhaustively yet again, and I grunt at this but my dismay dims none.

The next time I open my eyes, daylight is streaming through the window, my back set deep into the center of the mattress. I blink, my eyes already burning with restlessness before looking over to see Eadric sitting at the edge of the bed, his head is in his hands. The heels of his hands are just over his eyes, scrubbing at them slow but hard as it appears I did not allow him all that much rest last night either. His bright mop of curls cast an unruly shadow over his forehead, and the hand he scrubs through them does little to tame them. When he stands, I allow my eyes to follow him, grit my teeth when he suddenly upends a pitcher of water over his head, where he grunts against the cold of it. I roll the other way then, refusing to allow my eyes to thoughtlessly follow the water that runs down his spine, over all of his telling scars.

"I know you're awake." He mutters as he sets the pitcher down abruptly, his voice low and gravelly as he crosses the room over to his dresser. He proceeds to shake out his hair, droplets of water raining all the way over to the bottom of the comforter as he receives a crimson tunic shirt from the drawer. "You are to report to training these next couple weeks until you are deemed healthy enough to work at the clinic again. That will be up to Kiche's assessment."

"Not yours?" I question rhetorically as I sit up, drawing his eyes over to me.

They narrow disapprovingly as he rolls the sleeves of the tunic up. "Lucky for you, no."

I slump back down into the mattress with a irritable grunt.

"The meeting in a couple weeks," Eadric begins, slipping a pair of black cargo pants on.

"What about it?" I question, my tone bored and uninterested as I lay a hand over my eyes.

"You should be there during it. That ruler, Vlasta, she might be planning something against your people, to stop them from joining the Coalition."

"That's not happening." I tell him easily enough.

"It will be, actually. And prior to it, you will train."

"I'm not doing that, either. I know enough about running and dodging from experience out there." I inform him, halfheartedly motioning to the woods outside the village.

"You're going to be there for the actual meeting." He tells me, his tone dark.

I just scoff before rising and walking to the washroom. The echo of the slam rings out for awhile behind me.

The next two weeks go by similarly, everyone basically doing everything in their power to pretend I am not here in exception to Alice's pity and Eadric's invasive attempts at making sure I am actually trying to stay alive. Any damn time I happen to miss a meal, ignore a training session, take a walk after curfew, either him or guard is always present to seek me out, aside from the ones that low key follow me around every damn place I go. A perfect example of this, actually, is the night before the meeting itself takes place, over dinner, where everyone happens to be eating outside tonight with wooden tables and benches set up around the large bonfire at the center of the square. Much like Eadric promised my first night back, he would very easily shove the food itself down my throats if it came to that considering he brought food back to the house and refused to move until I finished it all nearly every night these past few days. But even so I sit at the very edge of the bench, my head resting in one of my hands with my bruised elbow digging uncomfortably into hard surface of the wooden table as my vision starts to blur. Slowly the great flames of the fire begin to rise and rise to unspeakable lengths, the vines hanging from the trees around us slowly creeping into my space where they begin to wrap around me at first slowly, tentatively, then within lightning speed seem to have my completely surrounded. One great yank later and I am now in a position to be dragged straight into the fire, my desperate clawing at the ground doing nothing to stop myself from being overwhelmed by the roaring flames. The blood vessels at the surface of my skin start to burst, my skin turning to ash and throat filling with the vile substance as breathing becomes practically impossible-

The sudden slam of a tray just in front of me startles me back to reality as Eadric takes the seat across from me.

"Eat." He orders.

"I already did." I tell him, shoving the tray towards him.

He pushes it back in place. "I know you didn't. Eat." He tells me again.

I narrow my eyes towards him, his framed in black war paint doing the same until I eventually give in with a frustrated grunt before recklessly reaching for the spoon and shoving the cool stew down my throat. God, I really am incapable of stomaching this.

"The meetings tomorrow." Eadric notes as he continues to study my repulsion closely.

"Uh huh." I answer with a mouth full of the thick gravy.

"You'll be expected." He tells me again.

"I'm aware." I answer quickly enough.

He nods at this before allowing his eyes to trail to my busted up lip and bruised cheek. "What happened there?"

"Your sister's not all that fond of me." Is all I offer in explanation, as though that is enough.

"Has she been training you?" Eadric questions, genuine intrigue seeming to have crept into his voice as he leans forward slightly.

"Not at all. But she was happy to correct me today in front of the entire class when I couldn't demonstrate a proper punch, apparently."

"Your fist shouldn't be completely closed-"

"I know!" I burst, effectively cutting him off as his body automatically tenses.

We study one other a moment, sizing each other up, looking for any signs one of us might attempt to start something even in the presence of so many. Slowly I lift my spoon I had just slammed against the tray before digging it back into the stew, unspokenly announcing some soft of a draw. Eadric seems to understand as he swallows before giving a subtle nod, finally breaking eye contact. A tense silence emerges after that as I continue to shovel the paste into my mouth, Eadric occasionally glancing over as though waiting for any sign of me stopping. It seems like ages before he finally speaks again.

"Apache recently informed me that you have been spending much time in training." He ventures, now looking back to me.

"Beating the crap out of suspended sandbags soothes me." I mutter before shoving the tray forward and resting my forehead on top of my arms I cross over the table.

"He says you pick fights with the trainers, that you call out for challengers to fight you as though trying to get yourself killed."

"Apache says whatever he believes will make you loathe me." I inform him, my head still down.

"Is that so?"

"It is."

"And why's that?" He automatically questions.

"Because you should loathe me." I suddenly announce, my my head coming up automatically. My expression is a little crazed as I look to him with reckless desperation, an emotion I did not even know I was still capable of feeling. It surprises him greatly, the sudden burning of my eyes and trembling of my lips, and it is this surprise that prompts me to abruptly rise. I take another moment to process his expression, and just when he looks as though he might actually say something, I just press my own lips into a hard line before turning my back on him entirely and walking off.

By the time my legs have stopped carrying me, I realize I have stopped within the gardens, an area of vast greenery surrounding the upper district, the royal district.

"Of course," I mutter bitterly before slumping onto a the cold stone of the bench beside me.

My elbows set into my knees, my hands coming to rake the stringy strands having fallen from the partial ponytail with all the intention of bringing my head back up to breathe. But I refuse to come up once my head is down. My hands are locked so tight against my skull I am certain a little more pressure would surely crush it all together. And where would the bad in that be? My mind has become nothing but a weapon, a weapon there is little need for now. Dark thoughts swarm through it constantly, leaving my thoughts muffled and even then if I had to kill more to protect those who I swore my protection to, I am almost positive I would because honestly, I do not live for much else at this point.

Suddenly a muffled step interrupts my thoughts, and my head comes up. It is almost amusing how quickly I can tell who would seek me out at a time like this.

"If you're here to shove your wisdom down my throat, I'll just save you the trouble now." I tell the darkness. "I'm not in the mood for it."

Her gait is fragile yet direct as she emerges from the bushes beside me, concealing the path I had ditched early on to get here. She travels towards me, her hunched, shrunken form barely any taller than mine sitting fully up by the time she steps so she is just in front of me. Baako.

"Please, go on. Tell me how everything's going to be okay no matter how I may feel now and that I'll prove my worth in due time."

She remains silent.

"Or, if you're going for the whole honesty and less philosophical thing tonight, you could just go ahead and tell me how much I've let everyone down."

The old woman shakes her head. "You're not letting everybody down, child. You're the reason so many of us are still here."

"I'm also the reason so many people, including hundreds of your own, are dead."

"That is true." She admits, but her expression bears no scrutiny. "You have killed many in order to get here, but that is not where the problem lies. The problem is you allowing that harsh reality to manifest through your soul. You allow it to change you, to turn you into someone you're not, but you don't let anyone see that."

"What's your point, Baako? That I'm not miserable enough for your liking? That I don't cry out like a fool every three seconds and make my struggles everyone else's problem?"

"Your love for your people, like Eadric's for his, makes you different than our previous rulers. Allowing yourself to empathize with the pain of those around you made you good, and while the strength you continue to display is to be admired, your unwillingness to truly allow yourself comfort in the presence of another is changing you for the worse."

"Remind me which part, exactly, is changing me for the worse, Baako." I suddenly challenge, causing her gaze to fall slightly. "The part where I kill off entire civilizations for the greater good of my own? Or is it the fact that I don't do it a manner you approve of?"

Her silence causes cruel laughter to escape my lips. "God, your ability to read people makes you so goddamn preachy, Baako. The others may need it, but I don't, and I refuse to feel ashamed for not having regular breakdowns in time with your approval. I refuse to apologize for doing what I have to do in order to get through the damn day."

"Shutting everyone out is not getting you through the day, child. It's allowing them to suffocate you. You are not coping with this in a healthy way. One could argue you aren't even coping at all."

"I devise plans that kill hundreds every other month. I put those I care about in life threatening situations as often as they sleep, and you know what? I don't complain. This is my life. This is all I will ever amount to, and I've come to terms with that. It's time every other goddamn person in here did the same." I practically growl.

"There are others who wish to be there for you. Kiche, Alison, Lakote, if you told them how often you doubt yourself, how you are capable of being vulnerable, of being human-"

"Then I would put them in even more danger then they are already in." I interrupt.

The silence that takes suit is heavy, my body feeling as though liquid lead is running through my veins as I allow my head to fall into my hands. I feel a hand over my shoulder, and yet I refuse to look up as Baako continues, somehow sure I am listening.

"Aurora," she begins, her voice soft, "I urge you to see your importance here. While you were gone, Eadric became a ruler who his people feared. He was cruel to those he didn't agree with, took lives he didn't have to. He returned to the ruthless King he was when he first took rule as though to prove his strength when alone. I promise you, child, he needs you just as much as you need him."

I scoff, shaking my head and dropping my hands, but I refuse to raise my head to her surely pitying expression. "Baako, Eadric has the ability to motivate crowds in an instant, all I do is come up with the damn plans that gets everyone killed."

"Do you not see how weak you've gotten?" She suddenly questions, drawing my gaze to hers. I am shocked by her boldness to say the least, and yet she continues without a hitch. "Neither of you realize how dangerous the paths you have chosen to go down are. Neglectful carelessness taking root aside untamed rage. You both hate yourselves, you both loathe who you've had to become in order to rule, but what you don't see is that ruling together can surpass all of these obstacles. You, my child, are the head, Eadric is the heart. You two cannot, and will not, survive without the other."

My lips part upon her revealing such a strong analogy, and I take the first deep breath I must have in so long because I shake just from the effort of it. Baako just removes her hand, then backs away slowly, eventually leaving me entirely as I remain in the gardens for much longer than I had anticipated I would.