The wheels rumbled quietly as the headmaid guided the chair down the corridor towards a set of huge oaken doors. Two Imperial officers uncrossed their halberds from across the entrance, expressions surprised at unannounced arrival. They bowed deeply in greeting to the cast-wrapped Prince Aryn, who could only acknowledge them with a silent nod as they pushed the doors open to his sister's private chamber.

Thick crimson velvet embroidered with intricate gold threads hung at the high windows, blocking the sun's rays from entering. A side table held rows of glass vials and jars of dried lavender, pale powders, and parchments of dried blood samples along with tedious notes. Every breath in the air held the medicinal note of healing tinctures that had been required to keep the princess sustained for the last few days - just barely.

The headmaid wheeled him beside the four postered bed as she left to open the drapes before departing, giving the Prince his privacy. A shaft of golden light pierced the gloom, highlighting the still princess. Princess Seraphine lay comatose, her body wrapped with fresh bandages; her silver hair thinned and dry, skin hollow and pallid. Aryn stared at his sister wordlessly for what felt like millennia before reaching for her hand, pressing it against his face with drowned sorrow. His eyes glowed as he willed his magic - but he couldn't sense a single trace of emotion from her. Not an ounce of pain, sadness, or even fear. She simply laid there, barely existing.

The warmth of her skin was a distant memory as he whispered against it. "I'm so sorry, Sera. I'm so stupid. I should've realized your sickness was a manifested warning."

"We'll make things right again. I promise."

He settled back in his chair, letting her hand rest in his on the silken sheets. Her face remained unmoving, but Aryn held fast to the memory of her rare, quiet smile, hoping with his whole soul that it would one day return.

**

Cassien's eyes slowly peeled open to a blur of light filtering through the high windows, warm air wafting inwards. The scent of pure alcohol and medicinal tinctures filled the air. The memories of the battle came rushing back at once, and in a fit of panic he thrashed his arms upwards in a block - but pain shot through his left shoulder like an eruption. His breath was swallow and stiff, thick bandages wrapped tight around his torso, every breath stabbing deeply in his ribs.

Quick footsteps approached him from the side as a middle aged physician appeared, black hair pinned back in a netted bun.

"Your Grace! You'll need to avoid moving, your injuries were quite severe. They've only had several days to settle," she said, adjusting his blankets. "We weren't sure we'd see you awake so soon."

His eyes lolled around in a haze as he wiggled whatever he could in assessment; his right leg throbbed under tight stitching, and two fingers were bandaged under a splint. His injured shoulder was placed into a sling that wrapped around his upper body, restricting his movement. In the corner of his eye, he spotted the shine of silver hair against the bedding on the opposite end of the room. Naomi lay unconscious - her usual rosiness had become hollow and a sickly shade of grey, face covered in pinking scratches. A rigid brace cradled her neck, but even from this distance he could see the edges of dark yellow and purple blooming beneath the edges. The length of her body's injuries were hidden beneath sheets, but the evidence of medicinal bottles piled around her tableside was indicative of poor health.

"Is she….?" He said in a gravelly voice as he struggled to sit upright.

The nurse helped him adjust as she refluffed his pillow. "I think you should focus on your own health for now, Your Grace."

"I just need to know," his voice was hoarse, but a spark of defiance was prevalent. He'd crawl over to check on her state if he had to.

"...Her Grace is stable, but unconscious. Her injuries were much more extensive, and she had lost oxygen for roughly two minutes, according to her knight."

He closed his eyes against the grief and anger that flooded him at the thought of her condition. But what surprised him more was the feeling of resentment; the destruction of their budding trust that they had begun to build in spite of their differences and the toxic whispers of their courts. She had lost her faith in him so quickly - so did it really exist in the first place? He laughed inwards bitterly; of course not. In the end, he was a Rivain and she a Rosenthorn. It never would've worked. Their families had generations' worth of rivalry for a reason, and he was a fool for believing this would be anything different. She simply sang too sweetly for him to resist.

But Cassien hated himself for craving the warmth of her touch, all the while he could only picture the tip of a dagger at his back instead. Rivain's first rule, after all, was that no enemy was defeated until they lay empty handed - but he never imagined that the weapon had been his own heart.

Cassien decided at that moment a silent revenge on Alistair for the two of them as a silent apology for ever involving himself in her life. He would sever this fragile thread of emotion that bound him to her, determined to never let neither love nor heartbreak reach the depths of his icy heart ever again. After all, it was distraction and naivety that brought him to where he was now.

Another two days passed, though the time barely registered itself in his mind. He spent most of it sleeping, swallowing what few bites of food that his stomach could handle - always too acutely aware of every physician and nurse that hovered in the room. Boredom creeped in, and it took all his willpower not to simply stare at Naomi's form the entire time. By the third day, just as the black haired nurse finished re-wrapping the bandage on his leg, a familiar face with short brown curls and neatly trimmed beard walked in. His face glowed with relief at the sight of the duke, his walk breaking into a fast pace.

"You're finally awake!" Thom exclaimed, striding forward as he bear hugged Cassien against the mattress, the nurse's protest swallowed by his enthusiasm. "Knew those damn savages couldn't have taken you down."

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"I'm sorry my Lord, but visitation is not permitted-" the nurse began, but Thom grinned and squeezed tightly anyway.

"Nonsense! I'm sure he doesn't mind," he bragged.

Cassien managed a tight smile as his ribs and shoulder protested the movement. "It's fine. Few injuries compare to this one's presence." The nurse gave him a wary look before departing.

"It's good to see you too, my friend," Thom chuckled as he released, leaning back into a bedside chair. "Sorry I couldn't stop by sooner - things have just barely settled down since the attack."

Cassien nodded solemnly. He was dying for any semblance of entertainment or news. "Is there any update on that?"

"We took down one of the ships with our cannons, but it didn't have the bastard on it," Thom narrowed his eyes. "Got one survivor, holed up in the prisons now for interrogation. Haven't gotten very far though."

Cassien flexed his uninjured hand, cracking his stiff bones. "Give me one chance once I'm healed, and I'll get the answers."

Thom threw his head back in a heavy laugh, ignoring the dirty looks from the nurses who shushed him for the sake of sleeping patients. "There he is! Already almost back to normal."

"And Aryn?"

"Broken leg, so he's stuck on a chair for a bit. But otherwise he seems to be okay. Accord's been halted until further notice."

"What about Seraphine?"

Thom's eyes darkened then. "…Let's not talk about that for now."

Cassien nodded, clearing his throat as he shifted the subject. "So where have you been this whole time? I haven't seen you since you ditched me at the beginning of the summit."

"I've been helping at the Tudor's Exalted Academy, while the Marquis handled business here. And don't blame me - friendship is a two-way street. As I recall, you were quite distracted that night," Thom huffed. "My father had dragged me away to meet with potential marriage candidates, one of which actually ditched me to dance with you instead."

Cassien stared at Thom with a blank look, failing to recall that night except for a single explicit memory that he wasn't ready to let go of. "Who?"

"I'm not upset about it, but you don't have to play dumb."

"I do not remember-"

Thom raised his voice in a dramatic falsetto as he leaned forward. "Duke Rivain was so gracious to dance with me, among all the ladies that were available! Surely an engagement proposal is imminent!" He dropped his voice back to normal with a dry chuckle. "Ysonna Archfeld. Ring a bell?"

He blinked slowly as the memory came back. "Oh. Yes, well.."

"Don't get me wrong, I was happy for you. A lot of people thought you'd live the bachelor lifestyle, including me," Thom crossed his arms. "So imagine my surprise when I hear news about my friend - which by the way, I didn't actually get to hear about from my friend themselves - kissing their mortal enemy. In front of an entire army."

Cassien dropped his head back against the pillow as he groaned. "It was just a kiss on the- It's… very complicated. And it's over now, so…"

"Clearly," Thom said as his eyes flickered over to Naomi's still form from across the room. "No point waiting around for someone who might not wake up."

Cassien glared. "It's not about that."

"No? Alright then," Thom said before raising his palms defensively at Cassien's harsh expression. "Evidently a sore spot for you. We all thought maybe it was just a quick fling or some kind of momentarily thrill of rebellion."

Cassien shook his head, irritation flickering across his features. "Can we not talk about her right now?"

Thom raised an eyebrow, sensing his friend's discomfort. "Fine, fine. Well, since you're awake, do you want me to see about moving you to your own quarters? Anything would be better than these cots." Thom rapped on the firm mattress in demonstration.

Cassien nodded, grateful for the change of topic. "Yeah, I'd like that."

Thom waved the nurse over, her bun bouncing as she hurried. "We'd like to get His Grace transferred back to his chambers," Thom said cheerfully. "Can we arrange that now?"

"Well…" she began hesitantly, her eyes darting toward Naomi's bed. "That might not be-"

"Oh, I understand," Thom interrupted with a grin. "If you're busy, I'll carry him myself. I'm no knight, but I'm quite strong myself."

"Stop giving her a hard time, Thom," Cassien started to push himself up, ignoring the discomfort that ached through him. "Let's just go."

Reluctantly, she stepped aside, lips pressed into a thin line of worry. "Your Grace, I would insist that you wait until the physician has a chance to arrive and assess your condition once more. There was an incident-"

Thom, already carefully pulling Cassien to his feet and supporting him beneath one arm, waved off her concerns. "We've got it from here. Thank you, nurse."

Cassien leaned heavily against Thom as he began hobbling toward the doorway, his stamina quickly draining. The infirmary hall was quiet, save for a few passing servants who watched in surprise at the awakening of Duke Rivain. One rushed forward to lend a hand, though Thom brushed them off.

They eventually made it to a wide staircase that led to the northern wings of the castle, and Thom wrapped one arm under Cassien and around him as they ascended. Slowly, they guided one foot in front of the other when a sudden dizziness washed over Cassien. His vision blurred, and a deep ache pulsed behind his left eye, intensifying with each step. He gritted his teeth, pushing his body to its limits just as they reached the halfway point.

"Wait," Cassien muttered, his voice strained, body sagging slightly against Thom's shoulder. "Something… doesn't feel right."

Thom tightened his grip. "Makes sense, you've been wasting away in bed for almost a week now. Come on, just a few more steps."

The world spun sharply. Cassien grimaced, pain flaring violently in his left eye, spreading through his skull until nausea rose in his throat. "No, I-"

His knees buckled, and Thom barely managed to catch him just as his foot slipped from the step. Cassien clung desperately to the railing, his knuckles white, breath coming in short, ragged bursts.

"Shit. Alright, hang on," Thom turned as he held his friend, projecting his voice down the stairs to the nearby servants. "Help! I need help now!"

Servants rushed up the stairs, gently assisting in his weight as they steadily brought him back down.

Then suddenly, without warning, Cassien's vision fractured - a sharp, blinding flash of violet light replaced by the dim blur of another room entirely within his left eye. He saw pale ceilings and the outlines of beds as the vision swayed in uncontrolled movements. The alarmed face of the black haired nurse appeared as if she really were in front of him, but he could still feel and see the pull of his body being taken down the stairs through his right eye.

What is happening? How am I seeing the infirmary?

An emaciated hand, bandaged and trembling, reached out towards the nurse who grabbed it softly, and he could see the movements of her lips. Behind her were infirmary cots, one in particular a clear view of the very bed that he had laid in - the sheets still ruffled, and the chair that Thom had sat in was tilted outwards.

Cassien's breath caught in his throat just as the vision broke, his sight returning to the reality before him.

Thom crouched beside him, concern etched on his face. "Are you all right?"

Cassien didn't answer. All that mattered was that she was awake, even if he couldn't explain what had just happened. It was best to brush off as a side effect of the shard's magic, in his mind.

Relief washed over him, sharp and overwhelming. But beneath it, the silent promise he had made to himself took root, dread knotting deep within his stomach - he couldn't let himself fall back after everything that had happened. Finally, Cassien cleared his throat.

"…Yeah. Let's go."

The dull ache behind his eye only grew as he continued.

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