The cold bit his nose as he stood in the center of the blizzard that had raged on for centuries- that would perhaps rage on for centuries more. That would all depend on the pride in which he would hold during their negotiations.

He faced forwards, despite the wind that buffeted his face. It would do nothing to turn away. To meet his adversary in any other manner would be unfitting for him.

His lungs tensed as he breathed in, drawing on every muscle in his chest. Before he exhaled, a gulp settled into his throat.

“My lord, what is on your mind?” His attendant, gently touching his elbow. “Are you in need of anything?”

It was easy to shrug off such a feeble man- the attendant had been serving his family for as long as long as the fae had ruled. To conquer his nagging he would need more than a cold shoulder.

“I’m more than capable of caring for myself, attendant.” He muttered under his breath, jutting his chin out ever so slightly. “Perhaps you could stop mothering me and spend your time better, be of use to us.”

There was an icy pause between them. The attendant nodded dejectedly after long moments filled with wind and snow.

“My apologies, your majesty.” He lowered his head. “I did not mean to suggest that your majesty is in need of a caretaker- I simply meant to suggest that if you cannot find peace within your mind, you may find it in the world around you.”

“I need no advice from a weathered old man. If you wish to stay by my side, you best be quiet.” He sniped, huffing out a breath. “Look alive, attendant. Our opponent has arrived.”

From across the field, a small orb emerged from the darkness of the blizzard. A golden shell encased a party of brightly-clothed individuals, holding staffs and crooks. So much for a passive approach.

As they grew closer, one member of the party came to the front- a tall, heavily muscled man with a grin like cracked pepper on his face as he looked between his subordinates.

One of his hands rested on the shoulder of a younger, more gangly woman who seemed to be intently listening to everything he was saying- one of the wizard’s own attendants, he could only assume.

“-you can’t really trust any of it, y’know. They’d do something like that.” A laugh erupted from that. “Really, they would. You gotta keep your wits about you.”

Their conversation trickled to a stop as more and more of the party saw him listening. It was odd that despite centuries of keeping the kingdom of fae contained in this prison, they still forgot their capabilities.

The leader of the group cleared his throat, in what he was sure was an attempt to cover the group’s sudden coyness.

“Wonderful weather out here, your majesty.”

“Yes, thank you for that.” He glared daggers into the man in front of him, and seeing him stumble for half a second filled him with a new energy. “And I suppose the handful of you are Magistus?”

The man looked between the members of his group for a moment, as if he had forgotten who was by his side. Then, a simple nod.

“Very well.” He stood up a little taller. “Would you care to head in, then?“

A few of the younger members of the group stepped forwards, only to be stopped by their leader. He tilted his head at him slightly, before clearing his throat.

“We agreed that neither parties would use magic, didn’t we? If you’re not holding to your promises, we should reexamine how much we all want to be here.”

It was difficult to suppress a scoff or an eyeroll. A fool, to make such criticisms of him while showing such disrespect. If he had free reign, every one of the sorcerers would be in his goal in a second.

His advisors closed closer to his side as the majoris spoke, taking a protective stance. At least he could instill some fear for that.

“Yes, my apologies.” His tone turned from a dull knife to a gleaming axe. “Then it would be best to start negotiations. Before anyone does anything- foolish.”

In a moment, a sigil flared on the icy ground between them. The glass domes that he often used in his crafts work formed around them. Both sat, crosslegged, and a feeling of dread ran through him.

The lights had flashed through her head from the beginning of the night, blurring every second together into a mesh of booze and bare skin on her own. She had been told, years ago, that liquor would only worsen her misfortune. She had not believed that for a long time. Her tools to control herself were limited, when she inspected them closely. Somehow a good shot of whiskey could do the job better than any herb she had ever been supplied. That was true until she stumbled into the bathroom after she finished her second bottle of the night. She had bent on her knees, her stomach churning in rampant waves until she could finally rid herself of the ocean deep in her stomach. For a few long moments she could not manage to do anything but lean against the seat of the toilet, catching herself the few times the waves reared their heads. It was not until she stood up, not until the moment she groaned as a knock on the door came, that anything had been out of the ordinary. “Hey, honey, you need any help in there?” A kind voice came, one she was sure was an upperclassman. “There’s water out here, if you’d like it.” “Uh-um- One minute.” She called back, her head spinning as she raised her voice. “One minute.” Carefully stumbling to her feet, she used the stained granite countertop as a support. She did not notice anything wrong with her reflection until she went to check her hair. Her fingers moved through the half-crumpled form she had sprayed in at the beginning of the night, and then altogether stopped. A breath caught in her chest. That could not be right. Next, she adjusted her belt. Nothing. Even as she pulled off her jacket, there was no response. No, no, this had to be her mind. Cold water had to do something for her. Nothing. Nothing, still. What the hell was happening to her? “Hey there.” She was sure it was the upperclassman outside. It had to be. Even as her reflection waved to her playfully, she forced herself to believe it. “You know, I didn’t think you would be this observant. Jesus, five years and you only realize I’m here on your one night out? That’s depressing.” “W-what?” “What? You look like a goldfish, hon, you really gotta lift that jaw up.” Her reflection primped back at her for a moment, until finally: “I think I definitely wear it better. Especially with all of- that.” “What the hell did I- someone put something in the punch.” She rubbed her forehead. “Maybe-maybe I can just sleep it off. Yeah. Yeah, that works.” “You think it’s gonna be that easy?” She rolled her eyes playfully. “Don’t you remember what happened back in high school?” “What are you talking about?” “Ooh, I should’ve probably got you caught up on that, shouldn’t I?” She blinked, and suddenly her reaction seemed perfectly, serenely calm. “You’ve tried that already. Damn, I don’t remember what you haven’t. You’re stuck with me.” “God, am I going crazy?” “Honey?” The voice outside the door called again, and her reflection winked at her. “You wanna tell that sweet girl out there that? I’m sure Heather can’t possibly judge you for talking to yourself in a mirror.” “Shut up!” “Watch it, hon. You’re only making it worse for yourself.” There was another knock, and another look of satisfaction spread across her face. “You gonna get that?”

The warmth of his hand crawled through her body, making the soft tears dripping from her chin a bit sweeter. It was torture, there was no relief from the way her heart beat between her ribs. After everything that they had felt together, what they had gone through, it was not fair that she had to feel like this. They were destined to be the ends of Orion’s belt, she thought. They would never touch, forever some distance apart. No matter how desperately they clung to hope, it would not have mattered. The one decision that could’ve changed everything was now well and made. The future of her realm decided by three simple words. Ten years of nightmares. Most had ended by the end of the ninth. She was nestled in a sweet little village with him, going up to the mountain springs every few days to practice the muscles she would need if her past ever caught up to her. She had expected armies, cruel hunters, giant beasts. What she had not expected, what she had received from the gods, was a small boy at her doorstep. He was not what she thought of when she pictured a prince. Fourteen, tall, and gangly, with hair that seemed as untamable as a stormy sea. She had quickly learned, however, that he was the legacy of her brother in arms. Her king. And now, he was seeking safe haven. With the mismatch group of peasants he led at his heels, he had requested a place in their lofts, sworn to them that he would bring no trouble. Even with the risks she knew hung around him, it had never been an option to reject him. So, slowly but surely, the distance between her and her husband closed. They spoke of the war much more often than she had on her own, and though the memories were painful, somehow she felt a remarkable joy in them. He looked so much like his father at times, and as he grew, there was no doubt he was fit to be a king. With his distinctly noble nose and high cheekbones, she grew worried that he would be recognized. Still, he stayed just as childlike as he had always been. “Come on, auntie, there’s nothing to be afraid of.” He often teased her “If that bastard shows his face, we’ll just lock him with the pigs and wait until they eat his robes.” She was not as convinced. The blood she had seen would never just disappear. They had made it so far already, she could not see them beheaded. Not like what had happened to the king.

He crossed his eyes and sighed. More than anything, he wished he could snap his fingers and get out of this place. Everything in sight promised him that he had gotten himself a whole lot deeper than he had signed up for. His luck, as usual, wasn’t the best. The kids had been training tirelessly for months, honing their abilities through the small white rooms they were locked in. Between the bleak meals they were given and their gray jumpsuits, it made a lot more sense that they looked as dismayed as they did. There were glimpses of the kids in them, even so. It was heartwarming in a strange way, seeing that part of them bloom when they were pushed into the courtyard. Without the cameras in the open spaces, he had waited outside the furthest window, out of sight as he was instructed. At times he could here snippets of conversation, teasing, dreams. That was how he had gotten to know them. Out of the six children that had been let out of the cells, he had learned three of their names. Those three, especially, had loved when they were brought old tapes. Between Aisling and Hugo, it was hard to tell how anyone could begin to tear them from their parents. Those kids weren’t just smart little demons, they had to be the most powerful things on the planet. That’s what made Myrcella hard to understand. She was the oldest of the group, twelve was his best guess, and she was still the meekest of them. When Aisling resisted or bit the guards that took them in, she just stared, her eyes like a scared rabbit. Hugo had tried to fiddle with his lock about twenty times now, and each time Myrcella simply sat on her bed. At this point he wasn’t even sure if she would run if the prison was infiltrated. Talking to the kid seemed like it wouldn’t get him anything after the first time. Once he had seen the way she trembled when he tried to introduce himself, he had sworn to himself to help the girl. Someone so sweet couldn’t be one of the monsters the organization assured him they were. They would escape. And officially, he would finally quit. Hopefully he could get that bonus before he left.

Within all of us There is a flame Fed by love, and passion And of course the sins of life It burns down like a candle, dripping Hot wax into our Soft hearts And still we keep going Keep loving Keep asking What more is there to explore? What have we missed?

Kings and queens With their mighty plumage will Always be more beloved Than the peasantry, their coats Speckled and burned with black and brown But even so, If one looks closely You can see The flap of their wings Pure movement incarnate in flight There is no denying Nothing could be more Beautiful

The dirt was as much her friend as the rain. Most of those who dared step foot on the holy soil of this place assumed the water was what gave it the ancient calling it had, the deep powerful ringing in the air. She knew different. She had ruled over this place for as long as it had been around. Her father, watching her from above. Her mother whipping past her face every cold autumn. She knew every soul that lived on the grounds, every death and birth the second they happened. Her brothers grew bored of their realms, she knew. She could not find it in herself to grow bored of her own. In the midst of the tug of her heart and the way she walked with the deer in the morning, she could know everything. This world was her own. She was more than content to stay here, a world free of mortals and their petty wars. It seemed that as soon as she gave up her wishes to be part of their universe, the more they longed for her. These mortals, constantly tugging on her dress-tails, had to know what they had been doing. The first had called himself Donno, and at first, she had not minded the songs that broke her peace. He had been the son of the deer, she had thought, his antlers almost as clear as his insecurity. He was young, unable to realize the reach of his influence. In his little cabin upstream, he had lived peacefully. She had finally gotten a neighbor. And then the kings came. With their armies and champions ready to kill Donno, she could not do anything to protect her land. When she had finally gotten to the end of her patience, her good neighbor was already gone. Now all that was left was whispers. Clean, unnatural stumps littered around her paradise. The fear in her children’s eyes when they heard a loud noise. Once she had realized their affect, she had sworn to herself to put a stop to it. Man was nothing more than an obstacle for her family to play with. She would not engage if it meant being locked away in a jar for millions of years. Yet, when she saw Tia, it all went down the drain. What a fool she was.

9/3/40-

Can’t remember much from last night. Maybe I should be used to it by now. It’s not like it’s ever going to change. I don’t need to leave the apartment to know this isn’t normal. Shit, why am I so tired? No matter how many times I read the old journal it still doesn’t make any sense. It’s as if suddenly, last January, it all disappeared. Maybe someone did take them from me. As soon as it switches to code, I don’t have a chance at understanding it. Why was I hiding? I mean, I’m safe here, right? I would’ve moved if I wasn’t. Still, I get this feeling sometimes. Like someone’s watching me. Maybe I should really call the cops like Ms. Vega keeps telling me. It’s not easy to think about how that’ll go. Even with the fractions I remember from last night today, I know that all I really can recognize is the past twelve hours. Who knows what they’ll refuse without record of what I’m feeling. Who knows if it’ll happen again. I don’t want another person treating me like I’m incapable of everything. It’s not fair. I know how to fight, how to get myself to and from everywhere I need to go. I built these fucking codes by myself for months, and I guess they must’ve changed up a lot, cause I can only read the last few entries. I know how to code and how to repair everything I own, plus a million other things that get lost in the grayness after the memory loss. I can take care of myself. Still, no matter what I say, they hover. I hate it. I just need some way to get out of this loop. One piece of the puzzle, and they could understand. I could make them understand. The odds that I would find any piece of that puzzle were too low to feel any hope right now. All I could do was keep myself as safe as I could be here.

I remember when the world was young When I was content Simply watching the bees and butterflies Live, coexist Its almost impossible to keep The flame alive When you see the world for what it is It stings, but you can’t do much to soothe it But forgive, and for the most part Forget

Nothing is wrong Nothing is off For the moment a beat falls awkwardly, The moment she coughs to grab your attention, It’s real Is it not better to Just Act Natural?