Fantasy ♡ need you like a heartbeat. (starboob & ellarose.)

[starboob]

Declan Carter is a mess. Though a Wonderlandian through and through, with his own social norms to follow, his frazzled state is uncharacteristic even for him. Even if he is known for pushing through princes and bypassing kings to make his way to darling princesses, the wildness of his brown eyes seems twice as frantic. His hair is disheveled, having run his hands through it several times. He pushes through the sea of bodies to make it to the exit—an exit that is impossibly far away. His legs move through molasses or perhaps they are fighting with gravity itself. ‘My prince, please be safe. My the gods be watching over you now.’

(Though impossible to tell with his eyes being the rich brown that they are, his pupils are swallowed by the color of his irises, still under the king of nightmare’s spell; still convinced that Prince Jayden Darling is in danger, that the other princes are going to come after him.)

Eons of running later, he skids out of the ballroom, sliding across the tile floor, his head whipping left and right as he tries to remember his way back to their quarters. ‘This blasted castle! Why must it be so strange to me?’

At the sound of his name, the squire whips around. Immediate relief washes over him, recognizing a friendly face in Prince Evren. Without care for the customary formalities, he rushes up to the prince and grips his arms with urgency. “Prince Evren—oh, and hello, Fitz,” because he must not be entirely impolite and should address the companion. “It is most urgent indeed—it's Prince Jayden. I have cause to believe his safety is at risk and I, faulty squire that I am, have neglected my duties—”

“Woah, woah. Sir Declan.” The larger man shakes the squire's hands from his arms so that he can place his hands on Declan’s shoulders, holding him sturdy. “Slow down. Darling is in danger? You needn’t explain. Let us make haste.”

Though Evren may not be so sure what information the squire has come across, he sees no reason to question or disregard his concern. It is no secret that the Wonderlandians have made quite the impression on the princess and earned the ire of the other princes and king. (By the fates, the squire even had the audacity to dance with the princess! On Jayden's behalf or no, it upset several of the princes.)

It is a good thing that Evren found Declan when he did as the squire is beyond confused. As they rush through the palace, the squire takes wrong turns left and right. It takes Evren a minute or so, being so new to this castle, but he eventually recognizes that the squire is navigating them towards the apartments meant for the ladies in waiting! “Sir Declan, we mustn’t take another step forward. It would be improper. We’ve made a wrong turn.”

Declan screws his face in confusion, but the older man is already herding him back through the palace before he can protest and insist he has the correct room. ‘What is… What is happening?’ The squire blinks, sorting himself out or trying to but unable to grasp at much. (Perhaps it is just the anxiety getting to him?)

They eventually arrive at the Wonderlandian quarters and the squire bursts through the doors, giving no courtesy warning of the sort—though it seems that is not necessary. The bed is empty. It’s still made. Frantic, he rushes through the room, searching behind curtains, under the bed, inside of the wardrobes, the drawers, the bathroom, everywhere for his prince. “My lord prince!” he chokes out between sobs, hoping to summon him. Hoping the prince will stop his silly games, because if this is a prank it is no longer funny. “He is not here, Prince Evren. We must–we must… We must alert the staff, send out a search party—”

Once more, Evren acts as the voice of reason and gently sets his hands on the squire’s shoulders, guiding him over to the nearest chair. “Calm yourself, boy. I know you fret, but let us investigate first before sounding alarms.” It is not that he believes the squire is acting irrationally. He understands that, in this state of mind, the squire believes himself entirely rational. Evren himself knows that if anything were to happen to Axton, he would similarly be alarmed. He looks over his shoulder and considers the state of the room. “There is no obvious sign of struggle.”

“He could have been knocked out. We need to find the heroines.” Sir Declan is convinced the heroines will provide some clarity to this situation. They would not be heroines otherwise. “Is Lady Juliet still at the ball? I-I trust her.”

“I imagine so, but let us not be hasty just yet.” The Wonderlandian reputation may be more impervious to damage, but even a false alarm such as this could discredit the squire. It could raise more eyebrows and inspire more rumors. (And Bain has been reveling in spreading such rumors.) “He could have been knocked out, certainly. But is it possible he went out for a jaunt? The other night, were you two not hunting fiddlesnags?”

“Fiddlesnigs,” Declan corrects, sniffling. “I-I suppose it is possible. He is restless.” As the prince of dreams, he is quite busy. Especially at night. “He does like his jaunts. Fiddlesnigs and doodleberries are some of his favorites to hunt for. They like to come out at night, too…” He supposes it’s a possibility, but those visions. They’re burned onto the back of his eyelids and he sees them every time that he blinks.

Evren softens considerably, admiring the squire’s loyalty to and affection for his prince. He won't be truly calm again until he has answers. “Perhaps we should split up. Might I suggest that you search for the prince, as you know the location and ways of these fiddlesnigs and doodleberries, and I shall go find Lady Juliet?”

Declan nods. Slowly, his breathing steadies as he calms some. His eyes are still red rimmed and sobs still escape him, but at least he knows that Evren is taking this just as seriously. Once the squire has somewhat gathered himself, he rises from his seat. “I thank you muchly, Prince Evren. Wonderland is indebted to you for your kindness. Now, I must go—use my companion to find me once you have located Lady Juliet.” The little mouse friend, pokes their head out from his pocket, squeaks, and hops onto Evren’s chest, scampering up to sit beside Fitz. The squire is then off to the gardens after that and the prince makes his way back to the ballroom.

Once there, Prince Evren maneuvers through the crowd in search of Lady Juliet. Despite his height and her red hair, it is a surprisingly difficult task. He sees the princess with Prince Ivory on the dancefloor. (Elise appears to be giving Ivory a look of warning, one that tells him to speak no further.) He spots Prince Bain, mediating a conversation between Lady Lavinia and his sister, Princess Celeste. King Cayman glowers in his corner, trading glances between the princess and the queen. But nowhere is Lady Juliet.

He crosses the room, careful to avoid feathers and princes with overfull cups, and leans against a pillar in the back. His brows furrow together, trying to place himself in Lady Juliet’s shoes to figure out where she might have gone. Though he doesn’t know much about her, he does recall her concern over Prince Claudius DeSkies. Just as he is about to locate the older prince’s quarters, he hears the faintest sound of spoon gently clinking against glassware. And when he rounds the pillar, he finds Lady Juliet polishing off the last bite of banana pudding. (Rats, he never got to try a morsel with his appetite so spoiled by the sour princes.)

“Lady Juliet, I mean not to disturb you, but Sir Declan Carter kindly requests your assistance in a matter relating to the safety of Prince Jayden Darling.” Evren pauses for a moment, considering the state the squire was in. “I worry he may be susceptible to hasty decisions in his current state. Should I send for a guard to chaperone?” Mainly so that no more unseemly rumors start about Lady Juliet. He can only imagine how it would look if they were caught alone in the gardens, searching for the frazzled squire. Their reputations need no more taint.

 

[ellarose]

"His safety, your highness?" Juliet cannot help repeating what she's just heard, perplexed. Prince Evren would not know that she and Prince Jayden are one and the same... but Willow is certainly aware of that fact. By doing this, does she mean to send her a coded message? If that is the case, the archer doesn't know where to begin when it comes to decoding her intent. If she means to suggest there's danger afoot, why involve Prince Evren? He even goes as far as to suggest a chaperone, making matters of secrecy that much more complicated. 'Susceptible to hasty decisions in his current state.' It's suspicious. Worrying. Could they be walking into a well-laid trap? She needs more information. "Has something happened?"

"I myself am uncertain... but Sir Declan Carter seems to believe so. He is convinced his prince is in grave danger. The poor lad is fraught with terror." Prince Evren supplies. Juliet studies the crowd around them as he speaks, her steady gaze assessing every person in attendance. Searching for suspicious behavior and also making note of those who might be missing. The last time she saw Willow, she was with Lavinia. After that she'd been rather preoccupied with Prince Ivory and then the princess, who have since taken to the dance floor together. Damn it. 'I should have paid more attention.' Willow has proven herself more than competent, with her skill and understanding of magic. As a partner she is far from helpless and Juliet has grown comfortable in her knowledge of that. But even so, they still are among enemies who will resort to underhanded means to get their way. "The Wonderlandians chambers were empty. There was no sign of a dispute, but the fact remains that Prince Jayden is missing. Sir Declan said he trusts you to know what to do, Lady Juliet."

Fraught with terror. And on top of that, they checked their chambers? Of course they'd be empty... Juliet is standing right here. There's no cause for panic, no reason to believe she's in danger. None of this makes any sense. Worry spikes through Juliet and she nods resolutely. Whatever the case, she needs to find Willow. Now.

For Prince Evren's sake, Juliet agrees to the presence of a guard to act as a chaperone. Even though it's a headache and a potential complication to have them present, she must handle this situation delicately as not to raise any suspicions. Juliet and 'Declan' arrived together. Had she insisted she find him in the gardens on her own... someone would surely have taken notice. While she knows Prince Evren would not spread rumors about such a thing, there's no telling who else might make note their absence and spread misinformation about the nature of their relationship.

Prince Evren and the guard struggle to keep up with Juliet as she races towards the gardens, following behind Willow's tiny mouse friend. Before long she hears her crying out frantically for Prince Jayden. 'Willow, what happened to you?' Following the sound of her voice, she finally finds her standing on the smooth stone path among hedges dotted with blue hydrangeas. The sight of her red, puffy eyes and the dried tear-marks on her face sinks Juliet's heart. (Simultaneously, something in her burns bright and hot. Who the hell did this to her? Who meddled with her mind enough to upset and confuse her to this extent?)

"Sir Declan, please calm down." Juliet says, her voice soft but firm. "I've come to help." She raises her hands as if to set them down on her shoulders, but she refrains from closing the distance. With Prince Evren and the guard close behind, she feels she cannot. Still, she stares into her eyes-- pleading with her to see her. To remember. 'I'm right here, Willow. I'm fine.' They are not going to find Prince Jayden tonight. Not unless she can sneak away to slip into her disguise... she would rather avoid that outcome if she can. With her injuries, such maneuvers will be exhausting. "Your prince suffered injuries today in the joust and was given treatment by the apothecary. Perhaps he went on an outing to fetch more supplies from her shop? After all, I am sure he wishes to get well soon in order to participate in tomorrow's mock battle."

"...Oh. That is a good point." Prince Evren offers in support of the idea, equally invested in seeing to it that the poor squire feels better. "After our match today, I can say with confidence that Prince Jayden is a commendable opponent. He would not be so easily felled by an intruder."

"Moreover, there have been no reports of intruders or suspicious activity in the castle." The guard supplies, puffing up his chest with bravado. Juliet resists the urge to roll her eyes. "We are all perfectly safe." He squints at Willow, clicking his tongue judgmentally. "...Are you playing silly Wonderlandian games with us, squire?"

"Does it look as though he is playing games with us?" Juliet asks sharply, coming to Willow's defense. Whatever happened, she believes it. Nothing productive will come from invalidating her feelings. (Feelings that she seems to be having because she believes her in danger. Juliet... is not prepared to consider the implications of that.) "To me, it seems that someone else has played a cruel trick on him." Clearly that is what has happened. Someone has wormed their way into Willow's mind, convincing her of things that aren't true. "You're in dire need of rest, Sir Declan. Prince Evren and I fear for your safety should you search the kingdom in your current state. It's unfamiliar to you. I will find my companion, Willow..." 'Willow, wake up. Please.' "And we shall locate him for you. All right?"

 

[starboob]

Why are these gardens so confusing? Why are the roses so hostile? This is nothing like Wonderland and the squire wants to go home. The second he finds Jayden, he promises himself that he will talk the prince out of the tournament and encourage him to head back to Wonderland where they only have to worry about their flamingos! “Jayden Darling!” He hollers from the top of his lungs, cupping his hands over his mouth as he wanders through this impossibly confusing place. (He wants to go home.) “Darling!”

No response. And no sign of fiddlesnigs or doodleberries. The squire begins to fear that his prince has gone elsewhere to hunt. And with Amoria being impossibly big and Folklore even larger, he is sure he is gone for good. Oh, this is just hopeless!

“Dar—ling...” His voice trails off at the sound of his own name, spinning on his heel to find that Lady Juliet has finally arrived. Relief comes over him at once, but his stomach is still in knots and he’s all but wrung his hands to the point he’s pretty sure they’re bruised. (What use will they be in protecting his prince? What use were they ever?) Still, a heroine is here and he trusts Lady Juliet, his savior from those wretched stairs. Surely this can be sorted.

Declan’s fogged out eyes meet Juliet’s searching one, comforted that she seems to be just as worried about this entire situation. He considers her suggestion and finds it agreeable enough that he doesn’t protest. He is about to insist they search the town until he notices Prince Evren and guard joined behind Lady Juliet.

While Evren is agreeable enough, the squire takes a half step back when the guard starts accusing him of games, fearing that he will not be taken seriously simply because of where he comes from. Juliet shuts that down, however, coming to his immediate aid. Declan’s cheeks redden. (The guard raises a brow at this.) Then he goes entirely still, like he’s been flash frozen, when the heroine mentions Willow.

A flip-book of memories flashes through the sorceress’s mind, from childhood to the moment King Cayman cornered her in that crowded ballroom. The fog in her eyes pulls back, her pupils returning to normal. She blinks, then the color in her cheeks darkens as she pieces together the mess she’s just made. (So freaking careless.) Teetering a bit from overwhelm, her gaze flits between the archer, the prince, and the guard, finally settling on Juliet and doing a once over. Juliet is safe and very much not in danger, because she is not really Prince Jayden and Prince Jayden likely would have been safe anyway. All the princes are at the ball. “I-I perhaps should go lie down, then?”

“I’ll take you to your quarters, lad,” Prince Evren offers with a nod. “I was going to call it a night anyway.”

As she leaves with Prince Evren, WIllow dares to look back over her shoulder only once. Though she knows that Juliet is safe, that it was all in her head, she can’t help the leftover worry. Cayman might have been playing cruel tricks, but he wasn’t wrong. Jayden does have a target on his back. What’s going to happen after the next event? What’s going to happen during it?

The trip back to her chambers is quick and, once there, Evren has the staff bring in some warm honeyed milk and sweet crackers for the squire. “Always made me feel better as a boy,” he explains, with a sheepish sort of grin as he hands them to her. “Do try to rest, Sir Declan. I am sure the prince will be back sooner than you think. Rest well.”

As soon as the door is shut, Willow does the exact opposite of getting some rest. She snaps herself out of her disguise and opens a mirror portal back to her shared room with Juliet. She sets down the milk and crackers then dives in front of the fire, where Lucky is snooing away. The dragon stirs, at first disgruntled that they are being awoken until they look back at the sorceress and notice her puffy eyes. Suddenly they're wide awake, trilling in concern as they nuzzle under her chin. Willow shudders, fresh tears starting to come out, a mixture of the violent images and utter dread for tomorrow. She's made such a mess. And they're already walking targets.

When the door opens, Willows knows without looking that it's Juliet. She sniffles quietly, attempting to cover her tears. (Another one Willow's letters opens, this one titled If I'm Panicked.) It's still very obvious that she's been crying, because she's still crying when she half turns to look over at Juliet. Despite this, she smiles. It's wobbly. She wants to run up to her companion and wrap her arms around her, but she refrains. Juliet still has all of Jayden’s injuries. Juliet still has to fight all of Jayden’s battles tomorrow. She remains on the floor, wishing for the archer's comfort.

“Juliet—I’m so sorry. I didn’t," she hiccups, "I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble. Everything felt so real." She lowers her eyes, avoiding the archer. "I was hexed.” This admission comes with no small amount shame. It burns against her cheeks and trickles lower into her belly. It might not have been her fault, but she’s supposed to be a master sorceress. She should have been prepared. The second Cayman approached her, she should have been ready. “King Cayman cornered me. He’s upset about Prince Jayden’s performance. He was mad I danced with Elise. He put all these visions in my head and you were bleeding and..." She squeezes her eyes shut, holding her breath as another shudder threatens to take over. "He threatened Jayden—you. I’m worried, Juliet. Is this a bad idea? Are we in over our heads?”

 

[ellarose]

"I do not wish to hear any more apologies from you, Willow James." Juliet narrows her eyes, struggling to cling to some semblance of her composure. She is angry, unspeakably so, but not at Willow. (Even if seeing her so distraught intensifies the burning in the pit of her stomach.) Her fists have been clenched tightly since she found Willow in the gardens, pressing bloody crescent cuts into her palms. She's yet to unwind them and herself. However, she must elaborate Willow can misinterpret her feelings and shrink even further into her shell of fear and self-doubt. "You were hexed by a powerful sorcerer... one who has toppled entire kingdoms with his mind-twisting magic. You are not at fault for what happened tonight."

"That bastard Cayman crossed your boundaries and toyed with your mind. He is despicable. He is the one who deserves to take the blame for what happened. So I do not wish to hear apologies." Juliet keeps her tone level, but the words are laced with venom. She seethes more with every tear that slips down Willow's cheeks. The archer turns away before she can burst into flame, pacing the floor. "That sort of hex is a sinister, powerful force in Folklore. I have fallen victim to it many times myself." Her heart pounds restlessly as she confesses this. She's always held that information close to her chest. However, after the last labyrinth they faced and the gossip regarding her 'sickness'... it really isn't anything new. "I used to blame myself, too. When my own mind betrayed me I would feel weak and helpless. Then I realized those feelings made my enemies stronger." Why is she sharing this? Why are her defenses slipping? Well... perhaps she doesn't want Willow to make the same mistakes that she did. She wishes to protect her from the horrors she knows all too well. This is why she fights. To humble those who seek to control others for their own selfish interests.

"My advice? Instead of fighting yourself, focus on fighting the person who deserves to be fought." Juliet nods resolutely. Restless with energy, she steps behind the dressing screen to change into her Prince Jayden disguise. Then wraps her red hood around herself to cover it up. The guards will be on the lookout for Jayden's return after all of the commotion tonight. As Juliet, she will leave and go to the apothecary to pick up some supplies. While she's there she will change and return as Jayden. After that she will sneak out and return once more as Juliet. It will be an exhausting endeavor to be sure-- but this situation is fixable. And she will do so without complaint. "As a heroine, there are times where you will fall. It's inevitable. But Willow, you must find the strength to stand again. If we retreat now, we hand our enemies everything they want."

Juliet steps out from behind the screen, gathering a few supplies in a bag to take with her. Then she turns back to Willow, meeting her gaze and then Lucky's. (Their nostrils flare and she can tell that they share her rage. Now is not the time to act on it. Later, however...) She nods at the dragon in understanding. Keep her company, comfort her.

"Consider it this way... Cayman targeted you because he feels threatened. We made him squirm. That means we're doing something right." Juliet observes. She has more thoughts on the matter, but she must attend to her switch first. She pulls her hood over her head. "I can sort this out, Willow. Everything... everything will be all right." She offers her an uncertain, clumsy smile. Hoping it might be enough to chase away Willow's worry and sadness. (...What is she doing? Is she making a fool of herself?) "Stay here and rest with Lucky. I will return by midnight."

***​

A long walk in the chilly night air does Juliet some good after the whirlwind of night they've had. She productively expels some of the energy she wished to use on revenge. (Specifically to punch King Cayman and break his nose. Or, with any luck, break his entire face. Is that even possible?) However, they must bide their time and wait for the right moment to strike against an opponent such as him. She is largely responsible for invoking his rage, provoking King Cayman the night they met. Now that Willow has suffered the consequences of that, she vows to tread carefully going forward.

It still hasn't completely settled with her that the question of her wellbeing was the cause for Willow's tears. That the image of Juliet hurt and bleeding was what inspired that reaction. It was... for her sake. And she is not sure what to do with that knowledge. She glances in her bag at the opened letter. 'If I'm Panicked'. Willow was panicked. In good conscious, she wouldn't have left her partner in that state if she didn't have appearances to keep up. While guilt needles at her, she knows Lucky will watch after her diligently. They're a good and loyal companion-- just as Gracie is to her. (...She misses her.) In the market, Juliet picks up things from a few of the shops that are still open to give off the impression that Jayden had left for the market with purpose. As she does so, she asks the shopkeepers if they've seen Prince Jayden.

Once she's finished shopping, she ducks in an alley near the apothecary. While there, she changes into her disguise and then returns to the castle. After ensuring that more than one guard witnesses Prince Jayden's arrival, she returns to their room and ventures through the mirror portal to check on Willow.

"I brought a few things from the market." Juliet says, pouring out her bag on the bed to show her the tea and chocolates she bought. (The chocolates are molded to look like little dragons, gems and swords. Naturally they made her think of Willow.) While she didn't have time to read the letter and learn the secret to helping Willow feel better, she still intends to try. "They're for you."

After that, Juliet informs Willow that she must still return again as Juliet before she can turn in. She escapes through the window, carefully and slowly easing her way down as her bruises ache with every move she makes. (After this, she fears her performance tomorrow will be less than stellar.) The archer sneaks about the castle, avoiding the roses and guards, and maneuvers her way to the front gates. Juliet greets the guard, informing him that the apothecary said that she had just missed Prince Jayden.

At last, Juliet retires to their room for the evening. She breathes a soft sigh of relief as she walks through the door, instantly making her way to the bed and flopping herself down upon the mattress. Though she doesn't possess the strength to lift her head once she's down, she raises her thumb to signal to Willow that everything is sorted. (To her knowledge it's an Evermorian gesture, much like the peace sign. It is rather convenient.) Eventually, she rolls around to face Willow.

"...How are you feeling now? Any better?" Juliet asks. While she is curious about what Willow experienced before she was hexed, if she learned anything about King Cayman in the process... she does not want to touch on those topics before she is ready.

 

[starboob]

When Juliet smiles at her, it’s different from her Jayden smile. It’s not as wide, not as bright, but something else entirely. It’s genuine. It’s Juliet. It gives Willow the reassurance she needs to pull herself together after the archer leaves. She doesn’t do so immediately. Still fragile, still exhausted, she takes her time getting all of her tears and fears out, but when she’s ready to stand up again, she has Juliet’s small and, admittedly, awkward smile in her head. She also has her words rolling around too, reminding her that now is not the time to crumble. That is what their enemies want. And when she considers Elise and her great sadness, she knows that she cannot quit. This is bigger than her fears and if Juliet is willing to stand in the face of danger, then so is Willow. She will be fearless.

With one resolute sniffle, she gets up, snaps on Meredith’s sweatshirt, and gets to work. Cayman got lucky earlier. He caught her off guard and now she's going to make it his problem. As terrifying at had been to have him confront her, as lucky as she is that his magic didn't try to dig any deeper, it's also given the sorceress invaluable firsthand insight into how his magic operates.

Once she’s settled on the bed, with Lucky James snuggled up next to her, she summons a crystal ball and other supplies from her pack and uses it to projects her memories. She then sifts through her memories from the point Cayman approached her to the moment Juliet broke the spell. (“Willow.”) With her magic markers, she annotates her memories, tracking the overwhelm of her feelings. She pauses, rewinds, and rewatches the interaction with Cayman several times over, searching for clues or a tell. Each time she passes over the memory, the less scared she becomes. Perhaps it’s that she’s taking her piece of control back or maybe it’s because she’s realizing that Cayman is just a man. At the end of this, he is just a man.

However, while these memories empower and embolden the sorceress, the dark fantasies he forced inside of her head are markedly more difficult for her to stomach. It might be Jayden’s likeness, but she knows that it’s Juliet all the same. Difficult as it is to watch, she winces, flinches, and squirms her way through it, reminding herself that if she can figure this out, then maybe she can also help Juliet. Up until the archer’s recent admission, Willow had not been fully aware that Juliet’s mind had been tampered with. Even with the labyrinths and rumors of her ‘sickness,’ it never once occurred to the sorceress to suspect magic. But in the context of their time in Okeanos, where Juliet saw and heard things from the past, it is starting to make sense why she is susceptible to these peculiar hauntings and it might not be a sixth sense, as she and Sawyer previously thought. (Although, she doesn’t rule out the possibility entirely. If Juliet does have a sixth sense and if her mind has been attacked, it’s very well possible her extra sense is now hypervigilant.)

The archer comes and goes, and Willow barely registers the disruption. She looks up once, but mostly keeps her focus on her crystal ball. Lucky James, sensing a prime opportunity for mischief, wriggles away from Willow to nose through the treats. Unfortunately for the dragon, Willow has learned to be quick and tackles them before they can eat something that they are not supposed to eat. “No. No chocolate for you. It gives you bellyaches.” And that’s when Willow notices that Juliet specifically selected dragon, gem, and sword shaped chocolates to bring back to her. ‘Has she… Has she been paying attention?’ A blush blooms over her cheeks as she considers this.

When the archer arrives at long last, Willow is nibbling at one of the sword chocolates. (The blush across her cheeks is still present. She cannot stop thinking about Juliet August trying to make her feel better.) When Juliet flops over onto the bed, Willow and her curls bounce and she has to lean over to retrieve her crystal ball before it rolls away. Though she has plenty to tell Juliet, she gives her companion some space to decompress, refraining from asking any questions. (The thumbs up is a good sign, at least.) Even Lucky patiently waits for Juliet to flip over before they nestle up against her. (It’s almost too cute for Willow to handle.)

“Mhm.” She hums in response and it’s true. Though her eyes are still puffy, she hasn't cried since she pulled herself together. She still tears up here and there whenever she thinks about the imagined attack, but with Juliet’s wisdom ringing in her ears, she never succumbs to another full on breakdown. “Much better. Thanks for the chocolates and for taking care of—” She pauses, interrupting herself before she can blame herself for the mess. Juliet doesn’t want to hear anymore apologies from Willow James. “Um, well thanks for sorting out everything with Jayden. Yeah.”

“I, um… I started reviewing some of my memories after you left.” She rolls the crystal ball over to Juliet. It’s paused on a particularly brutal image of Jayden’s ribs split open. She taps and swipes over it so that the memories are moving again, playing them on a loop. “Haven’t figured anything helpful out yet, but it’s promising. I hope.” As much as she wants to mention the possibility of helping Juliet, she doesn’t want to set any expectations. She doesn’t want to assume the archer would even be comfortable with another person taking a look inside of her mind after what’s happened to her already.

She pulls her knees up to her chest and stares down at her feet. Quietly, she mentions, “The entire experience proves our disguises work though. Like, if Cayman’s magic had me believing I really was from Wonderland that means he believes it too. So.” A small hint of awe edges her tone, realizing the accomplishment it must be that she, Willow James, managed to trick King Cayman. Because had he not been convinced of the disguise, she would not have latched onto her Declan Carter persona. And it is that persona that provided a small crack in the spell. Without it, she doesn’t know how long it would have taken to break. It also dawns on her how he’s intimidated by the heroines. Juliet mentioned this earlier, yes, but connecting it back to her magic shines it in a new light. “We’re being taken seriously.” All because everyone else thinks they’re men. Heh. "We can really change things, Juliet."

 

[ellarose]

'We can really change things, Juliet.'

As nice as it had been to see Willow's spirits lifted and as hopeful as it had been to consider... it certainly didn't feel that way during the second event.

The second event is essentially an open invitation for the princes to rally together and wail on those they wish to suffer. To start, they are separated into teams and arranged to fight in the arena like fancy toy soldiers lined up for a war. From her balcony above, Queen Viviane gazes down at them discerningly. (The princes all held their breaths as she assessed them like jewels in a display case. It’s somewhat amusing to see them receive just a taste of the stress young ladies feel when their parents pressure them to meet prospective matches during their seasons.) Queen Viviane’s prim and proper demeanor almost shatters when Prince Maximillion— somehow immune to her effect— winks and blows her a kiss. Instantly the queen’s eyes glaze over and she turns instead to say something to Princess Elise. She pats her daughter's gloved hands, which are wrapped into fists in her lap and wringing the skirt of her tule dress. Juliet can guess that the queen's telling her to relax, to smile charmingly or wave or something to that effect. But Princess Elise's lips are pressed firmly into a line of discontent. She doesn't waver.

In the arena, there’s no gossip or chatter among the princes this time around— the tone has shifted, the time for jokes and false niceties has ended. The defeated princes have no doubt made silent vows to redeem themselves after the results of the joust. Juliet can feel their glares burning holes through her armor. Especially King Cayman’s.

Pfft. If only he knew that the heat of her own glare would incinerate him where he stands, reducing him to a pile of ashes after the atrocities he committed at the ball yesterday. Juliet may not be able to enact any sort of revenge today... but she will remember. He will face repercussions for hexing Willow. (And... and for everyone else he has hurt, too. Of course.)

All of the competitors are separated into teams of blue and red. The sixteen princes who won at least one joust in the first event are eligible to be selected, dividing them into two teams of eight. As the finalists of the jousting event, Prince Evren and Prince Jayden are appointed to choose who they would like to fight on their respective teams. (This comes as a disappointment to Juliet since Prince Evren is honestly the only prince in attendance she would wish to fight alongside.) Prince Evren selects for blue and Prince Jayden selects for red. Prince Evren ends up with Prince Devlin, Prince Bain, and Prince Maximillion to name a few. Meanwhile Juliet has Prince Ivory, Prince Llewellyn, Prince Grinnell... and King Cayman, who she only ends up with because he was the last option to be picked. The king was visibly insulted to be standing beside Prince Maximillion as the last to be selected... but it's rather ridiculous for him to think that anyone should wish to fight in close proximity with one such as him. Acting the way he does certainly won't make him any friends.

Once the teams are selected, it is announced that the members of the winning team would be rewarded with invitations to attend a special dinner with Princess Elise that evening. However, Queen Viviane states that they will be watching their individual performances closely. The queen and the ladies will be rewarding points discreetly and select the men who will proceed to the final matches based on that. Juliet suspects this is Queen Viviane's way of ensuring her favorites among the princes are still eligible, even if they happen to be on the losing team. It is also likely her way of removing those she does not wish to see her daughter with... the archer would not be surprised if King Cayman and Prince Maximillion are eliminated through this process. Their lack of conduct or manners could easily serve as reasons to cut them. Juliet is fully aware she may be removed through these means as well. Her performance today will not matter much... still, she intends to fight until the end regardless.

When the signal is given and the battle begins, the arena is pure chaos. The men charge at each other in blurs of blue and red, their swords clanging and sparking in a deafening clamor. With the injuries she incurred the day before, Juliet can hardly hold herself upright in her heavy armor. (What she wouldn't give to exchange it for something lighter, to fight comfortably in her own clothes. Her performance would surely improve. She's fought with grave injuries in the past and prevailed. It would also be nice to exchange her sword for a bow and arrow to strike the princes down from a comfortable distance.) The archer is slow and careful as she navigates Lavie across the battlefield, observing the princes and their strategies. She deftly weaves through them, focusing most of her energy on avoiding their strikes rather than returning them. Just survive. Just make it to the end.

Most of the prince's 'strategies' include cheating in plain sight. With so many princes riding across the field at once, it is harder for those in the stands to tell when someone is dropping trails of enchanted feathers to spook horses and trip the other princes. Prince Bain in particular is guilty of this-- wearing a dumb, boyish grin on his face when he unhorses Prince Ivory. Before the others can converge on the fallen prince, Juliet rides in to help him. She's slow and rigid whilst offering her hand, but is determined not to leave him there on the ground. He is her teammate and... perhaps there is some part of her that is sympathetic to his current plight. (Even if he is friends with the likes of Prince Bain.) Nearby, Prince Llewellyn defends them both from others who mean to take advantage of Prince Ivory's fall. It was certainly strategic on Juliet's part to select them for the same team, knowing that their bond would make for excellent teamwork.

"Prince Ivory, are you hurt?" Juliet asks after she helps him back onto his horse. Meanwhile, she visibly flinches as she struggles to mount her own horse.

"I should be asking you." Prince Ivory waves it off casually. "I'm surprised you're still standing after your joust yesterday. You certainly possess more grit than any of us could have anticipated, Wonderlandian." He pauses, seeming to consider something. He hesitates on whether or not to speak, staring pointedly as Prince Bain rides towards Prince Llewellyn with a telling gleam in his eyes. (Though his helmet disguises his face, Juliet can imagine the concern in Prince Ivory's gaze.) "I should give you a fair warning. Prince Bain and Prince Devlin are--" In the distance, Prince Llewellyn struggles to hold Prince Bain off and Prince Ivory discards the conversation in favor of rushing to his aid, closing his sentence with a vague, "...just watch out for them."

Juliet sighs. She was already...

Prince Grinnell cries out in a frustrated rage, distracting her. Juliet sees that now he has fallen off his horse as well. (The culprit? Another one of those blasted feathers! This is getting irritating. Prince Bain has effectively turned the arena into a minefield.) Though Prince Grinnell threw a tantrum and advised his squire not to speak with Willow as not to 'conspire with the enemy', they are on a team now. She sighs and rides over to help him. She would take a more active role in the fight if she were spry and able... but for now, she must rely on her team. That means taking care of them and ensuring that they can still fight.

The enchanted feathers have put the red team into a disastrous frenzy. The only one unaffected is King Cayman, who charges after Prince Evren specifically with bull-like intensity. (...Perhaps he believes he will be rewarded extra points for taking out the victor of the joust? It certainly seems that way as he unleashes a barrage of attacks against him.) Having helped Prince Grinnell, Juliet is conflicted as she watches. They may be on different teams, but she wishes to do something to assist Prince Evren. Especially seeing as the rest of his team have left him to fend for himself. The rest of them are busy with--

"Oi Wonderlandian, get your head out of the clouds!" Her, apparently. Before Juliet can even process what's happening, a blur of pastel feathers comes at her from the side and she's forcefully knocked off of Lavie's back. The air is knocked out of her and a rain of dark stars rains over her vision just as another prince sweeps in to pin her while she's down. (...Prince Bain. The smirk on his face boils her blood.) His cronies join him until they've surrounded her on all sides. It hurts to breathe through her bruised ribs. Juliet's held down by the combined weight of her armor and the strikes. (As her vision fades, all she can think about is Willow. Willow and her worry. Willow and her worry for her and this exact outcome.) There is nothing she wants more than to fight back, to prevail, to show she can do this. But she's injured, outnumbered. And just like that, the second event ends shamefully for her as she goes slack and blacks out to the sound of snickering princes.

"...rince Jayden? Prince Jayden? Can you speak?" It must be a couple of minutes (or perhaps even seconds) as Juliet flits back into a state of semi-consciousness. She can't move or speak, but she can hear people talking urgently above her. Have they paused the battle? Some people are shouting to give her space. Prince Evren's voice in particular is recognizable among them... and to Juliet's horror, she can feel someone-- perhaps Prince Evren-- attempting to lift her helmet from her head in order to check on her. They're about to reveal her identity. Even with the convenience of Willow's hair-tie trick, there's no way she'll be fast enough to shed her disguise in time before they remove it!

 

[starboob]

It’s not that Willow jinxed them last night when she said that they could really change things. If anything the sequence of the day’s events only prove that they were well on their way to making change, but she might have spoken too soon and inadvertently challenged the fates. At least, that’s what the hopeful part of her wants to believe as she slowly wakes up.

With a quiet groan, the squire stirs, blinking her eyes open only to find herself staring into the void. “Nnnggh?” She moans into a gag, twisting her body around only to find that her wrists and ankles are bound together. Her knees and shoulders knock against her small enclosure as she moves. Panic pulls Willow’s heart into gear, not quite remembering how she got here. Wherever here is.

She grasps for her earlier memories, but finds that they blur together in a confusing haze of feathers and perfumes. The last thing she truly remembers is… (“Carter! May we have a word?” She had been on her way out of the tent to watch the mock battle when Falco and Bastion, flanked by some of the other squires, including King Cayman’s, approached her. By the time she spun around, there was already a fist planted in her gut. It didn’t take long for the other squires to pounce on her after that.) Her belly aches, reminding her of Bastion’s fist, and aside from a few other bruises around her core, she seems fine otherwise. It is concerning how long she’s been out, however. The muffled cheers and roars at least indicate she hasn’t missed the mock battle entirely, so she guesses it hasn’t been too long. A few minutes, maybe? Whatever enchantment they used to knock her out wasn’t nearly strong enough to pull her into a deeper slumber, thankfully. But that may be the only glimmer of hope she has.

As she struggles to reorient herself, she also comes to realization that she must have been stuffed into one of those empty barrels. She tries to shimmy her way up, to test the lid, but either it’s been resealed or something massive has been stacked on top of it. She’s not sure which is worse. ‘Duck.’

But she’s a sorceress. She’s got this. This is—

“Declan!” A breathless voice rushes into the tent. Boots skid across the dirt and hay from the far side. “Declan!?” When he repeats her name, she places the voice, recognizing Prince Grinnell’s squire, Asher. His companion also scrambles through the tent, chattering as they search for Willow.

Willow screams through her gag, as loud as she can, and stomps her feet against the floor of the barrel in hopes that she will be heard her from her corner of the tent. It takes a minute, but eventually Remy does find her. Anxiously, they pat the sides of the barrel, trying to find its weak point. The companion doesn’t wait for Asher’s assistance, however, and instead sizes up and rips through the metal hoops. Willow dumps out onto her side and starts wiggling onto her stomach. Asher slides forward on his knees a second later, having heard the commotion, and starts cutting through Willow’s binds with a dagger. “Declan–Declan—”

“What?” Willow coughs once the gag is removed, her throat raw from screaming. “What is it? Is it—”

“Prince Jayden,” he sputters out. “The–the other princes—you must come at once.” Rather than explain everything that Willow has missed, Asher pulls on her arm and yanks her up. Even Remy is pushing the sorceress forward with urgency.

Her stomach sinks further and further with each step she takes towards the arena. Asher’s concern and lack of explanation eats away at her, filling her with dread. The color from her face drains, sending cold chills over her body as the nightmares from last night come back to haunt her. Cold sweat builds on her palms as she steps onto the sidelines.

The audience is frothing at the mouth. They jeer and cheer in the same breadth. From the royal balcony, Queen Viviane scrutinizes the action and even she appears to be on the edge of her seat. Princess Elise has her hands covering her mouth. A few of the ladies have turned away entirely and even Lavinia looks aghast.

When Willow dares to face the mock battle, it’s not Cayman’s vision. It’s worse.

“Declan? Declan?”

Someone is calling her name, but it comes to her through a wind tunnel and barely registers. Her eyes are fixed on Juliet as she is held down and beaten. The second her body goes slack, Willow’s vision fogs out, her breath becoming erratic and short. Her hands roll into fists.

Lightning races across the now darkened skies, followed by the clap of thunder. Ladies in the audience scream. Skittish companions run off. Willow glares daggers into Prince Bain and the others.

Evren, who seems to have called some form of truce with King Cayman, comes rushing over, shoving his own teammates off of Jayden. He’s yelling at them and it takes no stretch of the imagination to know his face is dark with rage. “Get off the lad! Can’t you see he’s down!? Where is your sense of honor?”

Some of the princes are stunned enough to back away, their faces white as sheets. Bain, of course, looks as smug as ever, like he’s won. He does, however, release Juliet, letting her body hit the ground with a thud. Evren glares at Bain, Bain pretends not to notice. Then Evren is crouching over the fallen prince, commanding everyone to step back.

Willow can’t hear what he’s saying. She can barely hear herself think. Her fists are shaking. (Lightning brightens the sky once more and thunder booms loud enough to drown out the audience.) By the time the sorceress registers that Evren is unbuckling the strap on Juliet’s helmet and is getting ready to lift it, it’s too late. Her red waves, bright and warm as autumn leaves, topple out from underneath the helmet.

Bain, for the first time, seems to have lost his composure and it’s Devlin who has to shake him back to his senses. Everyone is entirely still and it’s the collective shock that startles Willow back into action.

“Why—he’s a woman!” Someone in the crowd shouts.

“What tricks is this!? What games are you lot playing?” King Cayman roars, the dark energy that radiates off of him freezes the entire arena. His eyes stare hotly into the royal balcony, addressing Queen Viviane directly. But before this can escalate any further, Willow drops her own disguise and races towards Juliet. As she does so, lightning strikes into the arena, seemingly in an erratic manner. They get dangerously close to the princes (save for Evren), getting them to scatter away from Juliet before they can draw their swords. Shortly after, rain dumps from the blackened clouds, instantly soaking everyone. The only one who remains unmoved is King Cayman, who looks between the storm and the sorceress, visibly putting the pieces together.

Once Willow is standing protectively over Juliet, she gathers her staff from her necklace, turning it back to its true form, and slams it against the ground. Several more bolts of lightning strike the earth, creating a protective radius around the heroines. “Stay back!” Willow barks now that guards are filing into the arena. She sweeps her staff around her, kicking up the remaining feathers. They move unnaturally in the air, gravitating slowly towards the sorceress despite the chaos of the storm, and create another barrier between herself, Juliet, Prince Evren (who seems too stunned to know how to react), and the rest. Rain soaks Willow to her bone and her eyes blaze around the arena, daring anyone to try her. (She really hopes they don’t.)

“Witch! She's a witch.”

 

[ellarose]

While royals scatter in fright all around her, Princess Elise is on her feet and stepping forward. She crushes a few roses as she clutches the balcony railing, leaning forward to get a closer look at what's happening down below. An storm of butterflies spirals in her chest, mirroring the unruly storm whipping around the arena. Around Willow and Juliet. Cruel accusations are thrown from those who brave enough to stay and watch the chaos unfold. "Witch! Witches!" The heroines are in trouble. "What are we surprised for? We knew she conspired with witches." (It's all because of her.) She must do something. Anything.

Thunder booms in the distance. Storms and loud noises have always frightened Elise. Ever since... ever since that night. Since father...

When she was a girl, she had no idea that such blasting noises accompanied fireworks. Despite her initial excitement to see them for the very first time, she ended up hiding behind a cluster of hedges, her sight blurred with tears as she held her ears tight. Her sweet Flynn found her that day... he sat with her and made silly faces until she smiled again. When he held her hand and vowed to keep her safe, she found the courage to watch the last of the fireworks as they brightened the night sky. Terrifying but beautiful.

Terrifying but beautiful is how Elise views her decision to forge her own path with the man she loves. No one said it would be simple. While he's not there to hold her hand now, Elise finds that she isn't afraid of the lightning today. (Ever since they met, Juliet August has had a penchant for getting herself into trouble... and it is tragically rare that anyone stands in such a way to defend her. The lightning is Willow's way. It's beautiful, too.) Elise releases her hold of the balcony. Crushed rose petals fall to the ground.

"Warn Lucky." Elise whispers as Peaches floats concernedly to her shoulder. "Hurry." Guards will certainly be tasked with searching the heroines chambers after this. Lucky is a dragon and undoubtedly capable of defending themself... but if they are caught by surprise, she loathes to think what might happen to them in captivity. Peaches gives a squeak of understanding and spirits away in a burst of tiny bubbles.

"Lise, we must take shelter from the storm. Everything will be all right." Lavinia tugs at Elise's shoulder. (Even as the rain soaks through their fine gowns of pink and blue, she is the one who stays by her side. For Lavinia to do such a thing... well, it is rather touching. Her perfect ringlets are flattened, sticking around her face and neck like tree branches on a canvas, and pearlescent droplets hang off her long eyelashes.) While she is in a state of fear and shock herself, she knows that Elise is afraid of storms. "I am sure the queen will sort this mess--"

"Stop! Don't hurt them!" Elise's words aren't meant for Lavinia. Her voice is raised loud enough to be heard above the thunder, loud enough to be heard by the whole entire arena. The sweet, kindhearted princess sounds much like a lionhearted queen. "Leave the heroines be! They mean us no harm." She releases the balcony and crushed rose petals fall to the ground. (Lavinia releases her in shock, but mother's hand urgently pulls her backward. Elise casts her a poisonous glare, already knowing what consequences she may face for her next words.) "They only mean to save me from this hell!" Her voice almost breaks, but she continues regardless. "You may accuse them of pretending, but in truth we are all pretending that I never--"

"Worry not, princess. I shall handle this." Devlin DeSkies interrupts her, appealing to the entire crowd. "Everyone, please calm yourselves." As he speaks, everyone settles down, transfixed as if they're under a spell. The only thing that can be heard now is the sound of the pouring rain. "Lady Juliet is a dear friend of the princess and she may be gravely injured. Before anything else is done, we must ensure that she is unharmed and tend to her wounds. That is the noble thing to do, is it not?" Elise's jaw is numb, ceasing to move as the prince's body glows with an angelic sheen. He touches Bain's shoulder and he seems to understand what is being asked of him, taking on that same glow. Together, they're able to fly through the feathers and lightning surrounding the heroines.

The audience is enamored with them both, swooning over their composure and heroics. Elise trembles... but not from the cold. A guard is appointed with the task of pulling her backward, ushering her away from the balcony and back into the castle. She can hear the clicking sounds of Lavinia's heels as she races to follow after them. (However, the princess suspects she'll be taken somewhere Lavinia cannot follow. 'It's back to the tower with you.')

"You there! Send for a nurse at once. Do you see how pale she is?" Lavinia informs another guard behind them. Why has Lavinia not fallen under the spell of the sky princes? Elise cannot help but wonder. Normally, she would think her more susceptible than others... and yet she is not.

Outside in the arena, Prince Devlin and Prince Bain land before Willow James. Behind her, Prince Evren has slowly but surely gathered his bearings and is now keeping a watchful eye on Juliet as she fluctuates in and out of consciousness. He tries asking her questions, which she can only mumble half-syllable answers to. (Mostly, she gets across that she wishes to help Willow-- but the Prince Evren doesn't even need to press her down to advise her against pushing herself. The weight of her armor does that well enough.)

"Sorcery." Prince Bain hisses at Willow... as if he himself is not currently glowing.

"Bain." Prince Devlin is much calmer. He sets a firm hand on his comrade's shoulder and then nods at Juliet. "Lady Juliet requires a nurse. Let us all set our quarrels aside for now." He nods and then offers Willow a slight smile, fine-tuned to endear anyone to him. "I understand you're panicked, but we need not fight. Surely we can sort this out in a civilized manner. Don't you agree?"

...He says as if he did not orchestrate attacks against both Prince Jayden and his squire. These sky princes are full of shit.

"Give her here." Prince Bain charges towards Evren and Juliet. He does look rather nauseous, seeing her in the armor and thinking back upon his actions of only a few minutes ago. Still... perhaps he can redeem himself by playing the naive hero now. (He did not know it was Juliet August in that armor. Clearly, he is the victim of deceptive sorcery.) As if to warn Willow and Prince Evren against stopping him, he brushes his hand over the hilt of his sword. "I shall see to it that she's given the care she needs."

 

[starboob]

Magic is as electric in the air as the buzz of static left behind by her lightning bolts. It doesn’t take an expert like Willow to sense this—the two princes from the sky kingdoms are quite literally glowing. A quick glance over at the royal balcony and she can see Elise’s shock just before she’s hauled away, Lavinia in tow. No part of Willow believes that Elise would step to the side and let this prince handle the situation. A situation that does not warrant this level of circuses. They've got the princess under their spell and that bellies up white hot flames within the sorceress.

Even with her ears prickling over that word, Willow resists the temptation to lash out. She’s outed herself as a sorceress and she needs to be smart about how she proceeds, for the sake of all the other casters in Folklore who have been pushed out and shunned by this society that believes magic is dangerous unless wielded by these chosen royals. The irony of that is staring Willow in the face, it’s staring them all in the face, but the audience is far too stupefied to notice. It’s no stretch of the imagination to know that their perception of today’s events will cast a bad light on the heroines. Meanwhile the princes and their atrocious behavior will be twisted into something noble. Isn’t that how it always is? She’s seen this film before.

Willow isn’t phased by any of this magic. Last night taught her to be on guard. Being with Juliet has taught her how to be quick as well as stealthy. When Devlin tries to subdue her with a smile, her eyes flash, burning through the spell. No. Just no. No one is taking Juliet from her. She’s seen what happens when she’s left in uncaring, conniving hands.

"I shall see to it that she's given the care she needs.” Bain says this in the same breath that his hand brushes against the hilt of his blade. All Willow hears is the echoes of Juliet’s past. (“Worry not. I will personally see to it that she is given the care she needs.”) She grips her staff until her knuckles are white. Lightning strikes in the distance behind her, sending a warning of her own.

“No.” It’s a single syllable and Willow forces all of her will behind it. “Not a chance, bucko. You have done enough damage as it is. Do you think I would trust you with Juliet?”

“I understand the concern, but it is unwarranted. I never would lay a hand on a lady—I was fooled by your sorcery to act in such a vile manner.” Prince Bain beats his fist over his heart once as if that will get the sorceress to see his honor. To see that it is her fault he orchestrated an attack against a single member of the opposing team. As if she’ll believe that. “See, this is why magic in the wrong hands is such a dangerous thing. You know not how to properly wield it.”

“You don’t know a lick about me, punk,” Willow hisses. A sudden lightheadedness sweeps through her, but it’s not do to magic or any sort of manipulation. It’s the slow creeping realization that she’s not backing down. The sensation just about leaves her breathless. It's exhilarating in all the ways that it's also terrifying. “And I don’t owe you or anyone else here my credentials. Step off.”

Unsurprisingly, neither prince shows signs of backing down. Prince Evren behind her even seems nervous as the situation escalates. She hears him clear his throat, possibly to mediate the situation, but Willow cuts him off before he can. (It’s nothing against Evren, but she has to make sure Juliet is not compromised in these so-called negotiations.) “I haven’t harmed a single person, let that show. You two swept in, magic and swords ready, wanting to handle a situation that warrants no escalation. By the princess’s own wish, she wanted to call off the guards—”

“The princess is faint from the excitement of today,” Devlin quickly counters, cutting off the sorceress. “She is in no frame of mind to be making such decisions. Perhaps Evermore has a different take on magic, but here, in Folklore, we take greater caution.” With King Cayman idling in the background, Prince Devlin chooses his words carefully. “I apologize for the reaction, but you must understand that our custom is simply different. I am sure your use of magic is noble, the fates would not have selected you otherwise, Willow James. And I agree, there is no need for all this circus. So please, let us quit with our squabbling and get Juliet into proper care, yes?”

“Juliet stays with me and she’s placed under my care and supervision." Her words come out hotter than she wants, still burning from everything Devlin says about Elise. (As if she is some dainty flower who has never known violence. As if her life wasn’t forever changed the night of her father’s assassination.) “This isn’t a negotiation, either. I’ll take her back to the palace or wherever the queen deems is appropriate for us to stay and look after her. I won’t try to run or hide. But if you take another step closer, the heroines will never return to Amoria again.”

It’s a bluff. It’s so obviously a bluff to anyone who knows their mission that Willow wonders if it’s even worth it. For as long as Princess Elise’s heart is on the line, she knows that herself and Juliet will want to stay. But this is what she has to work with and she’ll make it look convincing if she has to. She even opens up a mirror portal, showing the pink desert just after the Whispering Waterfalls. It’s just her memory, but she’s betting they won’t be able to tell. In a show of faith, Willow also eases the storm, slowing the rain to a drizzle and calming the winds.

“Prince Devlin, Prince Bain. Stand down.” Queen Viviane’s voice projects over the arena, loud and ethereal. Of all the royals, the queen has remained in the balcony, watching close with that sharp eye of hers. “The heroines are here by my request. Misguided as their actions were,” her gaze cuts harshly into Willow, even from this distance, “they pose no threat to Amoria.” She waves to the guards who stand stiff as statues around the perimeter of the arena. “Please see that the heroines are escorted to the infirmary. We shall have a chat about your conduct once Lady Juliet is well enough to talk.”

***​

Willow gets the sense that they are sent to the infirmary as an excuse to keep them from occupying their chambers while Queen Viviane undoubtedly has them turned over and searched. Unfortunately for her, she will find nothing more than whatever mess Lucky James left behind when they gathered up the heroines’ belongings from both chambers. (The dragon is currently sleeping at the foot of the bed, curled over Juliet’s feet. They found them shortly after they arrived in the infirmary.) She’s not sure how her companion knew to clean up and flee, but she suspects the princess might have had a hand in this. She’s heard rumors already that the princess is being kept in the tower for ‘her safety and wellbeing after the day’s commotion.’ But Willow knows it’s because of them and their meddling. Had they sat in the stands and watched like good little girls, none of them would be in their current position, but had they done nothing, Elise would have lost everything. She doesn’t think the princess will blame them for how things turned.

As much as her brain wants to rake over everything that’s gone wrong, she resists that temptation and distracts herself by tending to Juliet. Since the archer was laid on the bed, Willow has not let another soul touch or tend to her wounds, much to the annoyance of the nurses who insist that Juliet take their medicines. Logic might dictate that she should accept the help of the nurse staff, but intuition tells her they are not be trusted. A single whiff of one of their mysterious vials confirms this, setting off nearly every alarm bell in her head. She sent them all away, insisting Evermore’s advanced medicine would heal the archer faster and with less complications. Not technically untrue, but Willow is no master healer, not like her grandmas. (Privately, she’s cursing her younger self’s lack of interest in the family speciality.) While she knows a thing or two, a lot of her first aid knowledge ends with common camper injuries and Juliet’s injuries are camper injuries on steroids—her entire core is a galaxy of gnarly looking bruises.

Willow inhales sharply as she carefully replaces the ice packs, careful to not disturb the archer. Though it seems to not matter as she’s already starting to stir. She places her hand on her shoulder, gently keeping her in place. “You really shouldn’t move much, Juliet. I think you broke a rib or two.” She moves a stray strand of hair from Juliet’s face. “The queen wants a word with us as soon as you’re well enough. So I say you should take your time recovering.” They’ll need to come up with a solid strategy and, to be honest, Willow is dreading that conversation. She hides this with a smile. "How are you? Can I get you anything?"

 

[ellarose]

Juliet stays in the arena even after she leaves it. Soaked by the falling rain, dancing lightning reflecting off the surface of the damned armor holding her down as she struggles to stand with Willow. The sorceress rushed into the arena without hesitation. She controls the rain and the lightning. (She brought it here for her. For Juliet.) It's astounding. Even still, there's an arena of people surrounding them. King Cayman and princes with the audacity to cheat in plain sight, a queen who intends to force her daughter to marry by any means necessary, and guards who roll their eyes at the very concept of heroines. Willow James is magical, fearless, like Juliet August is quick and persevering. That doesn't mean she should have to do everything alone. Juliet's awake. She's here. She can still help, can still--

The pain deepens as she struggles to move, her vision fading. All she hears is Willow, telling the sky princes to step off. She does not relent, does not negotiate with her fate or let them take her away... how strange. To have someone fight for her before so many people. (Has anyone in her life ever been so fearless as to defend her this way?) Everything goes dark.

And then finally the oppressive weight on her chest is lifted. Juliet rises the instant she realizes can, her hand fumbling for a weapon she can use... and she ends up grabbing nothing but the soft fabric of the nightgown she's been dressed in. Wait. What? Willow James chides her gently and presses her back down. A sharp pain knifes down from her collarbone to her lower back. Broken ribs. The archer stills, holding her breath to avoid crying out as she waits for the pain to subside. As she settles back down, Juliet confusedly glances around the room they're in. It takes a moment to place exactly where she is, the calm contrasting the chaos of the arena her mind lingered in. She's in a bed, the long red waves cascading over her pillow are completely dry. She's been snugly tucked under a layer of blankets and a warm fire crackles in the fireplace at the other end of the room. Inside it's cozy, though a delicate lace of frost clings to the window as snow flurries outside.

Juliet would have expected to resurface from this mess with her mind, body and soul trapped in a hazy fog. Helpless to do nothing but listen while those around her try to negotiate and decide what is best for her. In this moment next to Willow, however, she feels... safe? It's strange. It's so strange that at first, she's speechless.

Prince Jayden Darling is gone. The realization settles gradually and Juliet gives herself a moment to mourn the role she's lost. No longer will she be able to use his face to ride into spaces was once cast out of. In a way, he'd helped her fulfill a certain fantasy... and, when she considers it, that's what cost her everything. (Isn't it always?)

"I shouldn't have been so damned prideful." Juliet says after a moment, looking down at her hands. She winces as she adjusts her position against the pillows, pressing her eyes shut. There's no denying that she had daydreamed once or twice about the satisfaction she would feel when she eventually revealed herself. She didn't want to give them any grounds to steal her accomplishments away from her. Had she not been so focused on proving herself, however... "This wouldn't have happened had I remained in my disguise." She pauses. "Everyone was convinced of our identities as Wonderlandians. And now..."

And now they must pick themselves back up and move forward, just as she said the night before. Though Juliet supposes that Willow has a point... for now she must rest and regain her strength. (Undeniably, that's yet another part of the reason why they're in this mess.)

"I wished to take credit for unhorsing those princes. It's been a lifelong dream of mine." Juliet manages a joke at her own expense. Now their illusion has been effectively shattered. There's no turning back from this. She will not be competing in the final event. Although she was not awake to hear what negotiations might have been made, she expects the queen will take precautions against them meddling in future events. "And now I've complicated everything. I apologize."

Juliet looks Willow in the eye as she speaks, sincerely apologetic... but she finds she can't look directly at her for more than a couple of seconds before her cheeks prickle and burn red. She's still coping, processing the sheer extent of everything Willow did for her in the arena. Standing by her side instead of running away, leaving her to deal with the consequences of an early reveal. Standing in front of her, all while summoning lightning from the skies and confronting princes to protect her. It was a risk to stand before all of those people with her staff in hand. It was fearless.

In Juliet's life, so many have made false promises to protect her that the words eventually lost their meaning. But Willow James genuinely protected her. She's... safe with her. She's safe. It's a dangerous thing to feel safe.

"The lightning and-- and the rain... that was..." Juliet starts awkwardly, "Was all of that you?" She tugs at a strand of her hair and then lowers her hand as not to make her shyness too obvious, clutching the blanket instead. "It was incredible." It was. "Um, Willow--"

Before Juliet can finish, the mirror on the other side of the room ripples. At first she's expecting to be interrupted by a nosy royal... but instead, Gracie leaps through it. Her companion darts towards her like a bolt of red lightning, leaping up into bed and crashing against her chest. (It hurts, but it doesn't stop Juliet from wrapping her arms around her companion now that she's found her way home. It's been too long.) As she holds her, though, she bumps against something bulky on Grace's back and peers down at her to see what it is.

Hm. There seems to be a small package tied to her back. Just like Grace's fur, it smells like the Rhode Island house. Like Evermore.

While Grace can't answer any of the numerous questions Juliet has now, she does tip her nose towards Willow and then back at the package, indicating that she should be the one to open it.

 

[starboob]

“Gracie!” Willow’s eyes are wide, almost disbelieving as she stares at the fox as she affectionately rubs herself against the archer. She blinks a few times, slowly rising up from the floor and righting the chair she knocked over when she squeaked, jumped backwards, and fell over. (How is it that the Willow James who cannot handle sudden movements is also the same Willow James who summoned a full on rainstorm with lightning? Sometimes the math just doesn’t add up.)

The commotion is enough to wake Lucky James who is, at first, annoyed, until they see their favorite fox friend!! Immediately, the dragon shrinks down to kit size and flies directly into Grace’s side, jonesing for some affection while also trying to proudly show how well they did with taking care of Juliet in Grace’s absence. (Of course, Juliet’s current state doesn’t exactly say much aside from the fact that she is living and breathing still. But that’s not Lucky James’s fault! Had the dragon been present for the mock battle, they would not have struck the earth with petty lightning. They would have gone in maw blazing!)

Willow shoots Grace an apologetic glance, gently gathering her companion and placing them on her shoulder. Not that the fox can talk, but Willow does start to ask a question at the same moment she notices the little package loosely secured on Grace's back. A notecard on top reads, “With love, from the Rhode Island House.” Stunned, she shakes her head and looks between Grace and the mirror—

“Ohmygods!” Gracelessly, Willow rushes over to the mirror after seeing both her grandmas and their companions staring back at her, patiently waiting for their granddaughter to notice. The young sorceress grips the sides of the mirror, then places one palm flat against it as tears well in her eyes. “I’ve missed you both so much.” She’s missed everyone so much, really. Her grandmas smile, but don’t respond. Grandma Juniper mouths something or says something, but her voice doesn’t carry through the barrier. The sorceress frowns and the mirror ripples as they start lose connection. Grandma Elva gestures over to the package with her chin, then both of them create a heart with their hands. Willow holds up a hand-heart of her own just before the mirror ripples for the last time, leaving Willow staring at her own reflection.

With tears in her eyes, she turns and still shows a watery smile, happy to have seen them and at least know they are okay. (After the way they left Evermore and with Sabrina’s veiled threats, Willow wasn’t sure—even if she knows the Rhode Island house is one of the safest places in Elsewhere, perhaps even all of Evermore.) With a resolute sniffle, she approaches Gracie and unties the package from her back, first opening the letter left behind.

“Ah, I guess they felt my storm all the way in Elsewhere,” Willow explains after she scans it. “I guess Grace has been ready to come back for a few days now, but they weren’t able to locate us or find an opening in the veil between our realms.” That is until a few hours ago, when the stormchild called upon her Evermore guides to aid her in a time of need. Her grandmas used that signal to find Willow and, after that, they were able to open a temporary tear in the veil to let Grace through. The letter goes on to say how proud they are of Willow for following her calling and they ask that she write home more, noting they aren’t so old that they don’t know how to work IMM. (Except Willow knows they are super old and it’s Leif who will probably have to help them work IMM.)

She sets the letter to the side and opens the small parcel, instantly hit with another dose of home, breathing in all sorts of Rhode Island scents from salt air to a fresh berry pie. The pie is the first thing she pulls out, setting it down on the bedside table. Underneath that is a handful of medical supplies and a little instruction booklet. ‘Grandmas’ intuition is never wrong.’ (It’s terrifyingly accurate, to be honest.) There’s also a pair of knit caps and scarves for Juliet and Willow both—red and green, respectively. (Again, their intuition is scary. How did they know it’s snowing in Amoria?) Before Willow gets into the medical kit, she puts on her beanie and scarf, burying her nose in the smell of home. “Mmm.”

She then opens the different bottles, jars, and vials, sniffing them before reading through the booklet. As she reads, she addresses what Juliet had been saying before Gracie made her surprise return. “Oh, and Juliet, it’s okay. I could have been quicker, too. I froze back there, seeing those princes ganging up on you.” Willow swallows a little guiltily, looking at Grace through her peripheries. “But those princes shouldn’t have targeted you like that—mock battle or not, what does it even say about their sportsmanship that they would resort to such dirty tactics? And all those enchanted feathers!” She grumbles. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault. That we made it as far as we did is impressive. More importantly, it was important for you to prove yourself. I can’t fault you for that. Now they’ll have to grapple with the fact that Juliet August knocked their butts off their horses.” Of course, there is always the likely possibility they will blame Willow’s casting for the entirety of their shortcomings. If the heroines must prove themselves over and over again, she supposes she’s glad she’ll get that opportunity with Juliet. Maybe someday their adversaries will realize they don’t have the moxie to keep up with the heroines.

“When I saw you down like that and when Evren lifted your helmet, the storm just happened. I don’t know. It was a rush,” she shrugs. “I wasn’t going to let anything happen to you. Guess I kinda went overboard with the lightning.” She chews the inside of her cheek. Yeah, that might not have been the best—even if she hadn’t harmed anyone she does see how it could be spun negatively. The sorceress sighs, then waves her hand dismissively. “It’ll be fine. We’ll figure it out.”

Willow opens one of the jars and sets it down next to Juliet. “They sent over some stuff that can reduce your healing time to three days, but it’s going to be painful. Probably not any worse than what you’re feeling right now, but it’s not going to subside until you’re fully healed.” She gestures to the jar. “Do you want to use the medicine? I can apply it, if you’d like.” Her cheeks instantly burn over that suggestion. Though Willow has been taking care of her, she hadn’t actually directly looked at or touched Juliet’s skin. She used magic to change her and magic to respectively inspect her injuries. “Um, ‘cause there are probably places you won’t be able to get…”

Hurriedly, to change topics, Willow turns around and starts rifling through Juliet’s weapon stash, pulling out a dagger. “Uh, here. I think you were trying to grab for this when you were waking up and I know you feel safer with weapons, so here. I only moved them out of reach to avoid any unnecessary stabbings. Anyway. Yeah. There’s pie. We can forget I said anything.”

 

[ellarose]

Juliet buries her nose into Gracie's soft fur as Willow buries her nose into her brand new scarf. (Peeking between the fox's ears, she spies the pie that Willow placed on the bedside table. She can smell the delectable sweet berries from where she's sitting-- to the point that she can nearly taste it. Evermore food. And now that her companion is back in her arms, she finds that she's ravenous. She resolves to indulge later as she did miss Grace more, but it is indeed worth mentioning that she has greatly missed Evermore's food as well.) Evermore itself was... well, fascinating. At dinner with the ladies the other night she had gone in depth describing the mechanical beasts that roamed everywhere. But in all actuality, there was so much more to it than that. Willow's grandmas, who warmly invited her into their home even when her feet were dirty and bare. The baseball game and firework show, events that everyone was allowed to participate in regardless of their age or sex. (...The giant donut.) The short pants. (Well, those did make it into the conversation. The short pants are powerful indeed.) Evermore introduced her to a way of life beyond her wildest dreams. The Rhode Island house, the shops, the diner, the faire, the mall, the temple... she saw much and yet still only a glimpse into the world that Willow calls home.

In comparison, Folklore is so far behind. It might as well be a clump of frozen sand trapped inside an hourglass that never turns. Will she ever burn hot enough to thaw it?

When Willow absolves her of guilt, Juliet is speechless once again. It's not that she expected the sorceress to be cruel... she simply isn't used to being treated with this sort of leniency. ('You did this, didn't you?' 'Always the troublemaker, Juliet.' 'This is all your fault.') Still. There's no point in continuing down that path, picking all her mistakes apart and making a mess of them. What happened has happened and there's no changing it. She would not have made it to the final event anyway, even if she did have Prince Jayden's face when her helmet was raised. The second she fell it was over. There's no point in wondering what might have been. No time to wonder. They need to figure out how they're going to move past this.

'I wasn't going to let anything happen to you.' Juliet's cheeks turn as red as the hat and scarf sitting among the contents of the opened package. Shyly, she presses her face against Gracie's side to hide it. Willow James didn't let anything happen to her. And Juliet August is still struggling to cope with that. "It was bloody brilliant." She comments on the lightning to distract herself from everything else. (However, it does little to cool the heat in her cheeks when she remembers the gathering storm clouds and sparks of lightning all around them... which Willow had channeled to help her. Her.) "To face such a situation singlehandedly... it was brave. Seeing as we're not locked away in the catacombs, I would say we've fared rather well." She tips her head towards Lucky, who is struggling to refrain from tackling her companion yet again. Grace watches them warily from the corner of her eye. "Had we been sent to the catacombs, I trust Lucky would have come to our aid. We've survived the Midnight Mountains. We can survive this, too."

Their ill-informed accusations of witchcraft will make them no less powerful. Juliet and Willow have already discussed cutting ties with the royals altogether after this tournament business is over. (They've not used magic to harm a single person... with the exception of Juliet unhorsing those princes, of course. To a prince, though, she supposes wounded pride is the worst sort of wound they could sustain from a battle.) They're the heroines and there's no denying that the people need them. They ought to tread carefully... they'll regret treating them so poorly when they begin prioritizing those beyond their entitled little circles. The only matter now is how they will go about freeing Princess Elise now that their initial plan has been torn apart.

In order to think clearly Juliet will require pie.

Except all of Juliet's thoughts fade to nothing as Willow suggests that she apply the medicine. Why are her cheeks turning red? Well, it only takes a moment to solve that great mystery. The archer's wounds scatter her chest, stomach and back. Areas which she will undoubtedly need to remove her nightgown to access. (Areas which she will indeed have trouble reaching... especially when moving her body even slightly is agony.) Juliet's face is suddenly as red as Willow's... if not redder, because of her cursed complexion. This is not the time to stubbornly deny the care she needs, either. If it will reduce her recovery time...

Willow solves everything with a knife. Juliet blinks perplexedly when she presents her with it, the red blush over her cheeks changing to a fainter pink. After a beat, she takes it into her hands, wrapping her fingers around the hilt. (It is true. The comfort that settles over her when she's armed is undeniable. She has never explicitly told Willow this about herself... but it seems she's noticed it anyway. What else has she noticed? What else does she know?) "Thank you." She nods. "I... meant to say that earlier, before Gracie..." Awkwardly, she scratches the fox under her chin. "Thank you for everything."

Relieved to be reminded of the pie, Juliet does not need to be told twice. She reaches for it automatically, using the knife that Willow just gave her to cut into it. (There is no time to wait for a proper kitchen knife. This will suffice.) She winces in pain as she reaches, though, and Grace watches her critically. The fox sets her paw down on Juliet's wrist to stop her before she can grab for the piece she cut, nodding at the medicine. (Ah, right. Juliet neglected to mention Willow's offer. Perhaps that is for the best.)

"It's pie, Gracie." Juliet says, trying to appeal to her companion. Grace is unmoving in her stance, however, and nods firmly to the medicine again. Medicine first, pie second. "We can apply the medicine afterwards. Shouldn't we eat it while it's still fresh?" Grace huffs out an exasperated breath, hopping across the room and tapping her paw over the letter that Willow's grandmas left. Particularly, over the part that explains that the pie will stay fresh for weeks thanks to the charmed wrapping they used. (But they all know it will not last for weeks.) Juliet squints at her companion. 'You're no fun.' Grace squints back. 'I am very fun, but you need your medicine.' They played this game of tug of war often when she was a girl. She and Gracie only had each other to rely on when they were on their own... as a result, they have a habit of mothering each other from time to time. When Juliet sighs and her shoulders deflate, Grace nods again at Willow to indicate that she will need help with it.

"Fine. Fine. I can..." Juliet vaguely waves her hand over her chest and stomach area. "I should be able to reach everything here." It shouldn't strain her too much when they're right in front of her. "You are correct, however... I won't be able to reach those on my back in my current state. I'll... I can turn around." She swallows, the blankets and sheets rustling around her as she turns. (It's a slow process. Every move she makes is pins and needles.) She struggles even more with her nightgown. Grace steps in to help her tug it down past her shoulders so she doesn't have to raise her arms too high above her head. When the fabric pools around her waist, she shivers from the cold and reaches to move her hair over her shoulder and out of the way. Her back, like her chest, is a whole galaxy of purpling bruises. Underneath are a few faint scars-- including one from the stabbing in the square. Closer to her waist is a row of three particularly defined scars that look like they were left by claws quite a while ago.

Juliet braces herself for Willow's touch, her cheeks and shoulders blushing red. "...Your grandmas took good care of Gracie." She tries to change the subject, as if that might make this less... less... ah. She can scarcely think as she anticipates what's about to happen. "I'd like to thank them somehow."

 

[starboob]

It’s drier than the desert of Nowhere in Willow’s throat. An inescapable heat surrounds her from all sides, causing a thin sheen of sweat to form over her brow and upper lip. (Nevermind the heat building within the sorceress…) She bites her lip, staring at Juliet’s back. Her fingers just hover over the jar she set beside the archer, not moving closer and also not pulling away. For several minutes nothing happens. It’s just Willow and Juliet and Willow has entirely forgotten how to operate. It could be years before she remembers how to function again.

Thankfully, she has Lucky. Lucky who is patiently waiting on her shoulder. They look between the archer, the sorceress, and the jar of medicine and when it becomes apparent that their companion has frozen (despite being so hot), they roll their eyes then flick their tail over Willow’s hand. What would she ever do without Lucky James?

The sorceress blinks, tearing her gaze from Juliet’s back to the jar, but the sight of the jar only reminds her why she had been frozen and hot all at once. She’s going to have to touch Juliet August. For medical reasons, of course. She’s not going to be weird about this, but her attraction to the archer is especially undeniable in this moment. “O-Okay,” she whispers to herself, biting the inside of her cheek as she finally picks up the jar and scoops up some of the thick tacky balm. ‘Okay…’ She rubs the topical between her palms, warming it up as instructed. Once it adopts a faint yellow-ish glow, she knows that it’s ready. (But is Willow ready?) “Uh,” she croaks, her throat still dry. She swallows harshly and coughs to regain control of her voice, cheeks burning even redder than before. (Lucky takes the liberty of removing the scarf and beanie from the sorceress.) “I’m going in.”

‘I’m going in!? WJ. What the duck.’ Even Lucky covers their eyes in embarrassment. For her own sake, she pretends that never happened and starts gently rubbing the balm over Juliet’s purple-splotched back. Her skin is fire, hot to the touch, likely from the inflammation, but Willow does take note of Juliet’s suspiciously red shoulders and the hint of red on her cheeks. Though the sorceress tries to work as gently as possible, the topical’s tacky quality does require a heavier touch than she would ordinarily use on wounds this severe. But her grandmas’ instructions were clear that the medicine needs to be thoroughly worked into the skin to reach the deeper injuries. From Juliet’s end, the medicine is cool as snow when it activates, though that chill builds and builds to the point of burning. Willow winces in sympathy as her fingers move over the bruises, but also the scars. If the bruises are galaxies, then her scars are constellations, full of stories of their own. ‘How did you get these? Will you ever tell me?’

Rather than inquire, Willow reflects on Juliet’s earlier comment, her eyes flickering over the fox. Grace is perched near Juliet’s head, watching the process carefully (maybe even curiously?) and offering the archer comfort, clearly attuned to her subtle tells of distress. She’s a good companion. Just as Lucky is a good companion to Willow. “I imagine it was hard for Gracie to be away from you.” She blows out a raspberry. “It’s lucky she was at the Rhode Island house when we were abruptly sent back to Folklore, but I can’t imagine how worried she must have been in the beginning.”

As the sorceress talks, she starts to imagine what Grace’s adventures in Evermore might have been like. She smiles to herself, imagining the fox slowly warming up to her grandmas and their companions. "I bet it took her some time before she even left my room and I bet that my grandmas did try to coax her out when they realized she had been left behind." Grace's little triangles flicker, but Willow doesn't know how to interpret the gestures, if it even means anything. "If Gracie didn't come out immediately, I imagine they let her be, sending her meals through the elevator. Then, after a day or two, Mallard or Valeria might have come up to sunbathe in my room—those are my grandmas' companions, a golden tiger and golden bear, respectively. They like sunbathing and snuggling up there in the evening." And if they aren't snuggling together in her room, they can often be found snuggling together in one of the berry patches or out on the porch, depending on the hour. "They probably kept to themselves and pretended that Grace wasn't hiding in our blanket fort. They did this for three evenings in a row and the third time this happened, Grace probably creeped out of her hiding spot and approached my grandmas' companions. They sniffed each other. Eri waved. Mal licked her between her ears. The three of them spent the night in my room, together.

"The next morning, Eri and Mal convinced Grace to come downstairs, pointing out that Grace wouldn't have to worry about dragon-related snuggle attacks." Lucky trills offendedly at this, looking at Gracie, the bestest fox, in pure disbelief. Lies. "When Gracie first started trotting around the house, she found Grandma J first. She was digging through her yarn stash. Without looking up, she said, 'Ah, finally! You've arrived. Would you like to help me knit this scarf for Juliet? I don't want her to freeze to death in Folklore's unpredictable weather. What color does she like?' They probably sat together on the porch in comfortable silence after Grace picked out the red yarn for you. Grandma E came out to join them with one of her books and Grace curled up near her as the sun set." The sorceress sighs, imagining the quaint fantasy she's painted of Grace's time in at the Rhode Island house.

“Grace was well taken care of, for sure.” Willow grins at the fox as she finishes applying the last of the application to Juliet’s back. “You don’t need to do anything to thank my grandmas. You’re already returning the favor by looking out for me. I don’t think they’d really want anything else.” Somehow, the sorceress suspects that answer might not sit well with Juliet. “I guess you could find Grandma J an ugly knick-knack. She's always afraid the ugly ones are going to get thrown out and she feels bad for them. The gneabils like them, too. Grandma E would probably appreciate a book. She likes history books a lot, so if there’s a volume of Folklore’s history, or even just Amoria's, you could probably pick that up for her.” Ordinarily, Willow would have suggested that Juliet help them with some chores around the property, but it occurs to her that after this tournament they are set to part ways. (For the time being. Their thread will always lead them back to each other.) A sense of sadness simmers inside her as she finally removes her hands from Juliet, finished. (Her back now has a divine-like glow.) Willow presses down her sadness for now, wanting to enjoy what could be her last peaceful moment with Juliet. They have at least twelve, maybe thirteen, headaches to deal with once she's healed, after all.

“All done.” Willow brushes her hands together and sets the jar of medicine back down. She's about to turn away and give her a moment of privacy, but recalling how painful and gingerly Juliet moved earlier, she pauses. “Do you need help turning back around? I can put up a privacy screen afterwards, when you’re ready.”

 

[ellarose]

After suffering the burn from her wounds (and her infuriating complexion) Juliet is tended to and finally gets to enjoy a slice of pie. The sweet and tangy taste of it is strangely familiar, each bite melting on her tongue. The fire crackles and Gracie is curled up soundly on her lap, breathing softly. She daydreams about the quaint story Willow just told about the Rhode Island house and her grandmothers. (When she looks at Grace, however, she knows her companion must have gotten herself into more trouble than that. While she may indeed be quiet, she is also quite daring... especially when she worries for Juliet's safety.) This is the calm before the storm brewing outside hits them. Though she's tempted to ask the sorceress for stories all night long, she knows they must shift their focus to bracing themselves appropriately for it. They're fortunate to have this time. They must take advantage of it.

...But will it be enough? There's no telling now.

"Where to begin..." Juliet muses, setting her empty plate aside. She delicately cleans her knife and then tucks it safely under her pillow. "We have many adversaries to consider. Those princes and their cheating, yes, but also King Cayman." Obviously. He must burn. "...And Claudius DeSkies. No one believed me last night, but he is clearly due to transform at any moment. We cannot leave him unattended for too much longer." Strictly as the heroines, he is the one they must prioritize. But there is still the matter of freeing Princess Elise from this farce. "Perhaps we could reutilize our disguises as castle staff to move about more freely? We could also spread more warnings that he is one to be watched closely... though I presume they must be noticing his symptoms as well. Hm." She furrows her brow. That is strange. It was quite obvious to her in the square that he was unwell. And yet no one took her seriously when she accused him. (Lavinia, the one person who saw his face, did not come to her aid. But that is unsurprising. Especially after they neglected to prioritize her family.) "I... I was not simply seeing things, was I?"

Are others having their minds manipulated? Juliet saw just the other night that even a skilled sorceress like Willow can be vulnerable to such sinister magics.

"We still have the apothecary's lip balm, do we not? Perhaps Lavinia would speak the truth if we sent it to her." Juliet tilts her head. "Perhaps if we packaged it nicely and said it was a gift from one of the princes. Or Prince Bain's sister. Princess Cel...Celeste? She did say she was somewhat curious about Lavinia when she spoke to me last night." She scrunches her nose. "Though I cannot fathom why."

***​

Lavinia Laurence sits at her vanity, absentmindedly pulling a brush through her hair. It's a challenge to focus on her usual one-hundred strokes. She looks from her reflection to the frost-coated window of her bedroom. (The cold, dreary weather matches her mood quite impeccably.) There is far too much on her mind for this. She sighs, setting her brush down and pressing her head into her hands. She has a problem.

In fact, she has several problems and not a single soul in this world to confide in. This is a secret-- and it may come as a surprise-- but Lavinia Laurence is terrible at keeping secrets. It became a game for her as a girl, sneaking about and listening closely to those around her. She learned the most interesting secrets, taking immense joy from sharing them with all of her friends. She reveled in the way their eyes would grow wide, glittering prettily with delight as she shared with them. They could entertain themselves for hours with the stories they would weave from the piece of gossip she brought to them that day. Now she finds herself collecting secrets that she has no desire to share with anyone. She cannot trust even her closest friends. Women turn into ravenous wolves when they smell even a trace weakness. She knows because she's seen it, because she's one of them. One slip and they will devour her, too.

Glumly, Lavinia finds she better understands Elise. The princess used to trust Lavinia with her secrets... and yet she had no idea the extent of the feelings she harbored for that castle guard. Flynn Everson. The last time she confided in her must have been when they were eleven years old. Elise whispered in her quietest voice when she confessed that she was in love... with a girl. (Lavinia will never forget how fast her heart beat as she stared into the princess's sincere blue eyes. How painfully aware she was of the distance between their hands on the picnic blanket. How some tiny, neglected part of herself wanted Elise to say her name.) ...Then she followed her gaze across the orchard to that Juliet August, hanging upside down from a tree branch like some sort of wild animal as she struggled to reach for an apple. Juliet August, who used all the wrong silverware at dinner and threw broccoli at her. Juliet August, who did not mind it when her shoes and skirts were flecked with dirt and mud. Juliet August who would collect pine needles and river water into a bowl and call it soup. And she'd wear that self-assured smirk on her face as the ladies gagged and ran off screaming.

Everyone had something to say about Juliet August... most of it unkind. A child abandoned in the wood with no upbringing, no connections, and no proper place in the world. She should have been a nobody. Elise hadn't listened to a single word of the gossip, dazzled by the outsider and her mystery. Juliet dropped down from the tree and gave the apple to Elise with that annoying grin on her face, and the princess's cheeks blushed bright pink. She could barely articulate a simple 'thank you' in return. Lavinia scowled. It was obvious. It was infuriating. Why did it have to be her? She didn't even try.

So Lavinia might have told the queen about Elise's feelings. The queen might have held a private audience with Juliet. It might have put a rift between the two of them forever. Elise never confronted Lavinia about it, never explicitly said she knew it was her who exposed her secret. When she saw the look on Elise's face in the arena, however, wracked with such genuine fear and frustration... it was only then that she realized that she no longer trusts her with secrets the way she used to. 'Leave the heroines be! They only mean to save me from this hell.'

Hell. Lavinia peers over at Lucinda behind her in bed, curled up in a heap beneath her blankets. She has a respectable marriage match. (Had one, anyway.) Mother constantly emphasizes the importance of securing a proper match and yet... her sister has been unhappy. (Though she was unhappy well before Gerard transformed.) 'Perhaps you will understand someday, Lavinia. When you meet the person you truly love.' She had fumed at the idea that her elder sister did not think her mature enough to understand the concept of love. Even if she doesn't, at least she understands obligation and responsibility. That is how mother raised them. That is what has always been expected of them.

Yet mother never acknowledges it. Lucinda is her favorite.

When Lucinda arrived home the other night bearing such a ghastly injury upon her leg, Lavinia knew she had to take it upon herself in order to protect her sister and her family from scrutiny. Now Gerard is a monstrous creature, missing and undoubtedly wandering the wood. The wedding has been cancelled-- at least until everything is sorted. And at long last mother has finally turned her attention on Lavinia. It is not nearly as satisfying as she once imagined it to be.

"Queen Lavinia. It has such a lovely ring to it." Mother sighs dreamily as she steps into the room, taking Lavinia's face into her hands and tilting it from side to side to examine her closely. (From her nook nearby, Lenora pretends to strangle herself.) Mother has spent the entire afternoon ordering the house staff around, ensuring everything's set in case they have visitors. The tournament is postponed as Juliet's mess is sorted out, so father has been out making connections and distributing invitations. "Your time has finally come my darling."

Lavinia's biggest secret comes in the form of the thread that sways right in front of her... she wrings her hands in her lap, hoping it's really true that no one else can see it. She has never seen such affection in her mother's eyes before. "Stop fidgeting, Lavinia. The seamstress is due to arrive any moment with your new dress." She grins, a telltale sign that she has news and she wastes no time in sharing it. "Your father has just returned. He says the sky princes and their families intend to dine with us tomorrow evening."

Ah. Lavinia had been quite vocal about her affections for Prince Bain... and he has eyes for Juliet. (Of course he does.) But perhaps-- perhaps Lavinia does not find him quite as attractive and charming as she once did. He and many of the other princes behaved so callously on the battlefield. Even if they were not aware that 'Prince Jayden' was truly Juliet August in disguise, the violence itself was startling. Jarring. She could not help flashing back to her journey through the market square, the red eyes of the man she encountered and the terrifying flash of his knife before... Juliet August threw herself in the way. Again. It's always Juliet August. Ever since they first met it has been Lavinia's greatest ambition to push that aggravating redhead out of her life forever. And yet their narratives seem to be intertwined in frustrating knots.

Tomorrow Lavinia will be dining with the sky princes... and with Claudius DeSkies. (Perhaps she should have spoken the truth when she had the chance. Now Juliet is... she is badly injured. She will not be there to save her this time.) If that was not enough, she will also be present. Princess Celeste. That damned princess with her flowing hair and long eyelashes. Lavinia stares at her thread, swallows hard. What could possibly go wrong?

 

[starboob]

“No.” Willow’s hands reach for and smooth over the knuckles of Juliet’s fists, offering warmth and comfort both at once. Her green eyes are earnest, searching, and some with more poetry might even describe them as piercing. But that is much too harsh for the soft landing they promise when Willow looks into Juliet’s fire-licked brown eyes. “I don’t believe you were seeing things. I don’t believe that either of us were. Claudius DeSkies is unwell. I’m certain of what I saw and Lavinia saw it too. That was obvious when she spoke about him at dinner with Elise.” It is still a mystery why he's been allowed to roam free when Amoria has taken so many precautions against the Lightless otherwise. Then again...

“Devlin has been protective of him,” she points out. It wouldn’t be altogether that surprising if he made arrangements with Queen Viviane to keep his uncle from scrutiny. “Whatever the reason, we do need to do something about it, but I don’t think we can fool them twice the same way.” She shakes her head. "Plus, now that I've been deemed a you know what, we have to tread carefully. It's not just us we're endangering." She doesn't say it, but it's obvious that she's thinking of Milfred as well as Mosley. "Everything we do from here on out is going to be under scrutiny."

Night creeps into their room by way of stealing the last bits of light from the window. (Not that there had been much to begin with, considering the winter storm outside.) The air becomes heavy with chill, despite the fire and Lucky nudges Willow’s shoulder towards the bed, playing the role of wing dragon. (And not even being subtle about it.) She pointedly pretends to not notice, winding her arms tighter around herself then sinking lower into her chair. “The lip balm will be safer, but it should come from Bain or Devlin. Celeste insulted her before even properly introducing herself.” As amusing as it is to think about anyone having the gall to insult Lavinia Laurence to her face, the shock is still too fresh for Willow to properly appreciate what Princess Celeste did. “I think they’re sizing each other up.” Lavinia certainly made a point of glaring at Celeste every chance she got, becoming so irritated she became red in the face. She blows out a raspberry. “To be a fly on the wall at the Laurences’ tomorrow night.”

***​

Princess Celeste of Aira combs through her loose ringlets of white-gold hair, staring blankly at her reflection before her, eyes glazing over as her mind sorts out the knot that has wound itself in her chest ever since... Her thread flows loosely from her chest, moving with an unfelt breeze. (If she were to follow her thread, would it still lead to Lady Lavinia? Or was it but a dream?) Behind her, her sisters are fussing over their dresses, their make-up, whether they should wear this or that necklace. Trivial drivel when they need not even worry. It is not as if they are not princesses. It is not as if the Laurences have a son. Who must they impress? It is the Laurences who should be fussing over their jewels and fine silks and it is Lavinia Laurence who stands to lose the most should her presentation be subpar.

(Can she stand the thought of Lavinia Laurence on the arm of her brother? Is it her thread that mocks her as weak sparks zing from her end?)

‘Why should I even care?’

Of all the women in the realm, why this Amorian noble? This woman who will cost her everything if she chooses to follow the length of this damnable thread. Though that always would have been her fate whether it had been the noblewoman or not. She has known of her proclivities since she was a little girl and has known it to be a dangerous thing, something to be held close to her chest. Ever since father found Bain dressed in Estelle’s skirts, she has known. (Father’s anger colored the skies red that day and Bain had only been joking, not even serious. An “unfortunate accident” would become of her were she to reveal her truest desires. She has imagined it often.)

And now this woman stands to ruin everything she has worked for. It’s infuriating. (Yet she cannot stop her mind from wandering and wondering over and back to her. What color are her eyes?)

“You look hideous when you squinch your face like that. It is unbecoming, Celeste.” Estelle, her eldest sister, glides up behind her and smooths her hands over the younger princess’s now ruffled feathers. “Devlin may no longer be available, but that does not mean you should give up on yourself entirely.”

Celeste openly rolls her eyes. “Please. He may have that strumpet in his sights, but he shall eventually come to his senses and come crawling back as he always does when he strays.”

“I am not so sure, sister. He seems rather serious about this one. She has something you cannot provide—a kingdom of his own.” Estelle means her words to be a knife and they are, but somehow the cut, the wound, does not bleed as it would have just two days ago. Still, Celeste plays her part, reacts the way Estelle believes she should. Her sister continues. “How can you possibly play against that?”

“If I told you my secrets, I would have to slip poison in your tea, dearest sister.” Celeste makes her lips into a grin, turning so that she is looking up into her sister’s equally violet eyes. She taught her everything and now she plays the game twice as well. She can see the annoyance hidden in Estelle’s eyes when she cannot figure out or undo Celeste’s next play. “Worry not, I intend to bring no shame to our family. I am not like—”

“I know.” Estelle quiets her, noting how their other three sisters are now watching them as they poorly pretend to converse. “Let me help you with your hair. I know the way Devlin likes it best, neck exposed.”

While Estelle works on her hair, she imagines her brother and Prince Devlin in the next room over, sipping on champagne and making private jokes at the expense of women they aim to court. Bain is probably still mooning over that reckless Juliet, speaking of her like she is an animal that can be broken. That the challenge will thrill him more than one Lavinia could ever offer, already deeming her pliable and easy. Not worth the trouble of the game. Meanwhile, she imagines Devlin grinning like a cat, speaking of when he is king. Celeste is not so in the dark to be unaware he has been promised the princess by the queen herself. She thought that would have been the wrench in her plans. As it would turn out it’s…

She dare not even think her name, for fear of conjuring her image and letting all of that woman infect her. She steels herself. Can she survive this evening? Of course she can, but what wounds will she be left licking by the end? ‘This damnable thread.’

Just under an hour later, Claudius comes to retrieve the princesses, looking as pale and unwell as ever, and they file into their carriages. Though Celeste schools her expression well, she cannot quell what rages within her chest the closer they get to Cornelia Street. That she manages to stay cogent as they turn the street and pull up to the estate is a testament to her strength. She will not falter. This is only a dinner.

The driver opens their door and she accepts his hand as she exits, primping her feathers so they are just so. Her thread catches on the last flecks of evening light, drawing her attention up and over to her.

 

[ellarose]

Lavinia stands in a pillar of light on the porch steps of the Laurence home. (This is not a coincidence. She was nudged into this natural beam of spotlight by her mother the moment she saw the carriage coming.) It accentuates highlights of gold in her dark hair and the delicate folds of her white evening gown rather nicely. She looks like an angel dropped from heaven. Isn't she the perfect ingenue? Wouldn't she make such a beautiful bride? This is her chance. This is everything she's ever wanted. And yet... the part of her that shines the brightest in the light is this blasted thread, pointing forward and still very much connected to her.

Lavinia lifts her chin defiantly, steeled and determined to set her gaze upon anyone or anything other than Princess Celeste. She does not want to see how the first traces of moonlight look like silver in her fair hair, or the way it gleams in her violet eyes. She does not wish to notice the shade of her gown or the way it fits around her body and-- her body? Ahem. And she does not wish to think about the subject any further than that.

When she finds Prince Bain among his sisters, the twinge of disappointment that he is not looking back at her is not quite so disappointing as she thought it might be. (Not until she notices her mother's disappointment, that is. Lavinia is hyperaware of the subtle twitch in her jaw-- a tell that she is not living up to her expectations.) Her posture is already perfected, but she adjusts herself anyway as if striving to achieve a stature that is more than perfect. Plastering a patient smile on her face, she instead shifts her attention to the king and queen as they greet and welcome them into their home.

After niceties and greetings are exchanged and everyone is seated for the first course, the conversation shifts to none other than Juliet August. Because of course it does... and Prince Bain could not be more attentive as her name is thrown about. Everyone expresses their shock seeing her splayed on the ground in armor and the king and queen explain that their precious boy could not have possibly known that he was harming a lady because of the enchantments cast by the sorceress.

It is strange to Lavinia, hearing Willow James of all people referred to in such a way. Among everyone she's met, she'd deem the other sider one of the least likely to be a crafty snake in the grass. Her nature is undeniably kind and earnest. She came from faraway to help them. Why would she have any reason to sabotage a tournament she has no personal ties to? (Unless, perhaps, she's spent too much time around Juliet August.) Deep down, though, she suspects she knows the truth. They all know what Princess Elise really wants. Juliet and Willow were only trying to give that to her.

"I must admit I was under the impression that Princess Elise and Lady Juliet were good friends. I cannot help but wonder why she did it..." The queen of Aira muses.

"To be honest, my Lavinia was always a dearer friend to the princess. She is ever so loyal and kindhearted. Always at her side." Mother brags with a smile. Lavinia smiles too, but her heart isn't in it. (She is the one who ignored the true desires of her dear friend.) "Queen Viviane and Mira August were friends since they were children. It is for that reason I suspect Juliet was allowed into their circles despite her obvious lack of upbringing. Now, I had warned her of the repercussions that could come of that decision... to no avail." A hand flutters emphatically to her chest as she continues on her soap box. "Children are so young and impressionable. As a mother, I was rightfully concerned about the influence the girl would have on our young ladies."

"Do you know why the August's took her in to begin with?" The queen asks, a glimmer sparking in her eyes as she sips on her wine. It's as if she's searching for treasure.

"Mira August always wished for a child of her own." Her mother says, flapping her hand. "Why she chose that one, however, I've no idea."

"Does it make any difference? She was a child in need of a home." Lenora speaks up heatedly, drawing everyone's attention. "Is that not enough?" Lavinia holds her breath, carefully assessing everyone's reactions to her sister's outburst. It's then that she notices Princess Celeste gazing at her mother with open disgust. Her elder sister kicks her ankle under the table and the furrows in her face immediately smooth out.

When Princess Celeste catches Lavinia's eye, she holds her gaze unwaveringly. Without looking away, the princess lowers her knife down to her plate and traps their thread against her fillet as she saws through it. (Of course, it does not sever.) Lavinia takes this as a challenge and does the same thing to no avail. It's only when they both receive bewildered looks from their sisters that they compose themselves and stop.

"That is true." The queen nods at Lenora, speaking smoothly to glide over the issue before it can escalate. She further elaborates on her point. "What I mean to say is that Theodore August is a smart man. He would not take in just any child." She exchanges a glance with the king. At her side, Lavinia notices mother tightening her grip on her fork. "Have you ever suspected that she might be of royal blood?"

Everything is dead silent. Royal blood... Juliet? Impossible. Wide-eyed, Lavinia glances over at Prince Bain. He looks quite satisfied with this concept. So that's part of the reason why...

"Royal blood? Why, that is..." Mother wishes to say it's preposterous, Lavinia knows. She has spoken about Juliet August with nothing but contempt for as long as she's been in their lives. However, she is speaking with royals now-- royals she wishes to impress. "No, I have never suspected such a thing. It is as I said before. Juliet had no such upbringing that would suggest it."

"Admittedly, it was our son who brought this possibility to our attention." The king of Aira states. (Meanwhile, Bain's sisters look at each other in a knowing way that suggests they were the ones who truly noticed.) "Lady Juliet's abilities are exemplary. Enough that she has become a heroine who can do something no one else can, healing those afflicted with the sickness. The magic she possesses may be indicative of royal blood." He steeples his fingers. "It would be interesting indeed to learn where exactly she comes from. In fact, it may very well help us uncover the source of this pesky Lightless problem."

Lavinia stiffens, shifting her gaze across the table to Claudius. He struggles to focus on the conversation, his hand trembling every time he lifts his glass of wine to his lips. Her heart leaps like a frantic little rabbit every time he reaches for his knife.

"A hidden princess masquerading as a secret prince of dreams." Princess Celeste sighs, wearing a wry little smile. "What a story that would make. Lady Juliet is most fascinating." It's an obvious jab at Lavinia, praising her competition so openly... but when the princess looks to see how it affects her, she immediately notices the color drained from her face. The way she's staring at Claudius like she's afraid of him. Seeing this, her teasing smile fades into a thoughtful frown.

***​

After dinner the Laurence's and their royal guests move into the parlor. Mother fumes beneath her practiced hospitality. It's apparent now that this dinner was merely a ploy to learn more about the August family. About Juliet August. Lavinia, however, finds herself unbothered by this revelation. With her thread connected to Princess Celeste and her insides squirming whenever she lays eyes upon Claudius and Prince Bain... perhaps it is for the best that she begin to look elsewhere for a prospective marriage match.

Prince Bain can have Juliet. (He can try, anyway.) She'll prove herself nothing but a thorn in his side and he'll be wishing he had chosen Lavinia when he had the chance. Of that she is certain.

Besides, there are other princes. There will be other opportunities. Lavinia engages herself in conversation with the sky princesses about their necklaces and gowns, discussing Amoria's recent trends. It is flattering that these princesses are genuinely interested in the advice she has to give. (And of course they are interested. All it takes is one look to know that Lavinia Laurence knows precisely what she is doing. All the more reason why Prince Bain is missing out.) This is... comfortable. She is perfectly content to fixate on this conversation until the evening concludes. However, she can feel Claudius's attention fixed upon her and the other ladies across the room. (What is he looking at? Who is he looking at?) Eventually, Princess Estelle breaks away from their small group and approaches him.

Lavinia looks away for a second. When she looks back, however, they are gone.

On the other end of the parlor, Celeste sits between Bain and Devlin as they discuss their various theories about Lady Juliet. About the heroines and their true intentions.

"Lady Sefarina De Winter's motives were never disclosed." Prince Devlin ponders. "But perhaps this sorceress has the same intentions with Lady Juliet. Why else would she keep everyone away from her, refusing care from even the castle staff?" He lowers his voice. "Isn't it strange?"

"Ah, I see. She would not wish for anyone to discover the foul magics she used to poison Lady Juliet's vulnerable mind." Prince Bain taps his temple with an air of severity. Princess Celeste resists the urge to roll her eyes at her foolish brother, thinking he possesses the wit to play inspector. "They disappeared for quite some time after their appearance in Okeanos. All this time Lady Juliet has been unsupervised with a witch from the other side... heavens. Who knows the nefarious spells she could have cast in that time?"

"We must keep a close eye on them both." Prince Devlin resolves. Princess Celeste considers saying something playful and flirtatious, perhaps to take their minds off of this ridiculous subject, but--

A piercing scream rings out from the hallway. Is that-- Estelle!?

 

[starboob]

Everyone in the parlor is alert at once, backs straight and heads all turned towards the hall. The king is the first to rise, followed by Celeste, and then the boys. Father shoots her a glare and she sits down, balling her hands to fists at her sides, remembering her place. Even so, that does not stop the princess from feeling around for the poisoned dagger father once gave to her, one she never fails to be without. She will be ready, should danger make it down the hall.

“Should we send for the guard?”

“No, the guard will be of no use if my husband cannot neutralize this threat.”

The two princes, meanwhile, exchange a look and follow after the king. All three of the men draw their swords, taking flight towards the source of the scream. Just down the hall, Claudius has his hand pressed against Princess Estelle’s shoulder, pinning her to the wall with such force, cracks are splintering behind her. Claudius is trembling. In the flicker of the candles that light the hallway, a shadow seems to overtake Devlin’s uncle, making him appear twice as large and entirely swallowed by his black capes. Claws stretch from the tips of his fingers, spikes burst from his joints, fangs grow from his mouth—but the light changes and he’s Uncle Claudius again. The same uncle who took Devlin on his first hunt when his own father couldn’t be bothered; the same uncle who taught Devlin how to talk to women; the same uncle who shares the pain of being the spare son. That is the man Devlin knows. Not this monster trying to break free from his tortured soul.

That is all this must be, as it has been a hundred times before.

“Uncle!” Devlin shouts, steeling his nerves and ignoring the ice-sweat that now slicks the back of his neck. He swoops in front of the king to meet his uncle, grasping his shoulder and trying to pry the man off of Estelle. For as frail and sickly as he appeared earlier, his strength is reinvigorated and he doesn’t even budge against his nephew’s efforts. Devlin swiftly changes tactics, flying up to meet Claudius’s red eyed stare, doing whatever he can to take the attention from Estelle. “Uncle, stop this at once. I beg you. This is not who you are.”

The shadows shift again and the monster is there. Estelle whimpers, wincing as her wings are crushed against the wall. Devlin grabs his uncle’s jaw and forces his attention. When their eyes lock, Claudius stills. “You’re a good man. You’re a good man, uncle,” Devlin insists, imposing his will on his uncle.

His uncle growls, though it sounds pained, confused. His eyes flicker from red to black. His breaths are unsteady and panicked, whipping his head around as if uncertain of how he got here. When he realizes how he is holding Estelle, he quickly releases the princess and takes several clumsy steps backwards. Devlin holds out his arms to steady him while the King of Aira and Prince Bain rush to aid the princess.

“E-Estelle,” Claudius mutters, looking between himself, the men, and the princess. “I-I meant not to be so untoward—”

“It’s alright, uncle.” Devlin cuts in before the Aira royals can say anything, though it is unlikely they would have said anything ill. Already assured that Estelle has only sustained minor injuries, their concern has turned back towards Claudius DeSkies. “You were just not yourself. Estelle knows this. She knows the good man you are, as do Bain and King Benedict.”

King Benedict reaches for his old friend’s shoulder, then switches his grip to hold the back of his neck. “These outbursts of yours are becoming more frequent.” He speaks in a whisper, knowing the women are grasping for any piece of gossip they can gather. “I made a promise to your brother to see that you are well and that your… condition remains guarded…”

Down the hall, Celeste, her sisters, Lenora, and Lavinia have all gathered near the parlor door. While their mothers both hotly whisper for them to return to their places, the daughters do not listen and the mothers are not serious. (How else will they find out what is going on if not for their gossiping girls?) Celeste furrows her brows together, piecing together the rumors she’s collected since her arrival in Amoria. From the attack in the market square to Lavinia’s behavior earlier. Ordinarily she would say that Claudius is harmless. A grouch without alcohol and a little too handsy with it, but he is not violent. Not to her knowledge. Though even she knows there are secrets kept from her, secrets only the gentlemen know and those secrets are becoming too big to keep. Celeste has had her suspicious about Uncle Claudius’s condition…

As the men and the princess return, the daughters scatter back to their places. Celeste’s sisters gather close together, grasping for their fright. Lady Laurence stands behind the couch her daughters occupy, keeping a close eye on the both of them. Mother is the only one to meet Bain and Estelle at the entry, collecting her eldest into her arms. Estelle is pale as a ghost. Her dress is torn at the shoulder and Bain is quick to shed his coat before the Laurences can see (but they have seen). Father and Devlin follow shortly after, Claudius is quiet behind them, almost invisible despite his size. They whisper to each other as men do, Claudius looking resigned.

Father brightens the room with one of his heroic smiles (this is the version of father Celeste likes best) and claps Devlin proudly on the shoulder. “This boy has saved us. He has done what we thought only the heroines could.”

“It was truly no feat.” Devlin plays bashful, but Celeste knows him better than his act. He’s nervous. The pause between syllables tells her as much. He always talks slower when he’s nervous, a trick to hide the tremble in his words. (A trick she taught him.) “I simply care for my uncle deeply, I cannot claim to be the hero Folklore needs.”

“Oh, quiet you—Bain and Estelle both witnessed you coax your uncle from a transformation. And now look at him!” Father reaches for Claudius. He still looks as though he is struggling to hold down whatever he last ate. But he swallows and forces a smile. He is not even trying, but who are the Laurences to deny this narrative? (Truly, she must applaud father. It’s convenient, isn’t it?) Benedict claps Claudius on the back, forcing out a strangle chuckle from the older man. “The man we know and love.”

“You mean to say he has—had the sickness?” Lady Laurence inquires, choosing measured words. Her hand is on Lavinia’s shoulder. It’s difficult to tell, but Celeste guesses that Lavinia can feel her mother’s shock and perhaps something else… ‘Why does Lavinia look guilty?’

“Yes.” Devlin hangs his head, letting his wing droop to exaggerate his remorse. “I thought I could hide it, but my uncle’s condition has progressed. Rest assured, had I known he would have another outburst tonight, I would have insisted that he stay home and rest.” He smiles upon his uncle, then steps into the center of the parlor. His eyes flash, relaxing the Laurences (all save for Lavinia). “I discovered my ability to call him back to the surface only recently and meant to have an audience with the heroines after yesterday’s tournament, but seeing how things have evolved since then, I simply have not had the chance. But I do believe the heroines may now have their own hero.”

***​

Willow yawns, stretching out her arms and legs, cat-like, as she wakes in her chair. (She has refused to share a bed with Juliet since holing away in the infirmary. While they have shared small beds at this point, with Juliet's injuries to consider, she doesn't want to impose or accidentally disrupt them in her sleep. Besides, they're both technically equally as uncomfortable since Juliet also has to remain upright to keep the weight off her ribs.) Lucky snoos quietly beside the fire and Gracie is, of course, curled in Juliet's lap. The fox has not left her companion's side since she came through the mirror. In fact, there's almost always a part of her connected to Juliet. It's safe to say that they will not be separated again anytime soon.

The sorceress nudges Lucky to have them relight the fire so that she can make their morning tea. With Juliet bedridden, for the most part (the archer is still the archer which is to say she's restless), they have fallen into something of a routine. Willow makes their morning tea and then the castle staff delivers their breakfast. They play different games, Willow tells stories, they watch Lucky try (and fail) at getting Grace to play, and they discuss their plans going forward. This morning, however, might look a little different.

When Willow goes for the door, none other than Prince Devlin DeSkies stands on the other side with his fist ready to knock. He holds their breakfast on a tray and it looks awkward in his royal hand. "Ah, I was worried I might be disturbing you both. May I come in?" he asks, stepping inside of the infirmary and setting the tray on the bedside table. He makes himself comfortable in Willow's chair, acting as if this is not odd. "Did you receive my apology, Lady Juliet? For my behavior during the mock battle?" (The flowers and pastries he sent are ash in the fireplace.) "I have some... happy news to share with you both. News I believe shall relieve you of many of your worries."

 

[ellarose]

"If what you say is true..." Juliet blinks at Devlin, completely unmoved. His story sounds much too convenient a narrative for him. She doubts it. She will have to see with her own two eyes that Claudius DeSkies has been healed before she accepts that Prince Devlin has suddenly discovered how to cure the Lightless. "I suppose you owe me two apologies." The prince stares at her searchingly, his eyes panning down slowly to Scaramouch around her neck as if it's the answer to a puzzle and her eyes narrow. Somewhat protectively, she clasps the little alien buddy in the palm of her hand to shield it from his view. "Denying your uncle was suffering from the sickness endangered everyone in the castle. Moreover, you turned everyone against me when I suggested the possibility."

Prince Devlin opens his mouth, though there's a pause before any words come out as he considers them carefully. Clearly, this is not the reaction he was anticipating. He has not properly met Juliet August... and she's not finished yet. She cuts in before he can form a single syllable in reply.

"Now you traipse in here fancying yourself the hero we've been waiting for? It's insulting." Flames flicker in Juliet's dark eyes. After days spent in bed (mostly due to the actions of this man) it's fair to say that she's been fixing for a fight. "After everything we've done for the kingdoms, a wiser man would have come to us asking for advise." Prince Devlin raises his hands as if she is a spooked horse or something of the sort (an animal to be tamed) and Grace bares her teeth at him. Don't touch her. "Before Willow arrived, the Lightless were solely my responsibility. Alone I traveled across the kingdoms to do that which no one else was able to do. And still, you all belittle me as if..." She presses her lips together, taking a pause to compose herself. "It's rather obvious why I masqueraded as a prince when you think about it. It's nice when everyone believes in you, is it not?"

"My sincerest apologies, Lady Juliet. It was not my intention to upset you." Prince Devlin says. At last some semblance of an apology leaves his lips. Still, it's infuriating the way he tries to brush past everything she's just said. No amount of thought is lent to her perspective. Prince Devlin only cares about his own narrative and the meagre part women like them are meant to play in it. While she wishes to tear into him deeper, like a starved monster, she steels herself instead. Losing her temper accomplishes nothing. Her nails cut into the palms of her hands instead. "I had simply thought you might be pleased to be relieved of this burden. I can see the grave toll it has taken on you and your health." He shakes his head sympathetically, gesturing to the sight of her propped up in bed. "A noble lady in your condition should not have to trouble herself with such ghastly affairs."

Juliet wishes to rip his head off his shoulders. A lady in her condition? Does he forget that he is the primary reason why she is in this bed to begin with?

A scream rings out from outside the infirmary, momentarily snapping everyone's attention away from the conversation. Grace's ears twitch upward. Juliet sits up straighter and winces, her wounds are still tender. Prince Devlin motions for her to stay where she is and glances over at Willow with urgency in his eyes.

"Someone's in trouble. Come with me! If it is a Lightless causing this disturbance, I shall show you what I am capable of." Prince Devlin says earnestly. "Stay where you are, Lady Juliet. You need your rest. Perhaps your companion's testimony of my abilities will set your troubled mind at ease." Another scream bolsters him forward as he waves Willow out to follow him. "We must make haste! Come!" He takes Willow's hand in his own, pulling her forward. Juliet leans forward in bed, trying to catch Willow's eye before she leaves, but winces again and falls back against the pillows. Something about this is...

Prince Devlin runs fast, practically dragging Willow through the castle corridors and further and further away from the infirmary. Eventually, he pulls her in behind one of the castle's many secret staircases. There's no chaos here. No disaster. From the shadows, Prince Bain steps out alongside one of the castle maids. She shifts uneasily on her feet, pointedly avoiding Willow's eyes. Prince Devlin nods at the maid they got to play the damsel role, dropping a few golden coins into the palm of her hand. "Now, see to it that Lady Juliet receives the care she needs." After she pockets the coins in her apron, she offers Willow a somewhat apologetic glance before scurrying away. A few guards step forward, blocking her in.

"My theory was correct." Prince Devlin stares down at Willow, sinister shadows falling across his face. "I saw it with my own eyes. Lady Juliet is wearing an enchanted charm around her neck. A peculiar green creature with soulless eyes." Oh. He means Scaramouch, otherwise known as alien buddy. Ironically, the very charm that had been enchanted to protect Juliet's mind from such attacks. The prince looks to one of the guards with a stern nod. "Confiscate it from her."

"You've tampered with Lady Juliet's mind long enough, witch." Prince Bain accuses Willow, his wings flaring out behind him like razor blades. He smirks as if he is some sort of mastermind for putting together such a blatantly false narrative. "Indeed, we've seen through your foul schemes." Foul schemes... Willow James? Despite the absurdity of his claims, these guards seem willing to go along with it. It's no secret that the idea of having a hero is easier for them to swallow than the concept of two heroines. But is it enough that they don't even need proof of the prince's abilities? (No. Surely they're not that gullible. And their eyes do look somewhat... vacant, with a slightly bluish tint to them. They're soulless zombies more than men.) A few step forward with nets and weapons readied, should they need to capture Lucky. "Now that Devlin has proven himself capable of taking your place, the queen need not adhere to your ridiculous requests any longer." He gestures to the guards, signaling them forward. They reach out for Willow's arms with their big, armored hands. "Take her to the dungeons."

 

[starboob]

‘This isn’t right.’ That’s the last thought Willow has before she’s pried away from Juliet and led by Devlin’s hand through the palace. Lucky is no more pleased than their companion, torn between staying put with the injured Juliet and sticking with Willow. Ultimately, of course, they choose Willow and they know full well that their favorite archer will be protected by their favorite fox friend. (Here’s to hoping Lucky doesn’t have to take the fall for another one of Gracie’s fiery outbursts.)

When they finally arrive behind one of the secret staircases, Willow first removes Devlin’s grip from her wrist, rubbing feeling back into the area before she registers that she’s been set-up. (Poorly at that. Had the prince not forced her company, she would have stayed with Juliet.) Bain steps out of the shadows with the castle maid and she can’t help the twinge of betrayal she feels, not that anyone in this palace is an ally. Willow offers her no sympathy, does not absolve her guilt when she scurries away to carry out the princes’ bidding. (Well, she can try. She’ll soon find just how sprightly Juliet can be in spite of injury.) Instead, she focuses on the two princes and their lackeys, fury building in her veins with each baseless accusation against her good name. ‘You don’t know a lick about me.’

Her hands ball to fists, swallowing down every impulse that howls within her to unleash all that she has. (It would be easy, too. She proved that after that disastrous end to the mock battle. That these men think they can out muscle and out match her is insulting.) Lucky tightens their grip on her shoulder, hissing at both guards as they trudge towards her. Willow gives their nose a quick rub, consoling them. Then?

Then her green eyes flash. In each palm she now carries two bags of marbles. She flips her wrist, dumping them over the ground. They clatter, rolling in every direction, and multiply each time they bump into each other. The guards, confused, look down, take a step back, then go legs up, and fall like bowling pins. They’re like crabs stuck on their backs, flailing and failing to get themselves back up as the ground fills with marbles, seemingly endless marbles. The only who don’t fall are the winged princes.

Bain and Devlin charge for Willow. Lucky sizes up and bats Devlin away with their tail (hard) then shrinks back down to fit on the sorceress’s shoulder. A good thing, too, because she proceeds to hop into the mirror surface of Bain’s chest plate. The prince yelps, though he hasn’t been hurt, and feels over his chest. He yelps again when he sees the sorceress’s reflection grinning up at him, wiggling her fingers. In all his infinite wisdom, Prince Bain does try punching Willow, resulting in punching himself. By that point, however, the sorceress has disappeared from his armor and is now moving through the guards' armor below. Spotting this, he points, getting Devlin’s attention. “There!”

But Willow is already on the move, jumping from guard to guard then into the reflections of the scattering marbles. Though she makes it look easy, makes it seem like she’s having fun, the sorceress does not, in fact, like this form of reflection travel. It’s chaotic, disorienting, and she’s starting to get motion sick. (She suspects that all the reasons she hates this form of travel is exactly why Milfred and Soybert are so enthusiastic about it.) At least her mirrorball has nice flat panels with defined exits and entries. Like this, Willow is in full chaos, trying to keep her sights on the next marble, decorative armor, or pool without getting distracted by the noise coming through all the reflections in the immediate area.

When the sorceress is sure the princes have lost her, she emerges from a puddle in the courtyard, bursting from it and flopping forward as she crawls the rest of the way out. Thankfully, no one witnesses this. (She does not need to hear that word thrown at her again.) The world spins around her as she recovers from her travels through reflections. She rolls onto her side, clenching her stomach to stave off the urge to hurl. She gives herself five seconds to recover before she’s gathering herself back to her feet and heading back for their infirmary.

Or she would be.

Instead, she runs straight into Prince Grinnell who captures her wrist before the both of them can fall. “S-Sorry,” she mutters, righting herself. When she goes to pull herself away from the prince, his grip noticeably tightens. Confused, she searches the prince for an answer, but he’s not paying Willow any attention. His gaze is fixed down the hall and when she follows his eyes, hers land on Prince Bain.

“Good.” He smirks, approaching them. “You’ve caught the witch. She’s under arrest for tampering with Lady Juliet’s mind.”

Lucky hisses at both princes while Willow tries to pry herself from Grinnell’s grip, but he is unrelenting. (He’s unfortunately not in his armor either.) Her companion skitters between her shoulders, looking between princes, trying to identify who’s the bigger threat to take out. They decide on Grinnell, whipping around and baring their teeth at him. Grinnell doesn’t even even flinch. Whip fast, his hand snaps out and clamps around Lucky’s mouth. The glove he’s wearing glows, holding its shape as he removes his hand from the garment that now seals the dragon’s mouth. Lucky struggles with it, even tries to grow out of it, but it’s to no avail. “She has done more than just tamper with the noblewoman’s mind.” Prince Grinnell shakes Willow’s arm harshly, jerking it so that it’s now twisted behind her back and she’s held close to his chest. “She tried to make a mockery of the tournament, putting Amoria’s future at risk. I should hope the queen seeks more than imprisonment for this one.”

By this point, Lucky has caught onto the conversation and is alert with worry, but before they can so much as flap their wings, Bain crushes their tail with his boot, pinning them into place.

“We shall see what will be done, indeed.” With a wicked grin, Prince Bain pulls out a vial filled with colorless smoke and holds it first to the dragon's nose then to Willow's, covering her mouth so she has to inhale. The effects are immediate. The world slips through her fingers before she can even think to fight it.

***​

Not even a few minutes after Willow has departed, the castle maid is scurrying into the infirmary, completely breathless. "Good morning, Lady Juliet," she heaves, stepping into a sloppy curtsy. "Apologies for the lack of composure, but your fellow heroine, Willow James, sent for me to come here immediately to administer the final course of your medicine." She nods, searching through the folds of her skirt for a glass vial, full of colorless smoke. She raises it, holding it proudly. "Ah, there's the bugger. You ought to lie down, she said."

Distantly, from outside the room, are noises of ruckus. The maid makes a point of speaking louder, pointedly ignoring what sounds like tiny glass balls rolling through the corridors. "Lie down, you. You're supposed to be resting. Don't make me send for the guard," she jokes. (But not really.)

 

[ellarose]

"I'm not meant to lie down." Juliet states, her narrowed eyes dagger-sharp. Grace tenses in her lap, her ears twitching atop her head. Seconds later, the archer hears what her companion is hearing. A peculiar pitter-patter, like a bag of pearls overturned. Something's amiss. Moreover, she is not meant to lie down because Willow told her so. Now, how did she explain it again...? Juliet furrows her brow, mulling over the detailed explanation the sorceress gave. "Because of... gravity." Yes, that's it. Willow said it eloquently and with more words than that... but that's essentially what she meant. She's very wise. "Those were Willow's instructions."

By some twist of fate, of everyone in this godforsaken castle, Willow is the one she trusts the most aside from Grace. When Juliet was vulnerable, she guarded her and kept her safe. Kept her away from the Augusts, away from Prince Bain and away from castle staff like this woman, who intend to make her soft and compliant with their mysterious concoctions and medicines. When she does not fit the preferred narrative, they use means such as these to make her into what they want her to be.

It's really not so different from what Juliet's doing, is it? Except she's bringing out the monster that hides within those 'charming' noble men, with their winning smiles, their power and influence. She's bringing the truth to the surface for all to see. Folklore's full of stories, full of lies, and she intends to change it. Though she predicts she'll fall on the sword for it, she'll grin and bear it with blood in her teeth if that's what it takes to overthrow them. If she regrets anything at all, it's the fact that she's betrayed Willow's trust. Her cause was bigger than she was before they crossed paths. Had they met earlier in her narrative, before she locked away her too-soft heart, then perhaps... but it's no use thinking about that now.

Regardless, Juliet will not be able to accomplish any of that if she's captured here and now. The last time they ensnared her this way, she spent many hazed hours meticulously crafting a narrative where she did everything differently and escaped. Where she was fast enough, where she was clever enough. 'Where to start...' She can handle the maid and the guard she threatens to call. The little bottle is the most dangerous thing in this room. It must be taken care of first.

"Gravity? Nonsense, my lady." The maid tuts like she's a nursery teacher and Juliet's a child. Something jangles around in her apron pocket with each step she takes forward. There's a distinct imprint bulging through the beige fabric, catching Juliet's eye. Carrying a generous amount of coin, isn't she? A bribe. If she considers their recent visitor-- the recent distraction-- it's highly probable it was Prince Devlin and his entourage. Bastard. "Poor thing. That witch has been feeding you a most unhealthy diet of lies. You will not get better until you--"

Grace snarls at the blatantly false accusation, startling the maid. The fox exchanges a glance with Juliet and she nods firmly, agreeing that now is the time to act. Grace leaps out of her lap, snatching the bottle from the maid's hand before darting across the room and out the door. The guard outside pitches forward, reaching out to grab for her, but she dodges nimbly and leaps into the air beyond his reach. Then, to everyone's shock, scaled wings unfurl from the scars on her back like flaming flower petals. She handles the transformation with a practiced ease this time, she does not seem confused or in pain, and her flight is, well... graceful. True to her name. It leaves all of them staring after her, wide-eyed as she flies away from the infirmary like a bird from a cage.

Juliet is the first to snap out of her stupor. She grabs the knife under her pillow and springs out of bed. Willow said she would need three days to recover fully. Juliet has had two. The archer who survived the wood as a girl can surely manage with two. (It doesn't make her invincible. The familiar cold, burning sensation creeps over her ribs as she moves and breathes. Still, she holds her own in spite of it.) Defensively, she holds her knife out in front of her and inches towards the window at the back of the room. Knowing her escape route will be cold, she makes sure fetch her red scarf and hood along the way. Unfortunately, her boots rest on the other side of the room. Already, she can imagine the snow outside singing the bottoms of her bare feet and freezing her toes.

"Lady Juliet." The maid blinks at her, still recovering from her shock. (The maid and guard both are taken aback once more at the sight of her on her feet.) "You're..."

"As you can see, I've received exemplary care. No thanks to you or Prince Devlin." Juliet flicks her eyes down to the maid's pocket and back up. Her eyes flash in the firelight but her smile's the colder than the steel of her blade. I know what you did. "Tell him I wish him the best of luck. Truly. I hope he relishes his status as Folklore's new hero." Yes. She hopes the weight of this responsibility crushes him like... like a walnut. Prince Devlin will regret the day he made enemies of the true heroines. Perhaps he will put on a facade that he has everything is fine... but underneath it, she knows he will suffer just as she did with the enormity and complexity of this issue.

Meanwhile, Juliet doesn't intend to stay and heal Lightless from the shadows while that spoiled prince steals the glory with his well-crafted lies. She looks down upon his game like an observer from afar, like a goddess from her golden cloud. Prince Devlin's a devil rolling rigged dice and the only thing Juliet's rolling are her eyes. They'd be fools to play his game. Now it's decided. Juliet and Willow will return to Evermore as soon as they can. Leave Folklore for a while. Perhaps when she returns the people will have realized that they've taken them for granted. They'll realize what they've thrown away. Willow James is a good person who has done nothing but try to help these people. It's so typical of Folklore to assign her a role that does not suit her in the slightest. It's the same as was done to her, as a matter of fact... and Juliet must help her escape before it can hurt her the same way. If it hasn't already.

"Lady Juliet, please. You must calm down!" The maid and guard both have their hands up, approaching her slowly. Juliet slips into her hood and wraps her new scarf around her shoulders. The maid's eyes widen when she realizes her intentions.

"Must I?" Juliet flips the end of her red scarf over her shoulder. She throws open the window and flashes them a peace sign. "Bite me."

The guard charges forward, but he's too late. Juliet August scales down icy castle wall with her makeshift rope (a precaution made from knotted bedsheets in her spare time) and down onto the snow blanketed earth. It's cold as fuck. She runs as fast as she can, but the cold works faster than she does, working its way into the marrow of her bones as she moves. It isn't long before her feet go numb and she slips against the ground. But she doesn't stop.

"I can scarcely believe my eyes. Did-- did you see her companion? The way she transformed?" The maid murmurs from the open window above, looking at the guard. (In Folklore only royals possess companions capable of such transformation. Which means that Prince Devlin may well have been right when he suggested that Juliet August is... oh dear.) She nods at the wastebasket, covered with old bloodied rags and bandages. "I'll take these in for sampling." Her eyes are somewhat fearful as she nods at the guard. They failed their task. "You alert the others. She won't get far in this weather."

Juliet's in the royal cemetery when she drops to her knees. Falling snow dots her red hood and eyelashes, clumps of frost cake the hem of her nightgown and cloak. Her feet have become a frightening shade of plum. The cold has consumed her to the point that it's all she can think about. It's all she knows. It's the air she breathes, it's in her eyes and under her fingernails. This is what she chose. The cold over guards and princes and little bottles.

At some point Grace appears at her side, sheltering her with wings of flame. Her companion melts the snow around Juliet and bathes her in warmth. She nuzzles affectionately against Juliet's side to hasten the process. Gradually, the cold loosens its hold over her.

"G-gracie." Juliet blinks, staring at the winged fox in awe. Unlike the first time, she appears comfortable like this. She's adapted to this change and accepted it as a part of herself. (Was she flying in Evermore? Do Willow's grandmothers know about this?) There's no time to dwell on it now. The archer climbs onto her companion's back, melting against the warmth of her fur coat. (While it's a relief, the pressure against her ribs is most unpleasant.) Urgently, she nods at her thread. It hangs before them, angled towards the very castle she'd been running from. "We need to find Willow."

 

[starboob]

“The key is to find the right balance between temperature and time.” Evren explains, pouring hot—but not boiling—water over some tea sachets. His audience is only Axton and their companions and they all watch him eagerly, leaning over the table to watch the water deepen in color. (They are the only company the prince has had in the days of late, what with the heroines recovering.) “Your brew merely suffered from being oversteeped—”

A curt knock interrupts the lesson. Evren’s attention snaps up immediately, confusion knitting across his features as he is not expecting anyone or anything. Slowly, he rises from his chair and approaches the door—or he starts to. Not even a full step forward and a slip of paper, folded into the shape of a crab, crawls under the door, across the floor, and bumps into Evren’s boot. When the prince fails to pick it up, it bumps itself against his boot again, this time more insistent. Then again. And again.

“Uncle… I think he means for you to read his note.” Axton has scrambled up from his chair and now hides behind Evren, peering down at the paper crab from behind Evren’s arm. “Would you like me to fetch your kit to see if it’s been hexed or otherwise poisoned?”

“No, no. I don’t think that is necessary.” He clears his throat, pulling himself from his stupor to pick up the paper crab. The second he does, the crab unfolds itself, revealing a note in a long drawn out cursive.

They’ve got the witch.​

Evren crumples the piece of paper, tossing it into the fire. “Axton, I regrettably must delay our tea party for another time. The heroines are in trouble.”

***​

Not wanting to draw too much suspicion, Evren throws a cloak over his shoulders, hiding the accoutrement of weapons he has strapped to his person. Axton has also talked his way into assisting his uncle, reminding him that he is not a boy anymore. (Forgive the prince for always seeing his sister’s son as the baby who once fit in the palm of his hand.) Truthfully, he does feel better not being alone and knows Axton is more than capable of handling himself.

Though it does occur to the prince that this could be a trap, something meant to take him out of the final competition, he refuses to take the risk. He would never forgive himself otherwise. And because he does not know whether or not this is a trap, he and Axton agree to lay low and make it as if they are stretching their legs after holing away in their chambers to stay warm through the storm.

The winds howl and Evren, whether by illusion or reality, hears the sorceress’s voice. (Rumors have spread recently claiming she has Lady Juliet’s mind in a vise. Laughable claims, yet with Princes Devlin and Bain spinning the lies, no one laughs. Except for Evren, who knows that Sir Declan’s worry for Prince Jayden could not have been forced or fabricated, could not have been manipulated through a spell. Love is a peculiar and untouchable magic, after all.) With the note being so vague and the castle so large, they slow their steps behind gossiping guards and maids alike and eventually find breadcrumbs to follow.

“—escaped. We have a search party scouring the perimeters.”

“And what about the dragon? Will our usual restraints even work?”

Evren and Axton exchange sideways glances and, without even needing to plan, part ways. Evren heads out towards the castle perimeter while Axton stays inside, searching for Lady Juliet. The windchill is especially biting without the protection of the castle walls to break it. (Some pixies take advantage of the weather, dancing and spinning on the ice currents.) Snow flurries across his vision, making it impossible to see more than a few inches in front of him. This turns into an advantage when a trio of guards trudges right past him, holding lanterns against the rapidly darkening skies. ‘What have they done?’

He squints in the direction the guards are heading, though it seems they are as lost as he is on where to start as they listlessly mill forward. As he debates following them, in case they do find something, he catches a glow of orange from his periphery. Though it could just be another group of guards, he decides to investigate. The closer he gets to this new object, the icier the winds become and believing that to be a sign of the sorceress, he calls out her name. “Willow! Willow James, is that you?”

As he gets closer to the glow, the snow gets softer, sloshier, in spite of the icier winds and—

“Agh!” The giant man backs up too quickly and falls over onto his bum, not all expecting to see Lady Juliet, let alone Lady Juliet on the back of a winged fox! (He has heard that Lady Juliet’s companion is a fox, but he was unaware her companion also has wings. That has been conveniently left out of the rumors.) “L-Lady Juliet—I thought you were… Well, you must know what I thought.” He pulls himself back to his feet, looking around in case any guards are nearby. “I received word that someone has captured your fellow heroine and then heard mention of a fugitive around the castle perimeter. Has the queen turned on you?”

That would explain why Lady Juliet is stalking outside the castle walls, when all know she ought to be bedridden or, at the very least, significantly slowed down from her injuries. Yet she is up and looking surprisingly well. Even so, the prince offers Juliet his cloak given that she appears to have left the infirmary in pajamas. "If you are escaping, please accept my service. You and Willow have demonstrated more kindness than ever I expected. Allow me to protect that kindness from those who seek to sap it from Folklore?"

 

[ellarose]

"...It's fine. I have mine." Juliet insists, though her teeth are on the edge of chattering. Protectively, she tugs the ends of her red hood tighter together in effort to shield her nightgown from Evren's eyes. (Though as anticipated, his gaze upon her is nothing if not respectful.) Her classic red hood is soaked and smattered with snow, but the heat radiating off of Grace's back is slowly thawing her. As the wind howls and whips at her face, she presses her numb lips together and sucks on them in attempt to work some feeling back into them. Then she continues. "Are you sure you wish to involve yourself in this, your highness?" She will not assume she can tell a prince what to do. Prince Evren nods earnestly, pressing a hand over his heart. "If you truly wish to help us, you will walk the other way. Forget you ever saw me."

Evren's brow furrows, he does not understand what she is trying to say, and Juliet does not have much time to explain it to him. He said so himself. Those birdbrained sky princes have captured Willow and she needs to free her. Grace huffs, her breath a ghost on the wind, and the archer scratches behind her ears consolingly. (Despite the transformation, she's still Gracie. The only difference is that she has wings. Just as when she breathed fire, through these changes she remains the same companion she knows and loves.) 'I know. Soon.'

"To involve yourself directly is to show your hand." Juliet tries to explain her reasonings as succinctly as she can, impatient as Grace is to move, to run. "We need allies within the kingdoms. I appreciate your desire to help, but it mustn't be extended to us like this. They will weave stories of what happened today. Those stories will spread across the kingdoms." (Like raspberry jam over toast. Ah... she never did get to eat her breakfast. Damn them all. Their tomfoolery starves her!) "Including yours." There's no need to spell out the implications beyond that. She looks towards the castle again, having to raise her voice to be heard over the wind. She speaks quickly, her words running into each other in their haste. "I know only of Prince Devlin's involvement. I think he bribed the maid who tried to poison me before I escaped, therefore it's fair to assume Queen Viviane is uninvolved."

Queen Viviane has made many questionable decisions, indeed, but this approach is much too roundabout, clumsy and brash to be the work of an experienced ruler like her. This brute force approach is just the same as the sky princes attack on her in the arena. Spoiled boys throwing tantrums when they've not received exactly what they wanted. They've the titles and status to get away with it, too. They will say they've been provoked, or enchanted, or... it's maddening. Maddening. This is part of the reason why she's decided they must leave.

Although the sun is hidden in the cloud-bogged sky, Juliet's hair and eyes are bright like autumn, brown tinged orange in the glow of Grace's wings.

"If you wish to help us, find Queen Viviane and tell her what Prince Devlin has done." The queen may be otherwise preoccupied. Perhaps with Elise in her tower, perhaps with something else... she has been in contact with many kingdoms and busy rescheduling her ridiculous tournament that has wrought more disaster than it has prevented. Perhaps she has spies reporting to her on King Cayman's movements as well. Such chaos would be advantageous to a man like him. Erratic zings of alarm trill through her at the very thought. "Hurry."

"Lady Juliet, are you sure?" Prince Evren is uneasy on his feet, pulling at his cloak, his good conscience reluctant to leave her alone. "You needn't carry this alone. I can handle a couple of rumors... and I wish to use my voice in support of the heroines who have done so much thankless work for our kingdoms. If you'll give me a chance--"

Juliet buries her nose and mouth in her red scarf, contemplating how to end this abruptly and prepared to give Grace the signal to move when several pairs of boots crunch in the snow. Approaching them.

"Prince Evren! What are you--" One of the guards calls out. The snow obscures her vision, but Juliet can imagine the confusion and shock written on his face. Especially when he stumbles backward seeing Grace's wings, creating a domino effect that topples a few of the guards behind him. It'd be funny if they weren't wasting her precious time. They right themselves, struggling to stand as the wind strengthens. "Never mind that. You've found Lady Juliet! Please, lend us your assistance in escorting her back to the castle." Escort. He makes the act of wrangling her against her will sound so flowery and quaint. "I don't know what she's told you, but she's not right of mind! She's been hexed... by the witch!"

"Spare us the dramatics. I haven't been hexed by anyone you absolute dingbat!" Juliet spits, gritting her teeth. Prince Evren bites into a smile at her outburst before the guards can take notice of it. "Dingbats. All of you." When she gives the signal, Grace rears back onto her hind legs and grows in size until she towers over everyone. She gives a flap of her magnificent wings and-- like magic-- the ruthless winds work in perfect harmony with her, toppling the guards over once more like dominoes. Except this time they go screaming and snowballing into the endless mist. Willow, is that you? The thread before her glows brighter, illuminating a path of gold that cuts through the miserable storm. I'm coming.

Juliet braces herself for discomfort when Grace leaps skyward and they fly above it all.

***​

Juliet knocks out the prison guard. She steals his shoes.

They're slightly too large and clomp noisily against the stone floors, but Juliet's toes were at risk of snapping off in the state they were in. It isn't an issue for long as she mounts Grace's back again to avoid walking the spiral staircase down into the castle dungeons step by step. Only one guard. Where are the others? She's still of the opinion that Queen Viviane isn't involved, even with the actions of the guards. Before she knocked him out, she noticed the haunting blue tint to the guard's eyes. It seems many minds have indeed been hexed... but not hers. Not this time.

As Juliet travels deeper and deeper within the dungeon, thoughts of Sefarina creep into her mind. For a while she awaited execution here. Execution for her murder. In every shadow hides an eye and they're all watching. Listening. Tasting her discomfort on the air and wearing cheshire smiles. No. They're not. The shadows are just that. Shadows. This is not the time or place to be imagining such things! Especially not when the entire kingdom thinks her bewitched.

Thankfully, finding the sorceress prevents her mind from undoing itself.

When Juliet finds Willow, she's alone in her cell. Unconscious... which is likely the reason why she isn't so heavily guarded at the moment. The benefit of puppet guards is that they can only act on the wishes and knowledge of their puppeteer. Perhaps they're all searching for Juliet in the snow or preoccupied with something else entirely. Speaking of... where is Lucky? Is that why the guards are all--? While Juliet knows Willow would want her to prioritize Lucky, the fact remains that she found her first.

Thankfully Grace retrieved her weapons for her. The archer reaches for her brow and a golden arrow with a padlock and chains on the end. She takes aim at the lock on the cell door, releases, and as the arrow flies it morphs itself into the shape of a key that fits the lock perfectly. (Key Arrows. The sort of arrow that comes to one's imagination when they've been a captive for much too long.) It works like a charm. The cell door swings open with a low groan and Juliet doesn't waste a breath before rushing to Willow's side.

Juliet looks over her for injuries, thankful to find nothing severe, and then attempts to wake her with a shake. Gentle at first, then harder. "Willow?" She doesn't rouse. Don't tell her they used that hellish concoction on her? Damn it. Biting her lip, she glances at Grace. They'll have to secure her to her companion's back if they're to escape like this. If not for the state of her ribs, she could try and carry her herself. She hurries, helping Grace to pull her up, knowing it's only a matter of time before their time runs out and--

Footsteps echo, tap-tapping towards the cell like a threat.

 

[starboob]

She got away.
She got away.

Bain grinds down on his jaw, storming through the castle. Apparently, if one wants to get anything done properly, he ought to just do it himself. Already, in the back of his mind, the prince can hear his sisters and their mocking chorus of, “I told you so!” That adds fire to his step, determined to avoid that outcome at all costs. News still has yet to travel of the escaped heroine or the one who has been apprehended. If all goes well, no one will ever know until it is far too late for anything to be done.

Though it is only a matter of time before some loose lipped maid spreads a rumor. That in mind, he hurries to the dungeons, expecting that the hexes on Juliet’s mind will force her to rescue that blasted witch. ‘Worry not, my darling. I shall rescue you from ill-fate.’

When he comes across the barefoot fallen guard at the dungeon entrance, his eyes widen. Damn. Perhaps the prince would have been impressed that Lady Juliet managed to take out a full grown man in nothing but her pajamas (conveniently ignoring the fact she fought well, for a woman, in the tournament), but it also means he might be too late. Reaching into his cloak, he pulls out another vial of the colorless smoke. He flips the cork off the vial, covers the opening with his thumb, and masks his mouth with his hand as he descends the steps. His bride-to-be will not be getting away this time.

“The dragon is rousing!” From the top of the steps, Ivory, prince of frost and lord of the paper doll forest, blocks the narrow entrance to the stairwell. He seems to have hurriedly thrown on some armor on his way to retrieve Bain. “You must come at once.”

“Damn.” Bain hisses, looking down the stairwell, imagining the heroines both there. As he changes course, he recorks the vial and tucks it away, meeting Ivory at the top of the steps. “Help me block the entrance, then send for my father.”

Whatever Ivory might think of Bain’s request is kept hidden under his practiced demeanor of indifference. He obliges the sky prince, holding out his palm towards the entrance and coating it in a thick layer of hardened ice. Privately, he hopes the heroines are not still inside. He knows that Lady Juliet was spotted. He knows that Evren attempted to bring her back inside (according to rumor). He also knows that Lady Juliet’s companion seems to have sprouted fiery wings. This rumor is less known and Bain doesn’t seem to be aware. If it is true, he hopes the fire fox can melt through his barrier.

Once the blockade is finished, Bain rushes towards the castle’s courtyard and Ivory pivots to find King Benedict. Well, he goes off in that direction, but once the sky prince is out of sight, he changes course. Someone needs to warn Llewellyn and his family.

Meanwhile, Lucky, no larger than a wolf, grumbles, bleary eyed as the effects of the concoction wear off. (Even as a companion, they still retain a dragon’s ability to metabolize poisons, potions, and spells in record time.) Strange gurgles leave their throat as they search around for their favorite sorceress, but all they see are shiny soldiers barking and shouting at each other.

A weighted net is thrown over their body, causing them to fall back against the ground. Oh. This is no good. They shake, trying to get the net off of them, but it’s of no use. As a courtesy, they gurgle to warn the shinies that they are about to size-up, but the shinies do not listen. Another weighted net is thrown over them instead. Well, they tried to warn them.

Lucky goes full on titanic in front of these shinies. The weighted nets are launched off the dragon’s back, slamming against the stone wall. Their body bursts through whatever corridor they had been dragged down and sweeps away the shinies who are not wise enough to run. Grinnell’s glove breaks from their maw, unable to keep up with their transformation. Shaking the stone and debris from their back and wings, they then throw back their neck and unleash a screech so loud, it carries over the blizzard, stretching through the kingdom of Amoria. Fire bellies up their throat, readying for retaliation.

From across the palace grounds, Evren and Axton fall to their knees, covering their ears as a screech like shattering glass bellows through the palace. Evren grits his teeth together against the noise and even after it’s over, the echoes still ring in his ears. Neither him nor Axton move until the large double doors they had been heading towards swing open and Ambrose, Queen Viviane, and a smattering of the visiting royals, including King Cayman, pour out from the meeting.

Queen Viviane grips the silver embroidery on her robes, eyes wide with alarm. When she sees Prince Evren and his squire rising from the ground, she gives a look that asks the question on everyone’s mind.

“Your majesty, Prince Devlin has apprehended Willow James and her companion.” He swallows, feeling much smaller than he is under that piercing gaze. “It would seem her companion, a dragon if you recall, is not taking it well. Further, Lady Juliet has been spotted on a winged fox just outside the castle. Her present location is unknown.”

King Cayman, while everyone is distracted with the prince, slinks off into the shadows.

 

[ellarose]

‘Princess Elise,
I hope this letter finds you well after all of the recent excitement. I must admit, I keep thinking back to the night of the ball. I shall never forget how lovely you looked when we danced. What a marvelous dancer you were, too. Do you remember the promise I made that night? You can rest assured the words I write now are mine and mine alone. No longer will I allow another’s hand to guide my pen in correspondence or—‘

“There you go!” The stationery makes a most delightful noise when Elise tears it into threes and feeds it to the fire. Sparks fly and her mouth twitches with a faint, conspiratorial smile. “Delicious, is it not? Today you feast on the oversized ego of a prince.”

It gets lonely in the tower. Can Elise really be judged for speaking to the fire like a friend? She burns every last letter and flower in her tower to keep herself warm. The princess puts all of her fury into the task, throwing herself off the bed to reach the rose garlands on the lower ceiling panels and ripping them from the caged balcony window. When she’s finished with her self-appointed task, she huffs to catch her breath and raises her hands to the flames.

Elise thinks of the only letter in Folklore she wishes to be reading right now. What she remembers about the night of the ball is not the showy dances that Prince Devlin swept her into, nor his promise to extend to her the common decency of being honest with her. It is what Willow James said to her. Implying that they have a letter for her. A letter from Flynn. Her only, her dearest love. With all that has happened, Elise understands why the heroines have not yet sent it to her. It is a risky endeavor, much has happened, and she is so often observed by those who mean to destroy their love. Still. Every passing second she waits for his words, knowing they exist in this world and she has not yet seen them, are agony. They exist as the only glimmer of hope she has left to hold onto.

Elise would not describe recent events as ‘excitement’ as Devlin did. He was a participant in that attack on Juliet and whether his opponent was a man or a woman makes no difference. Cruelty is cruelty. (Flynn would have been a fierce but chivalrous opponent on the battlefield, were he allowed to compete for her hand. But he needn’t win any contest at all… her heart belongs to him and him alone.) She has been kept in the dark in regards to Juliet’s recovery and what has become of her friends. They've done much for her… but she is uncertain of what to do next. (What to do… ridiculous. She’s done nothing. What can she do? What is she capable of?) Mother is working tirelessly to smooth this over, to proceed as if nothing has gone awry. If she stays here any longer--

An earsplitting screech rips through Elise's thoughts. Scrambling onto her feet, she rushes to her balcony window, peering out through the thin diamond openings between the bars. The snow and mist is much too thick to see through, making it impossible to find the source of the noise. She squints, noticing the guards stationed at her tower running forward before turning towards each other to converse. They wait. Elise's heart races. 'If they left their post right now, would you run?'

Minutes pass and Elise continues to watch. They never leave, dutifully remaining at their post... disheartened, she's about to turn away from the window when she notices a shadowy horseback figure riding towards the guards. They scramble around in alarm, raising their swords and shields... and she can scarcely describe what happens next. The figure removes his gloves and raises his hands, light sparks... and one of the guards scampers off as a deer. The other becomes so small in size that she cannot tell what has become of him. A rodent? An insect, perhaps? Transformation magic. Dread crashes over her. It's King Cayman... and he's riding towards the tower. Towards her. She sinks to the floor before he can spot her in the window, hugging her legs to her center.

"Peaches... find the heroines. Lucky. Anyone."

***​

Prince Devlin wants no more than to burn the letter in his hands. It creases in his ironclad grip the longer he reads. The maid discovered it among the heroines belongings and brought it to him right away.

Flynn Everson is alive.

The guard refuses to give up hope, having quite eloquently written his wishes to fight for a future with Princess Elise. (No, Prince Devlin is not jealous of his prose. Not even in the slightest.) Despite this, he still goes to the effort of memorizing these lines and descriptions of the princess's character. Elise will never find out he has stolen these words. She will never read them.

Prince Devlin knows better than to burn the letter. It can be of use to him. Already, his mind is concocting ways he might use this knowledge to his advantage. He could have a forgery made in Flynn's hand, use him to break the princess's heart and ensure that she never thinks about that inconsequential guard again. Perhaps could use the letter to track the man and settle this himself.

The dragon's screech tears through the castle. Prince Devlin rises to his feet at once, in his shock leaving the letter behind as he rushes to the scene.

(When the prince's back is turned, a cat-- nay, a possum emerges through the room's mirror. They hiss discontentedly, snatch the letter up in their teeth and disappear just as quickly as they appeared through the mirror.)

Prince Devlin's rush to action slows somewhat when he notices all of the toppled guardsmen. His head throbs as he lends them the strength to climb back up to their feet. (Everyone is sure to have heard the dragon's call. Including the Queen.) Prince Bain is at his side in an instant, standing from afar as he awaits the dragon's next move.

What they cannot see is the small, pink companion that floats towards the dragon's enormous ear, squeaking frantically. She expresses her confusion and concern for them-- shortly thereafter informing them of what is transpiring right beneath the shinies noses!

 

[starboob]

Lucky's breath comes out heaving and hot, melting the snow and ice that have clung to the castle since the start of the ice storm. Steam starts to rise from the newly formed puddles as fire builds within Lucky’s belly, emanating a wide radius of heat. The shinies all stand apprehensive, unmoving and Lucky assumes it’s because they’ve never seen such a beautiful dragon up close. (They wonder if maybe they are beautiful enough to encourage these shinies to pursue a career in the arts, waxing poetic about the heroic dragon.) But they know better than that. Their senses tell them that the shinies are not hostile, just possibly confused. (Their puppeteer never told them what to do in the event Lucky roused.) Taking advantage of this, they sniff the air for traces of thyme, honey, and ocean air, determined to find Willow before they're recaptured.

However, just as they find her scent, some of the knocked over shinies begin to spring back up. Their limbs jerk and stick out in the most unnatural ways as they mechanically pick themselves up from the ground. Lucky trills in confusion. (It sounds more like a growl at their current size.) Then their milky eyes land on that fluffy prince who tricked Willow and the lemony one who knocked them both out.

Flames expel from the corners of their mouth and a real growl elicits from their throat, this time causing their immediate surroundings to vibrate with discontent. All thoughts of being a reasonable dragon are erased. As flames roll up their throat, a familiar squeak interrupts them and puts pause to flame.

If the dragon were capable of looking startled, they would be. What Peaches has just relayed distresses the dragon further, visibly causing them to panic as they shift their weight from foot to foot, looking off in the assumed directions of Willow and the princess. But then their eyes shift, catching the gleam of the lemony prince's sword and they falter. Willow James. Peaches squeaks again, assuring Lucky she will find the archer and, together, they will get to the sorceress. Her squeaks come out urgent and more panicked then before, pleading with the dragon to aid her companion.

In that same moment, more shinies pour into the courtyard, led by a woman with silver embroidered robes who Lucky sort of understands is the queen. This new group starts shouting and Lucky cannot tell who they are shouting at. Peaches squeaks again, reminding them to focus. Right. With a huff and a blink, they agree, knowing their own companion well enough to know she would do anything to help others, especially those who remind her of Jovi's companion.

Wasting no more time, they toss their head back, rear on their hind legs, and release another ear splitting screech that brings the shinies, the princes, and the grown-ups to their knees, hands clapped over their ears. This gives them the cover to turn and, as they do, their tails whips behind them, knocking over several of the shinies and the princes. Hehe. With one powerful push, they launch into the skies and send shockwaves through the castle, adding lightning like cracks to the edifice.

Lucky speeds through the ice winds, heading towards the distant silhouette that they know is the princess's tower. As they get closer, so to does the black knight, charging through the snow at a breakneck pace. From above, Lucky throws out another screech. Step off. While the horse is smart enough to rear and throw off its knight, the knight rises as if nothing has happened. As if there is not now a dragon aiding the princess.

Lucky lands on top of the tower, digging their claws into the roof tiles while the rest of their body spirals around the tower protectively. The black knight marches forward and lifts his palm, aiming towards the dragon. Spark flash, but before the spell can hit Lucky, its consumed by their multi-colored flames that soon hose over the knight. He's bathed in flames. Thirty seconds goes by, then a minute, and another. When Lucky runs out of breath and, as the flames, smoke, and steam all clear, King Cayman still stands, untouched, eyes burning just as fierce as the dragon's fire. Ruh-roh.

***​

The first screech puts cracks in Prince Ivory’s ice barrier and wriggles through it, traveling down the stairwell and bouncing off the dungeon walls before the impressive echoes reach the sorceress. She stirs. Her shoulder jerks against Juliet and a low, quiet moan flees past her lips. “Nghhh.”

All of Willow’s thoughts struggle to swim through the thick mists that have consumed her senses, making it so that everything, her senses, ability to move, talk, are dampened with the weight of dreams. Lucky’s screech clears some of the mist, but it still takes godlike strength to even crack her eyes open. She can’t even widen them when she recognizes Grace. Weakly, her eyes find Juliet. “Gracie’s… on fire.” Her voice comes out labouredly, fighting with her jaw and tongue to force out this very important observation. Her eyelids shut as she deadens against Juliet once again.

Vaguely, she can sense that they’re moving, but nothing in Willow can do much with the information. She starts to slip back into the mists of her mind and, as if sensing this, Lucky belts out another screech. Willow squirms behind Juliet, bunching up her features. “Oh, Lucky… That’s too loud. Too many… decibels…”

This time, when she attempts to open her eyes, she’s able to keep them open while the rest of her is stuck under a thick layer of molasses. The warmth of Grace’s flames give herself something to anchor herself to, though she still cannot figure out why or how Grace is on fire. She assumes it must be fine if Juliet is unperturbed.

When she wrestles against the gods to look behind her, she notices the fox’s wings and her eyes widen, filling with stars. “Wings.” Though Willow attempts to articulate the connection she’s making between Lucky’s days as an ocelot before they transformed into a dragon, it all falls to less than eloquent gibberish.

Having tired herself out with that explanation, she dozes against Juliet’s back. However, when they come to a sudden stop at the top of the stairs, she blinks her eyes open, droopily looking at the cracked ice barrier. “Heyyy,” she drawls, “that looks like spiderwebs.” Another very important observation and, this time, Willow does something with it. Dropping one arm from around Juliet's middle, she heaves her arm up and lazily rolls her wrist, casting a glyph against the ice barrier that soon has it turning into cobwebs. “Now it is spiderwebs. Heh. Go forth, my noble steed and knight. The princess needs saving.” She is referring to herself, but she's also not wrong.