Aurora flinched at her own panicked words, especially the intensity with which she had just uttered them. It had come from deep within and she didn’t know why, couldn’t even fathom why.

But she did notice what she and the words had caused just now – regret filled her almost immediately.

Her beloved lurched back, recoiled, having dropped her aspect in an instant.

He slowly pulled back the hand that meant to comfort her. It trembled and formed to a fist that he clenched so hard that it showed the white.

Meanwhile, his green-amber eyes looked into hers with disbelief.

Arakiel was shocked.

The sight pained her, hurt her, caused her physical harm.

She felt terrible, as if she had just betrayed him as well, had to make it up somehow.

These thoughts bounced through her mind… yet why did her body refuse to move?

And when had she begun to cry again?

A moment that felt like eternity passed, the kind of eternity that made her wish to curl up and die, the eternity that left her with enough time to think, to ponder.

What her mind came up with deeply terrified her.

Again, she began to shiver, to tremble.

She longed for Arakiel’s embrace, for only he could aid her frayed nerves that began to unravel – and yet she was certain that if he did, something else would break in her.

Before her inner eye, he was still there – having his way with the whimpering seelie.

The way he beat her, the way he kept her pinned down, the way he seeded her.

A part of Aurora wished that he had done so with her, that she had been the seelie just now, only so that he remained hers alone.

Another portion of her mind suggested that not only would he never do that to her, but she had clearly seen the satisfaction on his face.

It scared her, this expression.

For the first conscious time in recent memory, Aurora had been afraid of her Monarch-to-be.

And for that, she felt even more ashamed.

No sound escaped her lips. It was him that eventually broke the silence in a crestfallen tone. “Forgive me… Aurora,” he spoke quietly.

Forgive him?

Forgive him for what!?

For that the fact that he had thrust an amount of responsibility and power onto her that she had no way of braving?!

For the issue that he put the fate of his little sister above her, even though she was his consort-servant-to-be!?!

That he just sat there, unmoving when the seelie defiled her!?!?

That she had to give herself to her defiler?!?!?

Or that he jumped Nyanna and eagerly seeded her, impregnated her while Aurora needed him the most!?!?!?

He smelled more of roses than vanilla.

She wanted to scream at him, cry out at the indignation, at the unfairness, at the injustice he had committed… only now realizing that she had actually just done so.

Her mouth was agape, her throat slightly hoarse.

Arakiel looked at her with a complicated expression, one that seemed to insinuate a myriad of things while leaving really everything open to interpretation.

He quietly made a step towards her.

Another one.

Her Monarch-to-be approached, never once breaking his eyes away from hers.

What did they want to relay?

Aurora remained in her kneeling position, frozen – mouth still agape.

A part of her wanted to run.

Another section sought to scream.

A third longed for his warmth.

The last share wanted him to kiss her, and then punish her for her failures.

Arakiel stopped in front of her, his slightly flushed skin glistening with sweat, grime and a few snippets of blood. His eyes looked down, promising something.

But what? Just what did these infinite wells of steadily changing color augur?

Her mind did not compute.

He reached down, grabbed her upper arm and yanked her up, at which point Aurora’s state of shock dissolved as her nerves unraveled for good and her mind went haywire.

The stench of roses overwhelmed her.

She began to scream and flail around, but not only was he physically superior to her, he also had taken most of her soul.

In a matter of moments, he had locked her in his embrace which seemed to tighten only the more she struggled, but never once did he hurt her.

She resisted at first, trying to push him away more out of instinct than anything else.

Slowly but surely, a scent of vanilla mixed with the roses.

It permeated her, wafted up into her nostrils and from there, all the way into her mind until there was nothing but vanilla, rose and Arakiel’s warmth.

The three beckoned and then reached for the strands of sanity and tangled them back together, entwined them once again – left a knot where there should be a path.

And as they did, Aurora slowly calmed down – or maybe her mind had collapsed from exhaustion.

In turn, Arakiel loosened his grip.

A little later, she began to instinctively return the embrace as a sort of stillness set in her mind.

No thoughts, just feelings.

Warmth.

Arakiel was warm, much warmer than her.

His breathing had slowed down, had become steadier, more even.

He had been in distress as well – he still was.

Aurora felt terrible, having added to it.

She tightened her embrace a little and he returned it.

Eventually, her wings followed.

Around them, the soft susurration of snow, of wind that brushed her hair and the half-plucked feathers of her wings.

Silence.

Just a little tighter. He held her, and she reciprocated.

In time, their temperatures aligned, equalized.

She kept her eyes closed and more tears began to flow.

No words.

They remained like this for a long, long time. Another eternity, an eternity that soothed her, healed her. An eternity of rose, vanilla and warmth.

Slowly, they parted without letting go.

In the darkness around them Arakiel, was but a silhouette; behind the thin veil of shadows, she imagined his mostly amber eyes.

They looked at her expectantly.

“Forgive me,” Aurora tried to say in a choked up tone. It came across as disjointed, more sob than anything else.

He shook his head, his words forming soft waves of sound that made their way over into her ears. How lovely.

“No… forgive me, Aurora. I failed you.”

“You did not. I failed you.” She insisted a little more forceful this time, shaking her own head as well. Disheveled strands of golden hair further obstructed her vision of the man clad in shadow.

Roses, vanilla. A lingering warmth.

“I will make it up to you,” he promised in a tone that left no doubt that he meant it. Even in this sadness, he continued to fight, to push on through.

Her chest tightened; the heart accelerated.

But she could tell, could imagine that it cost him much, much more than he might be able to handle, to stomach.

He needed her support.

It was her task, her goal – her very existence.

His mind was strong, oh so much stronger and firmer than her feeble self – but even he had limits.

For all his glory, for everything that she saw in him… he was not yet a monarch.

“My love…” Aurora whispered as tears continued to curl down her cheeks.

Why was she crying still? How could she even cry at this point – hadn’t her tears run dry long ago?

Perhaps they were tears of joy at the revelation?

“Hush,” he returned quietly and then put his finger onto her lips.

For a tiny moment, a small part inside her wanted to suckle it, bite it just a little.

The thought made her blush and she turned while bringing her wing along in an attempt to shield her, only that he was still in the way and they were still holding one another.

She hit him, but it probably felt more uncomfortable for her than him.

He gave her a soft smile and brushed a strand of her hair aside and as he did, he returned some of Aurora’s gold. It wafted from his mouth towards her own.

But instead of the usual joy and bliss she should feel at its return, Aurora remained numb at best and uncomfortable at first.

The more soul filled her, the more she began to tremble and when he noticed, he quickly pulled her close once more, asking in a worried tone.

“Aurora!? What’s wrong, answer me!”

“Please take it away, my love,” Aurora reacted quietly at first, but then she grew louder, more frantic. “I don’t want this! I never wanted it! My power…” she spat the word out in contempt. “It is for you to wield, not for me!”

Something died inside her.

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Or had it?

Saying it out loud just now felt so… liberating?

A lone thought bounced around, circling, drawing a tail.

How could she be proud about something that failed her so spectacularly? Her Lord had entrusted her with authority – and she had squandered it, had proven unable to stand up to the task.

And how could she? It was not hers to wield, not her choice to make.

It made sense.

“Aurora…” He muttered somewhat confused.

She turned towards him and looked him in the eyes, stared at him in full. “I gave you my all, Arakiel. Don’t give it back. I am unworthy of it.”

He nodded slowly as if he had trouble processing her words and the meaning they held.

But it was alright. He would understand in time – and he would grow stronger for it.

He wasn’t meant to rely on her, for she was unreliable.

All she could do was to make him see.

Nyanna had been right. She had pretended to be something she was not – was never meant to be.

Her uneasiness passed in accordance to the amount of soul he took from her until nothing but a wisp remained.

It fit with her sense of self.

That thought, she smothered.

“Arakiel,” Ezekiel’s strained voice broke the intimacy between Aurora and her beloved who pulled her closer. A thin silver light began to illuminate Arakiel’s outline from behind, casting his front into the shadow.

He looked so handsome and he pulled her closer, let her head rest right atop his chest.

For some reason, she requited his action with apathy, because she didn’t know which way to go.

She closed her eyes and listened.

This way, she couldn’t fail him in any way.

“Yes?”

“Two things,” Ezekiel began in a voice that sounded fatigued, drained. A faint tinge of rage remained, but it was subtle, as subtle as his steps were on the dead ground. “What happened here… it is what it is.”

“It is what it is…” Arakiel repeated as if he chewed on each word. She felt him move his head. “No, that’s not quite it, Ezekiel – but do go on.”

“I’m sorry about Mellia,” Ezekiel added. “But I promise you that I’ll stand with you until we get her back. It is as much my own fault as it is yours.”

“It is our fault, and yet it is not.” Arakiel bounced back in a tone that made Aurora think that he didn’t believe it. “I should’ve sensed something was off when they all looked alike, but I wasn’t vigilant enough.”

There it was. The guilt.

He blamed himself for it.

She had to find a way to fix it, make him see that it wasn’t true.

Arakiel spat out the next words with disbelief, but the frustration inside the tone was much more palpable. It hurt Aurora, for it was her fault. “Immortals on my first planeswalk since…”

A low chuckle followed. “It’s like I’m cursed.”

Ezekiel objected with a sigh, his words intending to conclude. “Blaming yourself won’t fix anything. We are alive, we have to look forward.”

“I know,” Arakiel answered, his voice turning grim. “Which is why you won’t like what I’m about to say.”

“You want to take these immortals up on their offer?” Ezekiel guessed.

A pause.

Aurora knew what he was about to say. Her fingers turned to claws and she dug into him at the mere thought.

A longer pause.

She embraced him with all her strength just so he wouldn’t say it.

“Arakiel?” Ezekiel asked.

A minuscule pause.

Aurora’s heart stopped, her senses focusing all on that one response.

“No, we will not.” Her Monarch-to-be then said, answered, stated. His voice carried heavy conflict with it.

Had he changed his mind at the last moment?

But the words that should've brought Aurora joy did not. They brought guilt – sin. They cemented her failure.

Her chest began to hurt as it tightened.

The heart ached.

The mind’s knots threatened to unravel.

If he did this for her, then he stifled his own progress, his own chance at attaining the power he needed because of her.

It was… it was unacceptable.

“No!” She cried out, found herself yelling. It had happened even though her body trembled, shivered.

“I understand.” Ezekiel responded in a voice that signaled understand but he didn’t get it.

None of them did.

“STOP!” She cried out more forcefully as she opened her eyes.

Both men and Selene, who stood right beside Ezekiel with a complicated expression, looked over to her. And where Arakiel and Ezekiel seemed puzzled, Selene’s gaze indicated an understanding that Aurora found odd at first, but it was quickly put into perspective.

“Aurora?” Arakiel asked worriedly, adding right away. “It’s alright, it’s fine. We don’t need to–”

“Don’t!” She answered while her voice quivered. “Don’t… do this!”

“What?” Arakiel queried once more.

Selene’s silver eyes looked her over with understanding… and approval.

Ezekiel’s eyes narrowed a little, examining her closely.

Aurora took a deep breath as her chest slowly expanded, but in doing so, she felt a surge of determination. “Don’t squander this chance, my love. I will be fine.” She heard herself say.

The knot retained.

He pulled her a little closer and kissed her forehead. “I won’t forget this… and I will protect you.”

She felt proud. Afraid, terribly afraid. But also proud.

Proud of herself, proud of Arakiel.

Aurora closed her eyes once more.

Then, he addressed Ezekiel once more. “Are you ready?”

The man shook his head with a rueful smile. “No, but it’s not like we have a choice.”

Aurora squeezed Arakiel’s hand as a means to calm herself.

It didn’t work, but at least he was there with her.

Without him… she didn’t know what she would do.

Selene gave her a small, approving nod.

And somehow, for some odd reason… Aurora felt glad that she did.

Perhaps she had judged the silver seraphim too harshly.

The small group returned towards the village of Seelerest in relative silence. Aurora clung to Arakiel every step of the way, afraid that if she let go of him, he would be gone again.

He gave her stability in a way that no one else could and she would need it very soon. The thought of facing her defiler again terrified her, but she had to remain strong.

For Arakiel, for herself.

Night had long since fallen, but Ezekiel lit the way with a silvery sphere of light. It graced the surrounding, dying forest more than it should, for all Aurora saw was snow through which occasionally a piece of dead wood reared up.

At some further point, a bit of life returned, but even a sleeping, hibernating forest covered in fresh snow did little to impress or soothe, much less help Aurora in any way. She might as well have waded through grey nothingness. It was all the same to her.

Vanilla, rose and Arakiel – those were the only things that mattered, with the latter being the most important.

They arrived at Seelerest at some point in time. The moon up high was veiled by dark clouds and Selene’s light bathed the entire clearing in a dim, silvery light. Soft snow kept falling down, having long since erased any traces of any movement across the clearing – not that there would be a lot.

In one of the houses, a small source of light burned.

The two men looked at one another. They paused, took a deep breath and then nodded in unison, half their faces hidden in the dark – yet Aurora could imagine their hesitation… and the will through which they powered through nonetheless.

None of them was keen on meeting the seelie again… but they would do so still.

As the small group ascended the creaky wooden stairs, Aurora felt oddly calm for lack of a better word. It was truly as though a void had taken hold of her feelings – maybe it was the Maidenhold’s training shining through.

It was still there, inside her – after all.

Maybe that’s what the abbess had meant?

Aurora quickly discarded the thought, trashed it somewhere, someplace.

Not gone, just lost. It’d resurface in time.

But not now.

She drove her nails into Arakiel’s arm as the scent of roses intensified, but she forced herself to go on.

Step by step, they ascended until she faced a small wooden door, the same door through which she had stepped just yesterday, when everything had been so different.

And yet, it felt like another time entirely.

She had been vainglorious indeed.

Arrogance ill-suited her.

Arakiel knocked at the door, the others held their breath.

A slight moment later, the door swung open, revealing the living chamber which was almost like Aurora recalled it, only bathed in the warm orange light of the hearth’s fire. The large table of dark wood, the comfortable chairs, the two oddly misplaced armchairs, the green carpet on the floor and the little wooden dolls that its former occupant had carved out of wood. It was all there.

Just like they were.

The pair of twins sat on the same armchair that was too large for them, their bodies half-entwined. Two pairs of rose-colored eyes – one pair sprinkled with gold, the other with silver – looked towards them. Four points gleamed softly in the warm orange light. For a moment, Aurora wondered whether the gold and silver sprinkles were glistening, even.

The two immortals still wore their green dresses which were covered in flower petals and little vines, parts of which had been woven into their blonde hair with the soft pink-colored tinge.

The seelie didn’t seem surprised and if they did, they didn’t let it show. They remained in their half-suggestive position, gracing the newcomers with nothing but a slight smile.

Lady Mellia was missing, but Aurora had to assume that she was in an adjacent chamber, sleeping.

Aurora felt Arakiel’s body tighten up at the sight, especially that of Nyanna – but he got himself under control in a surprisingly quick fashion.

“I have come to tell you my decision,” Arakiel announced in a composed tone.

No answer returned.

Expectancy did not even have time to linger.

“I won’t deny you, Nyanna.” Aurora’s reason for existence stated.

“Lady Nyanna,” the seelie corrected in a sonorous, half-amused voice that went on to remind him. “You are my Knight, Arakiel.”

The term cut Aurora deeply, but she could bear the pain. Had to… had to see it through.

For Arakiel.

“I understand, Lady Nyanna. I will not deny your wish.” Arakiel repeated and the blonde fae nodded.

“Then we move out at dawn, after your dove has paid her tribute,” the seelie returned, giving Aurora a wink.

She tensed up in an instant, despite all the preparation. Her body begin to shiver and for a brief moment, she felt helpless again, felt reminded of what the seelie had done to her.

And even more vividly, she recalled her reaction.

Aurora embraced Arakiel in full, using him and his wet cloak as a means to hold onto stability, onto sanity.

“Until then,” her beloved answered politely and dragged her along outside.

After he closed the door, he reciprocated her outburst and through his embrace, she calmed down again.

“We should probably split up,” Ezekiel suggested.

Arakiel affirmed.

Aurora did not sleep tonight, nor did her beloved. They sat close to one another, watching a golden fire burn down and whenever it did, he reignited it once more.

No intimacies were exchanged, no words either.

They just silently watched the flame die down, resurge and then die again.

Aurora saw herself in it.

She was dying internally – of shame and guilt. And against this, there was nothing Arakiel could do – nor could she show him.

Soon, very soon, she would need to make a choice, one that only she could make.

She had to come to terms with what happened – and accept that she couldn’t become what he wanted her to be.

Aurora understood now, had gleamed why he had acted so during the formation of the covenant – why he had forced her to keep some independence.

He could’ve turned her into a fully dependent puppet then… could’ve solidified his hold over her as a Conqueror.

But he probably still remembered the time when she accused him of turning her into a puppet, into a doll.

And the fact that he refused to go down that path… when it should’ve made her glad, it terrified her instead.

She didn’t want power, didn’t need responsibility, didn’t care for authority.

Aurora had once accused Selene of making Ezekiel carry their burden alone.

Turns out, she had been wrong and Selene had been right.

Selene knew that she couldn’t shoulder the burden, knew that she lacked the will necessary to become someone who could be depended upon.

Aurora had pretended that she could.

But the covenant’s nature had been defined.

She could not turn into another Selene and deep down, she didn’t want to.

But she had to find a way to make it work.

For Arakiel.

For herself.

For what little remained of her.

To make that a reality, she had to convince him, make him see what she really wanted.

Except one question remained: what did she want?

She wanted to be close to him.

Wanted to serve him, to support him – love him, and be loved in return.

The answer had been there all the time. She had thought it, had known it, had sometimes even acted upon it.

It wasn’t anything particularly new, but in this night, Aurora still made a decision.

Arakiel was meant to become her Monarch. For that, he needed power.

And if that power came at her expense, then so be it.

In the end, it would be worth it.

It had to.