Summary: To Priscilla, life after the war is worth nothing without Heath. A rash decision leads her to risk everything to find him… what she discovers causes her to rethink everything that she's ever thought to be true.

I feel that this is not one of the best stories that I have written, however, I really like the theme behind it, so I decided to give it a place on the Internet.

Updates will probably come twice a week, as these chapters (and the whole story itself) are rather short.

Please enjoy.

Review if you wish. I am currently without a beta-reader, so please, don't be afraid to tell me everything you think.

Chapter 1: The Dirt at the Window

"You promised that you would return to me one day, right…?

Well… What would you say if I can't wait? What would you say if I told you that I made a mistake and that I need you now? Would it be too much trouble?"

Priscilla stared distantly into the world outside her window. Her fingertips enjoyed the cold, numbing sensation that radiated into her from the touch of the windowsill. Never had the dead scenery signaling a harsh winter looked so attractive.

"L-Lady Priscilla!" A soft voice sounded from behind her bedroom door. It was not followed by a knock, however, she could almost hear the nervousness behind it.

Forcing herself back into the ability to move, Priscilla tiptoed over to the lock.

At the sound of the lock, the door burst open, much to the surprise of both of the people before it.

"O-Oh! Lucius! This is a… surprise. What are you doing here?" Priscilla's already wide, crimson eyes opened to be even wider, frightening the holy man all the more.

"I… I'm sorry, Lady Priscilla, but your brother… he insisted."

Priscilla sighed, opening the door further to invite in her unexpected guest who should have been more expected than anything. "Of course he would do something that absurd, sending you on a trip alone just for me."

Priscilla ushered him towards the table. Once there, she poured him a cup of tea. "Hopefully it's still warm. I can't remember when it was brought to me."

Lucius brought the tea to his lips and allowed the warmth to take him over. Priscilla could see that he was most grateful, no matter how he tried to mask it through modesty. "The tea is perfect, Lady Priscilla. But anyway… please don't worry about me! It's nothing, I didn't mind the travel! Lord Raymond supplied me well… very well… for the journey, and I'm not needed right now at the orphanage. Some other monks came along with a request for help that I couldn't refuse. Really, truly, it wasn't any trouble. In fact, I cherish any service I can still be to House Cornwell."

"Mmmm…" Priscilla chose to ignore his reasoning, seeing as how any further conversation with it would inevitably lead to and endless stream of similar responses. "So how is my brother, as he had to send you to report on my well- being?" She poured herself her own cup of tea, surprised at how much she relished the soothing liquid.

"Oh, he's just being himself," Lucius sighed, face twisting into a visage of concern, "He has a lot to think about and investigate, trying to accept that it was not Ostia but some unknown force that has caused him these endless years of pain… I tried to tell him to let it go and that I'd help him with whatever he needed, but he just won't listen."

"That's my brother for you, Lucius. You and I both know that much. But we also know that he can take care of himself… we just need to give him the room, no matter how difficult it may seem to do so," There was an awkward pause as they both took long sips of their tea, "But enough about him. Did he ask you to come for anything… specific? As much as he worries… I'm sure that he wouldn't send you all the way here for a mere update on whether or not I'm alive. What news does he have to deliver?"

Lucius' face paled at the question. For a moment, it felt as if time had stopped inside that large bedroom. Priscilla's belongings, both her and Lucius, even the clock appeared to be frozen in an awkward phenomenon of time stop. Eventually, his face fell on a grave expression. "Of course he wouldn't, Lady Priscilla. Well… not entirely. He wants to know about… Heath. He's worried sick about how you are faring without him…"

Priscilla's head lowered as if she'd lost her neck muscles. Never had the swirls of sugar in her tea been noticeable before, yet now, she just wanted to sit there and muse over every little last detail… "Why did I leave him, Lucius?"

Lucius' face crumbled, realizing that perhaps… he'd been used. Was it true that Raven had been fully capable of physically coming to his sister's side, yet had not so that he could put the burden of seeing his sister's emotions on his only assistant and friend? …Not that he could blame the man. "Lady Priscilla… It was the reality, wasn't it? Love… I… I've seen a lot of people forced through the horror, and it has never worked out… G-granted, I'm a holy man, and I've only known few people other than monks-" Shock attacked his face when she interrupted him with a frustrated anger.

"But… why does it have to be like that for me, Lucius? I've always been so demure, I've always lived my life as I've been told to, and for what? So that needing a man that I cannot have can be my reward?" Priscilla stopped cold, realizing how much her voice had risen. "I… I apologize, Lucius, this is horribly unlike me. I… I've just been thinking lately… It's been hard to readjust after the war, regardless of him, so I've been a bit lost."

Lucius also realized just how interesting sugar swirls were. "Lady Priscilla… there is nothing wrong with the way you are. You… You love him but cannot allow that love to exist. Of course you are going to be hurting. Of course you are going to feel as if you are not yourself. Just… take it one day at a time, Priscilla. And… I can stay here as long as you feel me necessary. Neither I nor your brother will accept seeing you like this."

However, Priscilla didn't answer. Instead, she jerked her chair forward, stood up, and returned to her place before the window. Lucius noticed that the otherwise beautiful, spotless rug that covered the room's floor was rather unclean in that one spot, the dirt oddly enough taking the form of Priscilla's boots.

From that point on, Lucius shivered at the sight of her window.

He understood everything clearly, for he seen this happen countless times within his life at a monastery that forbade romantic and sexual involvement. …But understanding the situation meant nothing.

How could he save a noble woman from her love? How could he stop fate? What value did understanding the situation hold if there was nothing that he could do?