A/N: Something a little different, set just before Twilight Arbor. This story does have some connections with From Dawn To Dusk, but you can still understand it if you didn't read FDtD. I hope you enjoy it! Reviews are very much appreciated. :)

'I can see the Grove from here.' Such a simple thing, a room with a view, high up into the trees. The chilly breeze stroked her cheeks. Of all the things she had gotten used to through the years, the sight of the Grove in the distance never quite seemed to fade into the daily way of things.

Sariel peered into the distance, shielding her eyes from the low, setting sun. She didn't miss the Grove, not at all, but she also couldn't ignore it. The place she had been born, the place so many of her kind never left. She could never set foot in the Grove again. She had wondered if giving up the Grove for the life she had, had been worth it. Whether she had felt differently, had she remained a Dreamer.

Sariel smiled bitterly. She would always hang out of a window, longingly staring into the distance. She had sealed her fate the first time she had laid eyes on Faolain, still submerged in her Dream. That would not have changed. Had she been a Dreamer, she would have regretted not chasing after her feelings. And now she regretted losing her innocence, for a hopeless cause.

Becoming a Knight, a part of the Retinue, the high-ranked Courtiers. It would be the first step to being one of Faolain's favourites, to be by her side. It would take much, much more than that, of course, but that would be the first step. And then, to be chosen from the Knights to be a Countess, and then perhaps a Duchess, the highest rank possible. Sariel grinned, enjoying her ambitious dream. There were no Duchesses or Dukes in the Court yet. Faolain had not ever trusted anyone enough to grant them that title. Sariel wanted to be the first to win her love, to have the fact acknowledged that she was, indeed, the one most worthy to be Faolain's favourite. The most suited to share her life, her love, her bed, her everything with the Grand Duchess. She would do anything, anything to walk by her side, proudly hold her hand, to look at her and smile, to see that smile returned.

To see her smile at me, the way she smiled at Caithe…

A harsh knock on the door shook Sariel from her thoughts. She hesitated for a moment, but when the knocking returned, harder now, she walked briskly towards the door and opened it.

'What is it-,' she started, but then recognized the woman. 'Oh, Serame? What brings you here?'

Serame smiled quickly at her, but then humbly stepped aside. Behind her stood Leurent, the Count of Blood. He looked down at Sariel disdainfully, huffing when she wasn't as intimidated as he'd hoped she would be.

'The Grand Duchess summoned me for an audience about yesterday's mission at the outpost. She wanted me to bring both my protégé's.' His tone was one of annoyance. He'd rather have had the glory to himself. Sariel gritted her teeth at the word protégé. Just because he was in charge, didn't mean she was any less experienced than him. Faolain just had yet to acknowledge it.

'I've been looking for you everywhere,' Serame hissed at Sariel when they fell into a synchronized step behind Leurent. 'The Count of Blood was furious!'

'I don't take orders from him,' Sariel hissed back. She was about to say more, but Leurent pushed open the wide double doors leading to the throne room. The room was crowded with Sylvari, curious Nightmare Initiates, many Courtiers and the arrogant Knights. The group parted when Leurent stepped forward, his head held high, and they made way for them to walk towards the throne at the end of the long hall. It was as if the crowd fell silent when Leurent passed them, the clicking of his boots on the mosaic floor becoming ever louder, echoing along the walls. Sariel had to keep her gaze turned towards the floor, as per protocol, since only those invited to the audience could look at the Grand Duchess. Even though officially, Sariel was invited, she knew it would cause a riot if she behaved more boldly than the Count in charge.

Leurent approached the throne, which bathed in the red light of the sunset. He sank through one knee and bowed his head.

'You summoned me, your Grace?' He looked up as he spoke. Faolain sat elegantly in the throne, both her arms laying on the left armrest. The dark, flowing leaves of her dress contrasted with the pale orchids the throne had been grown out of. She turned her head to look at Leurent. For a moment, she just watched him kneel before her, then she stood and gestured for him to get up.

'Rise, my Count of Blood. It is good to see you.' Her voice was soft, and there was a pleased smile on her face. They looked at each other for a short moment, in which she allowed the Count to kiss her hand. Then she returned to her throne and crossed her legs. 'Tell me about your endeavours, Leurent.'

'The Dreamers attacked multiple times. We were outnumbered, but,' he scoffed, 'of course we disposed of them.'

'What about the Wardens?' Faolain asked.

'We brought their captain as a hostage. He is spreading Nightmare as we speak.' Faolain's mouth curled into a tiny grin. She was pleased.

'Good. Continue,' Faolain demanded.

'Serame did an excellent job. We were able to capture him through her plan. While we secured the captain, Sariel fought off the remaining waves. I should not have expected anything less of my formidable team.' Leurent said. He sounded convincing enough, but Sariel knew he'd rather have twisted the story to make himself even more glorious. The only thing keeping him from doing so was the fact that Sariel would drive her sword right through his back where she stood, and he knew she would.

'Such courage should be rewarded. Serame, step forward.' Faolain said. She extended her hand towards the girl, gesturing her to kneel at Faolain's feet. Serame's eyes widened, and she looked confusedly from Sariel to Leurent, before swalling audibly and rising.

It was only a few steps towards the throne. Sariel watched her surrogate sister rise and walk towards the spot she longed to be with all her heart. The woman kneeled, and Faolain stood before her.

'My Court,' she declared. Faolain looked around the hall, where all courtiers stood. The Retinue members already knew what would happen and quickly gathered in a wide circle around her, before sinking down to kneel on one knee. The Courtiers and Initiates had to sit behind them, on both knees, with their heads bent down. Sariel had seen the ceremony plenty of times, and bitterly moved back until she was out of the Retinue circle, with the common courtiers. Her heart beat loudly in her chest. Of all the ceremonies she had attended, this one had to be the most painful. Serame, instead of her? Did Faolain forget who she was? Who had been by her side all this time? She could not bring herself to lower her head. She looked at Faolain directly, at Serame, her eyes and heart burning with jealousy.

The Grand Duchess looked around, a pleased smile on her face. 'My Nightmare Court grows ever greater, ever stronger. May you be an example to all Courtiers here assembled.' She looked at the trembling woman kneeled before her. 'You kneeled as a Courtier, but you shall rise as a Knight of the Court. Now rise, newborn Knight, and speak your name.' Faolain lifted Serame's chin with a light touch, and Serame followed the movement to rise to her feet again. She stepped back and swallowed thickly once again, but then dared to look the Firstborn in the eye.

'I am the Knight of Embers.'

'Go forth, Knight of Embers. Spread the Nightmare in my name.'

'I will, your Grace.' Serame answered. Now the tradition was to let the crowd part to let the new Knight leave the hall first, as if to symbolize the new, dark path they had chosen. However even before Serame had had a chance to turn, Sariel had stood up, strode towards the double doors and slammed them behind her as she left the hall. The sound and shock went through the crowd like a wave. When Serame, after what seemed like an endless moment, finally stepped forward to complete the ceremony, the room was filled with murmurs and gossip instead of the usual respectful silence.

The Grand Duchess did not return to her throne. She stood silently, her eyes narrowed, staring at the point where Sariel had vanished.

.

Sariel found herself in her room again. Annoyed, she gritted her teeth. Disrupting Serame's ceremony, her Knight's ceremony, might not have been the best choice she ever made, along with the fact that it hadn't changed anything and had all been for naught in the first place. Now that Serame was a Knight, even her own sister would be above her. Surely she would take that annoying Lania and that initiate Soira to be her new squires, and all would be fine and dandy for her. Sariel couldn't stand the thought. It was all just so unfair.

There were soft footsteps in the hallway. Sariel contemplated barricading her door. She could already imagine Serame's conceited face as she'd open the door. She'd ask how Sariel was doing and what it felt like to have a Knight of the Court visit her. Sariel rolled her eyes. She had really no energy to talk to Serame tonight. She walked towards her window, breathing in the cool night air. The door opened behind her, creaking as it moved. Sariel sighed annoyedly.

'What do you want?' she spat, not even bothering to look at the door.

'What … do I want..?' A pensive answer, as if the person answering truly found this a question to ponder over. The voice was deeper than Sariel had expected, softer, and more familiar than anything. Her eyes widened as the realization dawned on her.

She quickly turned and threw herself on her knees, trembling all over.

'Faolain,' she whispered, breathlessly. In her mind, Sariel beat herself up for her sheer stupidity. She kept her head down, tried to control her shaking shoulders, and bit back her tears. As Faolain silently walked past her towards the window, leafy dress rustling around her steps, Sariel felt like her guts had turned to ice. She'd screwed up, behaved inappropriately, lost her chances – she'd seen Courtiers being killed for offenses lighter than hers.

'Stand up, Sariel,' Faolain said. She chuckled slightly. 'That pose doesn't suit you.'

For a moment, it was silent. Sariel repeated the words in her mind over and over until she realized what Faolain had said. Stand. Don't act like this. Sariel was more than a little confused, but she straightened her face and rose slowly, carefully.

'My apologies, Mistress, I did not-' Sariel started, but stopped when Faolain dismissed her with an offhand gesture. Sariel looked at her. Faolain stood at the window, just as she had done, staring at the Grove. Sariel wondered whether she should speak. She dared not overstep her bounds again, but then again, the other was behaving oddly enough as it was.

'The Grove,' Faolain sighed, peering into the distance, breaking Sariel's chain of thought. The Grove was nothing more than a blur of lights in the distance, without the sun to highlight it. 'I remember when I left there. I remember leaving and not even realizing I'd never set foot in there again. I might not even remember correctly what it looks like.'

'I remember. I used to go there to pick fights with the Dreamers,' Sariel said, immediately regretting admitting to such a thing. Why couldn't she say something impressive?

To her surprise, Faolain chuckled again. She had turned to look at Sariel, making her silhouette starkly outlined against the starlight, yet her eyes burned amber, almost illuminating her features. Then she extended her hand and stroked Sariel's cheek. Sariel felt a shiver run down her spine as those long fingers touched her face. As if on instinct, she brought her own hand up and caught the other's hand, grasping it tenderly. A smile had found its way to her lips without her even noticing.

'That sounds like something you would do, Sariel,' Faolain said. Sariel cast her eyes up to look at the Firstborn suddenly so close to her.

'May I ask, your Grace, why are you here?' she stammered quietly. She held on to Faolain's hand, but brought it down from her face to grasp it with both hands.

'What do I want, why am I here... So many questions, Sariel.' Faolain snickered, but then her expression turned serious. 'You remind me of things. Events I'd rather not remember, but also,' she hesitated, 'some things I would like to cherish.' As Faolain idly interlaced their fingers, Sariel held her breath, waiting for an explanation.

'When we were freed of the Dream, it started out with just the two of us. After we disposed of useless Cadeyrn, we started freeing the Dream of Ventari's shackles.' Faolain smiled again. Sariel felt torn. On one hand, her heart fluttered so intensely that she could've just died from pure happiness. On the other hand, she couldn't help but fear this was all just elaborate foreplay for a cold blooded murder, and that no-one would ever find her corpse.

'I've long been debating what rank to give you, Sariel. I know you were upset about the ceremony today.'

'I'll accept whatever punishment-' Sariel started again, but Faolain just shook her head.

'There is no redemption. Courtiers don't get second chances, Sariel.' Faolain's voice didn't even waver. Sariel's eyes widened. I knew it. I'm going to die.

'Which is why I have decided that you, from this moment forth, shall be my personal Champion, and thus fall outside of Court rules. Do you understand what this means, Sariel?'

Sariel swallowed thickly. She just stared at the Firstborn, her hands trembling. Then she slowly shook her head. This was all far too much to take in at once. Faolain moved closer, caressing her subordinate's face again.

'Have you ever been in love, Sariel? Felt the desire to be by someone's side endlessly and eternally, until the point where you'd kill to make it happen?' Faolain whispered seductively. Sariel felt her knees become wobbly as she melted into her love's arms. She just nodded, in a daze, her heartbeat so fast that she could feel it in her throat.

'As my Champion, you will be by my side always, fight for me, and kill for me. Kill for me as if I were your destined love,' Faolain said. Her fingers were in the nape of Sariel's neck now, their lips so close Sariel could feel the warmth radiating off of her. It's finally happening, Sariel thought frantically, in a moment, she will be mine to love…!

In the blink of an eye the warmth was gone, Faolain standing back by the window again. Her fingernails dug into the windowsill, the wood around it blackening and rotting.

'Of course, that won't happen as long as Caithe lives. You, and only you, will fight her in my name.' Both took a shivering breath. One out of frustration, the other out of disappointment. 'Can you do it, Sariel? Will you fight for my love?'

Sariel swallowed, but then approached the other, boldly, her heart racing. She slightly lifted herself on her toes, her arms around Faolain's neck, and closed the distance. A kiss, soft and over far too quickly, but it meant the world to her. The words she said were the truest she ever spoke.

'I swear it on my life.'

.

The next day felt like a strange, euphoric dream. When Sariel woke, she still figured it all had been just a vision of how she wanted things to be. Surely there was no way this had actually happened. She got up, the sun just barely reaching out over the horizon, then stopped dead in her tracks. Her armor had been replaced with a new one, shiny, and much darker in colour. She let her fingers glide over the shining black metal. It was heavy, of much better quality than she'd even seen the Counts or Countesses wear. It didn't even seem to be Sylvari-made, the woven structure of the harness looked exotic and unfamiliar, but it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

No Courtier could have given her this. Sariel knew this had to be something Faolain had brought with her from her travels, far from the Arbor. With her heart racing and her pride growing, she strapped on the armor, and headed out towards the throne room.

She entered through the double doors, hesitating just slightly as she rounded the corner . She could hear the noise from the crowd die down when she entered, the others just staring at her as she walked past, but the moment she was out of reach, they'd bend towards each other and heatedly discuss her. How was she still alive? What was that armor she wore? Sariel only caught glimpses of whispers, not destined for her ears. Suddenly a hand caught her arm, and pulled her back. The moment Sariel turned, Serame pulled her into a tight hug.

'By the tree, Sariel,' she whispered, her voice laden with emotion, 'you are absolutely mad. I thought I had lost you.'

'You won't believe how close it was.' Sariel grinned. Serame looked up at her with wide eyes.

'But then how-' she wanted to ask, but was cut off by another voice.

'Ah, Sariel, my sweet. Come to me.'

For a moment, it was absolutely silent. Serame's mouth had fallen open, and she looked from her sister to the Firstborn in the throne. Sariel couldn't help but grin smugly, and she continued to do so the entire long way up to the throne. She kneeled in front of Faolain, but raised her head to look at her.

'Your Grace,' Sariel greeted her. Faolain stood to greet her, and Sariel boldy advanced on her, grasping her hands tenderly. 'Radiant as ever,' she flirted.

'You are certainly in higher spirits than yesterday,' Faolain chuckled in response. She lifted one hand and let her fingers trail down Sariel's shining plated armor. 'Those Orrian garments suit you well. Do you like them?'

'I am most grateful, your Grace. It's more than I deserve.'

'Well, you are my favourite,' the Grand Duchess said. She smiled lightly, then returned to her throne. Two of the orchids bent their leaves to make a bench, slightly lower than where Faolain was seated, next to her. Faolain gestured for Sariel to sit down.

Sariel did as she was told, as if in a daze. She sat down, looking out over the throne room from an angle she had never seen before. She saw the piercing eyes and the burning questions and the filthy, jealous looks the Knights were giving her. She could see Serame was furious, her clenched fists trembling. It was as if the world slowed down, as if every frantic heartbeat lasted an eternity. Images of only a day ago flashed through her head, the jealousy, the unfairness of it all, and then now, this redemption – it all seemed so surreal. Sariel's breath hitched when she felt Faolain's long fingers idly stroking the nape of her neck, her slender wrist resting on Sariel's shoulder. There were so many feelings that she just felt numb, unable to process what was happening. With a lot more effort than usual, she managed to gently place a hand on Faolain's knee. It was more than she'd ever wanted.

.

Weeks passed, and slowly Sariel got used to her new life. As Faolain's Champion, she was sometimes sent on special, standalone missions, but she spent most of her days at Faolain's side. As time passed, she began to notice she could read the Firstborn better and better. Her decisions would be different depending on her mood, and Sariel noticed she could usually predict which options Faolain would prefer. In return, Faolain had also begun to rely on her for some decisions, discreetly. She would tense her fingers ever so slightly in Sariel's neck if she was doubtful, and Sariel would -just as secretly- guide her in the right direction. It made her feel that their bond was growing ever stronger. Faolain trusted her. She needed her. Sariel had never been happier. There had even been some occasions where Faolain had to leave the camp, and left the reign in Sariel's hands.

It was one of those days that Sariel found herself in her room after hours of audiences and Initiates begging for forgiveness. Sometimes the cowardly Initiates would hide and wait for Faolain to leave until they returned to Court – not that it mattered. Sariel was just as cruel as the Duchess. She had no need for cowardly Initiates.

Serame opened the door as Sariel took off her armor. 'Can I come in, Sariel?'

'What do you want?' Sariel asked. She noticed the vanity in her own voice, but only felt gratification at the hurt look in her sister's eyes. Serame deserved to be put in her place.

'I want to talk to you for a moment.' Serame tried again, less timid this time. She was not planning on being sent away without finishing her business. Sariel sighed. 'Fine.'

'I don't want to imply anything,' Serame started, after closing the door firmly behind her, 'but don't you think that recent events have been rather strange?' Sariel could see she was nervous. Yet she narrowed her eyes in annoyance.

'Define "recent events".'

'I mean this whole ordeal with you being promoted!' Serame blurted out. 'I just don't understand why! If it's because you knew her from before, then why didn't she make you her Champion in the first place?!'

'Why is none of your business!' Sariel spat back. She loves me and you have nothing, Serame.

'Don't you see she is setting you up for a horrible fate?' Serame cried out. She was breathing heavily, and Sariel was silent for a moment.

'What do you mean..? ' Sariel gave Serame a suspicious look. It was a ridiculous thought. Serame stepped forward and grabbed her sister's shoulders, shaking her lightly, as if to make her come to her senses.

'Have you ever seen the Grand Duchess forgive, Sariel? Have you ever seen her being truly affectionate with someone? Do you truly believe she loves you?' Serame's questions were like daggers to Sariel's heart.

'Does she act towards you, the way she acted towards Caithe, Sariel?'

The long silence stretched out. Serame's blazing eyes pierced Sariel's averted gaze, her fingers still gripping Sariel's shoulders tightly.

'No, she does not.' Sariel admitted in a tiny voice. Serame made a sound that was between a sigh and a sob.

'You have to get out of here. I don't know what she's planning, but it cannot be good for you. Get to a faraway camp, bring some Courtiers, make yourself at home there. I won't stand by idly while she murders you for her own amusement.' Serame grabbed Sariel's hands and held them, but Sariel suddenly narrowed her eyes and pulled herself loose.

'So that is your plan, then?' She sneered. 'Making me flee like a coward while you take my place as Faolain's favourite? Would your jealously really drive you that far?' Sariel spat on the ground. 'You are despicable, Knight of Embers.'

'How dare you!' Serame cried back. 'I am trying to protect you from yourself! From her!'

Sariel lifted her hand and struck her sister hard across the face. She was heaving, only barely containing her anger. 'Don't you dare speak about the Mistress that way!'

'You're starting to sound like Cadeyrn, Sariel. Are you sure this is the way you wish to end up? Brainwashed and soulless?' Serame held her bleeding cheek with her right hand, but her sword with the other.

'Get out of here, unless you want me to offer your lifeless body to the Count of Blood. I'm sure he'd have a field day with it.' Sariel growled low in her throat. Serame let out a gasp, but then straightened her back, turned on her heel and with her head held high, slammed the door shut behind her.

.

'Come, I want to show you something.' Sariel let herself be led through to the back of the Arbor. Faolain tugged her hand gently along secret passageways and narrow halls, towards a room in the Arbor Sariel had never seen before. It was round, not very big, but the roof reached high up into the trees. Sariel walked in, wide-eyed, as Faolain let go of her hand and walked towards the middle of the room. There was a tree, maybe two times her size, far from mature, but strong enough to survive the elements. It's bark was dark and crackled, but there seemed to be an orange glow coming from within. It illuminated the many cracks and crevices and led their eyes up to where the naked branches extended into the air. The air around it trembled. Sariel held her breath as she came closer.

She could sense this was not an ordinary tree. She recognized this feeling, the buzzing feeling of magic growing, magic flowing and bending and taking shape.

'Faolain, is this-' she tried, but her mouth ran dry as she touched the tree.

'My Nightmare Tree. I grew her myself.' Faolain caressed the rough bark. She smiled, the pride of her work shining in her eyes. Sariel swallowed thickly. It was the first time she saw Faolain acting this relaxed, this natural to her. She smiled at me. 'One day, we won't need to rely on the Grove anymore for our Courtiers.' Her voice was soft, but she sounded ..happy.

'But, how?' Sariel asked breathlessly. She had never even thought of the possibility of another Pale Tree, without Ventari's rules. It was perfect.

'The Knight of Embers has been most informative. Even though she has not secured the Harbinger yet, her intel has been the best I have ever gotten.' Faolain looked at Sariel, her lips still curled into a grin. 'You pick your friends well.'

'She's not my friend,' Sariel answered, smiling back. 'But thank you.' She contemplated coming closer, and smirked when Faolain allowed her actions. She did not need friends. She did not need Serame or Canach or Cadeyrn. They were all the same, in the end. Useless. Selfish. Untrustworthy. Unlike her.

She was in love. And that was all she needed.

.

Sariel stood, tense, her sword in hand. Her mouth was running dry. Today was the day. Her moment. After today, her love would be her own at last. She stood in the middle of one of the big halls, Faolain behind her. She could sense her love. She was restless, different feelings mingling together. If only there was a way to console her, but Sariel knew only one. And for that, she had to fight.

Across from her, Caithe stood, with a few others Sariel did not recognize. Sariel let her eyes glide over the Firstborn. She hated her. She hated her with every fiber of her being. If it hadn't been for her, she would not have suffered the way she did. If it hadn't been for Caithe, she would have been with Faolain from the very start.

'Caithe, meet my first Champion, Sariel.' Faolain said, gracefully gesturing towards her. Her voice did not show a single sign of wavering, but Sariel saw the tremble in her step. The inevitable effect of having Caithe close. Sariel took a shivering breath. She wanted to fight, more than anything. To finally claim what was hers. To take out those years of suffering on the person she despised the most.

'We've met,' Sariel ground out, never taking her eyes off of Caithe. 'She is not worthy of you.' She could hear Faolain chuckle under her breath. Flattering the Grand Duchess was never a faux pas.

'Oh Faolain,' Caithe sighed, as if she had been disappointed many times before. Sariel gritted her teeth at the way this Firstborn patronized her love. 'What have you done to this poor girl?' Caithe asked. Faolain just looked at her, calculating. Sariel's thin stretched patience finally snapped. She would show her. She would show that damn Caithe that the tables had turned, that she could not expect Faolain to be hers forever.

'I am no girl!' She shouted, walking to Faolain's side, and melting into her embrace. She pressed her back against Faolain's chest and wrapped the Duchess' arms around her. For a moment, they just stood together. It was loving, and with pride that Sariel announced, 'I am Faolain's chosen.'

A long finger stroked her cheek. She could feel Faolain's warm breath against her as she spoke. 'See, how easily you were replaced, dearheart?' Faolain asked Caithe, mockingly. Sariel's heart was fluttering. Replaced. She was the new Caithe. She was loved, at last.

Then suddenly, Sariel felt the warmth leave her as she was pushed away roughly, and Faolain disappeared behind her in a flutter of purple magic, butterflies vanishing into the air. She reappeared before Caithe, grasping both her hands and pressing them against her chest. She stroked Caithe's cheek as she pleaded, softly, desperately. 'But say the word, Caithe, and you can be my favourite again.'

Sariel's vision turned red. Everything in her body screamed and objected. No, no, this was not how this was supposed to go. She had been so close. Faolain had admitted her love. Caithe didn't stand a chance. And yet, she had to kill Caithe. That was what Faolain herself had asked of her. She had finally had everything she ever wanted within her reach, until Caithe showed up. Sariel refused to let it go.

'No!' She cried out. She shivered in anticipation, adrenaline rushing through her body. 'I am your favourite, and I always will be!' Sariel looked at her love, desperately hoping for some sort of confirmation, but she wasn't even noticed. Faolain was still just looking at Caithe, who had tears in her eyes.

It was all Caithe's fault. She could turn everything around just by being there, and Sariel was sick of it. She stepped forward, and growled at Caithe, her voice so low, so ridden with venom, that it barely even sounded like her anymore.

'I'll kill you, Caithe.' She breathed heavily. 'Slowly and painfully.' It wasn't a threat. It was a vow.

As she charged, Caithe lifting her daggers to deflect the first blow, she could hear the Grand Duchess chuckling behind her.

'You children have fun.'

Sariel fought, with all her might. It was six to one but it didn't matter. She had her sword and her skills and her raging anger. As she fought, she suddenly doubted herself. Her love. As she deflected blows she began to see the overlap of reality and her Dream. She always knew she'd have this fight. That she would fight Caithe to the death, over who was more worthy to love their common interest. She was thrown back, but lifted her sword to keep Caithe from piercing her stomach.

'It's all a game to her, Sariel.' Caithe hissed. 'She doesn't care any more for you than she does for anyone else.'

'Lies!' Sariel cried, throwing Caithe back. In the back of her head, Caithe's words echoed silently, mingling with an advice she had heard before. Terrible fate. She set you up. It's all a game. Serame had seen it coming.

The moment Caithe had returned, Sariel had been dropped like a toy Faolain had grown bored of. Her life was worth nothing more than the time it took to challenge Caithe, she had never meant to let Sariel win. Suddenly every minute spent with her stung, Sariel felt as if her body was being dipped in acid, the pain of the realization, bringing her to her knees. Treacherous, blinding love, had led her to believe she was something, that there had been something –

Caithe stabbed her dagger right through her armor. The bloody tip stuck out her back. Sariel coughed, twice, then slumped against Caithe. The Firstborn caught her, and gently put her on her back.

'I'm sorry, Sariel. You were just another of her victims, even if you did not realize.' Caithe whispered. Sariel grasped Caithe's wrist with her last strength, and looked at her rival, for the first time without hate, pleading. Caithe smiled a bitter smile.

'Don't worry, I'll be good to her.' She stroked Sariel's cold forehead. 'I love her dearly still, after all.'

Sariel nodded, a small smile on her face. Her vision faded quickly. Words echoed in her head until the other noises died down.

I hope I'll Dream of love again.

I can't imagine life without you.