No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone
No more calling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden
No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love
No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love
No more dreaming like a girl so in love with the wrong world

"Blinding" – Florence + the Machine


Marian sat on her bed, quietly contemplating the events that had just transpired. She pulled her dry eyes from the flickering embers in the fireplace to the pillow behind her, the pillow that not hours before had cushioned his head. She could still smell him in the air and as she moved to rise, her mind swam with visions of how this had all come to pass. For so long, she had denied how she felt but as each day passed since they had first met, she had felt herself being drawn more and more to this mysterious elf with a past muddled in pain and fear and walls so similar to her own. How could she have let it come to this?

If one night was all he could give then she would accept it for what it was. Chastising herself for letting this happen, she resigned herself to living with this unrequited love. Never before had a man been able to slip inside her defenses and now that he had fled from her arms, she felt her walls slam back into place, more fortified than ever before. Romance was never high on her list of priorities and she had seen with her own eyes the havoc wreaked by love lost.

After the death of her father, she watched her mother nearly drown in her sorrow. She watched time and again as her gentle sister opened herself to love and time and again she held her as she cried over a broken heart. Where had love gotten her sister? She had fallen for a young man for whom Marian had little affection for and the moment he discovered Bethany's magic, he'd run with his tail tucked between his legs to the Templars. The coward had paid with blood, Marian had made sure of that. After they had returned from the Deep Roads and she found Bethany being dragged to the Gallows, the first thing Marian had done was hunt that cur down. Fenris had been the one forced to drag her off the limp body of the boy she'd almost murdered in cold blood. He still bore the scars her fists inflicted and averted his eyes whenever he saw her.

She was still naked, his touch lingering on her skin and his kisses etched in her mind – she didn't know how long she had sat on her bed, crushed by the revelation that one night was all that this would be. One arm wrapped around her slender frame, she bent to retrieve the robe the he had so fiercely pulled from her body. She hardly noticed the deep red trim hanging by a thread before tossing the garment in the fire. As a flame engulfed the silken garb, tears threatened to pour from her sapphire eyes and it was all she could do to stop them from falling.

Her breath caught in her chest as she brought the mounds of her palms to her eyes, pressing firmly until her emotions were buried deep into the caverns of her heart. Suddenly, a wave of fury overtook her and she stripped her bed of its linens, throwing every last thread into the hearth watching the blaze turn the sheets to cinders. The flames licked the fabric with ferocity, engulfing not only the material but also the pain that raged inside her chest.

As the fire chewed at the remnants of the coverlet, she moved back to her bed, lying down and staring at the ceiling. For a moment, she felt a weight press into her and she gasped at air that seemed too thin to satisfy the tightness in her lungs. Rolling onto her side, she pulling her knees to her chest, she began to tremble and closed her eyes. Finally, the wall she had so carefully erected around her shattered and tears began to fall.


And I could hear the thunder and see the lightning crack
All around the world was waking, I never could go back
Cos all the walls of dreaming, they were torn wide open
And finally it seemed that the spell was broken

"Blinding" – Florence + the Machine


As the slender elf raced towards his borrowed mansion, it occurred to him that he didn't even really know why he was running. Who was he kidding – of course he knew why. If he stopped, he might turn around; he might change his mind and find himself kneeling before her, begging her to forget that he had just walked out on the only good thing in his hollow life. He reached his home but had no desire to go inside. He knew what waited there; the dark, the lonely, the smell of her and the memories of all the nights spend before his hearth sharing with each other. How could he have let it come to this?

He broke into a run again and soon found himself against the shore of the Wounded Coast. How appropriate that he should come to this shore of all places. Wounded, just like him. The only thing to have stopped him was the vastness of the ocean that stretched out before him. He felt the cold water lap against his bare feet and the sensation startled him out of his numbness. He fell to his knees, raking his fingers through his hair before clenching his fists and pounding his knuckles into the sand.

You are a fool, he thought to himself, how could you think of touching her? What gives you the right to entangle her in your mess of a life! If you can even call it that. You said it yourself; you don't even know where to begin once you've stopped running.

Running. It's what he'd been doing for the last three years since he'd manage to escape Danarius in Seheron, after what he'd done to the Fog Warriors. Their bodies flashed before his eyes and he squeezed them tight trying to elude the few memories he does have.

You betrayed them. What makes you think you're any different now? That you wouldn't betray her at the behest of your former Master. Admit it, Fenris, you will always be subject to his torment until the moment comes that he no longer lives. Even then, would you ever be safe? You know how the nightmares haunt you and how you lash out. How can you trust yourself enough to think that she would never come to harm at your hands?

Suddenly, he sees her, covered in blood at his feet and hears an echo of a familiar sadistic laughter. He lurches backwards, landing hard against an outcropping of rock. He pulls himself into a sitting position and notices a strip of dark red fabric clinging to his armor. He recognizes it and brings it to his face. He inhales deeply, the memory of her filling his senses and he lets loose a rage-filled howl into the night sky. As his voice breaks and his chest heaves, the howl becomes a sob and his fingers lace behind his head pulling his face between his knees. He mourns his pain, his fear and his hatred – things that will keep him a slave forever.