It wasn't the friendliest game of tag the two boys were playing around the inn's courtyard. The elder boy was nearly twelve and at the start of his path to knighthood, his muscles already strengthening from increased training. At first glance it seemed like he had the advantage, his brawny frame towering over that of his younger brother's.

But then the younger one would duck, would dodge, his thin figure almost in a dance as he weaved back and forth just out of his older brother's range. His pale blond hair whipped around his face in the wind, and he let out a laugh as his older brother extended himself too far and tumbled over his shorter legs into the muddy ground.

"Don't you dare laugh!" the older one growled, wiping the muck from his cheek.

"What are you going to do, Edric?" the younger brother asked with a smile, albeit from a safe distance. "Wish me away to the goblins?"

"Goblins?" Edric picked himself off the ground and wrinkled his nose at the muck on his trousers before turning his attention back to his brother. "What nonsense have you been picking up from the locals this time?"

"It's not nonsense!" the younger boy said, clenching his fists. "There's this woman that they talk about, a witch, and she takes children and turns them into goblins. Only she doesn't steal them. People have to wish them to her away first."

"A considerate goblin witch?" Edric snorted. "What rubbish. Honestly I don't know why you listen to them. Perhaps Father and I should leave you here when we move on. You certainly would fit in well enough."

"Take that back!" the younger one said. "You're only saying that because you're too stupid to remember stories, let alone come up with your own." He paused, seeing the sudden glower on his brother's face. In hindsight, he shouldn't have ignored it. "Personally I think it's a good story," he muttered.

"You do, do you? Well," Edric said, "if that's what you really think, I wish the goblins would take you away. Right now."

The younger brother heard a brief cackle from behind a nearby bush, and then everything went dark.

Gareth slowly blinked his eyes, the world gradually coming back into focus. He was lying down, his head propped up on something soft, a cool pressure dabbing at his forehead.

He blinked again. A black-haired woman was leaning over him, wiping his forehead with a damp cloth.

"Who are you?" he whispered, still groggy from whatever had just happened. "Where am I?"

Rather than answer, the woman simply smiled at him in silence. Gareth turned his head away from her touch, taking in the rest of the room.

It was some kind of a dining hall, a large feast set out on a long table in the center of the room, but it was so unlike the dining halls at both his father's castle and those of the surrounding lords. This room was light and airy. The white walls and floors - where they weren't covered by elaborate tiled pictures - reflected the sunlight as it streamed in between archaic pillars and open windows. No glass, no shutters, just an open invitation to the elements. Glancing up, he saw that the ceiling had been built the same way; a large circle was cut out in the center, the remaining white stone painted with the walls an elaborate maze.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of black curls. The strange woman was still sitting next to him.

He attempted to stand, but another wave of dizziness caught him and he stumbled.

"Take your time," she said, speaking at last as she helped him back down to the strangle reclining half-bench, half-bed he'd been laying on. "You have thirteen hours before you'll be going anywhere unless, of course, your brother can make it through my labyrinth before then. I must admit though, my hopes are not high for him."

Her face darkened, and she walked away.

"The ones who rely on brute force are always the weakest in the end," she continued. "Wit and knowledge, for those who choose to master them, have always been the superior weapons."

Gareth sat up further to get a better look at the woman. She was standing by one of the open windows, her profile to him. Her long black hair, lightly curled, trailed all the way down her back over a loose, white gown that blended into the floor below. A strange golden pendant hung around her neck. Her red lips curled into a half smile as she leaned forward, her long fingers splaying out over the white stone. She looked... ageless.

"Who are you?" Gareth asked for the second time.

The woman turned, mock offense plastered over her face. "I can't believe that you haven't figured it out yet," she said, clutching one hand to her chest. "And after all the stories your brother said you told of me."

Her words clicked in the back of his mind.

"You're the Goblin Queen," Gareth said calmly.

She smiled again, her hand lowering as she walked back from the window, stopping at the table laden with food.

"My brother wished me away," he continued, the memories started to rush back. And then one in particular... he looked up, his eyes snapping wide in panic. "You won't turn me into a goblin, will you?"

"Maybe. Not if I take a liking to you," she said. Her hands hovered over the feast, plucking an assortment of fruits and breads to place on a golden plate. Her eyes swiveled to take the young boy in. "Tell me. Will I take a liking to you?"

"I don't know," Gareth mumbled. "That's up to you really, isn't it?"

The woman laughed. "Very true," she said. "Very true." She finished piling on her food and brought the plate to Gareth. "Here, I suspect you're hungry."

He stared at the golden plate. It certainly looked appetizing. The breads were rich with honey and nuts, and he'd never even seen half of the fruits before. Each was tantalizingly plump with a mouth-watering, ripe sheen.

At the same time, Gareth had heard stories of food like this. Delicious feasts cooked with the sole purpose of luring unfortunate souls into eating them. Food like this tended to be rife with curses, and it being offered by a beautiful person only added to his suspicion.

"Thank you, but I'm not really hungry," Gareth said, hoping to God that his stomach wouldn't growl and betray his true feelings.

"Hmm... suit yourself," the woman said, biting into an apple. She conjured another cushioned bench from nothing and stretched out on it.

"Why are you eating on these benches?" Gareth asked. "You have a table. Don't you have chairs?"

"Comfort," she said simply. "And they're not benches, they're klinai."

Gareth didn't say anything to that, merely sat, twiddling his thumbs as he took in the sound of every fresh bite that the Goblin Queen made. A question sprung to mind.

"So... what's your name?" Gareth asked.

"Does a Goblin Queen need a name?" she asked in return, peering at him curiously over the top of her apple.

"Everyone needs a name."

She paused, considering the question as she examined the remainder of the apple. Gareth watched her, trying to ignore the rising nervousness that was coiling around his stomach. At last she tossed her mostly-eaten apple across the room where something dark and furry scuttled out of a corner to snatch it up. Gareth jumped, biting his lip to keep from crying out.

"It's Ariadne," the Goblin Queen said before plucking a grape from her dish and popping it in her mouth. "And you?"

"My- my name's Gareth," the boy said. "And my brother's name is Edric." One eye was still on the corner from where that thing had appeared. Had that been a goblin? Were there more of them lurking where he couldn't see? How many more were there? Were they watching him right now?

"The two of you don't seem like you're from Gaul," Ariadne said, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"No," Gareth said, taking note of the archaic name for the region. "We're from Britain, near the western border of Mercia. It's up north. Our family is on a pilgrimage. Well, my father, brother and I are at least. My mother is managing the castle until we return."

Ariadne twisted her nose. "How... quaint."

She peeled open a long, yellow fruit. Its sweet scent seemed to instantly permeate the room. Once again he was reminded of how hungry he felt. The food that was practically burying the dining table was looking very good indeed, but Gareth kept his mouth pressed shut. After all, magic was at its most dangerous when people were the most desperate. To distract himself from his stomach, he attempted to start up a new conversation topic.

"So where are you from?"

"Excuse me?" Ariadne asked, fruit paused halfway to her mouth as she stared at him.

"Nothing," Gareth said. "Just... I was wondering where you're from."

"This is the labyrinth. I've always been here."

"Oh." Gareth watched as Ariadne resumed eating, apparently self-satisfied with her answer. He was still curious though. "Like I said, I was just wondering. Just if there happened to be somewhere else, you know. If you hadn't always been here."

Ariadne paused again, this time placing her fruit fully down on the plate. Her head was turned in his direction, but it didn't seem like she was looking at him anymore. Gareth glanced behind himself, just to make sure someone hadn't suddenly appeared, but the two were still alone.

"There used to be a place, a far away place," Ariadne said. "For a little while... a lifetime, and yet not long at all. But the labyrinth has always been my home." She smiled sadly for a brief moment, and then her eyes focused on him again. "Why do you ask?"

Gareth shrugged. "I… I thought that since you asked me where I was from, that you're somewhat interested in people being from other places, and then since you're interested in that, perhaps you used to be from somewhere else too... I guess. I don't suppose that makes any sense."

Ariadne regarded him with a single raised eyebrow.

"You're observant," she finally said, reaching for her plate of fruit again. "I'll give you that."

The two continued to talk more. Gareth told the Goblin Queen about his proud, strong father and his gentle mother; the small stone castle where he lived that wasn't anything like this; the king that his father served and his castle, an imposing structure that put his home to shame and yet also paled in comparison to this room of pure white. He spoke of family hunting trips and his doubts about becoming a knight when Edric had always been so much stronger, so much braver, and overall just so much better at everything. Ariadne waved that away, taking advantage of his self-doubt to tell him about the labyrinth, the wondrous creatures who dwelt its depths, its various twists and turns and pitfalls that its runners fell through, and the things that they took for granted.

At the end of one particularly gripping anecdote she paused, a slight pout marring her serene face as she looked down and realized that she was out of food.

"Well," she said as she stood up. "It's a good of a place to take a break as any." She gestured for Gareth to stand up as well.

"Oh, I'm still not hungry."

"No, no. I'm not going to force feed you if you don't want to," she said, brushing a thick black curl over one shoulder. "I want to show you something."

Warily, Gareth stood up, watching from a safe distance as she swiftly piled more food onto her dish. When it was full once more, she guided him to a window with one hand pressing on the small of his back. She stepped back as they approached it. Gareth continued forward by himself, leaning over the white stone to fully view the lands beyond.

All around him was magic. A goblin city lay below, its red-tiled houses sheltering an assortment of brown creatures that made their way through cobbled streets and white fountains. In one square, several red furry creatures tossed around their heads beneath a large, bronze statue of a chicken. Beyond the city was a forest, the sculpted trees and hills contributing their own portions to the giant maze. Even more distant lay a series of hedge rows that the queen had mentioned, and then the main white maze past that. The desert surrounding it all was a thin, hazy line on the horizon, barely visible even when he squinted. And as he watched, tried to take in everything at once, he realized the maze was moving. One wall would shift in a new direction and then another. Across the whole labyrinth, they swirled and danced. The walls extended down beneath the visible surface and into the depthless catacombs, the underground lakes, and oubliettes. He closed his eyes and could feel…

A light hand gripped his shoulder and Gareth's eyes snapped open.

"Is anything wrong?" Ariadne asked.

He looked out over the labyrinth. The maze remained just a maze. He thought of his brother, currently out there, running, and of all of the traps and dangers she'd told him about.

"My brother... he'll be okay, won't he?"

As Gareth stared at her, trembling slightly, Ariadne smiled. She ran one hand gently through his hair to sooth him.

"Fear not, young lord. People rarely die in my labyrinth. It's one of my kindnesses... as well as one of my cruelties."

"Cruelties?"

"I force people to live with the decisions that they've made," she said simply. "You think highly of your brother. Even after he wished you away to me."

"He's my brother," Gareth said. "I mean, he can be an annoying jerk at times, but so am I. That's just... part of being brothers."

He gazed out the window again, searching at each glimpse of movement. Was Edric out there right now? What if he'd gotten lost? What if he never made it to the center?

"I wish I'd never told him that stupid story," Gareth muttered.

"Well," Ariadne said, resting her hands on his shoulders to gently turn him back around to face her. "I'm glad at least. Otherwise I would've never gotten the chance to meet you."

"So…" he said, remembering her earlier words, "have you taken a liking to me?"

Ariadne laughed, the sound almost musical. "Why yes," she said as they walked back to the klinai. "I suppose I have."

He thought more about his brother as he sat down, of the earlier days of their pilgrimage when the thrill of adventure had still coursed through the air.

"This has been the first time I've left Britain," Gareth said, stretching out. He was feeling sleepy all of a sudden and fought to contain a yawn. "I remember when we saw the ocean. Edric always tries to act so knowledgeable, like he's seen it all and nothing impresses him anymore." He snorted. "But even he couldn't hide it then. It was too big and too beautiful and… oh, there was so much blue."

"The sea is a beautiful and powerful thing," Ariadne said softly, reverently. "It gets in your mind, wraps around your heart." Her eyes fluttered shut and for several moments the two simply took in the silence. Then she opened her eyes and stood up. "I should check on your brother. Make sure he's not getting into too much trouble," she said. "Will you be okay by yourself? The food will stay on the table if you change your mind."

"I think I'll be okay."

She smiled, patting him on the head once and then vanished.

Gareth bolted up right, his drowsiness gone.

Had she just disappeared into thin air? She had conjured the other bench out of nothing. What other powers did she posses? A small part of him seemed to scoff at his alarm. Ariadne was a Goblin Queen who ruled over a giant magical labyrinth. What had he expected? When he thought about it, it would've been stranger for her not to have the ability to disappear at will.

He was still frowning in consternation when he spied another furry creature across the hall, slowly reaching a paw up towards a roll of bread on the table. In its other hand were already several strawberries, an apple, and a chicken wing.

"Hey! What are you doing!"

The creature dropped all the food and tried to scamper away. Gareth wanted to catch it, to ask it things. It was fast though, already halfway across the room. If he tried to chase after it, he'd never be able to catch it.

His only option was to bluff.

"If you don't stop right now, I'll tell the queen that you were stealing from her!" Gareth yelled.

The creature froze. It turned in small jerks as if each movement was a painful, concentrated effort. "Stealing?" it asked in a high voice.

"Yes. 'Stealing.' You know," Gareth said. "Taking something that isn't yours?"

The creature appeared to consider this. It scratched its head in quick furtive movements. Gareth took the time to walk over, cautious in case it bolted after all. From the closer distance, he could tell that it was some sort of middle-aged, whiskery type of terrier dog wearing a grey jacket.

"If the food is on the table," the terrier said. "And one has the ability to take it, then why should he not?"

Gareth sighed. "Because it's wrong."

He answer was met with only silence and a blank stare.

"You know, 'right' and 'wrong'? There are things you should do and things you shouldn't?"

The terrier paused again to scratch its ear. "And who decides these things?"

This time, Gareth had to think.

He considered bringing up the Bible but didn't think it'd help much. If the terrier didn't even know what right and wrong were, in all likelihood it wouldn't know about the book. With his luck, it'd probably start asking about who wrote it and why they got to decide things, and Gareth had never been the greatest theological expert.

"No one really decides them," Gareth eventually said. "But my father has always lived by what's right and wrong, and I've noticed that things are better when you do. Knight's honor."

The terrier perked up at the last couple words. "What is this... 'knight's honor'?"

Gareth started to explain but was cut off by a loud stomach rumble. He looked down; so did the terrier.

"If you are hungry," it said. "Then why not take the food? Is it because of this 'knight's honor'?"

"Oh no," Gareth said. "The queen said I could have as much as I wanted, but..." Gareth trailed off, thinking of all the potential curses the food could be steeped with. Ariadne had turned out to be rather nice, but that didn't change the fact that she'd technically kidnapped him. Edric wishing him away didn't count as permission.

"But what?"

Gareth hesitated, not wanting to admit to one of the queen's subjects that he didn't trust her fully. He doubted the terrier would report back to Ariadne, seeing as how he'd just been trying to steal from her, but it didn't hurt to be safe.

"Are you sure the food won't accidentally turn me into a goblin?" Gareth asked instead. "Not that I'm saying it will turn me on purpose! But more like a side effect. I mean, I can't imagine that humans get to eat it very often, so there could always be some side effects that even she doesn't know about."

The terrier shrugged. "The food is harmless," it said. "Why do you think I'm trying to eat it? Tis safer to risk food off her table than try ones luck with the berries in the forest." It paused to shake its head. "There are some that leave you thinking up is down for days on end, others that create miniature illusions… and those are the safer ones. Outside the magic gets everywhere. Seeps everywhere! Here things are safe. Delicious and safe. However..." it trailed off, sniffing the air. "If it is strange food that worries you, why do you not eat that peach that is in your pocket?"

"Wait, what peach?"

Gareth frowned in confusion as he felt around his clothes. His fingers closed around a small lump towards the bottom of his jacket, and he suddenly remembered picking the fruit off the churchyard's tree early that morning to save as a quick snack later.

He pulled the small peach out and examined it - considering the possibility of sabotage - before deciding that it was probably safe. He bit in and relished its flavor, the warm sticky juice seeping out between his fingers.

"What is your name?" the terrier asked.

"If'z Jareff," he managed between mouthfuls, too hungry now to fully chew and swallow before speaking.

"Jareth?" the terrier repeated incorrectly. "That's an odd name. Heroic though. Brave! Strong! Fearless! Quick to cut down foes! Swift to victory. Jareth, Jareth yes. It is a marvelous name."

Gareth finally swallowed, wincing slightly as he forced a particularly large chunk of fruit down. "Well," he said. "Actually it's..."

He trailed off as he watched the terrier continue to mutter the name under his breath, a far off sparkle in his eye. If a simple name could strike such a inspiring chord within the creature, it wasn't worth correcting.

"Never mind," he said. "So what's your name?"

The terrier beamed. "My name is Didymus!"

"That's... an interesting name as well."

"You think so? There are many interesting names and creatures in the labyrinth!" Didymus puffed out his chest slightly. "I am one of the first!"

"One of the first? Before Ariadne?" Gareth asked.

Didymus' chest deflated. Gareth almost felt bad for asking. Almost.

"No," he said. "The queen was here before us all. Though some say there is one who was here in the labyrinth before even her."

"Who?"

"I'm afraid I don't know. Rumors are only rumors after all... I am still curious to learn about this 'knight's honor' however."

With a slightly exasperated sigh, Gareth led the terrier back to the cushioned benches. He sat upon his as Didymus clambered on top of the one that Ariadne had left, apparently comfortable with the furniture despite his earlier hesitation at the table. Gareth explained to the terrier what a knight was, what his duties to his king were, how most of his own ancestors had been knights as well, and how he and his brother were both prepared to take up the sword as well. As he talked about the different facets of the royal court, the terrier listened to it all with the most rapt attention.

"And they have to pay proper respect to their king and queen as well as their fellow lords and ladies," Gareth said.

"I see," Didymus said, somewhat sullenly. "I have never been very rich. How much payment is required?"

"Oh, it's not with money!" Gareth said quickly. "Paying respect is all about courtesy and titles, that is, different words we use to refer to one another. Like the queen! A normal noble woman would addressed as 'my lady', but the queen would be known as 'your majesty.'"

"Hmm... Shall we journey forth, your majesty? Shall we journey forth, my lady?" He mulled it over, muttering the two sentences again and again. "I rather prefer the sound of the second."

"Well choose whichever you like, but for proper respect, kings and queens are always majesties."

They continued to talk about other titles and knightly things until Gareth began to yawn again. The excitement that the terrier had provided only lasted for so long. He had no way of telling the time but felt that at least an hour had passed since Ariadne had left and Didymus had appeared.

"If you are tired, my lord, then why not take a nap?"

His lips twitched upwards. Didymus was really taking hold of his newly discover "knight's honor."

"I suppose..." Gareth said, leaning back on the klinai. The pillows were soft and the room warm. He didn't really want to fall asleep, not by himself like this in a strange magical place, but a short nap was starting to sound very nice. Despite his inclination against it, he shut his eyes, if only for a few seconds.

"Can I take this?"

Gareth blinked opened his eyes to see Didymus holding the peach pit directly in front of him.

"Umm... sure."

"Thank you so much, sir. Good sir!"

Gareth cracked a smile. "Look at you. You're a knight already."

"Oh no," Didymus said, now cradling the peach pit before pocketing it beneath his tiny jacket. "I know now that I have a lot to learn before I am worthy of becoming one of them! Why, first of all-"

As the terrier continued to chat enthusiastically, Gareth slowly nodded, his eyes drifting shut again. He continued to smile as Didymus's chatter accompanied him to sleep.

When he woke up again, Ariadne had returned. She was standing by the window, her back to him.

As quietly as possible, Gareth pushed himself into a sitting position. It felt like he'd been sleeping for hours. The sun had moved lower the sky; the light that streamed in through the various pillars and windows had a red tinge to it.

"There's one hour left," Ariadne said in a pensive tone, apparently hearing him despite his efforts to remain undetected. She pulled out a small crystal from the short sleeves of her dress and stared into its depths. "Your brother isn't going to make it." Ariadne turned towards him. "I'm going to have to make a choice."

Gareth looked down, curling his fingers into the slightly muddy fabric of his pants. He bit his lip, trying not to cry. "Edric..." he trailed off, not wanting to say the word 'failed'. "You won't turn me into a goblin, will you?" Gareth asked, suddenly desperate, his eyes locking onto hers and refusing to let go.

Ariadne's eyes widened, and then softened. The crystal disappeared from her hand as she glided over to Gareth and sat down next to him. He let out an involuntary sob. One arm wrapped around him, drawing him closer to her as the other began to lazily trail through his hair.

"Ssh," she whispered, continuing to hold him as his tears poured out. "Nothing will happen to you. You have nothing to fear."

"But my brother-"

"Even if your brother doesn't make it here within the hour, I will not change you into a goblin. I promise."

Gareth blinked. He cautiously brought a hand up and wiped the tears from his face. "Really?"

"Really."

"Does that also mean I'll be able to go back home?"

She remained silent. Uneasiness stirring in his gut again, Gareth tried to get a look at her face, but her arm held him securely in place. He struggled half-heartedly, knowing that it wouldn't be wise to seriously upset her, before giving up and settling back into a relaxed position.

"You don't want to stay here," he heard her say. It wasn't a question. "You want to go back home."

"I…" Gareth knew it wasn't the answer she wanted to hear, but he couldn't lie. "It's just… there are so many people waiting for me," he said. "My father, my mother… There's Wilfred. He's the stable master and really good with horses. Oh, and Hilda! She runs the kitchens!"

Ariadne flinched. Her arm tightened painfully around him and Gareth let out a tiny squeak.

"I don't do any of this because I want to," she whispered.

This time, he was the one who didn't respond.

They sat there like that in stillness and in silence. He tried to think of other things. Things that weren't his brother, weren't his family, weren't completely dependent on the events of the next hour. What was this place? Would it be his home for the rest of his life?

Knowing that he wouldn't be turned into a goblin had taken away some of his fear, but that didn't change anything else. So he was in a fantastical, magical world. So what? He missed his mother. He missed his father. His missed his home, its corridors, its courtyards. He missed sneaking into the kitchens to grab a late evening snack and getting caught by Hilda who'd give him a sharp rap on the knuckles before lading him up with some more sweets.

He missed his brother.

After awhile, Ariadne stood up, giving him one last pat on the head. As she drew her hand back, he reached out and grabbed her wrist. He trembled, fear spiking through his veins.

"Please don't make me stay here," he said, in an empty high voice. "I don't want to stay here in the labyrinth."

She stared back, not surprised, not sad, not anything. In that moment, her face seemed as rigid as the white stone she stood on.

"I know," she said, coldly. She knelt slightly, placing a soft hand on his shoulder as she lightly kissed his forehead. And then she was gone.

Gareth waited, debating whether or not to stay sitting or start pacing the room. He couldn't stay still, but he felt so sick to his stomach that he couldn't move either. He was about to grip his knees and lower his head to them when he heard the unmistakable voice of his brother.

"Gareth!"

He looked up to see Edric running towards him from across the room, dirt-smudged and tear-stained and looking just as distraught as Gareth had been feeling inside.

"Edric?" Gareth slowly stood up only to get tackled back down as Edric enveloped him in a crushing hug.

"I'm so sorry," his brother said, clutching tighter and tighter until Gareth finally returned the embrace. "I'm sorry I got mad. I'm sorry I wished you away. I'm sorry for all of this!" Edric loosened his hold slightly, turning towards Ariadne who was now casually standing several feet away at the edge of the banquet table. "Please don't turn my brother into a goblin," he choked out between tears. "It's not his fault. Please don't."

"Oh, cease your whimpering," she said, strolling over to tower above the two brothers. Ariadne twisted her nose, and then smiled. "You have nothing to worry about that. I've decided to be merciful this time." She sighed. "Both you and your brother are free to go."

Gareth and Edric perked up.

"You mean it?" Gareth asked, recalling her silence when he'd asked about leaving before.

She continued to smile - although something about it didn't seem to reach her eyes - and knelt down to address the boys at their level. "Consider this a life-changing crossroads. Second chances to change your fate are rarer than you can imagine." Her smile faded. "Do not waste it."

"Oh, thank you!" Edric said, clearly relieved by the new turn of events.

Gareth remained silent as she stood back up.

"Take my hands," she said, holding them out towards the brothers.

Both boys hesitated, glancing at each other, and then slipped their hands within hers. Gareth blinked and they were all standing in the same muddy courtyard he and Edric had been playing in that morning. Edric let out a cry of joy and began running around, kicking mud as he went.

"Come on, Gareth," Edric said, coming back to tug on his younger brother's arm. "You heard the queen. We've got our whole lives ahead of us. Father's been probably beating himself up with worry."

Gareth let himself be pulled one step forward before halting. He was still holding Ariadne's hand. He looked back; her expression was unreadable.

"Will... will we ever see each other again?" he asked.

The Goblin Queen's eyes widened, her carefully crafted mask of indifference shattering into one of surprise. She blinked.

"If that is what you wish."

Gareth continued to stare at her, even as Edric resumed tugging on his sleeve, caused him to let go of her hand. The last thing he remembered - before he briefly looked away and she'd vanished - were her brown eyes, round and sadder than they had any logical reason to be.

"Mother, your eye."

Gareth reached out a hand, but his mother turned away, shielding her face. He had seen it though, its surrounding skin a nasty shade of purple.

"It's nothing," she said, her breath coming out in small puffs. "Your father just had a bad dream." She took a step back as a servant passed them in the corridor. The winter sun shone in bleakly through a small window slit in the wall.

Gareth frowned. "He's been having a lot of those lately."

"Really, Gareth. It's nothing." She hurried away before he had the courage to press further.

At lunch, he sat against a wall eating strips of dried apple as he waited for his brother to finish his lessons. Edric emerged soon enough, and two brothers made their way across the castle's courtyard towards the hall.

"I'm worried about Mother," Gareth said at last.

His brother raised an eyebrow. "What about?"

"She had a black eye when I saw her this morning. Again."

"What did she say about it?"

Gareth sighed, knowing where this conversation was headed. "She told me it was nothing."

"Then I'm sure it's just some-"

"No! It's not. I think Father..." Gareth trailed off as he realized that they were still in the courtyard. He'd been raising his voice again with servants all around to hear every word. He fell silent.

Edric frowned, then awkwardly clasped his younger brother around the shoulders. "He's our father," he said. "We've known him all our lives. If it's really just some bad dreams, I'm sure it'll be nothing to worry about in the end." The last part came out hesitantly, as if he was trying to reassure himself more than his younger brother.

"But…"

Gareth turned his head upwards, gazing at the castle's ancient stone. It reflected the light off the ground's blanket of snow, rendering the walls brighter than they normally were. A memory of white stone flickered through his head. As time passed, the memory seemed only more and more a dream itself. "Edric? Do you ever remember that day when-"

However he was interrupted as his brother's grip tightened and he was dragged off once more.

It should've been raining. It should've been dark, the clouds casting deep shadows over the land even at midday. The moon should've danced across the sky, blocking the sun from reaching the ground forever.

But it wasn't.

Birds fluttered through the sky, chirping blissfully naive songs, and the summer sun beat down, baking the earth. Its rays rendered every visible detail painfully clear as his mother's coffin was slowly lowered into the earth.

His father stood across on the other side of her grave, his eyes avoiding those of his son.

Gareth closed his eyes, willed himself to breathe. Ever since her death, the weeks leading up to her death, all he'd heard were whispers. Other nobles, servants, it didn't matter. They were all the same.

His mother hadn't been faithful. He wasn't his father's son. Questions about who the mysterious man been. Remarks about how odd it was that Gareth looked so much like the lord, when he wasn't his true father. Gossip about whether or not it was a relative. Doubts about whether there'd been a scandal at all and if, perhaps, it was all in his father's head. But then why the dreams? Everyone in the castle knew about the dreams now, about the shouts at night. God sent. Devil sent. Were they there to warn or to create chaos?

All they had done was whisper, whisper, whisper and point and watch as his mother had slowly wasted away. A servant had been the one to eventually find her body, neck broken as she'd laid crumpled at the bottom of the stairs. An unfortunate accident, they'd all called it.

And Gareth hadn't done anything either. Merely sat in increasing silence as his mother continued to force a smile underneath every fresh bruise.

Pathetic.

He clenched his hands, only dimly aware of his nails breaking through skin and drawing blood.

Edric would've known what to say, what to do. But Edric was a squire now, had been one since the spring. He'd been apprenticed to a traveling knight and was now journeying somewhere, could've been anywhere, far away from here. They'd sent out a letter informing him of his mother's death, but it could take weeks to reach him and weeks for him to return home.

Until then, Gareth remained trapped beneath the whispers.

Several months passed before Edric finally returned home. Their father prepared a hearty welcome dinner for him, and as they ate he continued to prod his older brother with questions about his training, where he'd been, if his knight sponsor had been treating him well. Edric answered them boisterously for the most part, obviously eager to share his new experiences with his remaining family. However, whenever Edric took the opportunity of a lull in the conversation to ask about their mother or her funeral, their father would deflect.

Gareth spent the whole dinner in silence, barely looking up from his plate as he ate, letting their words wash blankly over him. When his father told Gareth to go to bed, he sullenly obeyed.

He made it to his room, crawled beneath the covers, faking sleep, and waited the usual half hour until one of the servants came to check on him. Once he heard his door swish shut, he cracked open an eye, gingerly testing to see if it was safe to get up again. After he was confident that the servant had moved on to the rest of his nightly tasks, Gareth silently crept out into the hallway and made his way down the dark corridor. His father often retired to his study whenever he had company. With any luck tonight would be no different.

As he approached, voices echoed out from the room. Gareth sidled the rest of the way to the study door with his back pressed against the wall, continuously glancing left and right to make sure no servants snuck by.

"He should really begin his training as a page," he heard Edric say. "He's getting old enough now, and I think it'd be a good distraction from everything that's been happening."

"You think I should spend my money on him?" his father snarled, the crackle of flames from the study's fireplace helping to punctuate each word. "On that spawn of a harlot? He isn't even my son!"

"Of course he's your son!" Edric yelled. "Why would he be anything else! What's happened to you?" There was a pause. Gareth leaned closer to the closed door, careful not press up against it, not wanting to even think about what would happen if it accidentally creaked. "Gareth was right," Edric continued. "I should've-"

There was a smack, the sound of flesh striking flesh, and then a thud followed by several clatters.

"One more word," their father said. "One more word and you will no longer be welcome in this house!"

There was a pause of silence and then the sound of footsteps, footsteps making their way towards the door. Gareth's mind fumbled, feet taking over automatically as he tried to scramble away, but Edric stepped out before he'd made it halfway down the corridor.

Gareth watched as his brother wiped a trickle of blood off the corner of his mouth and then, as if sensing another physical presence, turned his head directly towards his younger brother.

"Ed-Edric..."

But his older brother merely rubbed the back of his now bloodied hand on the bottom of his tunic and walked away in the opposite direction.

He never returned home.

It started small. The first person to fall sick had been an old farmer who'd lived over a mile way. Then one of the villagers had caught the same sickness, and then another. The plague spread rapidly through the town outside their castle, killing indiscriminately. The young, the old, the weak, the strong…

His father had tried to quarantined the castle, but the sickness worked its way in despite the stone walls. It struck the cooks, the stablehands, the steward...

Growing up, he'd often wondered if he'd end up crying when his father eventually died. The man had taken so much from him, had kept him practically locked up, an eyesore to the world… but deep down there was still a part of him that remembered the father he'd once been. It remembered the smiling father, the laughing father, the one who used to take his two sons - because back then there had always been two - on hunting trips that could last for days, returning only when they'd managed both a full catch and full hearts.

When his father actually died, succumbing after only a few days, Gareth found his answer. He watched in silence as two servants covered his father's corpse with a white sheet, the cloying scent of flowers itching at his nose. There were no tears, no stirrings of anger, no flash of triump.

He didn't feel anything about anything at all.

His father was gone… His mother was gone… His brother was gone…

Gareth remained in his room after the funeral, not eating, barely drinking. Sometimes he'd blink and the morning sun would turn to dusk. He was dimly aware of his parched throat and a hunger-constricted stomach, but he pushed those away to the side. Occasionally he had visions of a woman with dark black curls smoothing the hair from his face. His eyes would flutter close, his head leaning back until it hit the wall of his bedroom, and he'd jolt forward into the land of the living again.

The land of the dying.

One day his door was kicked open, and he was roughly picked up by a pair of strange guards. They hauled him through the dark corridors of the now mostly empty castle, the stench of the sick and dying present as it always was these days. The smell bypassed his stomach and wrapped straight around his head, making him dizzy.

The guards deposited him on the ground behind the kitchen doors, and he crumpled into a heap. Above him loomed a finely-dressed man on horseback. There was no one else around. Gareth weakly looked up at the man. He vaguely recognized face; it was Lord Baldric from the neighboring fiefdom.

The large man dismounted, pulling out his sword in one fluid movement. Gareth's gaze fell to the ground as Lord Baldric stood over him. He felt the sharp, cold blade come to rest at the back of his neck.

"Everything I have learned," Lord Baldric said. "Everything experience in my life thus far tells me to slay you right here. I could blame your death on the plague and no one would be the wiser."

Gareth glanced up. The older lord stared back, his face alight with passion. Gareth dropped his head again, tired. Unfeeling. He had nothing in his life, nothing to lose. At least his death would be swift.

But then Lord Baldric turned away.

"When this plague began," the lord said. "When this divine punishment struck both our lands I received a vision, a promise of future prosperity." He turned back to Gareth. "Months ago I saw myself sparing your life, a dream that I thought nothing more of at the time. But now we are here: I, the conquerer, and you, the conquered. How easy it'd be to take your life and claim your lands as my own without threat of future retribution."

Gareth felt the sword raise; he winced in anticipation despite himself. The sound of metal sliding across metal echoed through the air. Gareth looked up to see Lord Baldric sheathing his sword.

"May this be a fortuitous crossroad in our destinies," Lord Baldric said. "I shall heed the greater powers. Go. I give you your life. It is yours to do with as you wish."

Gareth stared at the larger man, not entirely understanding what had just happened. Lord Baldric frowned, clearly impatient.

"I said, go!" he bellowed.

His anger caused his horse to stamp its feet in alarm. The movement startled Gareth whose legs finally took over, and he fled. He kept his eyes focused on the road ahead and never looked back.

Gareth continued running even after he'd reached the relative safety of the forest, and it was only after he'd tripped on a sprawling tree root that he finally slowed to walk. Even so Gareth continued to trudge on for hours, letting his mind disengage as his lower half kept putting one foot in front of the other, until his entire body gave out and he collapsed, unconscious, in the middle of the forest road.

Gareth awoke slowly, a cool cloth continuously pressing against his forehead. He mumbled weakly, trying to swat it away.

"Who's Ariadne?" a light, female voice asked.

His eyes shot open, the name and memory striking him to the core. Gareth tried to sit up, but was once again too weak. He settled with blearily staring up as a young, brown-haired woman in a thread-bare dress stared down. She was seated on the bed next to him, clearly at ease despite her slightly confused pout.

"Who are you?" Gareth managed. Peering around the cramped, earthy room, he added, "Where am I?

The woman's pout faded as she sighed. "That's not what I asked, but I suppose I should be kind to the ill. You're in my father's house," she said. "In the village of Stafford. And my name is Moira."