"Would you just come out?" Jeb demanded crossly.

"Why don't you come inside, put this on and then tell me to come out!" Airofday shouted.

Jeb decided he hated shopping more than anything else in the world. Despite being a Witch, Airofday looked like a boy half the time and a whore the other half. They had tracked DG to the palace in the Northern Isles, a place where it seemed his father had found out he was alive and almost died and Ambrose had been attacked by mobats and DG had been taken away to the tower. Whoever the idiot pretending to be a would-be King was, he was obviously very concerned with appearances. The place was swarming with would-be guards and there was no way to get in invisible. So he had decided to use the fact they had a Witch on their side.

They were going to go to this would-be King and have Airofday swear her services and loyalty. He and the rest of them were going to masquerade as her 'guard' and hide their faces. The only problem was that she was going to have to look pretty spectacular for them to be un-noticed in her presence. She had boys cloths which looked good on her but not good enough for all eyes to be on her. He had found a second hand store filled with finery from a long-forgotten time, when the Northern Isles was not quite so frigid. His father, Raw and Ambrose had quickly said they were going to find the uniforms and so he had been forced to help Airofday find an outfit to leave everyone speechless.

"Remind me again why you can't use magic?" he said picking up a sheer gown of lace she had thrown over the side of the curtain.

"Because this man has a Wizard with him, only Wizards can create travel storms, Wizards with training otherwise we would have been there a while ago."

"Won't he know that you're not that powerful?" he asked rolling his eyes.

"Of course not," she said, "I'll tell him I traveled on foot as a sign of respect or some lie like that," she said with a shrug as another gown, this one made of dark gold flew over the curtain and hit him squarely in the head. He yanked it off with an indignant cry and threw it to the ground.

"Watch it!" he said hotly, "do I look like a clothing rack?"

"Do you want an answer?" she called back to him. He rolled his eyes, "there, found it," she said reaching through and yanking him into the dressing room where he promptly managed to catch his feet on a pile of discarded gowns and land with a thump on his back, "trip much?" she asked raising her eyebrows.

"Ever hang up your cloths?" he demanded getting to his feet and putting a hand on the wall.

It was as a good thing too because if he hadn't had a hand on the wall he probably would have wound up tripping over his own feet and landing back in square one. The gown managed to look halfway between Azkadellia's new fashion sense and her old one. It was high necked and sleeveless, made of silk the color of the moon that fell down her body to the floor. That would have been fine except for the fact that the dress was completely backless, the cutout wrapping around to cover her naval but leaving large sections of her ribcage exposed. The sleeves left her shoulders bare before forming a band around her upper arm before falling away again and rejoining at the wrist to almost cover the fingers. He barely managed to recover his dignity enough to come up with a retort.

"Well at least you don't look like too much of a whore," he looked at her hair, "you should do something about that at least."

"What about this?" she demanded holding up her hair.

"Hair is supposed to be one color," he pointed out, "why don't you make up your mind?"

"Oh and you're an expert on hair now?" she demanded.

"Compared to you it would seem so," he said digging into his pocket and pulling out a coin, "okay this side you go light," he said turning it, "this side you go dark," he put it on his thumb and flipped it in the air. The coin landed squarely in his palm and he held it out. She looked down and nodded, "dark it is," he said.

"Alright hold on," she said touching her fingers to her hair. It paled under her fingertips until she suddenly had hair the color of night that glowed almost blue in the light, "there," she looked at him, "better?"

"Better," he said, "you should do, except," he reached outside and grabbed the cloak the color of midnight, "its cold outside," he said throwing the cloak over her back and settling it around her, "you'll don't want to ruin the surprise do you?"

"No," she said as he fastened the cloak, "though some people hate surprises," she commented dryly looking up at him. Jeb swallowed and looked down at her, "do you think I'm nice inside?" she asked, "that I'm not really as wicked as I seem? Because I'm not," she explained, "I am very very wicked, as wicked as you are good."

"You're wicked because of what happened to you," he said.

"No I was wicked as a child," she said.

"So was I," he said, "ask my father, I never listened. And when I got older, well, my dislike for rules landed me in the position I was in. I just happened to pick the right side which at the time seemed like the wrong one."

"You must have driven all those resistance maidens absolutely wild," she said, "but I'm guessing they didn't return the favor."

"This is no time to be thinking about--"

"Doing it in a dressing room?" Airofday asked, her eyebrows quirking up like her lips, "thinking about all those people outside? You can fool everyone else but I see you. You aren't half as perfect as these people make you out to be and you know it," she smirked, "do you know how many egotistical men have tried to win me as a prize? Who have listed miles of reasons as to why they deserve me. You don't seem to care, even if you probably deserve a prize more than anyone else."

"You aren't a prize to be won," he said stepping back until he was against the wall and she kept advancing on him, her fingers reaching for the clasp of her cloak and letting it fall to the ground, "you're a--I'm not sure what you are but you aren't some intimate object--"

"Or Princess in a tower."

"What?"

"DG is about your age, haven't you thought of her like that?" the look of horror on his face was enough to make Airofday laugh, "no? Well what about Azkadellia," another look, "you haven't thought of marrying into royalty?"

"I'm no saint but I'm sure as hell not that much of a sinner," he said, "with these men who've tried to win you, have they ever loved you?"

"Witches do not love," she said haughtily.

"I've got two--three examples that contradict that statement," he said, "but if you don't love then you're in good company because I don't either," she raised her eyebrows skeptically, "my parents were in love and look what it did to them. Why would I want to do that to myself?"

"That's the first thing you've said that makes sense," she said with a shrug, "or at least the first thing that I understand which does not necessarily mean it makes any sense at all to the rest of the world."

"Stop speaking in riddles," Jeb hissed, his voice coming out as little more than a rasp.

"Make me," she replied looking at him squarely.

That was it. Suddenly her back was against the wall and his lips were hot against her own. She sucked in her breath, arms immediately going around his neck. She had been with others, the Realm of the Unwanted was swimming with dark, handsome men who seemed to want nothing more than to be with a pretty girl. The fact that Jeb almost didn't want her made him so much more attractive to her. Apparently swearing off love did wonders for practice as well since she could barely remember being kissed like she was now. A sound deep in her throat had him pressing himself against her as she dug her nails into his shoulderblades.

"Jeb?" Ambrose's voice came to them, "I think we found something that'll work," he frowned, "Jeb can you hear me?"

"Yeah!" Jeb called, his voice rough. He looked back at Airofday who swallowed and tried to fix her hair, "we're not done," he promised her.

"I'd be sorry if we were," she said smoothing the folds of her dress.

He turned and pushed open the curtain, going outside. Airofday looked in the mirror, taking in her disheveled appearance and her swollen lips. Sighing she looked in the mirror and shook her head before setting about the task of looking presentable again. When it was done she came out to see the three men and Raw standing there. Raw looked about the same while Ambrose, Jeb and Cain looked almost unrecognizable. Dressed in the same dark pants, tunic and long cloak similar to her own but of some darker fabric, they matched perfectly.

"This should do fine," she said approvingly, "can I go and change?"

"No, you're being a Witch," Ambrose said, "from this point on," Airofday rolled her eyes and stormed back into dressing room, obviously furious, "well she's going to be easy to work with," Ambrose sniffed.

"What's that?" Jeb said nodding at Cain who had something in his hand, "no way is that my old horse," Cain shrugged and held it out to him. He turned the object over in his hand, "A bullet? You couldn't find anything better to take your anger out on?"

"That thing saved my life," Cain said gruffly, "I got shot and it stopped the bullet."

"Huh, no kidding," Jeb said inspecting the horse, "you know I made one of these for every kid in the houses we stopped by," he shook his head before tossing it back to his father, "glad it saved your life," he said with a smile. His father continued to regard him and he sighed, wondering what his father could possibly be about to say, "don't even start," he said.

"Start on what?"

"Nothing," Jeb said looking back at the dressing room for a moment.

"Jeb I need your opinion on something," Airofday's voice came through.

"I have to go and give my opinion," he said walking over to the curtain, "this may take a minuet," he sighed, "women," he added with a shake of his head before a pair of hands reached in and dragged him into the dressing room.

"What's going on?" Ambrose asked walking up to Cain.

"Believe me, you don't want to know," Cain said with a shake of his head, "this may take a bit."

"Is your son--" Ambrose looked at the dressing room and back at Cain, "with her?"

"Well he's definitely not in there giving her fashion advice," he commented dryly.

"He's giving her lack-of-fashon advice," Ambrose said. Cain gave him a look, "what? Why do you always give me that look," he sighed, "you realize that there's a good chance you're going to be my brother in law and I swear if you give my kids that look I will make absolutely sure the know that their 'Uncle Cain' spent years in a Tin Suite," he threatened.

"Wait until I tell them their father didn't have a brain," Cain retorted.

"You wouldn't," Ambrose gasped.

"Try me," Cain said.

"Lets focus on getting you the girl first," Ambrose said, "or rather, lets focus on getting the girl to remember you first--Raw?!"

"Raw hear bad news," Raw said hurrying to them, "people say that man lives in palace of the Northern Isles."

"We knew that," Ambrose pointed out dryly.

"Everyone knows that," Raw said, "people say man used to work for Azkadellia, people say an now wants to be King himself. People say man has an army and more--" he looked down and then back up at them, "people say man is Zero."

Cain's fists clenched and he looked away, suppressing the urge to kill anyone within his view. Zero. As in the man who had killed his wife and locked him and his son in Tin Suites. Zero who he had locked in a suite of his own who had somehow escaped and was now, once again, out to ruin his life. The monster had DG, DG who didn't remember him or her life in the other world or saving Azkadellia. DG who was like a child now. He would not want her alone with Zero when she was at her best much less when she was hurt like she was. He looked at Raw.

"How sure--" his voice broke, "how sure are you?"

"Raw not sure," he said, "people sure though."

"Jeb!" Cain roared in the voice he had sparsely used to scold Jeb when he was a kid, "get out here now!"

"Coming," Jeb and Airofday appeared in a state of complete disarray, "what's up?"

"You may have been right in wanting to kill Zero," he said, "he's the one behind this."

"What?!" Jeb's voice echoed down the store, "I told you we should have killed him," he growled, "but you had to do the right thing, you always do!" he looked away, his eyes very bright in the light, "when we get there you can find DG and do he right thing, I'm going to kill the bastard," Cain opened his mouth, "its not the first time I've done it," he gripped the hilt of his sword, "it will be the most satisfactory," he looked away, "I'll see you back at the horses," he said.

Cain sighed and ran his hand through his hair. Ambrose clapped a hand on his shoulder but couldn't really figure out what to say even with a brilliant mind. Raw hung his head and toyed with his gloves, looking rather bashfully at the ground. It was like the three of them were back to before they had met DG as well. Cain felt his throat burn, DG, she'd know exactly what to do and say. He had no idea. Apparently two makeout sessions with his son qualified Airofday to come up with an idea--or maybe it was a woman thing.

"Men," she hissed throwing her cloak on, "do what you do best and pay for this," she said walking after Jeb, "what's got you so upset? This Zero guy seems like an--"

"He killed my mother," Jeb cut her off. She looked at him, "when I was a kid, my dad was part of the resistance--he's always had to do the right thing and this one was obvious--and then one day the Longcoats came. They beat him to a pulp and threw him in one of those metal suits to rot. For the first year we thought he was alive. We did everything to try and get him out. We tried bribing, renouncing the resistance--everything but they wouldn't let him go, they said he was dead and we would be too. We didn't leave until four years later when they set our house on fire. My mom and I ran, made our way through the resistance chains. We made it across the gorge and started a new life. And then all of a sudden, like nightmare, he was outside our door. They broke my mom's neck, made me watch and then threw me in a suite as well. Jack found me a few months later but those months felt like years. When I got out I became a fighter--doing the right thing of course--and then one day my dad was back. All that doing the right thing and he was left to rot like a criminal. Does that seem right to you? And my mom, who also always did the right thing, she died with a broken heart. I don't understand how they can do the right thing so blindly."

"You do the right thing a lot as well," Airofday pointed out.

"Not like they do," he sighed, "I do it when it suites me."

"Noble of you," she commented. He glared at her, "well what am I supposed to say? Oh you should be a saint like your parents?" she shook her head, "I could but it would be a lie," she sighed, "I will you tell you this, something my mother used to tell me when I was a little girl. She told me that a wise man once said to her 'we have two kinds of morality. One which we preach but do not practice and another which we practice but seldom preach,'" she looked at him, "Your men respect you enough to follow you to the side of a woman they thought they hated."

"Careful there, you're starting to sound like you like me," he said.

"Who said I didn't like you?"

He sighed and looked out at the winter landscape, something unreadable in his eyes. She sighed and walked over to him, bending down and picking up a handful of snow and dirt. Standing in front of him she held out her hands. In her sphere she heard Azkadellia's instructions and felt the new, odd power flow through her.

"Pull up your hood," she instructed, "it's time to make a big entrance," she said focusing her power on her hands. From the snow poked a few green tendrils which grew faster and faster until they were thick vines spilling from her hands. Clustered in the center were the same kind of purple flowers by his mother's grave. He heard the door to the shop open and his father, Ambrose and Raw rush out as Airofday used her power to melt the snow. People sucked in their breaths and, thankfully, Cain and Ambrose had enough sense to yank their hoods up and come to stand by Jeb like the guards they were pretending to be.

"You take him out," Cain said finally, "the time for doing the right thing is over, it time to protect what we love."

"You go and get her," Jeb said looking over at his father, "bring her back safely."

In the palace DG sat by the window, her eyes out on the frozen landscape spread out before her. She was in a new dress made of pure white lace that billowed out around her like a dream--like a stain in her eyes. She knew she used to have a dress like this but it had been colored, it had been vibrant, not like the one she was wearing and yet like it all at the same time. Resting her head against her knees, she looked out the window as a tear slowly traced its way down her cheek. She flicked it away angrily, she deserved what was happening to her after letting go of Az. She belonged here after what she did.

At least she had King Z.

He was being so nice to her, she could barely believe it. She didn't deserve that kind of kindness, especially from someone who had lost so much. He kept calling her Princes as a term of endearment. Someone else had called her Princess, she was sure of it. Z said it was him, she felt like she knew him she just wasn't sure from where. Still he was so kind that she couldn't imagine it being anyone else. But she could dream of it.

When she was asleep she would wake with a smile on her face and for a second she would close her eyes tightly and dream someone was holding her tight. Someone who smelled like leather, metal and something unique, as if it was his own special smell. She felt safe in her imaginary savior's arms. As the days blended--though it was hard to tell since it never really seemed to get dark there--she was slowly forgetting the smell and the feel of those imaginary arms and they were blending with Z's. Sometimes he would come and sit with her, one time she had even hugged him. It did not feel right but she figured it was because she did not remember anything.

Sitting out the window she watched guard at their rotation, precise footsteps working like clockwork. She let out a breath she did not know she had been holding and closed her eyes, trying not to break down and cry. Standing up carefully she smoothed out her skirts and walked across the confines of her gilded prison. She felt like a bird in a cage, but a bird deserved the cage she was in. Letting out a frustrated breath she began to pace the confines of her prison. She looked down at her hand angrily, thinking if it had been just a little stronger--if she had been just a little stronger she would have held on. Frowning she held up her fingers to the light. She had thought she saw something.

"Now I'm going crazy too," she murmured, "fantastic."

She dropped to the floor in a tumble of lace and put her chin in her palm. She frowned, she definitely felt a raised bump on her finger, barely bigger than a pin head. Licking the pad of her thumb she brought it to her finger and rubbed. Her fingertip turned an angry red at first and slowly a dark purple dot appeared in the center. She held her finger up to her face, squinting at the light. Maybe she was not going crazy after all.

"Where did that come from?" she wondered aloud.

She got to her feet and put her hand under the window in the stream of the bright light that poured through the window. The purple dot remained on her finger. In the back of her head she swore she could hear music, some odd tune that followed a sort of three-step beat. Frowning she extended one hand on an imaginary shoulder and one grasping an imaginary had. It took her a few tries to get the rhythm from her mind to her feet but eventually she did. She moved back and forth to music that only she could hear in the arms of the same man she knew she dreamed about.

Suddenly she was dancing with a real person. She looked up and saw King Z had her in his arms, dancing perfectly in time with her. She smiled up at him and laughed brightly.

"Thank you," she said, "I felt rather foolish dancing by myself."

"You, Princess, are far to beautiful to dance alone," he said.

"I found this on my finger," she said holding her hand out, "it looks like I pricked myself but I don't remember," he sighed and took her hand, holding it between them before brushing his lips over the mark, "what is it?" she asked, fighting the urge to pull back her hand.

"I almost lost you," he sighed, "a man tried to kill you with poison," he sighed, "you almost died in my arms."

"I remember," she said, thinking his sharp inhale was full of not hope but fear, "you said you loved me."

"Yes," he said, "I did and I was so scared that you were taken from me before I could tell you that," he smiled and looked at her, "but you know, I never got my kiss," he said, "not like we should have done."

"We never kissed at all," she said.

"Right," he said and leaned forward, chastely brushing his lips against hers.

DG fought the urge to recoil as just about everything inside her screamed that the feeling was all wrong. His lips were too smooth to be the ones she faintly remembered brushing against hers, his hands were too smooth. He smelled like metal but not like the man she dreamed about but like a different man. Still she forced herself to relax under his lips and kiss him back timidly, like she was scared which was not that far from the truth. Finally she pulled back and looked up at him with her wide blue eyes full of what he mistook for surprise instead of fear. He smiled and bowed and walked out leaving DG to slowly sink to the floor.

"Oh," she whispered touching her fingers to her lips, "who--" she looked around, her lip trembling, "where are you?" she said, her voice finally breaking as she buried her face in her hands and sobbed, "I'm so--" she stopped, breathing in. She knew the smell of those flowers. Picking up her skirts she ran to the window and gasped. The snow was being pushed back by pulsing light. Racing towards them on horseback were a group of people wearing cloaks that hid their identity.

DG stumbled back suddenly. It was all wrong, the Northern Isles had been frozen for as long as she could remember. All Witches were outlawed, how was this happening. Careful not to touch the doorknob she listened through the door at the commotion and shouts on the other side. Pulling back she raced over to the window looking out as the landscape was transformed. For a moment she had a flash of her childhood home, where so many terrible and so many wonderful things had happened.

"Finaqua," she said, the word a ghost on her lips, "She knew--" she looked around, "this was home," she sighed, but she knew that already this was home, but she felt like she had that revelation already once before. Biting her lip she spun around as the doors opened to reveal the Wizard wearing the white cloak.

"You must come with me," he said grabbing her wrist, "these people mean to attack the palace, we must not be here--"

"No!" Zero came forward, "no we will not show weakness," he looked at DG, "you will be by my side?" she nodded, swallowing back the fear she felt, "come," he said offering his arm which she took reluctantly and followed him down the hallway and towards the throne room, "wait here until I call for you, I do not want to put you in harms way," she nodded as he turned to go.

"Z," she said, "wait," she walked over to him and leaned up, gently kissing him, "be careful, you've been so kind to me--I don't want to loose you when I'm just beginning to remember you."

"Oh believe me, Princess, nothing could keep me from you," he clasped her hands, "we will deal with this."

"Together," she promised clasping his hands.

"Together," he vowed turning and walking out of the room.

She sighed and clenched a hand to her chest, worried about what was going to happen next and praying that there would be no more bloodshed.