Thank you for the reviews! And thank you to xez2003 for cheering me on through this one :)


Ben saw vague images as he drifted in and out of consciousness, of a forest and a campfire and many, many maroon jackets. The images were accompanied by the clink of weaponry and the soft thuds of hooves on grass. At times he felt as though all his movements were constricted by rope; at other times he was too weak to move anyway. The darkness always crawled in from the corners of his eyes and took over before he could work up the strength to say a word.

Then he was awake.

His eyes snapped open to see his mother's worried expression. Loose strands of hair obscured her face. Her crown was nowhere to be seen. She was pressing a damp cloth to his forehead, and gasped in surprise at her suddenly revived son.

"Ben! Oh my darling...I was so worried!" Tears threatened to overflow when she blinked. By the streaks on her cheeks it was obvious she had cried at least once already. Ben tried to respond, but couldn't. His mouth was dry - upon moving his lips they cracked and bled. He had also just noticed a sharp, agonizing pain in his stomach. He tried lifting his head to look around, and recognized his bedroom before the muscles in his neck gave out. "No, no, do not move. You have been...Lord Stefan claims he had no choice but to render you unconscious for most of the journey home. He says you are under a spell, and would lash out at anyone who tried to bring you food or drink." She covered his bleeding lips with the cloth, and it felt like heaven. He relaxed onto the familiar silken sheets underneath him. "I pray this is false...though I see no other reason as to why Stefan would starve my son."

Starve? He must have been under for four or five days. The prince tried only one word. It came up as a hoarse cough.

"Here." Belle supported his head with one hand and held a glass of water with the other. The cool liquid immediately soothed the scorched desert that was his throat. He drank eagerly until the entire glass was finished. Then he tried again.

"Mal?"

The disappointment and despair that clouded his mother's face almost made him feel guilty. "So it is true."

"Mal," Ben insisted desperately.

"That witch is dead, Benjamin." Belle rarely snapped at anyone. Ben flinched in shock. "Oh...no...darling, I am so sorry. I...I spent weeks waiting for you to come home, and now that you have...you did not return whole." This time the tears could not be held back. She used a handkerchief to wipe them away and tried to keep calm, but her voice cracked. "Now she is gone, and we have no means of breaking this spell."

It could not be true - but of course it was. All too quickly, the prince remembered watching Mal recoil from the force of the sword implanted in her neck. He remembered her falling, remembered blood flowing freely from her wound...too much blood, even for a dragon. It could have filled a lake. He remembered her green eyes, locked with his and full of regrets. He was the last person she had seen before her sudden, violent death - and he had done nothing to save her.

Belle jumped at the anguished wail from her son. Ben screwed his eyes shut, pleading with whatever higher entity would listen to make this all a terrible nightmare. What would it take to open his eyes and see Mal in front of him, alive and safe? He would give anything. He bargained with his life, his kingdom, even her kingdom, if only she could not be dead.

How could her story end this way? After an entire existence spent in hiding, Mal had faced her demon only to fail. And now...now no one would ever know the truth. An entire people and their devoted queen had been wiped off the face of the Earth in a battle that would only add to Stefan's glory instead of expose him for the monster he was. Mal - strong, passionate, selfless Mal - led a half-life only to die so gruesomely, and that too at the hands of her tormentor...Ben could not bear it. "Please...no..." he whimpered. The moment of her death played again and again in his memory, reminding him of the worst part...it was all his fault. He had promised to keep her safe from Stefan, but when the time came he had been useless. He was the one who deserved to die, not her. Even though it felt like knives cutting into his vocal cords, he begged to Belle, "...not...Mal...please!"

The queen could hardly bite back sobs upon seeing her son's suffering. "I know this hurts you, Ben. But you are not in your right mind. Once you are cured, the pain will vanish. You need only wait until then." It sounded as though she was trying to convince herself. Belle grasped his hand and brought it to her lips, ignoring how thin and spider-like his fingers had become. "Your father has sent out a call to all the healers in the kingdom. Someone must know how to rid you of this wretched curse. They must!"

Ben knew better. There would never be a cure for watching helplessly as the woman he loved was murdered. The agony of her loss tortured him more than the thirst or hunger - he was not sure if he would ever be in his right mind again because he could still see it happening. Though his arms were weak, he mashed the heels of his hands onto his temples, trying to drive out the images.

"Stop, Ben! Stop...you must rest. Ben, please!" It did not take much effort for her to wrestle him into submission. His still-raspy, barely intelligible moans must have alerted her to the madness creeping up on him. With one arm across his torso she kept him from self-mutilating, and with the other she pushed back his hair, exposing his dry, hot forehead to the room air.

"Tale as old as time...true as it can be..." The lullaby fell easily from her lips, though her voice shook and even failed at times. It was a familiar song Ben had heard nearly every night of his childhood. He doubted that she had known it would calm him, but the reaction was almost instinctual. He stopped struggling and let the words wash over him, let them invade his consciousness and replace every other thought in his head. "Certain as the sun...rising in the east..." The melody brought promise of a peaceful sleep, a lie Ben was only too happy to indulge in for as long as he could. Sleep would be a mercy. Anything was better than being awake and knowing...knowing...

He had never even said good-bye.

Ben's chest heaved suddenly though his eyes could shed no tears. His mother moved from her chair to sit beside him on the bed and delicately pulled him into a hug. For this, Ben was grateful. He did not want to be alone. He buried his head in her shoulder and felt her stroke his hair. "I am so sorry, my love. I never wanted this to happen to you. I wish...I wish you had never left home."

The door to Ben's bedroom opened, and a servant stepped in. "Your Highness?"

Ben did not bother looking up, but Belle responded, "Yes. Leave it here." He heard the maid place a tray on a nearby table and take her leave. "You must begin to regain your strength, Ben. Come, my heart. I will help you eat."

The prince offered little resistance as his mother spoon-fed him a thin, brown soup. The broth eased some of the pain in his stomach, but he did not care. He would take all of the pain in the world ten times over if it meant Mal could live. Belle was right - Ben had not returned whole, but neither had he left whole. The only difference was blissful ignorance - he would spend the rest of his life without a piece of his heart, and somehow, it was so much harder knowing that he had once held her in his arms.

"Mother," he mumbled after a few sips. "Please stay with me."

Belle gave the smallest of sad smiles, leaving the spoon in the bowl so she could touch her son's cheek. "Of course, Ben. I will not leave your side until we have found a way to save you. I will never give up. You must never give up either."


Ben found his head clearing more and more as the day went on, likely because the delirium brought on by starvation and dehydration subsided the more he consumed. It was both a blessing and a curse, as his acute despair was replaced with a deep, untouchable depression.

The queen was true to her word, and refused to move even when multiple servants offered to relieve her of her duties. He knew the emptiness in his eyes was killing her, but he had not the will to play-act at being well. The best he could do was pretend to sleep so she would not have to see how shattered he felt inside.

Adam paid a visit once he heard Ben was awake. The king did not stay long, his clenched jaws and fists noticeable. Though Belle openly displayed how distraught she was over Ben's state, she was far more able to remain in Ben's presence than her husband.

After Adam left, Ben's bedroom hosted a never-ending line of medicine men, both physicians and quacks alike. Anyone who claimed to have the slightest inkling on how to cure the prince was escorted in under heavy guard to examine the patient, with the promise of a large reward if they were successful. The more well-esteemed doctors were allowed in first and given the most free reign during their physical exam. Predictably, they stressed the need to refeed him and continue hydrating. As for signs of magic, they found none.

The day wore on, and the qualifications of the healers became more questionable. Some suggested the burning of sickly-sweet smelling oils while others pushed creative recipes that needed to be consumed in superhuman amounts. They were all turned away with a growing sense of hopelessness.

Ben was exhausted. The thirtieth guest had come and gone, with many more waiting. The group of hopefuls was only growing larger as the message spread across the kingdom. He had a horrible feeling this parade would last for weeks. Despite his still-sore throat, he made multiple requests to be left alone with his mother. They were all ignored. He told his mother, his father, and at least two physicians that he had not been spelled. These statements were ignored as well, evoking only pity.

The next contender was a slightly heavyset woman. Her blue dress and cloak were quite worn out. Her hood obscured her face at first, but when she lowered it, Ben nearly gasped. She had aged, of course; her hair was gray, her skin was wrinkled, and her cheeks sagged. Still, because he could not forget a single moment he spent with Mal, Ben recognized her at once.

"Your Majesties," the woman said, curtsying.

"Out."

Belle quickly glanced at her son. "Ben, I know you are tired - "

"Not her. Everyone else." Ben hoisted himself up on one elbow, much to Belle's alarm. His eyes never left the fairy in front of him. "She stays."

The woman raised an eyebrow, but did not protest. Belle, on the other hand, probed for answers. "Whatever for, Ben? Do you know her? Why do you need to be alone with her?"

Ben squeezed his mother's hand. "Please."

The queen had her suspicions, certainly. But more than that, she had hope. This was Ben's first reaction to any purported healer, and she wanted to believe it meant something. In spite of her doubts, Belle bit her lip uncertainly and then commanded, "Guards...with me." She straightened and ironed the wrinkles out of her gown. "I will return in ten minutes, Ben. If at any point you feel unsafe..."

Ben nodded dismissively.

He waited until the doors closed behind the mother before saying, "Godmother."

The old woman's jaw dropped, and her eyes filled with tears. "How did you know?"

"Memory..."

She came and sat in Belle's unoccupied chair, gently pushing on Ben's shoulder so he was lying down again. "Yes. I am...I was Queen Mal's godmother. Is...is it true? Is she really...?" Ben did not respond, except to avert his gaze. The godmother took a deep breath to keep from weeping. She only had ten minutes, after all. "All this time...I never knew if she was alive or dead. If she had woken or not. Where she was. If she was alright. I...I failed as her protector."

"No," Ben said softly. "I did."

"You?" The fairy godmother frowned. "I was told she took you prisoner, along with that tyrant Stefan's granddaughter. What reason could you have to protect her?"

He had yet to tell anyone. But, as they were sharing many secrets..."I loved her."

"Oh." She placed a hand next to his on the bed, unsure how permissible it was to physically comfort royalty. "Then, I imagine...she grew to be an incredible young woman." The prince did not trust his voice. A lump had grown in his throat. He just inclined his head, regarding her sadly. "I am so sorry, Your Majesty. Believe me when I say I understand how you feel. I loved her as though she were my own daughter. To lose her..." She sniffled. "I had to see you. I had to know the truth. Stefan is celebrating as though he has closed the gates of Hell itself, but he thought he won all those years ago as well..."

"I saw." Ben's voice cracked. "She...is gone."

She was losing control of her sniffling. Otherwise, she remained silent for a moment. "It is no wonder you are so ill, my prince. There is no curse on you. Your heart is broken." That was the most accurate assessment of his condition given by anyone who had visited that day. The godmother did grasp his hand, after all. "But I am glad that she met you, Your Highness. I am glad that...in such a short and tumultuous life...she knew love - because of you."

Ben had not the heart nor the ability to tell her that Mal had not returned those feelings. He was crying - real, wet tears, at last - and the fairy was crying with him. Her free hand hovered over his face and traveled downwards. He knew that tingling feeling - she was healing him. It belatedly occurred to him that Mal must have also been able to heal him without actually touching him.

"I cannot do anything overtly magical, but I hope I have helped some." She had. The tearing feeling in the back of his throat was gone, as well as a head injury he had not known existed until it no longer hurt. He was still weak, but more tolerably so. "I am still in hiding, and...I have a family. I cannot risk Stefan finding out about them."

"I understand," Ben hiccuped through shaky breaths. "I believe she would have understood too...though she never stopped looking for you."

This prompted another round of sobs from Mal's godmother. "I never stopped looking for her, either."

They commiserated for a few minutes more, and Ben learned of multiple fairy families in the capital city itself that had been waiting for their queen to return. If only Mal had known...it would have given her so much hope, so much peace. He wished he could tell her. He wished he could watch her eyes light up, watch the pure joy spread across her face in a brilliant smile.

He needed to stop indulging in these impossible fantasies. Returning to reality was an excruciating experience. But at the same time...he wanted to remember everything - every lock of her hair, every shade of green and gold in her eyes, every subtle movement that changed her expressions so dramatically. If he forgot a single detail, he would never forgive himself for it.

The fairy godmother stood, knowing their time was at an end. "Prince Ben, I am afraid I cannot return, nor can I tell you where to find me. This meeting alone will have raised questions I cannot afford to reveal the answers to." Ben slumped further into the bed. Not you too. She was the one person who grieved as he did, and now she would disappear into the wind and leave him alone with his sorrows again. "I will tell your parents there is nothing more I can do for you."

He closed his eyes, as if refusing to watch her go would somehow give him relief. Then he thought again. "Wait! There is something you can do..." She stopped and waited. "Can you tell the others...tell them that she tried? That she fought for them, until the end?"

The fairy wiped away the last remnants of her tears before she had to face Belle. "I will."

The doors opened. The two women had a discussion - Ben heard "...no evidence of a spell..." and inquiries as to the godmother's identity. He realized he had never learned her name, though it was probably for the best. Belle returned to his side, plainly unconvinced, but helped him to another cup of water.

"Ben, darling, who was that woman?"

His mother did not yet know of his miraculous healing. "Tired," he whispered to her, knowing his voice was no longer raspy. The queen sighed, but let him sleep. It gave him some time to make up a story that would keep the fairies safe.


The worst doctor was the one his parents listened to.

He looked over Ben the next day through a dirty lens. Every so often he would let slip a "hrmm" or a "huh-huh." Then he straightened and said solemnly, "Yes...yes, I have seen this type of spell before."

Lies, Ben thought listlessly. Others had claimed the same; it hardly mattered.

"It is the most evil of magicks, and the only kind that can last beyond the death of the caster. I call it blood magic."

Belle frowned. "Blood magic?" Adam, who had found the fortitude to stay by his son's side for significantly longer this time, looked more interested.

"Yes. The spell has been bound to the prince's blood. It cannot be removed easily, and therefore, the only cure is serial dilution." Noting the blank stares, the medic added, "Of his blood."

"How can you dilute his blood?" asked Adam.

"It is not a painless process," the man warned. "It would involve bleeding the patient every two days for several minutes. His body will slowly begin to produce new blood. In the meantime, he must drink excess water to recoup the loss."

Ben was not paying attention. He wondered if Mal's godmother had relayed the horrible news of Mal's confirmed death to the other fairies. What would the Fae do now? Quietly continue living as humans? Rally around an elected official? Attempt their own revenge against Stefan?

"My love, what do you think?"

Belle, Adam, and the physician were all looking at him expectantly. Ben shook his head. "I am not spelled." He weakly motioned for the slightly thicker soup he had been allowed that day, and Belle fed him as before.

"Your Majesties, this response worries me greatly," the man explained, "as his inability to remember or unwillingness to admit the spell's existence confirms that it is very powerful magic indeed."

Belle and Adam exchanged worried looks. "What will happen to him if we do not treat him as you say?" Belle inquired.

The man bowed his head. "Then our young prince may be cursed for the rest of his years."

Until the very first cut, Ben did not believe anyone would seriously consider this course of action. He was wrong. He was still too feeble to fight when the doctor exposed Ben's thin, bare arm and dragged a sharp blade across his skin. He yelped in pain, and his parents looked away. The blood flowed into a waiting pan - the doctor squeezed the site of the injury to draw out more. "NO!" Ben protested. "There is no curse!" His cries fell on deaf ears.

After a few minutes, the physician stopped milking the wound and instead applied pressure to reduce the bleeding. The blood sloshed around in the pan - there was so much of it. "The first treatment is done, Your Majesties. I will return in two days' time. Please ensure the prince consumes at least one gallon of liquids each day."


His life had become hell.

Every other day, he was bled to within an inch of death. His skin had turned pale from the lack of blood, and even when he began eating solid foods again he could not regain weight. In between the treatments there was nothing. Even Belle had to return to her duties after a while, and he was alone. Alone with his unbearable thoughts, with no strength to leave his bed, and nothing to occupy him.

Jay...

He was being injured against his will, at his parents' behest, and thanks to the physician's assurances, nothing he said would change their mind.

Carlos...

And above all, he could not openly grieve the loss of his love. He watched her die. He watched her die. He watched her die.

Evie...

They had all died as well, protecting Mal the way he had not. The way he should have. No one would ever know of their bravery either. The three had found a home, a family, after all of their misfortune - and yet were not allowed to live out their hard-earned happy ending. They deserved better than the meaningless deaths handed to them by Stefan. And yet, they would get nothing - just a frail prince who finally found himself able to relate to their suffering.


Two weeks into his 'recovery', Ben received a visit from the Lady Audrey. She looked well - better than she had in the cave, and far better than he did currently. She was dressed in a flattering gown of the latest fashion, and various pieces of jewelry glittered on her person. Upon seeing him, contrarily, her mood dampened somewhat. "Oh dear...that demoness barely left you the skin on your bones."

Ben was pathologically bored and starved for company, certainly, but he did not want to have a conversation in which Mal was referred to as a 'demoness'. "She did not do this to me."

"Oh, but she did." Audrey flounced over to the empty chair by his bed and sat in it. "You are simply unaware of it. Such is the nature of evil magic - insidious and deceptive. However, I come with good news." Ben doubted that very much. Nothing he heard anymore evoked any happiness from him. "Because you were under a terrible spell, I will forgive you for the treatment I received at your hands while captive. So you need not worry, I will still marry you. I believe that once you are cured, you will again become the Ben I knew before this horrid event."

She waited for a response, but Ben had none. He had not thought so far into the future. How could he go on to rule Auradon as if a significant portion of his kingdom was not built on the graves of thousands of innocents? How could he promise to protect his people after failing to protect the one closest to his heart? And how could he marry Audrey, knowing he would never love her, would never be happy with her, would never share that deep connection he craved once he had known it? As his mind was wont to do these days, it drifted - back to the aftermath of that pivotal fight to determine Audrey's fate.

Her sobs grew quieter and her breathing evened out, but Mal nevertheless clung to him like he was driftwood in an ocean. Ben's cheek stung where she had slapped him, but he rested it against her soft hair and it soothed his angry skin. He had never held someone like this before. In his world, contact was stiff, formal, minimal. No one would ever just...give themselves to him entirely, nor would they have accepted him doing the same. Yet, the intimacy of this moment could not be denied. Perhaps because Mal was the object of his affections, or perhaps because it reminded him what it was to be Ben instead of Prince Ben, but he never wanted to let go. He needed her.

"I cannot do it," she whispered shakily, her breath fanning onto his neck. Her words brought him back to reality.

"Because you are not him. You could not commit such a heinous crime," Ben reminded her, his voice soft.

To his dismay, she pulled back - but not very far. The tips of their noses nearly touched. "How do you know who I am? What I am capable of?" It was not an accusation; she was seeking reassurance.

"There are so many reasons, Mal." He was drowning in her eyes. She looked like an angel, even after crying so much. "You have every right to be angry. Every right to want revenge. Anyone would. But your actions speak louder than your words. Your friends - they would go to the ends of the Earth for you, and rightly so. You showed them the utmost kindness when no one else would. These illusions you haunt yourself with - it is a burden you bear so that your people are not forgotten. You refuse to bury their memories, though it causes you pain. And with me...Mal, you could have killed me at any time. You still can. I am of no use to you, and in fact I have only interfered in your plans. But instead..." His arms were still around her. He let that fact speak for itself.

"I want to be the person you believe me to be." She was so quiet, he only knew she had spoken because he saw her lips move. "But I am not." His chest felt full; he wanted to hold her close again and tell her over and over that she was, until she knew it to be true. Her wide eyes gazed out at him from under her lashes, and for a second he was sure that was what she was asking for.

She needed him, too.

He tightened his embrace too quickly. The way a hunted doe is vulnerable one minute and fleeing the next, she flinched away from him and drew her shoulders up. Ben watched helplessly while she closed herself off, and he was forced to retreat. "Mal..."

"I would like to be alone." She was forcing her tone to seem stronger than it actually was. Her stare was concentrated at the ground, like she was too ashamed to meet his eye.

This he was used to - what leader ever admitted to needing help? What king or queen ever exposed their weaknesses? But he knew she was different. She had trusted him with her soul, even if for a moment. Maybe one day, he would get that moment back. For now, though, she looked mortified and he did not want to add to her self-doubt. "I will leave you...but please remember, you do not have to do this alone."

In his heart, Ben would always, always wish his wife was Mal - so he did not have to go through life alone either.

Audrey, miffed at his silence, continued less magnanimously, "I do still believe a suitable punishment is due, and I have decided that for the first year of our marriage, we will live separately. We will not share a room. We will not share a bed." The smug expression confused him.

"Whatever you wish, Audrey." He was at least able to reach for his food and drink on his own, now, and did so. A single bite took so much effort. Either his appetite had vanished these past two weeks, or the food given to him was devoid of any taste. Alternatively, maybe he could no longer enjoy food, just as he could no longer enjoy...anything. Guilty at having doubted the cooks who had been working so hard to restore their prince's strength, he set his porridge aside.

The apathy only irritated her further. "Have they not been treating you? You cannot still be pining over that monster. She is dead, Ben, and the carcass burnt, along with the corpses of her minions. Should they have dragged her giant head back as a trophy for you to - "

"Audrey!" interrupted Ben, finally feeling a flare of anger after days of melancholy.

The lady was quite satisfied with the rise she got out of him. "It appears you still need many more bleedings to rid yourself of this magic. I do hope you will be well enough to stand for our wedding. I would like it to be in June. I am sure within the next few weeks you will be finished with this nonsense." There was another knock at his door. "Ah, good! Grandfather has arrived."

Grandfather? Sure enough, Lord Stefan was let through the doors by the naive servant. The man looked just as intimidating out of armor. His bushy eyebrows set his expression in a permanent frown, and his piercing eyes analyzed his surroundings within the first second of him entering. He managed to stay rather fit through intense training with his guards, and had none of the feebleness nor extra weight that made old men less threatening.

"Grandpapa, does he not look awful? Oh, to think what would have become of him if you had not rescued him!" She smiled prettily in the direction of Stefan. The lord nodded at her, but his cold stare never left his prince. Ben knew Stefan was here to size him up. It sickened him that this man could stroll so casually into his room after everything he had done.

Audrey made to get up and give her seat to Stefan, but Ben's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. Surprised, she turned back to him. "Stay, please," Ben told her - but he was not looking at her either. It was a direct message to Stefan. I know you are a threat to me.

"Well, if you insist." She sat back down. Ben let go of her wrist to grasp her hand instead and keep her in the room. Audrey did not know this, and preened like a peacock at finally being noticed.

"It brings me great joy to see my granddaughter so esteemed by her royal fiancee," said Stefan, bowing. "I pray you both are able to wed soon. Do you think that will be possible, Prince Ben?"

"Why would it not be?" Ben responded. His voice sounded more aggressive than he remembered it.

"Because you are still quite sickly. And, of course, you are still recovering from that dreadful curse."

Ben laughed bitterly, surprising everyone - including himself. The lies this man perpetuated convinced Ben that Stefan felt no shame. "Yes, recovering quite slowly. It is a difficult thing to destroy - quite like truth." He held Stefan's gaze. "No matter how much you fight it...it always returns."

He saw Stefan's jaw clench. "An interesting analogy."

"A relevant one."

Audrey looked between them, confused and suspicious. "What on Earth is this conversation about?"

Before her grandfather could deflect, Ben explained, "This conversation is about a truth that Stefan does not want told. I have already said I was not cursed, Audrey. Your grandfather cannot have anyone believe me - because if they do, the truth will come out. The truth about what he did to Mal and her people."

She covered her mouth and exchanged glances with Stefan. "You have gone mad, Ben."

"I have not. Ask him, Audrey. Ask him how he sanctioned genocide to hide a secret."

"That is quite enough!" Stefan thundered. "I will not stand here and be insulted, after I risked life and limb to retrieve you from the clutches of a sadistic beast!"

"Then do not stand here at all," countered Ben. There was a new feeling inside him, breaking through the despair and guilt and emptiness. A sense of purpose. "I will not stop, Stefan. I will continue her battle for her. I will see you tried for your crimes in a court of law and sentenced. The blood of thousands is on your hands."

"Ben!" cried Audrey.

The prince continued, stronger than before. "Her legacy lives on through me. And it is through me her spirit will finally find peace."

Stefan stormed out of the room, and Audrey after him, though she sent scathing glances in Ben's direction first. Once they were gone, Ben called in a servant.

"Please summon Captain Li."


Stefan did not wait long. The assassin came that night.

Ben slept fitfully, his conscience refusing to permit him a good night's rest. It was just as well, because he heard the soft thud of the assassin's boots on the floor next to the pried-open window.

"Lonnie!"

He shouted before he even registered what he was seeing. Captain Li jumped up from the chair on which she had been dozing, her sword flashing in the moonlight. The intruder, masked and dressed in all black, had only a split second to draw his own. The clang of blades rang out in the darkness, again and again. The man was skillful - Captain Li was better. In less than a dozen moves, she had kicked him to the ground and pressed the tip of her sword just deep enough in his neck to draw a drop of blood.

With some difficulty, Ben extricated himself from his covers and got out of bed. He felt dizzy as soon as he stood, but he ignored his symptoms and went to crouch by the uninvited guest. The prince peeled off the fabric mask and squinted to try identifying the man in the dim light. The assassin could not be readily identified as one of Stefan's men - but then, Stefan would not be so careless as to use his own guard for such a dirty, treasonous task.

"Who sent you?" demanded Captain Li.

The man opened his mouth and made only a guttural sound. His tongue had been cut out - long ago, by the looks of it.

"He cannot speak. Of course." Ben shook his head. "Lonnie, have him taken to the dungeons. You and I will need to discuss our next steps in the morning. Stefan will not give up."

"Yes, Your Highness." The captain called the servants inside, requesting that they find the nearest guards to escort the intruder out. Once that was done, she sheathed her sword. "You were right to have me stand guard tonight," she remarked. "I have slept enough - I will keep watch for the next few hours. Sleep, my prince. You will need the rest. I have a feeling that a war has just begun."


Ben was in his bedroom, but it was not his bedroom, somehow. Everything was slightly off. He could not explain it. When he stood up, he did not feel any fatigue. This only added to his curiosity.

Then he saw her.

Mal was regarding him silently, still as a statue. He stumbled towards her in disbelief. "Mal?" Upon closer inspection, there was a jagged scar on one side of her neck. Ben cried out in horror, reaching to touch it...he could not feel the ropy texture, but he knew it was there. It was then that he realized he was dreaming. "No...please, no..." He fell to his knees, begging. "I think of you every waking moment, Mal. Every second of every day. Must your ghost torment me in my sleep as well?"

She moved. Her eyebrows knitted in concern, and she knelt to his level. "Ben..." Her voice sounded strange, like she was speaking into a pillow.

All of a sudden, she collapsed into a heap.

"MAL!" Ben yelled, crawling towards her.

She pushed herself up on one hand, but could not maintain the position for long. Her eyes fluttered, half closed. "Ben...come find me...come find..." The image of her flickered once, twice...and vanished. "...me..."

"NO!" He dove towards the space she had just occupied, but it was too late. She was gone...again. Ben pounded his fist against the floor, sobbing. Was this his fate? Would he lose her over and over again in his nightmares? "Mal, please...come back!" He wept endlessly, guarding the spot where she had stood like his life depended on it.

Come find me, she had said. Where would he find her?

In the afterlife?