"Sera. Quickly, come with me."

This is all wrong. He is here already, unlocking not the chain but the cuff itself. Spiderwebs of sleep still cling to my mind, but already it has registered that I can see too much.

Like the hall. The door is gone. The darkness is gone. And he is frowning, a thunderous expression of severity and displeasure.

"What did I..."

"Quiet." It is a hissed command, his hands holding the back of my bare arms as he pulls me up. At some point during the past minutes (for they are naught but prolonged minutes of nothingness, comfortable darkness in between visits of light) the linen shift, no longer necessary, disappeared.

Something is horribly wrong. He is clutching my hand (neck, it should be the neck), tugging me through the empty flame lit hallways. The passages are familiar in their sameness, crimson-tinted rock glowing with the reflected fire of the torches. But the repetitive surroundings only add a surreal quality to the proceedings. Fear swoops red-taloned and sharp-eyed onto my heart.

A stifled gasp at the sight of stone block walls, grey and aged, up ahead. I know (knew) those. That loose corner on the lower left, the hidden gears at the top...

With a sigh of mountains the stones move away, and an opulent bedroom resplendent with linens and luxury awaits us on the other side. His room.

"Your wrists," he orders, and I dare not disobey. Offering up shaking hands, the sight of glowing magicka as the locks are released is watched through unshed tears.

The bare skin, naked with the removal of his claim, is an obscenity that should not be.

"There's a new robe, and your old things. Take them and go. Hurry."

A search of his narrowed eyes reveals no pretense, no hint of joke. There is no smile on that taut mouth as he releases my arms. This is real.

"No." The reply is moaned as my legs crumple, my hands landing roughly on the fine carpet. Emerald green, the colour of his light. It's not possible that I should never see it again. The near forgotten feeling of magicka trickling back into my body is cold comfort. No spell could ever replace his.

"You must. It is not safe. I have...failed you."

"No." I refuse to believe it possible. The sadness in those words, the defeat – what could have led to this? "I want to stay."

"Sera, you cannot stay. You must leave." A bitter chuckle of irony and darkness escapes him. "Is there nothing else you would ask of me?"

Staring at his leather shoes, at the worn spot on the right toe, my mind skips from thought to thought as it struggles to make sense of it all. The offensive feel of bare wrists, delicate skin protesting at the exposure, keeps intruding. I need time to process it all.

"Story. Tell me the story." It is a desperate gamble, and the wait for his response is a fresh torment in this waking nightmare.

"You want the rest of the story? Very well, Sera, though you won't like it."

As if reality was much better at the moment. Think. Surely there was another way.

Hurry.

"The noble would not stop. He sent more assassins. He let it be known that he would never rest until the demon was dead. And then the demon saw that nothing he could do would ever protect the princess. So long as he was hunted, then she could never be safe."

A pause, and the ice prickle sensation of fingers lightly grazing my hair causes a shiver through my spine.

"And so he sent her away, though it killed him inside to do it. But she was smart, and powerful, and he could see no other way to keep her alive. For he loved her, and wished her happiness and safety – neither of which he could provide."

"No." The tears are falling now, dark green splotches blossoming on the carpet. My arms shake, wanting nothing more than to grab his legs and cling (mustn't touch don't have permission), begging for anything but this.

"How else could it end, Sera? What else could have happened?"

"What if..." What if what? What would re-write the ending? How could a happily ever after be salvaged from this?

Think. Hurry.

"What if the noble died? What if he wasn't around to hunt the demon?"

A large sigh is the initial answer to my question. "But who would fight him? He is hidden away. The demon would be killed before he could even look upon on the noble."

"The princess." Looking up into his scarlet red eyes, wiping the tear tracks from my cheeks, I offer up a solution.

My solution.

"Sera..."

"She can do it. She could get close to him. He'd never suspect." Well, he might suspect a little – fine, a lot - but surely a properly crafted story would allay his suspicions. It it was the only way.

And that second poisoned dagger has never been forgotten, a special delivery for a failed lover.

"Why would she risk it, Sera? What if there are others like him?" The stern expression has softened. Time to press the point.

"Because he saved her. The demon cared for the princess, and she saw his goodness and his beauty, and she came to love him for it. And so she used her abilities to protect him from harm – from the noble, and from any others who would dare wish to hurt him. Because she wanted nothing more than to be with him. Forever."

"Sera." The pleased smile is back, so is the wondrous feel of his hand on my neck. I rise up with it, legs suffused with a renewed strength.

"My brilliant, clever Sera." The soft kiss is the sweetest yet. "It might work. There is something you should have. They will protect you when I cannot."

Two gold bracers, pulled from some hidden pocket, are held open with his free hand. Each lonely wrist quickly finds a new home in them, the finely crafted metal fitting like a second skin. By all appearances they are naught but large bracelets. But the runes worked into the textured borders mark them as something else.

His.

Both of his hands are on my neck now, strong arms holding me close in a warm embrace. The trembling of the bracers as overwhelming desires are resisted attract his notice.

"What is it, Sera? What would you ask of me."

"I would like..." The heat of crimson flush races over my face. "May I touch you?"

"Of course, Sera." The gentleness, the pride, the love – my hearts swells near to bursting at the tender look on his face. "You need only have asked."

His kind smile is the first item on the list of things to be claimed.

Mine.

Finally, mine.