Thank you to my beta for helping me fix some paragraphs and helping this chapter flow a bit better :)

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Threats, there were so many threats. The enemies in the Arena were only small, collective pieces; now she understood that the menace they represented was merely one piece of the malevolent puzzle of a far grander scale. Haley would have to keep her crystal blue eyes peeled night and day if she were to have any hope of protecting her Knight against all their adversaries. Especially since all eyes of the Judge's Panel were upon them now, after the very orchestrator of the Tournament went so far as to attempt to alter his very existence.

And Haley didn't understand why.

They were two idiots infatuated with each other, attempting to reverse a fate far too cold for the warm Spirit that was Diarmuid ua Duibhne. Sure, he had conflicted moments, and lost himself in the misery of his two lives; still, that was normal for those suffering through such grief. Why punish him for wanting to regain his honor and have that tossed into the dumpster like trash by so many individuals around him, when he had only been trying his best? For trying to uphold codes of conduct, and chivalry?

Being kind to others, and finding ways to what is right should not be deader than the souls in the Underworld. And he knew that—he fought for it, and was spat on by all surrounding him for yet a second time. So when all of that anguish came to light after he'd kept it deep within himself— when the evils of the world twisted those emotions into hideous curses and manipulated his Spirit—why didn't any of these forces (such as the Counter Guardians or Gods) help him?

Why did they expect her to sit back and watch as they left this man behind?

Hearing his guttural cry haunted Haley's dreams. It connected to her drive to aid where she could, and ingrained deep into her heart. Her glass was not half empty or full—it was devoid of anything until she'd find the path that led to her beloved's safety.

When the nightmares struck harder than the impact of crashing steel against steel, she'd scream out against them, her voice lost in the manipulations and debilitating metaphors. Loss was always a part of the drastic assaults—whether it being her own life at the hands of a competitor, or Loki's miserable hide, or the gruesome bursting of Diarmuid's heart having him dragged to the pits of Hell—it all felt the same.

Devastating.

A desperate screech would leave her heart as it'd seek refuge anywhere but its proper home behind her rib cage. It felt wretchedly exposed there, just waiting to be found by Dolos's deathly hand. A howling call from her stomach as it shrank to avoid another carefully planted kick to expel its contents.

The eerie voice of her father—pledging to snatch her from the Underworld when the time came. When she saved Diarmuid, would that be the misfortune that awaited her? Years of concealing herself and trying to restore and recover her reputation, just to sink to the depths of torture, thanks to an anchor at her heels? To become whatever it is that he schemed?

There was a darkness in sleep that was aloof and foreign, like the stare in Lupo's leafy green eyes. It terrified her. As if the shredding of her skin, the breaking of her limbs were not enough to subdue her. The pain being dealt to her intensified and dragged Diarmuid along with it. He too, was now suffering the torture but not from her father, no, but from his own perpetrators in the Underworld.

You can never save him, not as you are. He will fall, a pitiful, miserable fall, and Tartarus will take him as you watchand can do nothing.

Haley shot up from her Knight's lap, Adranga's words still vivid in her mindset. He'd whispered that, when Dolos had his heart clenched tightly in his grasp. She spun, the blankets toppling over the side of the luxurious bed as she frantically examined his chest. She expelled a relieved sigh, when no damage was sighted. Merlin's gift of magic had patched him up nicely, thank the Gods...

...And she cursed them. Cursed Merlin, her father, that damned Judge's Panel that determined their fates and created this endless labyrinth of suffering. Screw these petulant Gods that dangled a forbidden hope that enduring this suffering would lead at least one of them away from Divine punishment. There was nothing left, she felt. No hope. Just the two of them together, clinging to the only bit of happiness either of them had ever had. Something that was twisted and turned against them so abhorrently that her heart shrieked.

"My goodness, my Lady!" Diarmuid exclaimed, then relaxed into the propped up pillows behind him, running a concerned palm down the back of her nightgown. "Are you alright?" he said more softly, resting his chin upon the crown of her smooth head.

Tears stung the corners of her eyes as Haley buried herself into the center of his loose t-shirt, and clutched the hard muscle of his back. "I am okay, just… a bad dream. As always…" The dreams represented the thoughts of what they'd be willingly throwing themselves back into where the tournament was concerned—but she had had enough of being at the receiving end of Diarmuid's pity, even if it were just because he simply cared. Shit, she didn't feel as though she deserved him.

The Knight merely nodded, gliding his fingers through the length of her chestnut locks, taking care to avoid the patch where she'd have to wait for the strands to fill in once again. He hated seeing her like this. He hated feeling like this. There was little he could do against the Panel. They were pure, Heroic Spirits and Gods, and he… well, he was but a shell of what he used to be... Who he once was.

His pride had taken a hit: his ego was bruised from indignity and guilt. His defenses against the power Dolos deployed—pitiful. He was certain that eventually he would have fallen into that dark cloud of despair...

Even now—hours after—those shadows yet lured him to taste the forbidden fruit… To let go and become that version of himself that he vigorously disdained. It was slight, nurturing itself inside the realms of his heart. He knew the evils from the Grail continued to rest within him, even after his curse was relinquished… He felt it at the center of his core, but it lay dormant with the tiniest of pulls.

How had Loki been able to inform Dolos of it, and wield him the power to wake that shuddering malignant piece? Still, it haunted him. That level of malevolence curtained the entire hotel room, maybe extended further. It was—dare he say it—terrifying. Was there a way to remove it from him, or at least silence it once more?

For one reason or another, Diarmuid didn't think that the Lady knew of it, or knew how to extract it. Thus, he decided not to burden her with those questions. Involving her any deeper into this madness simply guaranteed she would be affected. He could not bear to see her look like a frightened animal, not any longer. He could figure this one out himself, and avoid dragging her into harm's way. Since he suspected Merlin might have the answers, he would find time to hopefully enquire with him about it.

His darling's breathing slowed from whatever fright she'd experienced in her dreams. She'd moved her head from the center of his sternum, adjusting it to fit to the soft space between the Knight's neck and chest. Her heat rushed through him, dazzling the space with a gentle warmth. He savored that feeling, and brought his arm around her shoulder, feeling content.

She wore a lingering smile that tugged up her lips, accompanied by a serene blush on her cheeks (stained with a few, stray tears). While he knew she was hurting, the level of comfort expressed all over her features did wondrous things to his insides. It lit a beacon of bliss, and healed the scars of his failures to keep her safe, because in this moment: her relaxation in his hold proved she still trusted him with her safety and comfort.

Kissing the side of her temple, Diarmuid lifted his gaze to the ceiling for the hundredth time—as if it'd make sense of everything that had happened this night and all the madness they'd endured.

The Lady sighed into his shirt, clutching the fabric tightly in her small hand. "Diarmuid… how are you taking this...? Are you… are you okay?" The quiet sadness in her voice made the light he'd felt earlier flicker.

Honestly? He truly hadn't a clue. There were so many conflicting emotions in his heart and his head struggled as he tried to comprehend it all. "I'm managing," he muttered; it was the best explanation he could muster.

She squeezed the fabric tighter. "Is... there anything I can do?"

He kissed the crown of her head. "Best you can do for me is regain your strength. I will be alright." As he would be. While his mind yet strained to remain clear, he could rise above it. His strength dwelled in his merit and ambition, and she had inspired him—on more than one occasion—to find ways to deal with his emotions. "I will not falter, no matter their attempts to break me."

That statement, the utter strength in his words… Haley believed him. There would be no standing against her courageous, tragic Knight. If he could remain true… not let their wickedness defile him, then maybe…

"Me t—" she began, but was interrupted by a brewing magic circle at the center of their reconstructed room, revealing Merlin in his usual white cloak and black, wide-legged culottes. His blanket of hair flowed from the powerful energy.

"Hello my darlings, sorry to interrupt. But young lady, I wish to speak with you, now that you've awoken." Merlin's voice was as rollicking as ever, and it was quite refreshing, given what had happened.

Eyes peering through her lashes at the narrow smile on Diarmuid's face, she brought her lips to his and grazed the knuckle of her curled index finger over his brow before pulling away. Before she could slip off his cool form, he gave her a reassuring squeeze of the hand that warmed her heart.

Merlin waited patiently for the couple to break apart. Even after his departure, he'd kept a close eye on them through his clairvoyance. The last thing he needed was to have Athena or Loki pay them a visit next. The chances of that were slim, but one could not be too careful, or certain, anymore.

Under his watchful eye, the two of them had never parted. Even as they'd changed attire, Diarmuid had helped the drained woman out of her clothes (of course, the wizard had averted his eyes). Haley had quickly returned the favor, and off they were into that massive bed. There, they had remained snuggled closely together until Merlin's appearance.

They truly were inseparably adorable. 'Twas entirely a shame that this insufferable place was where their affections had come to be.

Stepping in front of the Grand Caster, Haley stuffed her hands into the pockets of her long gown. "Let's go," was all she said. The faster she had this conversation, the sooner she could return to equanimity with her Knight.

Tapping the butt of his long staff on the floor, Merlin teased, "Do not look so pleased to be within my company," as he and the lady teleported from the room.

Diarmuid stared at the empty space where the two had disappeared from. She was gone for a few seconds, and already her heat had faded from his system. Her gentle farewell beckoned him to follow, to ensure no foul play would present itself. By this point, he should come to trust the Mage of Flowers, but somehow, he could not will himself do so… not completely.

For no matter how much he tried to overlook it: something in his gut told him that even he was searching for something… plotting and scheming. He'd learned to trust that instinct—his warrior's intuition. And he had no idea if it were a good thing, or bad thing… just that somehow, it involved him and his Lady, and he definitely did not like it.

Every second of what had happened ticked by with horrific clarity. Athena was enraged this all happened under her supervision, and that a God was dead from the ordeal. She had ordered their elimination from the tournament just to settle things with Loki, but Merlin had argued for them to come out of that ordeal with his "love of the crowd" spiel... and his insistence they had not orchestrated any of that awfulness.

Loki, oh Loki —was another infuriated God. This was his punishment and had been performed so foully. Apparently, he rejected the responsibility of Dolos; convinced the others that while yes, he sent Dolos with the father, he had not intended for Diarmuid to succumb to the spell craft his partner utilized. Haley called bullshit on that, but it was just… whatever . Not like they'd listen to her about it, anyway.

The third round of Boss Battles would not be postponed, and remained scheduled to kick back up in thirty hours, as planned. For Haley and Diarmuid to claim responsibility for the mayhem—they were to face Loki next, instead of the random selection. That made the woman anxious.

"Of course, you are being offered another option," Merlin lifted his pointer finger to the sky thoughtfully, his whimsical smile never faltering.

Haley waited, as the Magician worked out his play with a dramatic pause. "You can return to the world of the living," he went on, and she took a step forward, taking in his offer. "It has been confirmed that there is a deal in place with your wretched father that we cannot undo, and of course, you have endured so much already. If you remain here, there is the tournament, but also that unfortunate thing for you, should you survive the rest. If you were to leave now…"

She didn't need to listen to him finish. If she were to retreat from the competition early while her father remained unsuspecting—then safety from the bounty would await her. Well, as safe as travelling far-far away from Fuyuki, Japan could bring her while she still attempted to rid herself of the thing… to taste what freedom is truly like.

"It is as glorious as the stars above us. As grand and wide as the sky expands. To be free is to have utmost happiness, in every sense of the word."

No matter how many times she had promised herself to become strong, and not cry ever again, the haze filled her eyes and threatened to spill. Diarmuid had said those wonderfully consoling words right here, on this very rooftop. In this very spot… in a beautiful moment they had shared together, doodling the stars into various creations from their imagination. Did Merlin bring them here for that reason?

The wind blew elegantly, fanning Haley's marvelously long hair in its cool breath. She withdrew her watery gaze from the flashing lights of the Dome below—the contestants returning to the Hotel—to raise them to the cosmic freckles above.

"What would happen to Diarmuid?" she asked, though the answer was glaringly obvious. Still, the woman had to hear it directly from the jerk's mouth.

Merlin dipped his hand into the thickness of his white hair, "You know the answer." The glare she shot his way actually made him giggle nervously, causing him to add, "He will be gone. It would be swift, tho—"

"I can't leave him," was all she implacably replied. No way in hell would she betray Diarmuid like that, even if it meant escaping who she feared most. Sacrificing her Knight's outcome for a few more months—maybe a year or two, even—was not worth his soul.

Crossing paths with her father was inevitable, anyway. She had to deal with him at some point. If she'd learned anything during her journey thus far with Diarmuid, it was that she could not hide or run forever. Haley was determined to collide with him head-on, with this all over. It was time to be as powerful as her beloved, and utilize whatever strength he believed her to have in resolving that matter. Enough was enough .

That being said, Merlin drifted to her side. He was so stealthy, she hadn't even heard him breathe as he sat on the roof's stone. "That is mighty brave of you—or is it foolish?" he observed, his lilac hues glistening in the moonlight.

Haley rested her hands on the brisk concrete, unrelenting in her fixation on the galaxy above. She nibbled on the bait he was dangling before her. "I don't care… Diarmuid is… precious to me. I don't… understand it—but I can't imagine living any sort of life… knowing that he is suffering for eternity."

Merlin nodded his head histrionically. A long pause of silence travelled between them, until… "You love him," he spoke the words in a soft, light tone. It was as if that statement was the most beautiful thing he'd ever had the pleasure to taste on his tongue.

More stillness lingered in the night's crisp air. "Love…" Haley experimented with the word rolling off her lips. Was that… what it was? In all her life, aside from the maternal love she'd received from her mother… never had she spoken that emotion again.

She was so broken, and torn apart from her father's deception that she never let anyone else in. Recoiled from the slightest touch of anyone in concealing herself. Kept herself at a distance as not to risk giving away her location to someone who'd turn her in. Hid behind illusions, diversions, whatever she could muster.

Even when she travelled down the river to Diarmuid in Hell's Lobby, she kept on that mask. However, it had caused a rift between them—had made him mistrust to the point her life was in his hands. Literally.

Just when… did all of those barriers she'd hidden behind break down, and why so easily? Why was… the Irishman from Celtic Myth the only person capable of wedging into the cracks of her resistance to let anyone in? Was it… because of how much she'd read about him, and knew what kind of person he'd turn out to be when relinquishing the curse, or was it… more?

The thought had her lowering her gaze to the balcony below, the very person in question stepping out to bend over the railing. His figure basked in the glow of midnight, reminding her of the time she'd joined him there at his side. It was the first time he'd opened up to her, and offered her a glimpse of his playful side.

They had grown so close since then. Disclosing details of each of their lives, fighting battles side-by-side, and looking out for one another. Shared intimate parts of themselves with the other person's enjoyment in mind. Love… she loved him.

There was no other explanation for how… how determined she had become. How engraved in responsibility for his brighter future that she'd made herself. She'd stood up to the Panel, defied them with her best efforts, not fearing the consequences, so long as he understood she would never forsake him like others have.

Her heart fluttered like a butterfly at the thought, and the tears finally slipped down her cheeks. "Oh Merlin…" He angled his face to hers with his familiar, insufferable smirk… but it had a gentleness to it, an understanding, that made her feel at ease. "It… this… wasn't supposed to happen… I didn't set out to fall so hard like this. I was... only here to assist him to get a better end. Not… not all this. But now… I cannot imagine a world without him."

"Mhmm, mhmm, yes, I can definitely see that." Haley soughed a long sigh at the wizard's response. Since he was here, maybe she would try again to get some concrete answers.

"Diarmuid is a good person. He shouldn't be here, Merlin. He's a Heroic Spirit, not some malicious spirit." She shook her head—just saying that made her feel like she bathed in mud… Grimy and disgusting for even suggesting he was anything else. "Yet he's here… accepting whatever outcome he'll receive and I just… can't stand it . If I hadn't run away then… if my catalyst hadn't have been given to Kayneth… then maybe he wouldn't have suffered the way he did."

Finally relinquishing that fact to someone helped her to feel some reprieve from the guilt she'd been holding. Curiosity was what led her to find the answers to the Grail War and the outcome of her Hero. That remorse led her here… led her to Diarmuid.

"I'd do anything to keep him safe, Merlin. And for whatever reason, that still doesn't feel like it'd be enough! So please, tell me—isn't there something we could do to help him? I'll do whatever it takes!"

There it was again, gleaming in her shiny, glacier-blue orbs; a determination that riled even Merlin's ancient heart. Such passion in one who he'd initially thought such a submissive, fearful girl. There was an anthem singing in her heart whenever she spoke of that Celtic Warrior. It was quite the fearsome tune.

Unfortunately, there was only so much he could say or do. Altering one's destiny, and leading them down the path they needed to reach it—all of which he enjoyed watching, and playing some mischievous parts in. So what course of action should the Mage of Flowers take here, when this woman dearly wants to save her lover?

"Haley, saving him is no simple task, as you are aware. His Spirit was rejected from the Throne of Heroes itself, rerouted here by a deal between the Counter Force and Hades himself. Unfortunately, there is not much that can be done." Bitterness deprived that woman of her beautiful features as he spoke what truth he knew. "I understand your heart, and how you question whether or not he should be here—"

Now it was his time to give her the push she needed into the right direction. "So if you decide to remain here, I can only suggest you make it to the end. Continue doing what you believe is right, and you'll find the answers you seek. Just know, if you choose the path that involves Diarmuid, well," the Clairvoyant turned on his heels, fuchsia petals twinkling behind him with every step he took, "Be ready for the difficult choices coming your way, but trust your heart and judgement. Tell me your decision to stay or go—I will be listening!"

Before Haley could ask what the hell any of that meant, the riddling half-incubus disappeared. A single flower petal drifted through the breeze into Haley's palm. "This… is the same kind of petals from those bushes alongside the lake…" she whispered, smoothing the velvety surface before it disappeared.

None of what Merlin said helped her in the slightest. All it did was confirm that she needed to stay here, and keep trying to find a way to help Diarmuid outside the tournament. Maybe that's what he was hinting at. If he could see everything that happened in the present, then how far-fetched would it be that he was watching her blasphemous act against the Panel?

Well, if that were true—at least he was overlooking it. Maybe his hinting at that was proof that he really was on their side, that he could be trusted in some way. Merlin was the advisor to King Arthur, and if she remembered correctly, spoke in that strange tongue to him, too… all to lead him into whatever he was supposed to do as King, so maybe…

Taking a final glance at the majestic clutter of beaming lights in the sky, Haley raised her index finger to point to individual dots, starting from the middle, curving on the left, before replicating that on the right side… and then she smiled.

Diarmuid absorbed the information she relayed to him. He'd figured as much. The Magus was definitely plotting, well, something —but had given his Lady the choice if she were to partake in it or not. At least, that was what he gathered from whatever that lengthy mystification was.

His arms crossed on the bar overlooking the grounds below and the path to the Dome that enclosed the Arena. It was cooler outside, crisp enough that the lass pulled his jacket tighter to her person. He of course was unbothered by it, enjoying the chill that made his hair wave.

A moment of calm, as he contemplated what best to say to the proposition laid out before them. She could leave. Forfeit the tournament and return the living world. What would await there, the Irishman didn't know. He was aware that she could use the extra time to avoid her father knowing her whereabouts… but if he had locks of her hair ripped from the roots… The damn bastard was attempting to track her.

He prepared for this—certainly he'd had to consider it. Still. There was hope for her to somehow escape him, more hope than in staying here, guaranteeing to be captured. Away from here, maybe she could prove her case to someone, do anything to prevent this bounty from being completely fulfilled. She would also be safe from Loki's dreadful eye, and from whatever other horrors the tournament had coming their way.

If it meant her welfare wasn't in jeopardy, of course he'd attempt to persuade her to take it. The only issue was—she'd be gone. He'd never… see her again. Despite himself and his wishes for her to prosper, it'd hurt… Ending things so soon, not exploring where their relationship could lead, if somehow Merlin was hinting it were possible for them to stay together…

Ah, it was all so frustratingly difficult. Ultimately, the decision was hers, and instead of dwelling on the matter himself, it would be best if he waited for her choice. Whatever it may be, he would support her. Her deciding her fate mattered most—so she would not have regrets.

"It has been really tough on you," Diarmuid spoke dolefully. Gently, he pulled her by the arm into his embrace and affectionately brushed through her bangs. He gazed into the mesmerizing sea that was her orbs… a gaze that offered him nothing but fondness with a hint of sadness. "I would not hold it against you if you were to leave for your own safety. As a Knight—I cannot and will not put my predicaments above your wellbeing."

Yes—that was the honorable thing to do. As her Knight and sworn protector… he could let her go. Watching her forever walk away from him now would irrevocably cleave his non-beating heart into a million shattered shards but his former existences had been lived in the dogged pursuit and belief in chivalry and honor—he must sacrifice his own selfish yearning for his Lady, if it meant keeping her safe from the evil and violence awaiting her around every shadowed corner of this cruel, hellish place. And if that was her true wish, he would never argue against it…

The look she had given was agonizing to his spirit. It was as if he'd ripped the rug out from underneath her, leaving her tangled in it. Before she could retort he added: "I—do not wish for you to go… It would just be rather selfish of me." His eyes never left hers, as he ran his thumb over her heated blush.

"Then why…" she whispered so softly he had to lean in to hear, her entire demeanor slumping. "Why send me away?"

Because he was a failure, and more and more seemingly incapable of keeping her safe. He'd made that mistake twice, leaving those he sought to protect helpless—and it had ended in misfortune.

"Capable as I am, despite this… my history has always ended in failure. While I've come to terms with it—I do not want you to fall victim to it, any longer. I haven't always been able to protect you. You've taken countless pain for my security. I…" he gripped the necklace in his hand, "While your sentiment grants my heart peace, I am unworthy of the title, 'Hero'."

The Lady took a light step back scanning his face for what he did not know. As if finally deciding on what she were to say, a gentle smile overtook her lips.

"Diarmuid… You died saving Fionn and the Fianna from a deadly Boar. You chose to do that, and with weapons you knew wouldn't carry you through the fight, but that didn't matter. What mattered to you, was the lives of your friends that you chose to save. That… Diarmuid, that makes you a hero. And the funny thing is: it's only a part of the good deeds and the heroism accomplished in your life." She put her hand on top of his.

The Knight could do naught but dazedly blink at their connected hands. His elation over Haley's vehement assurances warred with his long-held belief that he was unworthy of the title 'hero'; unworthy of being adulated… and loved. So many times in his complicated past, he had been scorned, mocked, reviled—called a failure, a disappointment, a weak facsimile of a courtly warrior.

Though it was not the first time his Lady had sought to impress upon him that he was valued, and treasured—somehow, this time (knowing the incredibly difficult choice she now faced) the words hit home like a blow from his beloved Gae Dearg. He all but crumpled as the sheer, valiant strength of her whole-hearted assertions washed through his soul like a cleansing summer rainshower.

"I—have regretted my actions, have never once thought the time of my life was worthy of any praise. So much so, I had been thrust here, when I'd lost myself in bitterness from repeating that sad fate…" he turned away, glimpsing the peppered sky, the glowing moonlight illuminating the shine in his golden eyes. "You… truly believe I am a Hero? Even after what we have been through?"

Haley leaned into his body, curling her arms around his waist. Love… if that's what she truly felt... then, it'd been present for a long time, the reality that this man held a special place in her heart. Diarmuid needed to know, needed to see his value in her eyes. "Let me tell you… a story."

When he turned her way and kissed the top of her forehead, humming his approval, she started off on a tangent.

A story of how, when she was brought books of Ireland's heroes, she'd sifted through page after page, ravenously sucking up in the knowledge of Legends like a vacuum. One novel in particular had caught her eye, making her scoff. Even at eleven years old, she knew manipulation… not just from folklore but from life, and it was mind-boggling that a man with a "charm spell" could be referred to as a hero.

Diarmuid chuckled lightly at that, and she pulled him closer. The sound of him laughing would always still her heart. Allowing that feeling to envelop the beats of her heart, she continued.

Haley had given the tale a chance—maybe there was something redeemable about this strange, lovespotted man. And as she flipped through the pages, she'd found herself enraptured by what she'd read. He was a Knight whose blankets were the closest substitute he'd had to a warm fire. Then a woman, drenched and disgusting from whatever journey she'd travelled, had begged for a place to sleep but none of the Fianna had offered her help.

Except Diarmuid, who'd granted her his sleeping area without question; had upheld his oath, and never harmed her. He'd travelled throughout Ireland, to save her from some strange disease Haley's little self hadn't understood; he'd slain an entire army of men single-handedly to be rewarded with the antidote to help her.

What she'd admired most: was that he was warned if he continued on his quest to save her, that he would lose his love for the loathly lady; his duty and love kept him moving forward, however.

"It was the first thing about you I read, and I loved it." Haley pecked his chest, tracing the scar on his back that she could feel through the fabric of his thin shirt. "I couldn't stop finding tales about your legend after that. Sometimes, in that cold, lonely, padded room, I would clutch that book tightly to my person, and wish it were me… that was saved… or that someone would come to my rescue." She shook her head. "Anyway… then I met you here and… well..."

...Then she had seen his memories—those terribly twisted bits of his fate that darkened his resolve, the people who left him to suffer. His life, slipping through Fionn's hands; his life ended by his own hands, at the mercy of a command spell. Nothing but wicked endings for the Knight who had done nothing but serve and protect those he'd loved and cherished. A man who fought for brilliance and loyalty, and never received it back. Until now.

"Diarmuid, no matter what happens—I am nothing but loyal to you, I could never leave you. Even if it were for my own benefit…" Haley murmured her vow, raising her hues to lock onto his. They shimmered (almost captivated) she thought, and it raised the hope that he would understand. "I'm keeping my promise to you… no matter what they try. I won't leave your side, just as you wouldn't leave mine. Because no matter what, you have saved me, too. Being with you—I wouldn't trade it for anything ."

ooooooooooooo

Well this was an angsty chapter... but we learn a little more about how Haley knows shows much about Diarmuid's past outside what she's seen in his memories; and how Diarmuid is faring after that painful experience. And did anything catch the meaning of the flower petals? That was technically an answer to a previous question one of these character's had earlier in the story... :P

That being said, it was pretty obvious what Haley was going to choose, and of course Merlin probably knew that too... hmmm... what exactly is he getting at!?

Hope yall enjoyed this chapter! more emotions coming our way, ahhh