Hey hey hey! its been ... well it's been a stressful few months. I've lost track of how many times I opened this story, stared at that stupid flickering curser and wanted to throw my laptop across the room, but just know that it was many. this chapter was difficult to write, much like a few other chapters that shall not be named that I was equally as unhappy with. *deep resentful sigh*

Well I'll let you decide for yourselves

without further ado—

The city nestled deep into the snow capped mountains was much smaller than the one I'd left behind in a sea of golden sand. It's buildings, shorter and more spaced apart, were built of thick oak, the roofs, all slanted to keep the snow from piling, looked to be made of thick clay. And it wasn't until we ventured deeper into the city, when we began our trek higher up the mountain slope, did I start to notice the stares from the people as they stuck their heads from the warmth of their homes.

Some people cheered for their Lords return, others only looked on silently; faces blank. Those were the ones I watched. And who watched me back.

I wasn't sure if they knew my face, or it it was the rose draped hilt that peeked over my shoulder that gave away who I was, but their eyes were assessing and their mouths were tucked slightly down at the corners.

I considered if I should smile for them, to paint my features to be friendly. To make them believe I came as ally and not foe. Though, I decided against it. Better for my well being to have them worried, to make them think twice before reaching out to see if I really do bleed gold.

No one reaches for the wolf whose teeth are bared and bloody,

The cheering happened more and more often the higher up the slope we went. The people there no doubt more full, and slightly more intoxicated. I could see through the thick snow fall the lights of the royal palace, though I could only make out the barest shape of the building.

We'd abandoned the carriage and horses down at the stables, and Ryley now walked in front of me, and it was a small mercy. I watched his steps carefully, and mirrored them just the same. The stairs had been salted, but they were slick and I imagined one misstep would be all it took to tumble all the way back down to the base.

Little good my reputation would do me then.

He walked slowly, and I wondered if it was for my benefit or the sickness that still lingered in him. Ryley and the others had taken nearly a full day to awake from Wilibau's tonic. Most of the men waking with belly's rumbling and never suspected much else. I had listened carefully at the others, who had remembered only taking a few sips and then the blackness. But their suspicions, thankfully, never stretched close to the truth.

Cuyler had spoken only a few words since then, and none of them to me. And he stalked farther up the stairs, taking them quickly and soon leaving us all behind.

Aware of lingering eyes, I reached out a hand and touched Ryley's shoulder, he slowed to walk beside me. "The climb seems longer this time around," I tell him, never lifting my gaze from the stairs.

I felt the rush of his breath against my cheek as he laughed, and then the warmth of his hand as it brushed the small of my back, "I know every inch of this city. I've taken these stairs probably a million times over. But being here, with you? It's like I'm doing it all for the first time."

"I'm worried, Ryley," I say quietly, almost wishing he wouldn't hear me over the wind. "I don't know what kind of person I should be while I'm here."

The masks had been becoming difficult to wear. They cracked and slipped too often and too easily to be much of an asset.

"Just be yourself,"

And for once, I gave him the truth. "I don't know who that is,"

We were nearing the top now, the palace gates stretching out to meet us in just a few hundred feet. The palace seemed to be pitch black and as tall as the mountains surrounding it, but I knew my eyes, which had swelled from the cold, and along with the lights from the lanterns blurring my vision, I knew they could not be trusted.

I would need to decide quickly, once we entered the walls I would need to be secure in myself. Secure in my future among these people. And my place within them.

When we neared the last step Ryley paused, and I turned to face him. His smile was genuine and his cheeks were flushed, "Then say whatever it is that first comes to mind, and we'll figure out who that is together."

Cuyler waited beside the open gate, his eyes finding mine as Ryely and I took our last step from the stairs, "Are we ready?" He didn't wait for confirmation.

The courtyard was matted with the recent snowfall, and was empty but for the two armed guards stationed by the main entrance. They looked to be fully grown, though with their faces covered with thick scarves, it was hard to be certain. Neither of them spoke, not even when Cuyler extended them both a greeting by name. Like the people far below, their eyes were cautious as they took me in. Gazes lingering on Ryley's hand, so casually placed on my low back.

Despite that, they opened the doors quickly for their Heir and Lord.

Yet, when I passed, the one closest to me cursed under his breath, and I heard the word clear as day, hissed with a blood curdling hatred.

Bastard,

I did not pause, but I locked eyes with the brute. And smiled.

Cuyler led us with purpose. His father slumped out of his wet coat, it hit the ground heavily, and instantly a woman was there, plucking it from the ground with absolute attention. I watched her fold it dutifully over her arm, her eyes never bothering to take in any of our faces. No doubt taught to be unobservant.

I stared at the back of Luca's head. In the Golden City he had displayed a similar aura of pretentiousness. Though, he had always been careful, to never be disrespectful of the Courts themselves. Clark sees Luca as a friend, but feelings of affection change quickly within my father, and Luca was no fool. But here in the North, where he was below no one… I would watch him closely.

If needed, I'd remind him, that he is still below me- even here.

We entered a large room, likely designed for throwing grand parties. Only three people awaited us, a woman, and three large men. The space was otherwise empty apart from two large wooden chairs, set higher above than everything else… Thrones.

It appeared Luca enjoyed playing King.

He strode confidently to his pretend throne, and kissed his pretty wife on the hand, before sinking into it, groaning. It was an effort to keep the grimace from my features. And I hesitated, only a heartbeat, before looking to his makeshift Queen.

Lady Florence had been married off to Luca when she was only sixteen years old. The difference in age between them was as clear as night and day, but she was now a full grown woman, no longer a girl sold. And it was clear on her face that she had learned much over those years of stolen adolescence. Her jaw was sharp, yet delicate. Her dark eyes were beautiful, but cut from glass. She was not all smiles and curtseys, as I'd somehow remembered her, but then again, I'd been only a child myself back then.

She wore no crown, had no other indication that she was royal, but her red hued brown hair was long and clean down her back. And her gown, the softest of blue, was fitted to her like a second skin. The Lady looked like she belonged on that throne. More so than I ever could.

In fact, she was so regal, that when Lady Florence stood from her throne, her motions slowly deliberate, I nearly felt the urge to kneel.

"My boys," Her voice was clear, but I could hear the flutter of the tears she held at bay. Lady Florence held her arms out wide as she stepped off the dias and Cuyler and Ryley both reached for her. She held her sons to her as she said, "I am whole once more."

It didn't feel right for me to be there. Their reunion was an intimacy meant only for them.

I was about to look away, to study the other men in the room, when she opened her eyes right into mine.

Her attention hit me like a blow to the gut. Lady Florence looked me dead in my soul, her eyes slightly hard, but not cruel, no fleck of hatred in them. And something about her, looking at me, the look in her eyes… the feeling that was so entwined inside them- it made me want to fall to my knees and weep. To crumble under the weight of the names I carried.

The moment had spanned only long enough for her to release her hold on her sons, for them to step away from her embrace. It had felt like a lifetime.

"Orihime Inoue," She said it nearly like a question, as if she had scarcely recognized me.

Ryley smiled as he approached me, he lifted my hand slowly to his lips and I wanted to rip it away. I wouldn't wear that mask. Not here. Not in front of his mother.

Cuyler looked back to the dias, to the three males still standing behind their mothers throne, and said, "Did you not miss us, Brothers?"

Brandt and Garth grinned, all teeth.

It had been years, and I'd met them only a handful of times, but I believe it was Brandt who said, "No, but we are happy you've returned," He looked me over, "with prettier soldiers than you left with."

Luca cut in, "Hush, boy. That's to be your future sister. Or have you forgotten?"

His face sobered momentarily, then turned to something else and I was thankful when the door creaked open. The woman from before, wet coat now gone, stepped into the room, bowed slightly at the waist and spoke to Lady Florence lowly.

The Ladies face perked and she gently shooed the young woman away. She then folded her hands in front of herself, the long sleeves of her pretty dress hiding the equally pretty hands within, "We should allow you to freshen up before dinner. Brandt, dear,"

Ryley spoke quickly, "I can take her, Mother,"

Lady Florence gave him a soft but stern look, "That would hardly be appropriate, my love. Besides," she brushed a hand, as soft as a feather, down the cobwebs of my hair. Her touch, gone, before I could even react, "You can give her, if only a moment, alone, in the course of forever."

I didn't allow my shoulders to slump with my relief. Though the lady looked at me sideways, knowing.

The walk down the winding halls was a quiet one. There were few people stationed within the castle, our echoing footsteps seemed the only sound in the North.

Brandt slowed to a halt before a small door, made of a peculiar green wood, looking to be repurposed from a broken wagon or carriage. He threw it open but did not move to enter.

I peeked through the narrow doorway, before ducking inside.

I looked at the stone beneath my boots, then glanced above, then to the arches and walls, and finally to the flickering fireplace. Floor to ceiling brick, looking to have been scrubbed so thoroughly the grayish hues had been turned to a pale inkling of its former color. I would be sure to thank the voiceless woman for her dutifulness.

"My mother picked that out for you," Brandt said, still lingering in the hall. I followed his pointed finger, passed two archways and towards the bed nestled in the back of the tapered room. I could see the charcoal fabric from across the space, in stark contrast to the light of the beddings. "I have no doubt she will fetch you for supper. Try your hardest to appease her, she has always longed for a daughter to dote on."

Something inside me lurched up. Foreign and unwelcomed.

Ignoring both him and it, I ventured deeper into my room, until I reached the beautiful bed, to take in the dress laid over the sheets.

It was… Well, it reminded me of the black leathers I'd left behind, buried deep in my closet back home. Darker than the Northern sky. With a beautiful bodice and sleeves of lace, connected by a full collar of what appeared to be stars, twinkling in the candlelight. I ran a hand, hesitantly, down the skirts, the fabric there shiny and sleek. Silk. To wear this would make me a weapon I had never been before.

"Welcome to the North, General." I looked to the door, right before it clicked shut with Brandt's departure.

Alone at last, my shoulders dropped, posture gone slack without judging eyes.

I picked the dress up with numb fingers and marveled at the feeling of silk over my coarse palms. This dress felt nearly like a happy lie. To slip into it would mean I was to be compared to Lady Florence. To be the vision of elegance and grace, to be respected. I remembered back to her on that throne, how she had taken up nearly all the breath in my lungs.

I had always wished to command a room like my father, with strength and fear. I had never considered there was another way.

As I began removing my soaking clothes, and the chill still in my soul began to simmer away in the heat of the fire, somewhere, far into the snowy mountains, a pack of wolves howled. Their cries, echoing off stone, hungry and vicious. The sound vibrated over my raised skin, hair standing up as their howls grew frantic and desperate, and then were silenced, like a gurgle on the wind. Their hunt complete.

And I picked up the gown.

.

.

.

so there we have it! Please please please give me some feedback. The fate of my sanity depends on it.

Till next time—