I told you it would be soon!

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Bleach or its characters

Lets hop in-

The sway of my horse was nauseating. The way his legs went so deep in the snow he would have to shift to the side in order to take the next step. After eight days of riding from post to post, I found myself swearing I would never ride a horse again. I hated it nearly as much as the cold, to which I cursed twice as strongly. Yet, no matter how much I seethed and raged, the snow was always there to meet me come morning.

"You holding steady, Heir?" Cuyler asked, his own horse having no trouble matching pace with mine. He laughed when he took in my face, "I'm afraid green does not become you."

"I will remember that the next time I am given the choice between horse or carriage." I fought the urge to close my eyes as I settled the uneasiness of my stomach. "I think I'd prefer walking to this trotting, regardless of how much faster it is."

He chuckled, "Never found yourself on the back of a horse much in the Capital?"

"Never needed one. Cities are meant to be strolled through."

He brought his gloved hand up to brush the snow from the stubble on his cheeks, "Looking back on it, I don't remember seeing a single horse during any of my trips there."

"We keep a stable right below the Courts but we only have need of them for travel and war. My father tries his best to avoid either." I said.

"It is hard for a King to leave his palace. The best place for one is on their throne."

Or in their grave.

I shook the traitorous thought from my head before they could be read on my face. "And what a comfortable throne it must be."

"You should hope so, you'll be the one sitting on it one day." He reminded me, as if I could forget.

I nearly laughed but thought better of it, "First I must survive, Cuyler, you know that."

Cuyler shrugged a shoulder, a devilish grin on his mouth, "You've always been hard to kill, I doubt an Inbetweener is destined to defeat you in battle."

"Who said anything about dying in battle." I watched as his grin turned slightly down at the corners. If I would die before the king's blood was drained, it would be caused by the discovery of my treason. And I would be executed in the very arena where I had won the right to live.

"How cynical you are, Bellator. How you've changed since the South."

"Well, I was a mere girl then,"

"You are still a girl now. Just with harder eyes and a braver tongue." He said.

I met his gaze steadily, "And are those the only changes you have noticed in me?"

His eyes flicked down to my mouth before returning to mine, the glance so minuscule that I almost missed it. He sighed and looked ahead, "All women change as often as the moon, I can hardly keep track of them all."

I smiled into the wind. "That explains it then."

We were silent for a few minutes, and I had taken to nuzzling my face into the wool scarf around my neck, thoughts drifting to sunshine and hot stone beneath my feet when he said quietly, "I wish you had remained that young girl."

I ignored the flare of shame that swelled, I didn't know where it came from or why but it was pungent and unwelcomed. "So do I."

"I don't think I've said it but I'm sorry about your engagement. It's an outdated political tactic, and you deserve better."

I swallowed thickly, "Better than your brother?"

"Better than us all."

I did not know if he meant all his brothers, or all the men in the world. I doubted it would make a difference given my circumstances.

"If it had to be someone I am lucky it was Ryley. Glad for it even."

Cuyler shook his head and sighed with a huff of fogged breath, "My little brother has a natural talent of getting under people's skin. He does it so naturally, so slowly, that no one notices he's there until they can no longer rid themselves of him. I worried when our father selected him for you."

"Worried for him or for me?"

He struggled to find the right words, and even when he began speaking he still sounded unsure, "Just worried. That he'd underestimate you, or you'd overestimate him." He paused, "You're right, you were just a girl when I'd known you, and just from knowing you then, I could only imagine what you had grown to be since the war. Maybe I was worried because I didn't know what to expect."

It was odd to know that while he had been thinking so deeply about me and how I'd aged, I had been so thoroughly in the dark about all of it. Where had I been when Luca had picked his youngest son to marry me? Had I been training the recruits as I had everyday for months, had I been sitting in a meeting with the council of coin? Had I been cutting the head off a merchant's shoulders, listening to his children scream for mercy? Or had that happened after... I could hardly keep track anymore.

"Do I meet the highest of your expectations or your lowest?"

I don't know why it mattered, what difference it would make to really know what he thought of me after all this time. I still had not decided for myself where to place Cuyler and his loyalties. All I knew was that something inside me craved his approval. And even if he had abandoned me to be butchered in the South, that part of me would remain.

"It's hard to say for sure. Sometimes I look at you and see what I'd seen in the war; veracity, ruthlessness, a cunning mind and a deep void where emotions should be." The words cut me, stabbing deep. And it was no longer the cold that burned my throat or stung my eyes. "And then the wind will shift, and I'll see you as I see you now. When your eyes reflect so much that I feel as if I will surely drown in them. And in those small moments you seem so fragile, so young that it nearly knocks the wind out of me." He rubbed at his face again, and I started to think it was a nervous tick, reserved for when he didn't know what to do with his hands, "I don't know which girl to believe. I don't know which one truly exists."

I had to clear my throat, swallowing past the thick swell clogging it, "As you say, I change as often as the moon shifts, so can I not be both the soft wind and the raging hurricane? Must I choose between them to be considered real?"

Cuyler smiled, kindly, yet small, "I don't know if any man could survive a woman who is both."

I did not know what I expected from him, but I was disappointed as I dug my heels in, to push my horse faster, to leave him and his too small smile behind.

"Then perhaps what the world needs, is less weak men."

There were no rooms in the watchtowers. They were wide and tall with spiral staircases that took you from bottom to top, with six floors where slits were cut from the stone to watch the landscape for attack. We were lucky that we were traveling with small numbers and we could all pack ourselves in with the fires. It was cramped but warm, which is all any of us could hope for.

There were 4 men outside with the last of the witchfire, the cart was close to empty now that we were nearing our last stop on our journey before returning to the castle but I still peeked my head out a few times an hour, to be sure it was still there.

Though if I was being honest, I spent most of my time trying to keep my eyes open.

Sleep had somehow become a lost luxury, regardless that I was always so exhausted from long days riding, and Cuyler was sure to give the men plenty of time to relax. Every time I allowed myself to lull to sleep, the vividness of my dreams had me waking as if I'd been running all night.

I wrapped myself in furs, and settled myself against the wall, the heat from the fire caressing my numb nose and cheeks. The men were passing around a bottle of whiskey, and by the time it circled its way to me it was nearly empty. I took a large swig, maybe it would knock me into so deep a sleep that no dreams could find me.

Randy, a northerner who seemed to hate the quiet, rattled through a story of a maiden who ventured far into the sea, never coming up for air again. I tried to focus on his words, the harder I tried the less I heard. I stared into the flickering of the fire, the swirl of the light along the stone walls around us.

I wondered how quickly the fire would burn away my skin if I hovered my hand above it. If I would feel the heat, or if it would just feel cold like the ice outside.

Morbid thoughts Other,

I flinched away from the wall, and Cuyler leaned forward across the fire, his eyes searching my face. I shook my head at him. The other men kept on with their conversations, without even a pause. I took a clearing breath and forced myself to settle back down.

I told you to stop doing that

You're thoughts called to me, and yet I am blamed for it

I nearly rolled my eyes, then remembered I was not alone. Cuyler's gaze was on Randy as the man weaved his story, but I knew his attention was still on me. I closed my eyes as I thought back, Ancient witch and you can't resist a few random thoughts. No wonder whisperers are kept low in the witch monarchy.

Her presence seemed to grow inside my head, I pressed my head against my knees as my temples throbbed. I swallowed past the whimper in my throat.

Tiny Heir thinks she's big, Rukia seethed, these thoughts are not your own and yet you demand privacy. The pain slowly slid away, and I shuttered a breath. You have spent too long beside the witchfire, and it has taken a liking to the chaos of your mind, you must be alert or it will consume you

It can see my thoughts?

Simple minded, girl. To think the witchfire only as destructive is to blind yourself to the truth of it, she began, The true power of witchfire is to give its user knowledge, by doing so it can reflect an image into your mind. Now that image can be you as a Queen, basking in riches and men, or it can be worms sliding their way down your throat, choking you to death. I shuttered, to be unaware of its presence will only allow it to seed its way deeper into your mind. Until you do not know where its influence ends and your own consciousness begins.

I surveyed the cramped space, taking in the faces of those around me, So it could be influencing all of them?

Likely not. It would hardly bother with common soldiers, when those with power are readily available

My eyes snapped to Cuyler, Is he-

I know nothing of the Soldiers mind, only yours. And I find traces of witchfire entangled in you, it would be wise to suspect it's taken hold of him too

The planes of his face were relaxed as he smiled and laughed and drank with his men. Could the witchfire truly be lurking behind his eyes? Him and I were the only ones in our travel group that had made the journey from the West to the North, witchfire in tow. And now here we were again, travelling with it, marching beside it, laying it in the traps and igniting it to blow the mountains.

What would it be telling him, showing him?

I can hardly predict it. Depending on what it wants from him, perhaps showing him a way to accomplish his goals, maybe compelling him to act on his darkest desires or how to defeat his enemies in battle, her voice faded slightly near the end, then came back fully, Tell me, Tiny Heir, do you often wish to burn your skin off?

Who doesn't?

Rukia didn't seem to sense my humor. And truthfully I wasn't sure if I was joking in the slightest. I had teetered on the edge of my balcony, craving the rush of impact, too many times in my life for me to be of sound mind. Fire, on the other hand, seemed one of the worst ways to go.

Stay clear of it.

Her essence was gone without clarifying which fire she was referring to. Regardless, I now kept my attention on everything but the bonfire before me, turning my gaze instead to Cuyler; who seemed to have settled a bit.

He seemed normal enough, and had not done anything so far in our journey to make me think otherwise. I studied the sharp ridge of his jaw, and the bulkiness of his shoulders and wondered what sort of dark desires a man like him kept hidden.

His gaze snapped over to me, and I held his stare. The fire between us seemed to flair in response and the others shrinked back, but not us.

Cuyler's eyes narrowed slightly, deep in thought, then jerked his head toward the door. Without a word to those around him, he stood up, tucked his wolf fur cloak around his front and disappeared out the door. Just from the brief moment the door was opened, the room dropped significantly in heat.

I did not want to follow Cuyler out into the snow, I wanted to ignore his existence and stay huddled in the warmth. Even if he was being slowly corroded by the witchfire like Rukia suspects, even if it had told him to venture out deep into the mountains so the wolves could feast on his bones, I would not follow.

I made it only five minutes before I growled under my breath, and excused myself from our party. Hoping none of the men wondered where I was going, or where their heir had gone.

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