Chapter 29 - Sunlight

"Cheers to the Fire Maiden!" Coop toasted, raising his gourd up in the air as everyone did the same and cheered good-heartedly in the firelight, freely expressing their gratitude towards her.

Maeve dipped her head with embarrassment, a small smile stretching her lips despite the cloak of deception that weighted on her shoulders every time they referred to her by that title, every time they believed the prophecy that claimed she was their queen.

The rest of the convoy was still alive. The odds had warned that another third of them would perish before the dangerous trek was over, and yet here they were. Alive.

Coop, Leo, Mark and Simon beamed at her around the campfire, their features alight with silent gratefulness and something akin to pride. Riddled with the impostor syndrome, she had trouble meeting their gleaming gazes, but their genuine happiness was hard to resist.

Nuts and dried beans were passed around, while she and Robin sat side by side close to the fire, seeking the warmth of the flames to dry off. After their little dip in the swamp, they had managed to change into borrowed spare clothes while their own outfits hung over the campfire on sticks to dry, but she still shivered unpleasantly every minute or so, as if the cold had burrowed deep into her bones like fangs and refused to let go.

The heat from the flames did little to fend off the nasty feeling, and she pulled the blanket around her shoulders a little tighter, trying to trap as much warmth into her body as she could while Simon's pale blue gaze surfed on his companions for answers.

"What happened exactly?" he inquired with a frown before biting into an apple. "The crossing was going so smooth at first. How did all hell break loose?"

"That would be her fault," Leisa snarled, tossing her a dark and amused look across the flames.

Maeve rolled her eyes at the accusation, even if she knew the warrior woman was right. The others blinked at her in mild confusion, waiting for an explanation in the gathering bleakness of dawn, until she quietly confessed her mishap. "I could hear the Kawasseas' song."

"Wha-?" Leo nearly choked on his gulp of water, his eyes going wide.

She nodded sheepishly, admitting that she had been the spark that ignited the whole battle. "One of them started singing and I broke free from the convoy to reach her. It was like this thick fog creeped into my brain and she was the only thing that existed. I just had to get to her," she explained, searching the corners of her mind for more details but in vain, as if the fog was still lingering in some of her memories. "I don't recall much of what happened to be honest. The last thing I remember is the wailing scream she let out before she pulled me under the water." Then she turned her head to glance at Robin beside her, meeting his eyes with wordless gratitude in the golden glow of the flames. "And then you pulled me out."

That part she remembered well, the iron grip of his hand around her arm, lifting her back to the surface of the raging waters, saving her life.

He held her gaze in the firelight, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips as a quiet exchange passed between them like an invisible cord. Instead of speaking, he simply leaned his shoulder into hers, an imperceptible gesture to let her know he would gladly jump into a swamp again to rescue her if he had to.

Before she could return his smile though, Coop broke the silence with a smirk, stretching his legs out before him and crossing his arms behind his head to lean back against the tree behind him.

"Well, I rest my case," he declared triumphantly as he grinned at Leo. "I told you the person they sing about can be lured to them."

The young soldier pulled a face at his smug companion, but before he could toss him a reply, Simon cut across them.

"What was she saying?"

Maeve shook of her head cluelessly. "I don't know. The more I try to remember the words the more they fade away." Like a dream one desperately tries to recall, she thought. The only thing she could remember was the sense of urgency that had driven her onward to the Kawassea, as if her words had been bearing some formidable truth that she needed to know at all costs.

But the mermaid's words had vanished as time went by, lost into the shadows of the Blind Mountains.

"Well, it doesn't matter," Mark declared with his gruff voice. "We're all alive thanks to you. It's a miracle."

The others nodded with good-hearted 'ayes', beaming at her once more in the firelight, their happy mood almost contagious.

Since they had crossed the Kawasseas' swamp, there had been a considerable shift in the air amidst the entire convoy, with some soldiers and civilians even happily laughing and humming around the campfires, openly celebrating their victory over the deadly foes of the mountains.

No one seemed to be paying much attention to the amount of noise they were making anymore, and Maeve took that as a sign that they had finally reached a safe point across the foul woods, where no more Skinwalkers or other deadly blind creatures might be lurking about to butcher them.

Even Robin and Leisa's usual wariness seemed to have ebbed away, which was more than reassuring. Perhaps their only remaining enemies would be the darkness and the cold.

At that thought, she pulled the blanket tighter around herself again, a shiver running down her spine despite the heat of the flames that were licking at her hands and her face.

She barely registered it when Robin stood up from his seat next to her, only realizing what he had gone to fetch when she felt the weight of a second blanket drape itself around her shoulders.

"I know you promised to keep me warm, but it doesn't mean I can't return the favor," he jested with a small smirk before sitting back down beside her in front of the fire, a little closer than before so their arms brushed together.

She felt a flush of heat creep up into her cheeks, her tired mind pulling her back to the peace and safety she had felt in his arms a couple of hours ago before they had crossed the Kawasseas' swamp, but she quickly shrugged the memory off and cleared her throat.

"So what else do we have to face before we finally get out of this hell hole?" she asked, hoping to confirm her previous suspicions.

"Nothing," Robin answered plainly, a heavy sigh of relief escaping his lips. "Only rough terrain as we come down the mountain passes, and in a about four days we should be in Denwood."

"Aye," Coop mused longingly. "With sunlight and beaches and music and wine and-"

"An entire village to rebuilt," Leisa cut him off dryly. "I don't think the villagers will be in the mood to celebrate our survival when more than half of their people were butchered like animals by the Blood Raiders."

"On the contrary," Coop protested optimistically. "They've been living with ghosts for two months. I think it's about time someone sprinkled a few smiles into their lives."

"Wait, four days you say?" Leo asked, his brow furrowing as he seemed to count something in his head. "That means we'll arrive on the Night of Yel."

Simon did the mental count as well and nodded to his friend. "You're right."

"What's the Night of Yel?" Maeve asked, wondering what they were talking about.

"It's a holiday we celebrate in Kalladrell," Robin explained. "It's the time of year where we honor those who have passed, deceased family members and friends, ancestors, wandering ghosts, land spirits…"

"The veil between the worlds is thin on that night, and the dead love to stop by for a drink and a dance," Coop added with a smirk.

Maeve smiled fondly, immediately drawing similarities between the Night of Yel and the Celtic holiday of Samhain, where the dead were honored and remembered, which, now that she thought about it, also roughly fell on the same date.

"A lot of trees will be planted this year," Leo observed with sadness while the others nodded in bitter agreement.

"Trees?" she frowned, shivering on her seat.

"Aye," Simon replied, sharing the custom of his homeland. "We plant trees on the graves of our dead, so that every spirit can return to whence they came. Almost every forest on Kalladrell is a Yel Forest, as we call them."

"That's a beautiful tradition," she commented with a smile, appreciating the concept of such a nature-based custom.

"Except the Blind Mountains," Leo grimaced, glancing at the foul trees that surrounded them.

The mood soured a bit at his observation, everyone falling silent for a few moments as the flames crackled and popped between them and darkness slowly faded away in the clammy air, trading its place for the grey dullness of dawn.

They would not be on the move again until midday though, allowing the soldiers and the civilians a few hours of rest, everyone deserving some measure of uninterrupted respite after all the previous taxing days and the frightening crossing of the Kawasseas' swamp.

Sleep did sound like an exquisite gift, but unfortunately for her it was tainted by the possibility of another nightmare, the mere notion of it chilling her to the bones. She had no desire to be plagued by oppressing darkness again, nor to be chased by terrifying blind monsters or to relive the terrible storm that had cast her away…and she didn't want to dream about him.

She was drifting into a cloud of gloom when Mark spoke and pulled her out of her thoughts, changing the subject towards what lay ahead of them in Denwood.

"I guess we'll see the real extent of the damage when we reach the village," he mused with his deep resonant voice. "Robert's tale of the attack doesn't leave much for the imagination, but I'm still hoping it's not as bad as it sounds."

The cold trickled down her limbs in an unsettling tremor as she recalled the raids' nightmarish details which Robert had described to her back in Southampton, the story still pretty vivid in her mind.

"I just hope we'll have time to rebuild enough houses and gather enough provisions before winter arrives," Simon replied across the campfire.

"If we don't then Littleton will provide what we need to make it through the season," Robin reassured as he rubbed his sprained ankle.

"You think their soldiers will be there before us?" Leo wondered.

"They're probably there already. If they got news of the raid around the same time we did and if they weren't delayed on the road, I suppose they must have been in Denwood for a good long week by now, perhaps two."

"They'll have begun the reparations then," Mark pointed out, then stretched his legs out before him and leaned back against the tortuous black tree beside Coop. "Wikken Hells, I can't wait to feel the sun on my face and taste a good pint of fresh ale."

The others beamed in accord, their features lighting up with hope as they all looked forward to finally stepping out of this horrid place and returning to the world of the living.

"We leave in four hours," Robin stated after a few quiet moments. "We should get some sleep until then if we hope to cover as much ground as possible before night falls. The sooner we get out of here the better."

Stiffening slightly where she was seated, Maeve watched as they all stood up and grabbed their bedrolls, spreading out to find nooks and crannies to sleep amidst the trees and the rocks not far from the fire. Only Robin and Simon drifted away deeper into the convoy, to check on the civilians and appoint soldiers on watch, while Leisa decided to join Lobelia to help her tend to the wounded who needed the touch of her Sleyans.

A few moments later and the wicked woods fell quiet, everyone nearby slowly drifting into a peaceful slumber, with only the soft music of crackling flames in the background, accompanied by the occasional twigs snapping under the boot of a patrolling soldier nearby. People began to snore softly, lightly tossing and turning, and breathings evened out under the rhythmical rise and fall of chests under blankets.

But Maeve remained rooted in front of the flames, her focus anchoring on the weeks to come, the end of the nightmarish crossing of the Blind Mountains now unbelievably closer than ever. Only four more days…

Four more days until they would reach Denwood, where at long last she would know what fate had befallen Jacob. Had the prophet healed from his wounds from the raid, or had death claimed him instead? She prayed to the good spirits for the former alternative, yearning for the answers that only he could provide, anything to clear the black morass of questions that kept multiplying since her arrival to Kalladrell.

Dim-Dim's mission had seemed so simple back then…Protect Jacob and defeat the Belrok should the beast arise from the Wikken Hells. A simple two-step assignment…

But everything had gone haywire from the start, rapidly becoming an ugly complicated mess.

She was already more than a month late in rescuing Jacob, the prophet's survival miserably uncertain as it was, a prophecy had coiled around her neck to claim she was a long-lost queen, a war was looming on the horizon with the promise of deadly battles, with an army of Blood Raiders that seemed as vicious as the Skinwalkers…not to mention its powerful king and a Djin Lord lurking somewhere in there…

Jacob could not be dead. There was just too much at stakes.

She needed to know what she was supposed to do.

But what if he was already dead when she reached Denwood?

All her options somehow involved contacting the crew at some point to enlist their help…But right now her blood boiled at the mere thought of him. How could she ever look him in the eye after what she had seen? What he had done?

The simple memory of him felt like tearing a fresh wound open, her fractured heart silently bleeding in her chest as the scene from the guest cabin crawled inside her mind. She still couldn't make sense of any of it, the sting of betrayal and jealousy still too raw and brutal, like a blade lodged in her ribcage.

Breathing deeply, she shut her eyes close and lowered her head into her hands, her fingers digging into her scalp. She didn't want to sleep, didn't want to risk waking up screaming because of another insidious nightmare that would slip into the cracks of her wounded mind.

Was he having trouble sleeping too?

Did he ever dream about her at all?

"Evading sleep?" Robin's voice drifted to her in the stillness of the dark woods, and she looked up to see him emerge from the treeline, limping, and with a load of twisted branches in his arms.

"I'm not tired," she lied, hugging herself against the cold, and instantly aware that he could see right through her as soon as the words left her mouth.

His deep blue eyes anchored on her in the firelight, his weary features creased with gentle concern as he appraised her wordlessly, his entire body imperceptibly tensing for a reason that escaped her.

Returning his attention to the flames, he knelt beside the campfire and added a few tortuous brushwood to the dying logs while she watched him quietly, taking note that he was wearing nothing but a loose blue shirt half tucked into his trousers. No armour. No weapon. Just like when she had rested in his arms before they had crossed the Kawasseas' swamp, the memory of his warmth stirring something within her blood that she did know what to do with.

"Afraid you'll have another nightmare?" he asked, softer this time as he caught her staring at him in the golden firelight.

She blushed, quickly averting her gaze as she felt her cheeks burn crimson, while she cast about for an answer and toyed with the hem of the blankets draped around her. "I don't want to disrupt everyone else's sleep. A lot of people need it more than I do."

If he noticed the heated color of her cheeks he made no teasing comment about it, choosing instead to sit down beside her again, his shoulder pressing against hers.

Heat was radiating off of him like steam, and she could feel it even through the blanket that he proceeded to wrap around himself.

"I can wake you in an hour if you want," he offered in kind, attempting to convince her to rest.

But she shook her head stubbornly. "I'm fine, Robin. You go ahead and sleep."

She looked straight at him then, turning her head to face him in the feeble light of dawn, hoping the direct gesture would lend weight to her words and persuade him she wasn't tired.

He studied her in return like a hawk, penetrating blue eyes flicking over her features to decipher the depth of whatever issues were tormenting her, his wordless scrutiny usually cutting through her shield quite easily.

But this time he did not argue with her.

"As you wish," he conceded with a sigh, sounding almost defeated if not for the small cunning glint that shone in his gentle gaze.

Before she could reply, he scooted backwards until his back pressed against the large trunk of the tree behind them, the side of his outstretched leg lightly bumping against her thigh.

She craned her neck to watch him as he adjusted his blanket, searching for the most comfortable position amongst the tortuous roots until he finally settled down, leaning his head back against the tree and closing his eyes, with his arms snuggly crossed over his chest.

The surrounding woods grew somberly quiet once more, save for the pops and hisses of the flames at her back while her gaze remained riveted on him, half expecting him to tease her.

When he didn't move or speak, she turned back towards the campfire with rising frustration, annoyed at him because she knew exactly what he was trying to do, his implicit invitation knocking at her fragile composure with skilful precision.

But she would not give in. Instead, she sat straighter and glared at the flames, watching them dance and flicker and lick at the dry branches, while she felt the weight of his heavy gaze burning a hole into her back.

She didn't need to sleep.

The only thing she wanted was to purge her mind from what she'd seen in the brook five days ago. The broken images of him with another woman. The stabbing pain of being so easily buried and forgotten as if she was nothing more than a fading ghost.

She would rip them out of her head with her bare hands if she could, claw the memories out of her brain along with everything that bore his name…But they had burrowed too deep, nestling into the dark corners of her mind and taking a life of their own, like baneful spirits pledging to haunt her whenever she closed her eyes.

She wanted to scream, her blood boiling with such helplessness it was almost physically painful to endure.

But she couldn't. Everyone was sleeping, the foul woods quiet as a grave except for the pops and crackles of distant campfires.

The cold nibbled at her fingers, forcing her to pull at the double blankets tighter around herself, hiding her hands into the folds for warmth while the side of Robin's leg exuded heat into her thigh through the fabric of their respective trousers.

She craned her neck to steal a peak at him again, her eyes landing on his peaceful form slumped against the tree, his even breathing telling her he had probably fallen asleep. His brooding features were unburdened when he slept, the traces of the sturdy General faded to oblivion, leaving just the man behind, solid and brave.

Her weeping heart clenched in her chest, the longing tugging at her bones and urging her to surrender to the call of sleep. Was it wrong of her to crave four hours of rest without the fevered nightmares of the man who had cast her off?

She shuddered in the cold air, and her trembling limbs were the jolt she needed to move at last.

Muttering a low curse under her breath, she scooted backwards to where Robin was sleeping, careful not to wake him as she settled beside him against the large twisted trunk, just close enough for the side of their arms to touch, telling herself that she was only seeking his presence so he could quickly pluck her out of a nightmare if she became trapped in one.

She was adjusting the double blankets across her back, wrapping herself up into their feeble warmth like a shell, when she felt him move.

She tensed sharply, freezing like a deer and holding her breath, assuming he was merely adjusting his position. But then he dislodged his arm from beneath her own, lifting it up with the intent of circling it around her shoulder, a wordless invitation that sent her pulse racing beneath her flesh.

For a moment she didn't know whether to smile at him or smack him, fiercely annoyed by the fact that he had known all along she would come to him, that she would return to the sense of safety she was badly seeking, his tangible presence like a beacon to her growing loneliness.

When he didn't open his eyes, even though she knew he was perfectly awake, she surrendered at last and leaned against him, right into the enclosure of his arm, shifting her position slightly in front of him so that her right shoulder pressed over his left one.

When they were both comfortable, with his arm loosely wrapped around her, she rested her head in the crook of his neck and allowed the exhaustion in her body to swallow her whole.

Before she knew it, she was falling into a dreamless sleep.

The crossing of the Blind Mountains was coming to an end, yet strangely enough the last four days were the longest and weariest of all, each painful steps bringing them closer to the safe haven of Denwood, and yet their destination always felt distantly out of reach.

Everyone's stamina was running precariously low, but at least now the only dangers they had to worry about were the risks associated with the precarious terrain under their feet; the steepness of ravines, the slippery quality of rocks and roots, the depth of putrid swamps...Every decision that was made revolved around how best to safely guide all the wounded soldiers and civilians through the maze of dark, crooked trees that jutted everywhere on the arduous trail they were following. Everything involved calculated manoeuvres to pass children from arms to arms, to lower stretchers down rocky cliff sides, to support elders across slimy beds of muddy stones, to refill their supply of fresh water, to ration what was left of their food provisions...

A whole month had passed since the beginning of the terrifying journey, and Maeve was only now fully realizing the insidious impacts the long trek had had on her body. With the constant lack of proper sleep, the constant nibble of hunger, the physical taxation of climbing up and down the mountains every day, she felt like she had melted away and shrivelled in her outfit, as if nothing but lean and tired muscles were left on the frame of her bones.

Soldiers and civilians also looked somewhat emaciated under their clothes as well, not to mention covered with a tenacious layer of dirt and grime from head to toe.

As it was, the entire convoy looked like a procession of beggars. But nothing could have dampened the resilient spark of life in the people's eyes, glowing with the treasured notion that the hellish crossing was almost over, if everyone found the strength to place one foot in front of the other just one more time every day.

Like most people Maeve had trouble believing she was still alive but the blisters on her feet, the splinters in her hands and the numb throbbing of the numerous bruises and scratches on her skin served to remind her that she had indeed survived every grisly step of the journey.

Her most memorable wounds, which she knew would never fully heal, were the scar on her left cheek from the claws of a Skinwalker, the small puncture wounds around her right wrist from the fangs of another blind monster, a couple of nasty scratches on her lower back from the Kawasseas, and the stiff joint of her left shoulder from the clubbed tail of a Borg, which still caused her pain whenever she stretched it too much, even though she no longer needed the support of her sling.

Small prices to pay in return for walking out of the mountains with her life, and to insure she would never forget the terrors that dwelled in their depths.

Peter and Lucas had so far survived their wounds as well, the two brothers rapidly healing along with David's arm. The soldier's wife, Ally, had also remained fairly unscathed save for a sprained wrist, and little Rose and Sam, just like every other child in the convoy, were miraculously unharmed. That alone, was the biggest victory of the entire crossing of the Blind Mountains.

Robert Thomet still sported a nasty scratch above one eye but the fire of revenge still burned fiercely in his gaze, and Lobelia the healer had nothing but a single broken toe.

Robin was still slightly limping, the gash on Simon's flank was getting better everyday, Mark's wound on his thigh was completely healed, while Leo and Coop, the only ones still relatively unharmed amongst their little group, were now betting on who would finish the trek without a scratch, forcing them to be overly careful with each step they took.

Leisa was also untouched but Maeve figured that didn't count, because even if the Radakeel had been wounded, she seemed to have an extraordinary resistance to pain, suppressing it behind her usual expressionless mask along with every other human emotion she was hiding in there, so there was no way to tell whether the black-leathered woman was hurt or not. But Maeve would bet her life that she wasn't.

Most annoyingly though, the warrior woman didn't even look tired, as if the hardships of the crossing had completely spared her, her beautiful feline features as perfect as when they had first stepped into the mountains a month ago, while Maeve looked like a dog that had rolled in the mud all day.

Even her thick mane of dark braids with their red tips was still neatly tied up behind her head and flowing down her back like elegant waves of lava.

It was mildly frustrating, and Maeve was just about to ask the Radakeel what her secret was when she missed a step and bumped into Robin's back, not realizing that he had momentarily stopped on the downward crooked trail.

She quickly caught her balance as he pointed in the distance through the black trees, his entire body seeming to slump with formidable relief. "Look…"

Maeve followed his finger as everyone slowed down to a halt behind them, and what she saw was the most beautiful thing she had glimpsed in a long, long time.

Sunlight.

Catching sight of the same wondrous thing, people gasped down the trek line, tugging at their friends' sleeves to point ahead where the Blind Mountains were finally ending.

"We made it," Leisa smirked by her side, and it was as close to a genuine smile as Maeve had ever seen on the Radakeel's face.

In response, Robin leaned on the warped rotten tree beside him, looking numbly overwhelmed by it all as if the immeasurable weight he had been valiantly carrying for the past month was finally lifted. The bright smile that stretched his lips was as beautiful as the distant rays of sunshine down the sinuous trail, and the sight of him so radiantly happy made her grin widely back at him in response, the sensation foreign on her lips as she could not remember the last time she herself had smiled like this, so carefree and unburdened.

The excitement quickly rose in the morning air, with cheers echoing down the convoy like long-awaited prayers answered at last, invigorating everyone for the last expanse of ground left to cover before freedom.

Still smiling, Robin quickly pushed himself back into motion. "Come on," he urged her. "Let's get out of this nightmare."

She followed after him, with Leisa right on her heels as they carefully maneuvered down the crooked path, the enticing sunlight growing closer and closer with every tired step they took, heading towards the destination they had painfully dreamed of all this time.

Soon she found herself catching glimpses of green grass, and the fragmented pieces of a clear blue sky could be seen through the canopy of dead leaves above their heads, the murky trees gradually clearing and spacing out the closer they got to salvation while the mud on the ground gradually dried up as well.

Everyone picked up the pace, with renewed strength and stamina fueling their weary limbs, desperate to cover the last remaining yards separating them from the long-awaited safety they had bravely won after all the grisly ordeals they had suffered through.

When they finally emerged outside the deadly Blind Mountains into the green fields beyond, the shock of the transition was something Maeve would never be able to fully describe.

The sun blinded them all, forcing them to squint and use their hands as shields to cover their eyes. The air cleared, fresh and pure inside her lungs, like a thick fog lifting from the world after a storm. The wind ruffled her loose hair, the cold of autumn biting into her flesh and making her feel more alive than ever before.

Behind her at the edge of the Blind Mountains, the valiant souls of the convoy poured out of the dark cursed woods one by one, crossing the abrupt boundary that marked the beginning of the bright green field on the other side, with people dropping to their knees, falling into each other's arms and shedding tears of both exhaustion and joy as soon as they were out of the chilling darkness.

Packs were dropped to the ground like dead weights, soldiers slumping to the grass to lay on their back while others lively shouted and cheered at the clear sky above their heads, and the children carelessly hopped all around the fresh grass, laughing and squealing under the bright sunlight, the monsters of the mountains banished at last.

It was a bizarre sight to behold, to see so many haggard, muddy faces suddenly bathed in bright golden light, with the sun catching in people's hair and glinting off swords, as if it was bringing everything and everyone back to life after a long endless night of torment and terrors.

They were alive. They had survived.

She had survived.

Battered and bruised all over, Maeve dropped her backpack at her feet, its uncomfortable weight lifted from her sore shoulders at last, and she threw her head back and closed her eyes, reveling in the heat of the sun upon her face like the touch of a dearly missed loved one.

She breathed deeply, as deeply as she could to fill her lungs with the crisp morning air and the scent of fresh grass, while her ears picked up on the distant chirps of birds in the luxurious trees at the end of the field, blending with the lively shouts of elation from Coop and Simon as they exchanged bear hugs with Mark and Leo in pure joy, the brave men barely able to contain their emotions in the midst of such a formidable moment.

It was music to her ears.

They had made it out of the Blind Mountains.

She had survived. She was alive.

And yet…

She opened her eyes again, adjusting her fragile vision to the bright sunlight after a whole month plunged into oppressing darkness, and she took note of the colorful leaves that dotted the trees around the rolling hills in the distance, the season of fall already well on its way and spreading its beautiful mantle upon the land of Kalladrell.

She was alive, and yet she couldn't help but feel like a part of her had died within the mountains, as if a piece of herself was still lost somewhere in the dark wicked woods…a small fragment of her soul…discarded by the lonely brook where her heart had been broken…

The insidious feeling was enough to taint her appreciation of Kalladrell's beautiful scenery of autumn colors, but her brooding was soon interrupted by someone behind her, the lively sounds of celebration strangely lowering to a distant hush.

"Your Grace." A man spoke, and when she turned around in confusion, she froze right where she stood, the wind struck from her chest.

Soldiers and civilians were bending the knee to her again, the motion rippling into the green field like it had in the Blind Mountains, and with Robert Thomet at the head of the crowd once more, the one who had spoken, addressing her with a decorum that ignited a flare of protest in her blood.

Words failing her, her eyes flicked to the side of the crowd to find purchase on Robin, hoping he would come to her aid like he had in the deadly woods the first time the convoy had made such a display of reverence, but his gaze was simply heavy with pride.

When he made a move to kneel like all the others though, with Leisa, Simon, Mark, Leo and Coop about to follow him in the process, her voice rang over the crowd.

"Don't!" she blurted out, the words spilling from on her lips as she stared wide eyed at him, unable to conceive that he, the brave and valiant General of Southampton, would ever kneel to her.

Her pleading command was enough to stop him, and when he remained standing with the others beside him, awkwardly waiting for what she would say or do, she quickly turned to the rest of the convoy. "Please, all of you, stand up."

Everyone blinked at her in confusion, exchanging puzzled glances and hushed whispers, while Robert remained frozen in place like a statue, refusing to stand. Shoulders squared and dark green eyes alight with resolve, he addressed her once again.

"One man out of three makes it out alive of the Blind Mountains. Those are the odds," he declared, loud enough for everyone to hear him. "Yet two thirds of our party survived the crossing. Because of you. Wherever you go, my Queen, we will follow you."

Maeve stared at him, completely frozen and crushed by inadequacy, the impostor syndrome blazing in her veins.

She wasn't the Fire Maiden. The prophecy was wrong.

Mind racing like a storm, she surveyed the numerous battered faces spread at her feet, waiting for her speak, with faith brimming in their eyes like she was the ultimate effigy of their salvation.

When Robin had dismissed such a display of reverence the last time, in the depth of the mountains, everyone had followed his order without question.

But he had merely postponed the inevitable.

People wanted answers now, expected her to address the elephant in the room, which she had carefully avoided all this time.

She had to say something. Anything. She couldn't let them believe a lie.

"I know you all believe I'm your long-lost queen…" she began unsteadily, her throat knotting with anguish. "…I'm not. I'm just a simple woman from the North who happens to know a little bit of magic..."

She heard Coop huff on the side of the crowd, the roguish man clearly disagreeing with her statement while the rest of the soldiers and the civilians continued to gawk at her with wide eyes filled with hope. The sight made her heart clench painfully in her chest as her veins pulsed with quiet despair, and she had to swallow thickly before she could continue to speak.

"I'm not who you think I am," she repeated with an apologetic shake of her head. "But I know you're afraid…I know the shadows of war are looming on the horizon and that you fear the Blood Raiders will return and destroy your homes."

The crowd raptly listened to her, as if everyone was committing every word she was speaking to memory, while she stood before them completely paralysed.

But then she glanced at Robin, and at the others who stood firmly by his side, Leisa, Simon, Coop, Mark, Leo…the brave souls who had believed in her every step of the way across the deadly Blind Mountains.

The look in their eyes momentarily shook her, their faith in her almost palpable in the crisp autumn air. There was such certainty etched into their features…such conviction and such fortitude…It both terrified and emboldened her, and suddenly her sense of inadequacy was merging with a fierce protectiveness, a strange, overwhelming combination that somehow gave her enough courage to face the silent plea stamped on everyone else's weary features. A plea for help…

She could not yet bring herself to believe in the prophecy, nor could she accept the crown they were blindly thrusting upon her. But hope was something she could give them.

"I'm afraid I can't live up to whatever expectations you have of me…" she gently declared, apologizing to the small ocean of people at her feet before her voice hardened with resolve and she lifted her chin. "But prophecy or not, I promise you, I'll do anything I can to help you fight off those invaders and protect Kalladrell."

It was all as she could give them.

Hope.

It wasn't much, but it was enough, and as she held her breath in her lungs with apprehension, relieved smiles soon spread across the muddy faces of her audience, her devoted words filling everyone with newfound strength, but before the momentum could gather too much speed though, she quickly spoke again to make a plea of her own.

"In return," she said firmly, addressing the whole convoy in the sunlight, although her gaze mostly anchored on Leisa, Coop, Simon, Leo, Mark, and finally Robin. "I ask that none of you ever kneel in front of me. Not after everything we just went through together in the Blind Mountains."

Her voice trailed in the air, her command looming above the soldiers and the civilians like some unfathomable request they could not seem to fully grasp and comprehend.

"That's an order," she added awkwardly, hoping it would settle the matter even though the words felt clumsy and foreign in her mouth.

A cloud of silence continued to float above the crowd, but then Robert Thomet's bearded face curved into a proud, satisfied smirk, which told her he would heed and respect her unusual demand.

At last, the man stood up to his full height before her, the rest of the convoy soon following in his wake beneath the clear blue sky. He dipped his head in reverence, appraising her for a few brief seconds as if measuring the truth of her words, and then his voice echoed with vibrant contentment. "Thank you, Your Grace."

And just like that, everyone was back to their feet, basking in the bright sunlight and enjoying the taste of freedom, with whispers of gratitude filling her ears as people beamed at her.

She was half a mind to utter another request not to be addressed by anything other than her name, and not by some royal titles, but she reasoned there would be another time and place for that later.

When her gaze landed back on Leisa and the others standing by the crowd, the deep pride and respectful trust that lined their familiar features nearly knocked her over. They were looking at her as if they were deeming her worthy of everything they believed in, and it sent a warm flutter of valor down her limbs as she returned their smiles with a small dip of her head.

Then she sought Robin's gaze, finding purchase in the depth of his blue eyes like she always did, to draw strength from his sturdy presence.

Vibrantly alive, the sight of him made her heart swell in her chest, with comfort and warmth suddenly rushing in her blood and filling her deepest wounds, the ones she knew would not heal anytime soon.

The longing in her bones thrummed with the temptation to go to him, but her rational mind warned her not too, like a tiny voice in the back of her head ringing with caution. Because if she trusted her broken heart, she knew she would be playing a dangerous game…one she was not sure she would win…

But he was already marching towards her, blue eyes alight with a storm of emotions she could not quite name, and she melted in his arms right away, holding on tight to him as the formidable weight of the crossing of the Blind Mountains was lifted from his shoulders and the tension bled out of him like steam into the morning air, the honorable General who had fulfilled his duty at last, bringing his people to safety.

She didn't know how long they remained in each other's arms, nor who was holding who in the end, but as she marveled at the coppery colors of the trees in the distance, she silently braced herself for the next step of her journey.

Where the road would lead her to the village of Denwood.

"The rest of the world was black and white

But we were in screaming color

And I remember thinking

Are we out of the woods yet?"

—Taylor Swift