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The door slammed shut, and Ashryn stumbled backwards into a chair, bracing her elbows on the table and letting her head fall heavily into her palms. There was an abandoned pitcher of wine just within reach, which would have been a shame to waste, so Ashryn took a drink straight from the pitcher.

She couldn't believe herself.

Her head was spinning, her left foot tapping anxiously against the floor as she replayed her words over and over again.

She couldn't believe herself. Leave me? Where had the courage for that come from?

Another deep swig of wine followed the first, some spilling onto the table as Ashryn's hands shook. Her stomach was roiling from the alcohol and lack of food, so she promptly took another few sips.

Candor would be furious. He would not have predicted how poorly she would react – she had not expected it herself. Cassian probably would never speak to her again.

The pitcher was empty. Ashryn pushed it off the table in disgust, relishing the harsh metallic clang on the floor.

The door clicked open, to which she responded with a garbled groan, dropping her head fully onto the table.

A hand smoothed back some hair from her face, and Ashryn cracked open an eye to find Legolas, coolly sympathetic, crouching beside her. "What happened to you?"

Ashryn waved vaguely at the pitcher on the floor.

"You drank the strongwine," Legolas observed drily, to which Ashryn responded by closing her eyes.

"I told him to 'leave me'", she whispered, horrified.

Expectant silence.

"Ugh." She flopped her arm back onto the table. "I hate him. I hate everything."

"I do believe you are drunk," Legolas mused picking up the pitcher and returning it onto the tabletop gently.

Ashryn nodded against the table. "I am now."

The prince exhaled, something between a chuckle and a sigh. "Come on."

She stumbled to her feet as Legolas wrapped a hand around her waist, toeing open the door with a foot. "I can't believe what I said to him," she muttered as they ventured into the hallway, Legolas supporting more than half her weight. "'Leave me.' What was I thinking?"

Legolas shrugged. "I would have done the same."

Blinking blearily up at him, Ashryn noted the firelight glinting in his eyes. "Would you also have immediately gone and drunk a whole pitcher of wine after?"

A laugh. "Perhaps two," Legolas teased, shifting to take her weight better as she stumbled against him. "It was a fine vintage. My father's favourite."

"It was!" Ashryn agreed, too loudly. "And it was just sitting there, which is such a waste, and it would have been horrible to just leave it there…" Pausing, Ashryn stared blankly at her feet tripping over the ground every other step before gasping. "Do you think there was another pitcher?"

Bemused, the prince smiled fondly down at her as they turned a corner, descending. "I'm sure there was, my lady."

Ashryn frowned. "Maybe I will go back tomorrow."

"If you wish," Legolas held her closer his side as they crossed a narrow bridge, the drop sheer on both sides. Ashryn tripped over both her skirt and her own feet as they crossed, causing the prince to swear under his breath, much to her amusement.

"Wait!" Ashryn suddenly realised, pulling them both to a stop in a moment of shocking lucidness and dexterity.

Legolas raised an expectant eyebrow.

"I don't live here!" she declared.

"No, you don't," he agreed, tugging at her gently to get her moving again. "I do."

"Oh." Some steps. "Why am I here then?"

"Because," Legolas explained patiently, "you are going to have a very bad day tomorrow, and in my professional opinion, you will need a lot of taking care of."

"Oh." That seemed clear enough. Ashryn nodded at him to show her approval, receiving a bemused glance in return as they continued downward, the stone walls closing around them to form a tunnel before opening up again, all of a sudden, into an ante chamber illuminated by firelight, rugs lining the floor. "Rugs!" On command, Ashryn's knees gave way so she could collapse onto the floor.

"No!" Legolas stumbled under her weight, reaching out to grab her before she hit the ground, but Ashryn slipped out of his grasp and pressed herself fully against the soft rug in one fluid motion, leaving the prince staring down at her in exasperation.

"Ashryn."

"Soft!"

"Come on, Ashryn." Legolas knelt beside her, tugging at her hand. "Time for this later."

Digging her chin into the carpet so that she could star balefully up at him, Ashryn huffed. "Are you sure?"

"Positive." Legolas pulled her to her feet, "come."

The next room was dimmer, lit only by the candles behind, but Ashryn made out a four-poster bed at the far end, made neatly. They stopped beside the bed, dark in the flickering light, and the prince nudged her forward. "Here." Settling her down against the headboard, he drew the sheets back, and with some prompting, Ashryn curled herself into a ball in the middle of the bed, her head only just on the pillow.

Legolas tucked her in, shaking his head fondly. "Do you need anything?"

"Wine?"

"Drunkard," Legolas told her, accusingly.

"Only slightly intoxicated," Ashryn slurred back at him.

"Go to bed," he suggested, brushing a hand over her forehead. "I will be nearby if you need me."

"Mhm," she muttered into the pillow, eyes shutting. Three was a soft rustle as Legolas turned to leave, but a sudden realisation had Ashryn shooting out a hand to grab his. "Wait!"

He turned slowly; the panes of his face sharp in the flickering light.

"Thank you."

A smile flashed across his face, and Legolas drew a thumb over her hand gently. "You're welcome." Her hand was set back on the bed softly, and the prince left the room. Alone, Ashryn let the darkness blanket her mind, and drifted to sleep.

She woke abruptly, to hazy surroundings, an alien bed and stabbing pains. Immediately, panic rose, but Ashryn forced herself to stamp it down.

It was dark. The only light came from a crack in the door, and Ashryn slowly took stock of her body. Her head ached. Nausea was roiling in her stomach. There was a twinge in her ankle, but she seemed in full control of her limbs. Her knives were still strapped to her thighs, the straps digging harshly into her flesh. She was wearing the same dress she wore to the meeting.

Slowly, Ashryn slipped her hand down to free one knife from its sheath, careful not to make any sound as she filtered through her memories. The meeting. The argument. And the consuming haze.

A flash of fear. She had been poisoned. Had she been overpowered? Was she being held at Candor's manor to assure her compliance?

She did not recognise the room. She could be anywhere.

Her shoes were still on her feet. Gently, Ashryn worked them free, rolling her ankles to check their movement. Acceptable.

She was in bad shape. Every movement threatened to split her head or make her hurl up her guts, but Ashryn made herself move.

One bare foot touched the ground, and then another. The floor was stone, and bitterly cold. In a swift, excruciating movement, Ashryn escaped the blankets and crouched onto the ground, swallowing down a retch.

Time for that later.

Fear amplified the beating of her heart, the sound harsh in her ears as she moved through the room, careful to be quiet as she took the second knife in hand, walking as slow as possible as to minimise the swish of her skirts.

Angling the knife against the crack of the door, Ashryn could just see in the reflection something that looked like a chair, and leather boots crossed over its arm. She could hear a soft rustling of paper, also. Only one. Her head was throbbing with pain. The nausea was mounting as Ashryn fought to control her breathing, steadying her hands. Only one that I can see. She would have to risk it.

She didn't trust her aim. She would have to shock whoever her guard was just long enough to incapacitate them, and then – and then – what? Flee? In her condition?

Another harsh stab of pain in her head clouded her vision as Ashryn blinked back tears. She didn't have enough time. She would have to take it in steps.

The door opened outwards.

Ashryn took a steadying breath – angled her knives – and with all her strength, kicked the door open.

Bang.

The door caught the leg of a delicate table, and something went crash – but Ashryn wasn't looking. She knew the light would blind her, but she knew by reference where her target was, and one knife slashed up, the other one down, in a classic move to catch her opponent unawares, hoping, praying, to make contact –

"Ashryn!"

Something caught her left wrist, wrenching hard. There was a harsh scrape as her right knife cut only stone, and her left fell from her grasp, landing soundlessly. She couldn't see – she was on the ground, her left elbow stinging, the rest of her body cushioned by a soft rug. There was a stinging pain in her foot, another in her side.

"What are you doing?" Someone was shaking her. That wasn't a good idea.

A retch as Ashryn curled onto her side, the pain clouding her mind. She had lost.

Anger gave way to concern. The hands on her shoulders were no longer digging in. "Ashryn?"

She blinked the lights from her eyes.

"Legolas?"

The prince tossed aside her knife, swearing as he took her in. Confusion now mixed with the pain.

"Did you poison me?"

"Did I what?" Legolas angry and shocked and almost fearful. "Why would you ask me that? Why would you attack me?"

The room came into focus. She was lying on a rug. There – the chair she had spotted, the one that had held Legolas. A vase had shattered. She was half under a table, shifted by the door she had kicked open. There was glass everywhere. That explained her foot. Another wave of pain hazed violently through her head, and Ashryn retched hard – but there was nothing but bile which she swallowed back, burning as it went back down. Tears came, unbidden. "I've been poisoned," she choked out. "I thought -"

"Elbereth," Legolas breathed, swearing. "I should have realised you would be disoriented. You were drunk, Ashryn."

A moment of disbelief. "I know how it feels to be poisoned, Legolas." She paused to let another wave of nausea pass. "I thought I had been abducted. Why would you take me from my home?"

"Now is not the time!" Legolas snapped at her, "you're bleeding."

"I know that!" Ashryn batted aside his hand. There was a shard of glass in her left foot, another in her side, but she had to prioritise. "I need my supplies. The wine was poisoned -" She couldn't stop the bile this time. It came up, burning and bitter, onto the stone. Some caught the carpet.

"You need a healer!" Legolas was almost frantic. "Why aren't you wearing shoes? We have to move you off all this glass -"

"No! Listen to me." The pain was consuming. "I need supplies. I need to know what was in the wine. I -"

"You need a healer." She had never seen Legolas so panicked. "Wait."He sprung to his feet, heading down the corridor at a sprint.

Wait. Ashryn would do no such thing. Blood was seeping into her side and dripping down her foot, and she was quickly feeling light-headed. She had to categorise her symptoms, she had to –

Darkness.


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