A/N: It was a little tricky trying to mesh AoS canon with fairytale logic and medieval science, but hopefully it works okay.

Enjoy!

Daisy's departure the next morning was the only thing that was able to distract Fitz from Jemma, but even then having her so close beside him, her head leaning against him as they waved to Daisy in her carriage as it pulled away, was almost torturous for Fitz. It seemed impossible to him that even yesterday his only reaction to Jemma had been that she was his best friend, but now at just the sight of her, Fitz longed to be close to her, to hold her in his arms as he had on the ballroom floor, to press his lips against hers…

No. That couldn't happen. That could never happen. He was cursed. They were cursed.

But Daisy's goodbye was still extremely difficult for Fitz, regardless of how preoccupied he was. Daisy had already packed up her belongings and taken everything out of her alcove under the steps before the ball, returning books to the king who insisted that she keep her favorite.

The goodbyes were done that morning in the privacy of Dame Isobel's parlor. The queen had commissioned a gorgeous set of stationary for Daisy to write letters with, Dame Isobel had made her a parcel of cookies for the journey home, and Lady Mackenzie and Bobbi had embroidered her a cushion with a rose and crown overlaying a shield, the shield representing Lincoln, the crown Daisy, and the rose a reference to the flowers that Lincoln often brought her from the gardens. Mack had come to Daisy with a plan that the next time the cavalry happened to be nearby, he and Lincoln would "accidentally" get lost for a week or so and just happen to end up at her palace.

For their part, Jemma and Fitz almost immediately after discovering that Daisy was going to have to leave began brainstorming ideas and eventually decided to make her a jacket perfectly in line with the style of the day and therefore acceptable for her to wear in any company, but with the added features of waterproofing so Daisy wouldn't have to worry about rain when escaping from various ladies-in-waiting, an extra lining to keep Daisy warm in her palace which was apparently drafty and much too cold, and a few secret inside pockets so she could hide letters from Lincoln or any other personal effects she preferred to keep private.

Daisy had been incredibly grateful for everything, except for Lance's absence, the knight having disappeared that morning and never returned.

The entire group had eventually moved away to allow Lincoln to say his goodbye, and he had presented Daisy with a silver, heart-shaped locket set on a slight chain long enough that it could be hidden under her clothing if necessary. Inside, Lincoln had placed a rose petal and a small scrap of paper with a message that brought tears to Daisy's eyes as she threw her arms around her fiancé.

Eventually the couple had to be separated so Daisy could leave. The entire troupe escorted her to the palace steps where they almost literally ran into Lance.

In a rare display of gentleness, Lance had apparently stopped to pick Daisy a bouquet of the wildflowers that grew down near the river, and these he presented to her with a flourish, tucking one behind her ear as he kissed her forehead. A few tears slipped down Daisy's cheeks.

There were hugs and then even more hugs until a cough from the carriage driver sent Daisy down the steps, her gifts already having been stowed away, and into the carriage. As soon as the door was shut behind her, she poked her head and an arm out the window to shout goodbyes and wave as the vehicle pulled away and drove down the lane to the main road.

"I can't believe she's gone," Jemma said from against Fitz's shoulder, her head tilted up so her breath tickled against his throat, making him shiver.

"Me either," Fitz replied, struggling to keep his voice normal. "But we'll stay in touch, and my father will disown me if we don't invite her back for Christmas."

Fitz and Jemma shared a smile, remembering Daisy's exuberant singing of Christmas carols that she insisted the entire group partake in.

"It's just, I've gotten so used to having her around," Jemma continued, her expression downcast.

"And I'm not enough for you?" Fitz said sarcastically without thinking. Fitz instantly regretted his words as Jemma didn't respond. There were definite connotations with Fitz's words that he really didn't want to face.

"Fitz, I-"

"I was just teasing," Fitz interrupted hurriedly, not wanting to hear what Jemma was going to say. He glanced down at her and was momentarily stunned by the earnestness in Jemma's eyes. Whatever Jemma had been about to say, she was very serious.

"Oi! You two!"

Fitz and Jemma looked up to see Lance waving at them from the bottom of the steps, Bobbi beside him.

"Archery practice then! Come on!"

It had been agreed upon that since Jemma and Fitz were working with arrows and archers for their experiments, they would need to learn how to shoot for themselves. Fitz was having some trouble with his accuracy, but Jemma was a natural.

The pair separated to follow their friends, Fitz immediately feeling the loss of Jemma's head against his shoulder. He would have been fairly content to stand at the top of the steps with Jemma for the rest of his life, but he knew that wasn't realistic.

As he and Jemma joined Lance and Bobbi to make their way across the lawn to where several targets were set up, Fitz could feel the difference in he and Jemma's relationship, and he was fairly certain Jemma could feel it too. There was a tension, unspoken words just beneath the surface. Nothing had technically happened between them at the ball, and yet something had definitely changed. Fitz would have been excited if he hadn't been so terrified.

"Bet I'll beat you," Jemma said casually as she picked up her bow from the tree it was leaning against.

"You know you're better than me, it's not fair," Fitz replied, grabbing his own bow and stalking away from her.

Jemma was back beside him in an instant. "Oh, Fitz. Don't be so grumpy! You're doing perfectly fine."

"Right, Jemma."

A few minutes later two bulls-eyes from Jemma and two fairly wide misses affirmed Jemma's brilliance and Fitz's mediocrity.

"You just need to focus, Fitz! Don't be so distracted!"

Fitz thought privately that he had every reason to be distracted. Jemma always gave him the widest, most supportive smiles before he pulled the string back and that alone made it almost impossible for him to concentrate. Not that he would ever tell Jemma to stop, of course.

Fitz made it through that day without saying or doing anything that could have dire consequences (meaning invoking a curse that would destroy his life), and he was able to make it through the next day and the next and the next and before long the ball became almost a distant memory as he and Jemma acted as though everything was normal. Fitz gradually got used to the constant pangs in his chest as he looked at Jemma and the swooping sensation in his stomach when she smiled at him, and eventually he was able to tune Jemma out enough to focus on his archery to the extent that he could almost match her shot-for-shot.

But that didn't mean things were exactly the same as before. Fitz couldn't stop himself from flirting with Jemma (a bit more obviously than intended), and unless he was completely misreading things, Jemma was more-than-a-little-bit flirting back.

"That really is a wonderful star chart, Jemma," Fitz said one night as the pair walked back to the castle from the observatory, only the moon and the distant lights of the palace illuminating their path. Their tutor (their regular one, not Master Sitwell) had been impressed during their lesson to the point that he wouldn't stop talking about it.

"Oh, stop it, Fitz," Jemma replied shortly, assuming that Fitz was attempting to imitate their teacher as a joke.

"No, I'm serious, Jemma," Fitz explained hurriedly. "I wasn't going to say anything while he was going on and on, but it really is amazing. As if we needed any more proof that you're smarter than me."

Fitz saw Jemma blush faintly in the moonlight. "I thought we'd agreed that we're quite equal in terms of intelligence." She paused. "But thank you."

Fitz smiled over at her, and the smile he received in return was almost enough to make him take Jemma's hand and pull her over to him.

But he let the moment go, and they made it back to the properly lit palace.

"Could you pass me that vial?" Jemma asked Fitz in the lab several weeks later without looking up, her focus very much on the solution she was mixing together.

Fitz picked up the desired vial, but inside of just reaching across to set it next to the glass container Jemma was working with as he could have done easily, he walked around to stand next to her. "Here you are."

Jemma started, clearly not realizing that Fitz had walked over. She looked up at him, and Fitz suddenly realized that he had misjudged the situation. Jemma's lips were far too close to his own.

"Your vial," he said softly, turning away from her and setting it down beside her hand so his fingers just brushed against hers.

She shivered slightly. "Thanks."

Fitz knew he had to stop doing this to himself.

But he didn't. There was more laughing, more teasing, more smiling at each other during training or lessons or in the lab. He couldn't help himself, and judging by the quality of Jemma's response to his actions, she felt the same. Fitz knew the tightrope he was walking on, so he always stopped himself before he fell off, limiting himself to not-so-subtle flirting, a light brush of his hand against hers, the nudge of a shoulder, his arm around her when something went wrong in the lab or when she was missing Daisy. Always they ignored those moments that felt like something more than just friendship, but that didn't stop them from happening more and more often.

The ottoman in Mack and Lady Mackenzie quarters had for years been Fitz and Jemma's seat at tea, and the fact that they were now in their mid-teens didn't change that fact. It was their favorite spot to argue and plan and even just listen to their friends. Of course now sitting next to Jemma had additional appeal to Fitz.

"Lincoln looks so sad without Daisy," Jemma leaned over to whisper to Fitz who automatically moved toward her (to hear her better, he justified to himself).

It was Friday afternoon tea at Lady Mackenzie's, and Daisy had been gone for nearly three months. Fitz glanced at Lincoln and found that Jemma was right. Their friend did indeed look lost at tea without his fiancée. "I know Mack's been trying to keep him busy, take his mind off things."

"That's good," Jemma said, her positive words not matching her tone, but a moment later a mischievous smile spread across her face. "It'd be much easier if it were you we had to distract rather than Lincoln."

Fitz sat back, his eyebrows raised. "Is that so?"

Jemma grinned. "Oh yes. We'd just give you a bit of metal to tinker with or bring something new to the lab and you'd forget about everything else."

"Oh really, Miss Simmons?" Fitz replied. Two can play at game. "I know for a fact that you'd drop everything for just a glance into a new medical book." This exact situation had happened the year before.

Jemma looked sheepish, clearly remembering the book in question, but, after a moment, she looked back up at him, her eyes glinting. "Well I know one thing that can always catch your attention."

Fitz had an answer to that question right in front of him, but he raised his eyebrows, willing Jemma to proceed.

"Ah ha!" She produced a biscuit from a tray that a servant happened to be passing around.

Fitz deftly grabbed it from her, trying not to notice her fingers brushing against his, and stuffed it in his mouth. "Very astute, Miss Simmons," he said, his mouth full of biscuit.

Jemma laughed, shaking her head and grabbing a biscuit for herself.

As Jemma was looking away from him, Fitz allowed himself to stare at her. Her gown was a pink flowered one that he knew well, and her hair was pined back as it usually was to allow for the least annoyance in the lab or elsewhere, but the afternoon sun was drifting through the window right onto Jemma forming into almost a halo around her head. Fitz thought it more than fitting. Lance called something across the room to Jemma and Jemma laughed, amplifying the affect, her smile taking Fitz's breath away.

Jemma turned back to him, and Fitz quickly toned down his staring, refocusing his attention on the tray of biscuits to avoid a confused look from Jemma. Instead, he found himself staring straight at Bobbi who rolled her eyes at him as though chastising him for being so obvious. Ever since the night of the ball, Bobbi hadn't said a word about Fitz liking Jemma, but Fitz knew it was only a matter of time. Exasperated looks from his friend were becoming more and more commonplace. He was also starting to worry that Mack and Dame Isobel, as the other more perceptive members of their group, were close to finding him out. Dame Isobel was most watchful than anyone, and he very often found her eyes on him and Jemma, a small smile on her face. Mack, for his part, glanced in their direction more often than normal. His expression, however, was not the smile of Dame Isobel of the exasperation of Bobbi, but rather concern and worry that would vanish as soon as Fitz returned his gaze.

Mack had finally pulled him aside one afternoon as Jemma was talking to Bobbi.

The man who been almost like a second father to Fitz looked upset. "Fitz, the king told you about-"

"I know, Mack," Fitz interrupted. "Everything's fine."

Mack blinked down at him. "But she doesn't know." It wasn't a question.

Fitz nodded. "No."

Mack sighed. "Just be careful, Fitz. Please." There was pain in his voice now. "It isn't fair that you have to go through life like this, but you need to watch out for yourself. He's… he's vicious."

Fitz knew immediately that Mack was talking about Maveth.

His friend was staring off into space, lost in a memory. "I don't want you to have to go through what Margaret did."

Fitz suddenly remembered that Lady Mackenzie's first husband, Dame Isobel's son, had been killed by Maveth. Mack's overprotectiveness and intense worrying were instantly explained.

"I'm being careful, Mack," Fitz said, trying to let his friend know that he really did understand. "I know the consequences."

Mack finally nodded. "Okay."

The next day Fitz woke to the news that the cavalry would be heading out once again, taking their entire corps, even Lance, with them. Lance had scarcely been on campaign since he and Bobbi had started training Fitz and Jemma, so his inclusion was greeted with great confusion by Jemma. Fitz, however, understood what it meant: the king had deemed it necessary to work even harder to track down Maveth. Fitz knew he would be quite starved for male company with the cavalry's departure, but he did not ask his father if he could join them. He knew, first of all, that the king would refuse, but he also knew he could not bear being separated from Jemma, especially now.

They received word at the palace every now and then from the men on campaign, but nothing ever sounded particularly promising.

One distraction Fitz could always count on was letters from Daisy, but Fitz was starting to think that his friend might have known more than he thought about his feelings for Jemma.

The first letter he received from the princess, written on the stationary gifted to Daisy by the queen, came only a few weeks after Daisy had left, and in it she asked Fitz very casually about how much he had enjoyed the ball since they hadn't been able to discuss it too thoroughly afterward. Fitz was fairly certain that this question, coupled with the assertion that Jemma had enjoyed herself in the sentence immediately following, was nothing more than shameless fishing for information, leaving an opening for Fitz to gush about how much he had loved dancing with Jemma (which he would have, admittedly, not particularly minded doing), but Fitz refused to take the bait. Saying the words out loud would make everything too real, and, as much as he loved Daisy, he didn't particularly trust her not to immediately share his confession with her fiancé and even with Jemma herself. So instead he replied with joking criticisms and a comment that if it hadn't been for Daisy and Jemma he wouldn't have enjoyed himself at all. Not a lie and nothing that would get him into further trouble.

The pair exchanged letters very often, the amount increasing as Mack, Lance, and Lincoln left, but shortly before Fitz's sixteenth birthday, he received a letter from Daisy which all but affirmed to him that she knew how he felt for Jemma.

My dear Fitz,

You will never know just how much it cheers me to receive letters from all of you. Lance sent me a scrap of paper a few days ago that barely even qualified as a letter, but his words made me laugh so heartily that I could scarcely fault him for anything. I'm honestly just surprised that he deemed me worthy to write to in the far-off reaches of your kingdom. I would say he did it so Lincoln's letter did not arouse suspicion, but Mack sent me quite a long letter himself, making Lance's letter unnecessary unless he actually genuinely wishes to stay in contact with me. The thought makes me smile even as I write this.

I would offer my continued sympathies at your being without any male company at present (Lincoln said you were truly quite sad to see everyone go), but I know that you're well taken care of. If Jemma were to go away, of course, I'd offer you such condolences that you would likely only hear at a funeral, but seeing as she has not abandoned you, I'm certain you cannot be overly upset. If this account makes you at all uncomfortable, then I know I have done my duty well, but all I can say is that the exact same is true for Jemma. Never in my life have I seen two people as inseparable as you both, this coming from I who barely left Lincoln's side when we were not in company. To anyone else, this letter would be too forward, but I feel as though you are my brother so I write this without hesitation or worry. Take or ignore my observations as you wish, but I know I shall feel all the better for having registered them with you.

Daisy went on to tell him more of her business at the palace, but Fitz read the rest of the words without registering them. Apparently his feelings were obvious enough that even months after she had left them, Daisy was concerned with him realizing them and acting on them. Of course Daisy didn't know the repercussions of such actions, but that was all the more troubling. If Fitz ignored the sentiments and acted as though Daisy had said nothing, he was sure to hear from her on the subject again. He could deny what Daisy had implied, but to do so would be a most ridiculous falsehood that he did not believe he could perpetuate. He could tell her the truth, but his father had forbidden it. So he would say nothing and deal with the consequences later.

Fitz knew he and Jemma's current relationship was unsustainable in the long term, but the inaction on his part was clearly stopping anything from progressing or changing since Jemma, for whatever reason, seemed unwilling to do anything to alter the relationship from her end. Maybe the stalemate would have lasted months, or another year or two even, but then came the monolith, and everything changed.

Jemma's birthday had been the week before, making them both now sixteen, and news about Raina's engagement to some nobleman far off in the kingdom had left them both feeling rather odd. They had been around engaged Daisy and Lincoln for months, but somehow this was different, as though Raina settling down meant that they should be settling down too. Fitz was even more conscious of the absence of his father and that of the majority of the palace's male population of over fourteen years of age. Had he not been the prince, he would have likely been a squire out on campaign with Lance or some other knight, carrying a shield and learning to fight in the field rather than outside the castle and in disused palace corridors. Jemma, he could tell, was similarly contemplative, knowing that had she not been his best friend (or more than that, said a nagging voice in the back of his mind), it could have just as easily been her engaged to be married rather than Raina. Of course Fitz was infinitely glad that it was Raina engaged rather than Jemma if only because it meant the other woman wouldn't be fawning over him at balls for the rest of his life.

But in any case, it was this news that had prompted Fitz and Jemma to go outside for some air, following a gently-used path through the woods, admiring the autumn leaves and savoring the pleasant weather. Fitz would have gladly gone anywhere with Jemma, but the beautiful scenery only added to his enjoyment of the afternoon.

The pair walked in silence for a while, both of them lost in their thoughts, but staying together, Fitz wordlessly helping Jemma balance as she stepped on a not-quite-stable rock, and Jemma catching Fitz's hand as he almost tripped over a tree root.

Fitz was just about to suggest that they turn around, when his attention was caught by an object he was certain he had never seen before.

"Jemma," he said cautiously. "What's that over there?" He pointed to an object about fifty yards away from them, off to the left of the path.

Jemma stared hard at it. "That definitely wasn't there last week. You don't remember it, do you?"

Fitz shook his head. He, Jemma, Bobbi, and Lady Mackenzie had taken a walk through the woods the previous week, and Fitz was certain that whatever this was had not been there.

Without any discussion, the pair left the path to move closer.

As they approached it, Fitz saw that it was some sort of rock, a rectangular boulder, jet black and somehow menacing.

"I've never seen stone like this before," Jemma said breathlessly, the excitement in her voice very familiar to Fitz.

"Nor have I," Fitz replied, the pair now near enough to touch it.

It was smooth, carved into an exact rectangular prism, the stone not at all porous, and, as Jemma had said, unlike anything they had ever seen before.

The pair separated, circling it, staring up at the monolith.

"I wonder what it's for," Jemma said curiously. "Something so exact like this, it must be used for something."

"And how did it get here?" Fitz added. "It's odd that anything would be placed on palace grounds without us knowing about it."

Jemma nodded, her focus still on the enormous monolith.

"Well, we'll have to take some samples," Fitz said slowly.

Jemma turned over to him, a smile growing across her face. "And analyze the palace records."

"And talk to a stone mason."

"And look through some geological histories."

"And maybe then we'll find something."

The pair beamed at each other. This was the most excited Fitz had been about a project since the unconsciousness compound that he and Jemma had developed the year before. Finally, here was something that might actually be able to distract him from the curse and from Jemma.

Almost immediately Fitz and Jemma formed a new routine. Mornings were spent in lessons or training, but immediately after lunch the pair took off to the lab or the library or to interview palace guards or stoneworkers. Nearly always they would end up back in the woods staring at the monolith, just searching for clues.

Everything seemed to be a dead end. They found some accounts of stone similar to this, but it never seemed to be exactly the same either in terms of quality or condition. The palace guards similarly had seen nothing unusual in the week during which the stone had apparently arrived in the woods. Whoever had brought it apparently had not used the path, since any entrance would have been well within sight of the guards.

The pair was making their way back to the stone one afternoon, both feeling a bit discouraged by their lack of progress, when Jemma spotted it.

"Fitz! Look!"

Fitz followed Jemma's gaze to the spot where the monolith stood. Or rather where the monolith had been standing. It had… dissolved… into a puddle of liquefied stone. And then, as though nothing had happened, it reformed perfectly back into its original rectangular prism.

Fitz turned to Jemma. "How…?"

Jemma shook her head. "That's not normal, Fitz."

"No, it's not."

The pair turned to each other.

"Looks like we've got another clue," Jemma said, her eyes sparkling as a smile spread across her face.

Fitz nodded, Jemma's excitement contagious, as always. "We certainly do."

Wanting to avoid contact with a liquefied rock, Fitz and Jemma moved operations to nearby tree. The weather was getting colder, but the winds and even occasional snow flurries were not enough to deter them. Their friends were curious about where they were spending their time, but Fitz and Jemma only gave cursory answers, wanting to avoid sharing their findings until they actually had some answers. Fitz, deep down, was worried that the monolith was something dangerous that his parents would forbid him from going near if they knew about it. Luckily, his father was absent, his mother was busied with running the kingdom in his absence, and the rest of their friends were similarly preoccupied.

Fitz savored the time he was able to spend Jemma. They had turned their observation tree into almost a fort, with a makeshift roof and walls to keep out the cold. Fitz regularly moaned about wanting a fire but, as Jemma always was quick to remind him, starting a fire in a tree was never a good idea.

The pair saw the stone liquefy twice more, but they were still at a loss for how it occurred. At first they thought it might be due to time of day, but that was quickly ruled out. Then they thought it might have been physical conditions like wind or moisture, but the event occurred on both a still, dry day, and a windy, damp one, so that theory seemed to be debunked.

A few weeks later, Fitz was being subjected to a theater performance by some apparently (according to his mother) famous performers who had come to the palace to entertain the queen and prince, along with several ladies, including mercifully Bobbi whose mocking expressions and looks of boredom were the only thing keeping Fitz from dying where he sat. As he watched the performance, trying his hardest not to fall asleep, the sun reflected through one of the windows behind him onto a silver plate held by one of the actors, making a small spot of sunlight appear on the floor. Fitz suddenly had an idea. Maybe it was about light. Every time the monolith had liquefied so far, there had been some degree of sunlight; perhaps that was what caused the reaction. If they could reflect light onto a specific point on the monolith, they could possibly cause the stone to remain liquefied for longer than a second, for long enough that he and Jemma could examine it further. Fitz was about to stand up to go find Jemma when he remembered that he was in the middle of watching a performance. Sometimes Fitz really didn't like being the prince.

Two days later, Fitz and Jemma had taken up residence in different trees, each of them holding a mirror. They had set several others up in different trees in the attempt to hopefully catch some sunlight and reflect it down to the monolith. It was just a theory, and he had no proof that it was even close to being right, but Jemma had been all in favor of testing it out, so they got to work.

Setting up the mirrors and keeping them propped up took the better part of the afternoon, and by the time they were done, the sun was setting in the western sky.

"We'll come back and try it out tomorrow morning then," Fitz said, slightly disappointed that they hadn't been able to work it out that afternoon.

"Let's stay out a bit," came Jemma's reply from the other tree. She peeked over at him through the branches. "We can use the moon. It's full tonight."

Fitz found the idea of spending a moonlit evening with Jemma very appealing, even though they were separated by the stone monolith that sat in between their trees, so he quickly agreed.

The pair talked happily as the sun set and twilight faded. Fitz soon realized that he was very hungry, but for once he didn't say anything, not wanting to spoil the moment.

"Oh there's the moon!" Jemma said finally, pointing up overhead where the moon had risen above the trees. The night was cloudless and the stars were bright.

The pair attempted to maneuver their mirrors to the proper angle for reflection on the monolith, but their positions in the tree were not particularly conducive to their activities.

Out of the corner of his eye, Fitz spotted one of the additional mirrors they had set up in a neighboring tree. "Look Jemma!" As they watched, moonlight reflected down perfectly from the mirror onto the top of the monolith in a miniscule circle that fell right at the stone's center.

Instantly, the stone dissolved just as they had witnessed 3 times before, but this time it stayed open, the moonlight reflecting down onto the now liquefied pool of stone.

"It worked!" Jemma shouted excitedly, and the pair watched it, breathless with anticipation.

But suddenly they were not alone.

Appearing next to them, hovering in a swirling vortex surrounded by sand was a hooded figure, faceless, shrouded in shadow.

Across from him, Fitz saw Jemma's stare up at it, speechless, her eyes wide with confusion.

But Fitz knew who it was: Maveth, the sorcerer who had cursed him as a child. Back again.

Fitz was paralyzed with fear, unable to move as things began to come out of the portal. Other hooded figures, masked men, stepped out of the liquefied stone and moved into Maveth's swirling orbit. But, worse, Fitz could almost feel some other force flowing out of the portal and into Maveth who was growing larger and larger, filling up the space between the trees with his wind and stone.

Fitz knew he had to do something. The mirror reflecting the light was in the tree next to him, close, but not very close. The safest way to get there was to climb down and climb back up, but he didn't have time for that.

Fitz launched himself from his tree to the next one, his hands outstretched, reaching for the mirror.

"FITZ NO!" Jemma's scream carried over the wind, but Fitz paid her no mind.

His hands were just able to catch the branch to which the mirror was attached, his weight quickly bending the branch back and breaking it as both he and the mirror fell to the ground.

The stone reformed instantly, and Fitz landed on the forest floor with nothing but fallen leaves and twigs to break his fall.

"FITZ!"

Fitz shakily got to his feet, feeling as though he was bruised everywhere. He heard Jemma take a shuddering breath, clearly relieved that he was alive.

The winds died down, but Maveth still hovered in front of him.

"Oh, how you've grown," said Maveth, his voice gravelly, but his tone giving Fitz the impression of a wicked smile underneath his hood. "The last time I saw you, you were but an infant, and now look at you." He laughed, or Fitz thought that was what it was meant to be. The harsh sound made Fitz flinch.

"I told your father that you would be my salvation," Maveth continued, "and here we are. Thank you, my young prince." He began to glide toward Fitz, but a loud thump stopped him.

"Get away from him!" Jemma had jumped down from her tree to stand between Fitz and Maveth.

Maveth laughed again, as Fitz stepped forward in an attempt to shield Jemma from the sorcerer.

"Oh, prince, I see you've already figured it out. The day really is fast approaching, isn't it?" He moved closer. "My dear Leopold - or would you rather be Fitz? – I hope you're ready for the punishment."

With another laugh, Fitz and Jemma were enveloped in wind and sand and stone, and Fitz could feel Jemma holding tightly to him. Through the dust, she stared up at him, terrified, confused, worried. Unconsciously they moved toward each other, needing to be close, to be closer, but then Fitz looked away.

A moment later, the wind died down, and the sand had disappeared, and it was just them and the monolith, Maveth nowhere in sight.

"Fitz?"

Fitz said nothing, grabbing Jemma's hand and starting to walk back to the castle. Maveth's words echoed through his head. Fitz didn't fully understand what had just happened, but he couldn't help but feel that he had just done something horrible.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Reviews are lovely!