For a while, she seemed to float.

There were asleep times and awake times… and even the awake times had a dreamy, detached sort of quality to them. Sometimes it was light in her room upon these brief awakenings; sometimes it was guttering torchglow. Different faces hovered over her; different voices spoke her name; different hands, cool and gentle, raised her head to press a cup of water to her lips. Always, during these brief interludes of consciousness, what she was most aware of – and deeply grateful for – was the simple warmth of her surroundings. Not feverishly hot; not achingly cold. Her bed was warm and soft and comfortable and… home. She was home!

It was miraculous.

When she'd been held captive in Edgar's camp, she had despaired of ever seeing home again. When she'd fallen on the battlefield, pierced by that blade, she'd known. It was over. She'd never see her room, her parents, her friends… that was all past, all done; swept away in a torrent of pain and blood. And the thing about it was, it had been okay. It had been okay because Gunther had been there with her and Dragon had been there with her, both safe and whole. She could have gone peacefully, with very few regrets. She almost had.

Until Gunther had called her back.

No, not called. Nothing even remotely as gentle as that. He had screamed. Harangued. Challenged. Begged. Insulted. Dragged her back from the brink. And because he'd refused to give up on her, here she was.

Home. It was the most incredible gift… something she would never be able to thank him for enough, not if she thanked him twice a day, every day, for the rest of her life.

So… where was he?

This was a problem. The only prickling negative in the drowsy sea of contentment that comprised her brief moments of wakefulness.

Because Gunther wasn't there.

His was always the first face she scanned for – the first voice she listened for. But he was never there. Over, and over, and over again she would try to rally herself to inquire about him – only to find that she lacked the strength even to whisper his name before the healing darkness once more overtook her.

She was becoming frantic. What if he had changed his mind? Decided that she hadn't been worth all that trouble after all? What if he'd become ill? They'd both been in that torturously cold water together, and he hadn't had the benefit of being lifted directly into a warm bed. What if, what if… there were a million what ifs.

Where was Gunther?

OOOOO

It was midday the first time she truly awoke. Only her mother was there initially, embroidering quietly in a chair beside Jane's bed… but once Adeline ascertained that her daughter was actually awake – really awake and cognizant of her surroundings, able to sit up (propped on copious pillows, of course) and converse, even to take a little of Pepper's broth – the overjoyed woman brought nearly the entire castle down on Jane.

Her father first, of course – then Sir Theodore, followed by Jester, Smithy, Pepper and Rake (Pepper held onto Rake's arm the entire time as though she never intended to let him go again); even the princess and, briefly, the queen.

Yes, almost the entire castle… but still no Gunther.

She tried to hold her tongue, to wait it out, to trust that he would appear, even as she grew more anxious with every passing moment… but when her mother eventually announced, in her not-to-be-contradicted manner, that it was time for everyone to clear out and "let the girl have some rest" Jane could contain herself no longer.

"But… I need to see Gunther," she blurted out, surprised and dismayed in that moment by the sound of her own voice; the almost pleading quality of her words. "I do not… I…" horrified, she realized that she was nearly on the verge of tears. "Can someone get him for me? Please?"

Everyone looked exquisitely uncomfortable. And her heart plummeted.

What is it? WHAT is it they do not want to tell me?

It was Jester who finally spoke, studiously avoiding eye contact with her as he did so.

"Well, Jane… the thing about that… erm… about Gunther, is… what I mean to say… it was for his own good, truly; I promise you. We, um… we did not want to, you understand. But he really left us no choice. We... drugged him, Jane."

Her jaw dropped. For a moment she just stared stupidly, paralyzed by shock. Then she managed to splutter out an incredulous, "What!?"

Now her mother reasserted control of the conversation. "It really was the best thing for him, Jane. The way he was carrying on… even once it was clear that you were recovering, he refused to leave your side. Would not even change out of his soaking wet clothes. Would not eat, would not rest… his devotion was touching, but – " Adeline paused, frowned – "it was doing you no earthly good, and doing him a great deal of harm. Something had to be done."

Pepper cleared her throat. When Jane looked toward her, the dark-haired girl dropped her gaze, appearing to suddenly find Jane's bedroom floor intensely interesting. "I was the one who did it, Jane," she confessed; Rake wrapped a supportive arm around her waist and pulled her hard against him. "I just offered him some…ah, enhanced tea. He needed the rest; honestly, he did."

Pepper seemed on the verge of tears, convinced that Jane would be angry with her; in truth, though, Jane was absolutely swamped with relief. None of the worst-case scenarios she'd imagined were true; Gunther was nearby, and essentially all right, though he might be having words with Pepper at some point, if he ever figured out exactly what had happened to him.

And with the relief came a wave of sleepiness; she'd only been awake an hour or so, but she was still weak and it had taken a toll on her. Her mother, sensing that Jane was fading again, shooed everyone from the room; and moments later Jane was lost to the waking world once more.