Hope ya'll enjoy the chapter, hope ya'll review... Don't own.

"May our sister know peace and may we remember patience until we see her again," intoned Fiona, blowing out her candle, her sisters following suit.

Fiona focused on her breathing as her coven, one by one, came forward and placed a white rose on Clair's shawl. Heather was the last to come forward.

"I c-can't, Priestess," she whispered, looking to Fiona for strength.

"You can, my child," she assured, reaching forward to grip the girl's empty hand. "Your twin is gone but you remain. You can and will find the strength to live for the both of you, I promise. You still have your sisters, they will not abandon you. I will not abandon you, Heather."

Fiona pulled her hand back, leaving Clare's blood-fire amulet in the grieving girl's hand. Heather stared at a few moments before nodding and clenching it tightly in her fist. Hand shaking, she placed a red rose amongst the white.

"My twin…" she whispered, before turning away and returning to her place in the circle.

Fiona slowly lowered her own white rose and tied the shawl around the flowers, creating a bouquet. Gently, she lifted the bouquet, held it out, and floated it to the center of the circle. It spun slowly, one tear escaping down Fiona's cheek, and suddenly it was burning. It didn't take long for the flowers and shawl to incinerat, a ball of ash floating where the Final Remembrance had once been. Carefully she lowered it down into the vase that was resting on the ground in the center of the circle. Heather came forward, sealed the lid, and stood with it. After a moment or so, she silently turned and walked away. The rest of the coven followed in two's, in twins. Fiona let out a sigh when they were all out of sight. Dorian stepped out of the trees.

"Honored Priestess?"

Fiona closed her eyes, slowly the blue returned to her hair and when her eyes opened they were no longer black but her traditional brown. The world spun. Dorian was quick enough to catch her, and gently lowered her to the ground.

"You need to rest."

She shook her head, "I need to prepare for the company's funeral tomorrow, and the family one after that. And I still need to finalize the estate… Take me home? The quick way? I'll worry about the car later."

"Of course Priestess," he told her, standing, lifting her in his arms as he did so.

Shadows began to swirl around his feet, slowly rising up, encompassing the two of them. When they dissipated, Fiona and Dorian were gone.

Dorian parked outside the hall where the company was holding Clair's funeral but caught Fiona's hand before she could open the door.

"There are people in there who want you dead, Fiona. People who to unravel the powers that binds our world and claim it for themselves. People who need you out of their way to do that-"

"Dorie, we still don't have absolute proof-"

"Fiona. You will not leave my side, not even for the ladies room," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Understood?"

"I'll be good, I promise," she sighed.

"Alright," he nodded, looking somewhat relieved, especially when Fiona patiently waited for him to come around and let her out.

She gripped Dorian's arm tightly as he led her to the building, grateful she had him to lean on.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Does it matter?"

"I suppose not," he agreed, and opened the door.

They were met with absolute silence. The Vercunantise was here, and with the traitor. Head held high, a mix of authority and disdain on her face and in her bearing, Fiona made her way towards the center of the room. She was disappointed in her people. She was the Honored Priestess, the Vercunantise, and they would remember. Her eyes turned entirely black, the blue washed out of her hair as it turned the brightest shade of white, the tattoos adorning her body- the ones that could be seen- seemed to become even blacker. Slowly, she turned in a circle taking in the looks of fear and respect on her people's faces. She stopped when she'd come full circle.

"Has tragedy made us forget our ways?" she demanded, the Ancient accent of the Vercunantise tingeing her words as they echoed throughout the cavernous room.

The reaction was immediate. Every occupant in the room fell to one knee, their fisted left arm across their heart. It didn't escape her notice, however, that Charles Grey, Jonathon Price, and several other council members were slightly slower in their reactions. To calm herself, she counted backwards from ten, forcing herself to remember that she had to play the game right.

"Rise, my children," she commanded, releasing her hold on her inner power.

As her traditional human appearance returned, Dorian discreetly tucked her arm back into the crook of his elbow. She took advantage of the gesture while she waited for the dizziness to pass.

It didn't take long for the council members to make their way towards her. She suppressed a smirk. They definitely weren't pleased with her display of power. She was not one to be tamed and it was beyond time they remembered that.

"Fiona."

"Charles."

His eyes narrowed, "I am a Councilman, Fiona."

"I'm aware," she smiled pleasantly. "I was simply following your lead."

"Of course… Honored Priestess," he forced out.

"Shouldn't we be starting soon, Councilman Grey?"

"Dravinhd, should not be here," hissed Jonathon price.

"Lord Dravinhd… Oh honestly," she snapped at their scowls, "you are the ones who insist on the formalities of titles in a private conversation, there's no need to pout just because it's coming back to bite you, Councilmen. Now as I was saying, Lord Dravinhd is here as my bodyguard, my guest, and as a fellow mourner, with my permission and my blessing. It would do you both well to remember, despite your personal desires, that he is not a condemned man."

"Not yet," replied Charles Grey, his face tight, his eyes burning. "It is something we need to address while you are here, Fio- Honored Priestess."

"Agreed, Councilman Grey. However, now is neither the time nor the place. We are here to mourn the loss of one of our own. Speaking of which, we've wasted enough time," she declared. "Dorian?"

He obligingly led her into the adjoining room and to her seat on the stage, trying to suppress a smile, "Bravo, love."

"I have no idea what you are talking about," she said, the corner of her mouth curving up.

"I'm sure you don't," he chuckled, taking a protective stand next to her seat.

"I'm just getting warmed up too," she told him smugly, and a moment later Fiona was gone and the Vercuntise was in her place. "I'm done playing by their rules."

Dorian carried an exhausted Fiona from the car. She had maintained her Vercuntise form the entire funeral, and while it had made quite the formidable impression, it had also weakened her, a lot. Despite his worry about her well being though, he couldn't help but smile. Arrie's death and the accusations against himself had damaged her, changed her, but she was starting to come back- with a vengeance. And heaven help whoever got in her way.

Fiona was beyond exhausted. She just wanted it to be over. She walked over and placed a lily on her friend's coffin. Three funerals and she had yet to be able to grieve. She stepped back and blinked dry eyes as the box was lowered into the ground. She barely even remembered the events of this funeral, it was all just a blur and she so desperately needed it to be over with. As the attendants began to drift away, Fi determinedly made her way towards Clair's parents and brother, grateful for Dorian's hand on her back.

"Mr. and Mrs. Hallings, Mr. Hallings," she greeted, her voice dry. "I am so sorry for your loss. If there is anything I can do…"

"Oh, my dear, you've done so much for us already. Handling her estate, the funeral, we… we could have never…" Mrs. Hallings broke off, crying, burying her face in her husbands shoulder.

"Clair always spoke so highly of you, Miss Phillips," said Mr. Hallings, his voice strained. "Now I understand why. Thank you for taking care of… everything."

"My sister wanted you to have this," said the younger Mr. Hallings.

Fi nodded, and took the shoebox he offered. The group stood in an awkward silence for a few moments before the Hallings slowly left, and Fiona went to speak with cemetery director. She was almost done.

Fi climbed into the car and slumped in her seat. All she wanted to do was sleep for the next year.

Dorian gently brushed the back of his hand along her cheek, "At least it's over now, love."

"Thank God!" she sighed. "I don't have anything left in me."

Before he could comment her phone rang.

"Phillips," she answered, her trepidation clear in her voice. "… I'm on my way."

Fiona stormed into the Council's headquarters, her fury evident, "Where is he?"

"Honored Priestess," began Grey, his tone placating, "why don't you calm down and-"

"Councilman Grey!" she said, her voice cold and steady. "For once in your life do yourself and everyone else a favor and shut up. I am in no temperament to endure your simpering idiocy today. The entire Council has lied to me and withheld vital evidence. You have broken your own laws, which is grounds enough to have each and every one of you suspended, and I assure you the idea is more than tempting, so I advise you all not to push me any further. Councilman Strant, come with me. The rest of you, I expect you all here when I return."

"And when do you plan on returning?" asked Grey, his tone wary.

Instead of answering, she turned on her heel and strode out, Dorian at her side frowning, and Strant racing after the two.

"Honored Priestess," he began when the door shut behind them, licking his lips nervously.

She cut him off, "Where is he being held?"

"Holding cell four, Honored Priestess," he answered immediately.

"I want everything you have on this case, and heaven help you if I even suspect you've held anything back," she warned.

"Y-yes, Honored Priestess," he stammered. "F-follow me."

"Love," hedged Dorian, when Strant left them to return to the Council Hall, "I understand your frustration with the Council, but they are still powerful."

"I'm aware," she said, her tone clipped as she began to empty the boxes of files.

"Fiona," he pressed, straining for patients, "change takes time."

"Your point?" she demanded, her focus clearly on the files.

"My point is, you should be a little more careful with how much you incite them," he snapped.

"Dorian, my twin and one of my sisters were both murdered and the rest of my coven is in danger, the Council wants you executed, there's a price on my head, Dregs are disappearing, and the Company is interested in my mother and I have no idea why, I am done playing nice!"

"Dammit Fiona! I'm not asking you to play nice, I'm asking you to play safe! I won't lose you because you reacted instead of acted!" he yelled back. "It is my duty to keep you safe, but you aren't making that any easier. You need to trust me, listen to me. I need you to be more careful! I'm having to protect you from you more than anyone else!"

Fiona turned to glare at him, "I will not back down on this, and no amount of yelling from you will change that. My mind is set, so you can either help me or I can do this myself."

"You're an infuriating woman," he scowled, sitting down next to her. He sighed, "The next time you decide to fly off the handle, could you at least give a guy a little warning, love?"

"I'll see what I can do… Dorian, I have to play hardball on this, I just know it, in my gut, you know? And I need you with me."

"I'm always with you, love," he told her resignedly, grabbing one of the folders.

The two spent close to four hours scouring over the rather gruesome information regarding Clair's murder before they were ready to interrogate the suspect. The interrogation itself lasted for nearly three hours and was a trial for the two's already low patients, especially since the little headway they made incriminated Dorian- again. To make matters worse, despite their utter fatigue, the two still weren't done. They needed to examine the crime scene, and it was the longest process yet.

"Love, are you ready to head home?"

"No," she answered running a hand through her hair in frustration.

She was missing something, but what?

"Fi, the evidence, the crime scene, it…"

"Points to you, again," she replied, her voice devoid of emotion.

"I didn't do this."

She nodded. What kind of idiot tries to plant a murder on a man who wasn't even in the country at the time the crime occurred... An idiot who was too set on his course to turn back.

"Dorie? When did you last have your dagger, for certain?"

"At our engagement party. Why do you ask, love?"

"And you had it locked in your safe in the office, right?"

"Yes. Fiona, we've been over this, before. What are you getting at?"

God, I've been such an idiot!

"I need you to take me back to the Council's headquarters."

"Dorian," said Fiona, pausing outside the doors to the Council Hall, "do you trust me?"

Dorian suppressed a groan. This was never a good way to start a conversation, it invariably meant she wanted to do something he wasn't going to like.

"You know I do, love."

"I need to go in there alone."

"No."

"Dorie-"

"No, Fiona."

"You said you trusted me."

"I do, love," he smiled, knowing she wasn't going to like the next part. "It's the Council I don't trust."

"Dorian," she groaned. "I need to go in there alone and I need you trust me when I tell you, that nothing is going to happen to me tonight. Please."

He frowned at her. Her expression told him she wasn't going to back down on this. And the fact that she was pleading told him that she really needed him to do this but she didn't want to order him. He groaned.

"Please, don't make me regret this, love."

"Thank you," she told him.

Then, to his surprise, she went up on her toes and kissed him. It was quick and chaste but still, it was a kiss, on the mouth, initiated by her.

Fiona turned away, squared her shoulders, and, with an air of authority and power, strode into the Council Hall. It was long past time she listened to her heart.

Fiona leaned against the kitchen wall, while Dorian opted to sit at the table. She knew his patience was running out. She hadn't said a word since she came out of the Council Hall. Arguing with them hadn't been easy, but she'd put her foot down in the end and there was nothing they could do. And, quite frankly, it made her nearly as nervous as the prospect of talking with Dorian about it. She owed him so much.

"Dorie?"

He looked up.

"I've been an absolute idiot."

"Fiona," he started but she held up a hand to stall him.

"Please let me finish. I have been stupid, so stupid, and I don't deserve you," she told him.

She made her way over to him and, to his shock, straddled his lap. Then she kissed him, deeply.

"But I want you anyway."

"Love, you've always had me," he assured her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"You're such a good man, Dorian. I don't deserve you," she reiterated, resting her head in the crook of his neck. "Tonight, I did what I should have done from the start. I declared your innocence to the Council and abolished all charges against you. A public and formal apology will be issued to you tomorrow. All of your rights, and accounts have been reinstated to you, too."

She started to cry. Gently he tilted her head back up and cupped her face, wiping away tears with his thumbs.

"It's alright, love," he tried to comfort.

"No, it's not!" she insisted. "I was so stupid, and horrible to you, Dorie, and you deserved so much better. I'm so sorry it took me so long to come to my senses, and I know I don't deserve your fogiveness-"

"Fiona, Fiona! Sweetheart, stop!" he kissed her. "Marry me."

Fi started to cry in earnest, "I don't deserve you."

"Is that a yes, love?"

She nodded, and wrapped her arms around him, "I love you."

"I never doubted that, sweetheart."

Fiona stood up, the opened shoebox in her shaking hands, and made her way into the bedroom. Silent tears were streaming down her face. She sat on the bed and shook Dorian.

"Dorie, wake up! Dorie I need you to wake up!"

"Fi?" he muttered, groggily.

He pushed himself into a sitting position against the headboard and tiredly rubbed at his eyes.

"Dorie?"

"I'm awake. What time is- Baby, what's wrong?" he demanded, catching sight of her face.

"I-I opened the shoebox," she choked out, holding it out to him and trying to not to lose it, completely.

"Alright," he said slowly, hoping for a further explanation as he took the box.

"It's that st-stupid b-bottle cap collection!" she said, losing her tenuous grip on control. "Th-the one I lost t-to her in that c-card game, wh-when we f-f-first started at the c-company. She's g-gone, Dorie. Sh-sh-she's g-gone."

"I know, honey," said Dorian, pulling a now sobbing Fi into his arms. "Just let it out."