A/N: There are a couple deleted scenes/conversations from this chapter, so head on over to FTSOF: Extras for the extended version of this chapter. Highlights include a scene I'm calling "Promises to Ourselves" where Ellyn finds out that Rum made that rather dramatic declaration to love nothing and no one else until he gets Baelfire back. Another delete scene includes how the dynamic duo reacts to getting stood up, and a brief conversation they have about Zoso.

Special thanks to Wishfulhamadryad for the cross-platform comments here and on AO3!

A heads up that I have half a mind to fully complete the next two chapters before I post either, because I know it can be agonizing as a reader when there's a long update time in the middle of certain arcs/plot points.

Enjoy!

Chapter 24: Eye of the Storm

"I was thinking that we should attend the Winter Council." I say, tone purposefully casual.

I'm laying on my stomach facing the hearth, head pillowed on my arms, basking in the warmth of the fire and Rum's body against my back like a cat in the sun. The unspoken implication of delaying our trip to Neverland hangs in the brief silence of the room, and I tilt my head to the side as I wait for a reply.

"You're stalling." He points out, gentle, almost teasing.

"I don't know what you're talking about." His fingers run across the arrow-head scars across my upper back, then trace down my spine and over a small, oblong dimple to one side of the small of my back, the indent lined with scar tissue. His thumb skims along it's edge, and as we have been doing, I answer the unspoken question. "Broken bottle at a shallow angle. Didn't go much deeper than the fat. Scar's actually shrunk alot over time."

"How much time?"

"Got it at eighteen in a bar fight. This guy got mad that I was flirting with his sister."

I hear the smile in his voice when he asks, "Were you?"

I grin at the memory. "Yeah, but his plan backfired. She's the one who patched me up after, and at that age you really romanticize the idea of someone bleeding for you."

"And of the family not approving." Rum puts in knowingly. I raise an eyebrow at him over my shoulder.

"Speaking from experience?"

"When I was that age I spent a summer sneaking around with a girl from my village." He has a small, wistful smile on his face, but it turns the slightest bit bitter when he adds, "I think what she liked most about me was how much her father hated me."

"Oh yeah, I remember that phase. I had a few suitors that drove Liam up the wall, and that just made it more fun." I smile sadly and add on impulse, "And it felt normal, y'know? Like I was just someone's little sister, instead of Zoso's apprentice or Ian's guardian."

Rum huffs, half annoyed and half amused, as he rolls more fully on top of me and kisses one of the semi-circle of puncture scars that the Barking Beast left on my shoulder. "As concerning as your childhood anecdotes always are, dearest, you're still stalling."

I roll over to face him; he props himself up on his forearms to allow it, then settles his weight back onto me. I run my hands up his neck to thread into his hair, thumbs running along the corners of his jaw. I try to memorize the roughness of his skin under my fingertips, the gentleness and warmth in his amber eyes.

"Just let me have two weeks to enjoy this, yeah? We've had a hell of a time. I just want a breather."

He leans into the touch, eyes fluttering closed, and for a second I think I've successfully distracted him. Then his eyes open halfway, and he mumbles, "Are you going to tell me what's bothering you, or would you like me to guess?"

"Who said something's bothering me?"

"You made a will." His tone borders on accusatory.

"...Yeah. Sorry I made you my executor without asking. In my defense, I thought I'd be dead before you found out."

He ignores my attempt to joke. "When did you write it?"

By the worry and hurt on his face, I know where his mind has gone. "A while ago. Before we started this."

"When, Ellyn?"

"After we went to the Venedotians' teleportation stones." It's half a lie, because even though it was the same day, the real answer is, When I started seriously considering whether I'd live through standing between you and Ian. I trace my thumb along his jaw again. "It's just a precaution, Rum. Like you said, we both know there's gonna be a price for happiness."

Emotions pass his face with lightning quickness: surprise, pain, a fiery protectiveness. "Ellyn, you're not going to die. I won't allow it."

"Oh, you won't allow it? That changes everything."

"You know what I mean!" He huffs. He shifts his weight to one arm to bring the other up to my face, cradling my cheek in his palm with a gentleness and reverence that's in stark contrast to the serious, imploring look his eyes are drilling into mine. His voice is quiet but fierce when he says, "I won't let anything happen to you. I pr-"

"Don't make promises you can't keep, darling." I warn lightly.

He pauses, annoyed for one second before he relents and amends, "I'll do everything in my considerable power to keep you safe."

I smile. "I know."

I can see on his face that his worries haven't been entirely assuaged, but he has an answer, and it's as much of the truth as I can afford to give him. After a second he sighs and dips his head to kiss my collarbone, over the corresponding scar to one of the puncture marks on my back. Then he slides his hands under my back to hug me against him and nuzzles his face into the curve of my neck, and I rest my cheek against his head and run my hand through his hair. He lets out a lazy, contented sigh that has happiness washing through my chest.

This is worth it, the feeling reaffirms for me. No matter what happens, this was worth it.

I'm reading in the armchair next to the library hearth when I sense an increasingly-familiar shift in the air. I frown, focusing down on the book in my lap, confirming that the words blur into incomprehensibility. I've been expecting and dreading this, and I sigh dramatically and frisbee the book into the fire with a muted thunk and a plume of embers.

"Y'know, as polite as it is to check in, I feel like we know each other well enough now that you could just take the ring and bring it back when you're done."

Thanatos steps into the firelight, the shadows curling unnaturally around him. My hellhounds appear to either side of my chair in a similar swirl of shadows, red eyes glowing as they watch him with distrust. He settles in the chair across from me, unconcerned.

"Nonsense. The first job well done is an occasion that deserves personal attention."

"The only job." I correct, unease hanging over the back of my mind. "You get Sisyphus, I get one use of your ring. That was the deal."

"For now. But all mortals want to bargain when they finally come to me." Skriker pulls his lips back from his teeth at my spike of annoyance and apprehension, and I set a hand on his head before he can growl. Thanatos's eyes flicker to him, briefly amused. "The hellhounds have taken to you well. Give them the ring and command them to deliver it to me."

I don't know what possesses me to needle him, but before I can think better of it I'm flashing a cold smile. "What, can't come get it yourself?"

Anger flashes through his eyes, burning away any good humor. He leans forward. "Are you so eager to meet Death in person?" The threat drips off every word. "I have not had reason to cross the Veil in some time, but I could make an exception for you."

I hold his gaze, fighting to keep my face stoic despite the way fear clenches every muscle in my body. "Don't go to any trouble on my account."

He leans back, expression enragingly smug at my backpedaling. "Perish the thought."

Skriker does growl this time, and I finally break eye contact with Thanatos to give him a reassuring pat.

"Why did you give me two of them?" I eventually ask.

"To ensure that you would use at least one. If I had given you a single hound, you would have had it spending all it's time guarding someone else."

I open my mouth, then close it. If they're not with me or wherever they disappear to, they're usually watching over Graham and the other kids. I look back down to the hounds to hide a bemused expression.

"Am I really that predictable?" I grumble, more to myself than to him.

"Entirely." He agrees, and I fight not to scowl. "I choose to find it charming. Have you heard the phrase 'simple in the way a sword in simple'?"

I huff a disbelieving laugh and look down at the hounds. "Lads, I think he just called me stupid."

They look up and wag their tails lazily in response to my jovial tone. Thanatos's eyes warm though his lips barely quirk, a rare genuine smile. His gaze wanders to my left, to the spinning wheel only a few feet away, and the smile stretches into something mocking.

"This is a new addition. Can I take it to mean that you've finally given up your charade of indifference about the Dark One?"

Any pleasantness drops from my face, and I lean my head back against the chair and stare into space for a moment, drifting back into that increasingly-frequent spiral of dread for the day Rum and Ian lay eyes on each other.

"Am I going to die?" I ask quietly. The tense silence that follows causes dread to settle in my stomach.

"Everyone dies." He answers carefully.

"Am I going to die for this?" I clarify with some annoyance, nodding toward the spinning wheel. "For…" I trail off and run my hands through my hair, and Thanatos smiles one of his cold smiles.

"Do you love him, Davey Jones?"

"What a stupid question." He bristles, eyes darkening at the insult; my hounds bare their teeth in response, but I only roll my eyes. "I know you've never loved anyone, Thanatos, but use your imagination. Do you think a person puts themselves in this kind of situation for someone they don't love?"

He takes a deep breath, the agitation on his face easing into something else as well: amusement, sentimentality. His smile is thin and bitter.

"You might be surprised by what I know about love."

"You have a love life? Maybe you're an Olympian after all."

His eyes smile. "Will you tell him?"

A weight settles in my chest, and the pain sparks annoyance. "You know I can't. It would break the Promethean Curse, and when Ian finds out about this… No. I still need it."

For a second I think the look on his face is smugness, but there's something world-weary and bitter there as well. "And you mortals say that Death is cruel. Death is fair. Death is impartial. Life is cruel, and love… love can be agonizing."

I huff and look back into the fire. "You're such a comfort, Thanatos."

"That is entirely a matter of perspective. Perhaps yours will change in the time we work together." His eyes smile again. "I wish you good luck in your own endeavors, Davey Jones, but remember that one way or another, we'll see eachother again."

I jerk awake in the armchair, and the gentle wood creaking of Rum's wheel changes as he pauses, head coming up and blinking owlishly as he wakes from that trance-like state he enters. My hounds are already to either side of my chair, looking up at me with big, worried eyes.

Rum's eyes flicker over me and then the hounds. "Thanatos?" He asks with some distaste.

"Who else?" I grumble, yanking up the blanket that Rum has thrown over me and curling up in my chair. The book I had been ostensibly reading when I fell asleep is on the ground next to me, but I neither have the energy to pick it back up, nor any desire to actually go to bed and be alone right now.

"Your neck is going to hurt in the morning." He warns.

"I'll live."

"And I'll hear about it." He teases, and I glance over to him for the sole purpose of rolling my eyes.

I note the calculating look in his eyes, but he's pointedly quiet as he starts up his spinning again, and the gentle whirring of the wheel fills the air. The warmth of the fire and the gentle white noise of the wheel quickly has me drifting back towards sleep, and I teeter in an in-between place where time stretches and pauses, weightless and serene, aware only of another's presence and someone's occasional snoring. Then Rum's hands are sliding under me, and I curl into him on habit and instinct. I'm slightly more awake when he stands with me in his arms, and I have the distant realization that he planned this.

"Well played, love." I mutter against his neck.

He pauses for a second, almost holding his breath, and I would realize later that he had the thought I should've: that that word invokes the I love you that binds my immortality in a way that sets off his- and normally my- paranoia. When nothing happens in the next heartbeat he relaxes again, an entirely too self-satisfied smile spreading across his face.

He takes a step and smoke wraps around us, and then we stand in our bedroom. A twitch of his fingers pulls the blanket back, and he sits on the bed and then rolls us both in so he's curled around me. I smile and shift more fully towards him to rest my face into the curve of his neck.

"You don't have to stay every time." I mumble sleepily. We both know he will anyway, but I feel compelled to say it.

"There's very little I have to do, dearest." His voice softens and fills with that fathomless warmth that makes my chest ache. "I want to."

Another wave of affection surges through me, and the twinned pain is only a distant echo. Fuck, I do love him. For a split-second, the urge to say as much dominates my mind, wraps around my chest.

The feeling passes, and when I trust myself to speak I let out a relieved breath. "Quit being so cute. You'll get me in trouble with myself."

"Petyr has a crush on you." Rum teases in a sing-song as we wait for the Winter Council to begin.

It's been a full two weeks now since the solstice, a fact I'm acutely aware of. In the back of my head is the constant countdown now: Two weeks till Neverland. One week. And now, Three days. I've spent every moment I could with Graham and Rum, going as far as to drag the Dark One to a few more training sessions and reviving our trio's evening walks. Some part of me is already bitter that this is how I'll be spending at least a few of these last days, even if logically I know that I'd have had to go sooner without the excuse of the Council.

"Screw Petyr, I want Adrienne to have a crush on me. I could use the confidence of still being able to get a woman like that."

He hums an appreciative Mmhm in agreement, then adds, "You'd have to chase off that scowling hobgoblin first."

I grin at the snipe at Marius. He's warmed slightly to me, but he's barely said two words to Rum. "If his attitude improved, I wouldn't care if he stayed, but I suppose Adrienne might. Not everyone can be as open-minded as me."

"There's a difference between open and twisted, dearest."

"That's the line where you think twisted starts? Ha! You really are shy about these things."

Rum scoffs good-naturedly. "I am not-"

The door to the Council chambers opens, and everyone looks over to watch King Pelagios stride in with his guard, Silus, at his side. Trailing behind them comes Prince Peleus and his wife Genevieve; she looks as beautiful and composed as always, but there's a tightness around Peleus's eyes when he smiles, one that betrays his mood all the more because it's next to his wife's expertly-crafted facade of friendliness.

"Let us begin." Pelagios says as he crosses straight to the head of the table. Silus steps up beside him and begins his seating-chart spiel. When we've all been called to our places, Pelagios begins the meeting with, "I welcome you, Lords and Ladies of Listenoise, to the Winter Council."

I zone in and out of conversations as the meeting drags on around us. I expected to spend the day at least a little on-edge in the company of the nobles, but now that I know there's nothing but etiquette keeping us here for the rest of the day, I become painfully aware of time slipping through my hands like sand through an hourglass. Every passing moment only adds to my increasingly-desperate need to be anywhere but here, anywhere but wasting some of my last few days of happiness on things and people I could care less about. Rum notices my growing restlessness and sets his hand on mine, brushing his thumb across my skin in a soothing motion. As I grow more restless I slip my hand from under Rum's and begin to trace the outlines of his scales on the back of his hand, making nonsensical zig-zag patterns from each knuckle down to the wrist and back up.

The midday break takes an eternity to come. I keep one eye on the prince and princess as we chat politely with Adrianne and the others over hors d'oeuvres, waiting impatiently for an opening. I can't help but notice that Peleus doesn't stray far from his father's side, and that if he does he's always accompanied by one of the handful of nobles I've had the least interaction with: de Icanos, de Oriel, and de Avondale. Princess Genevieve moves through different circles with a bit more ease than her husband. She and Adrienne greet each other with the familiarity of old friends, and she does an admirable job of treating the rest of us with the same warmth- even if it is more polite than it is genuine.

"If you'll excuse me," She says with a charming smile after a few minutes of idle talk, "I should return to my husband."

I give Rum's arms a quick squeeze in warning before I start after her, slipping up to her side before she's gone more than a few steps. She pauses, looking to me expectantly and perhaps with a hint of trepidation.

"Princess," I greet with an amicable smile, voice quiet in an attempt to hide under the buzz of chatter around us.

"Lady de Corbin." She flashes me a pleasant smile that doesn't hide the tenseness around her eyes and in her body. I had wondered how much Peleus told his wife about his adventure in the depths of my castle, and it seems that the answer is enough.

"We haven't had much opportunity to speak since the Solstice. It's a shame you and your husband had to leave so early the next morning." Because you tried to fucking rob me hangs in the air between us. Her pleasant expression tightens at the reminder, and I continue, "I'd like to call on you two sometime while we're all here."

She bats her lashes at me. "Of course, Lady d'Corbin. The crown prince always has time for his subjects. Please be so kind to remind me, where are your quarters here? I haven't seen you around the guest wing yet. You and your companion seem to simply-" She makes a flippant motion with her hand, "Disappear."

I grin broadly at the barest whisper of a knife's edge under that polite voice. Peleus might be a would-be thief, but mages are just as illegal. A whisper of annoyance tugs at the back of my mind over the implied threat, but I have to admit that I'm impressed by both her gall and her tact.

"I apologize if I've been hard to find. We could meet you in the lower gardens after dinner to avoid any further confusion."

Her eyes flicker over me warily. "Perhaps we will, if the air is not too brisk. My southron constitution fails me in this cold. Now, if you'll excuse me."

I nod and give her a brief soldier's bow as she leaves.

"Is it a date?" Rum asks lowly, slipping up beside me and resting a hand on my back.

"Guess we'll find out."

That evening Rum and I settle on a bench in the depths of the gardens, bouncing ideas about curing the Questing Beast off eachother as we wait. It's just past nightfall, and nearly an hour past dinner, when lycanthrope hearing picks up approaching footsteps on the path. I nod down it for Rum's benefit.

"I almost thought we'd been stood up."

"I can't say I've missed their company." He replies lightly, and when they come into view he tucks my arm into the crook of his elbow as we stand to meet them.

"Prince, Princess." I greet with a fist over the heart and an incline of the head.

A cold edge runs under Genevieve's polite voice. "Lady d'Corbin. What do you need that demands a visit at this hour, with this kind of-" Her gaze flickers briefly to our surroundings, "- secrecy?"

"If the hour isn't to your liking, Princess, you should've met with us after dinner." I counter sweetly. "I don't have time to waste, so I don't appreciate it being wasted for me."

Peleus sets his shoulders. "A meeting with the prince is a request, not a command."

I ignore the statement and it's false bravado. "I have some questions about what happened the other night."

"That was ugly business that I wanted no part of-" He begins immediately, his uncertainty flashing to fear and shame.

"Good. Because I don't care about your part in it as much as I care about Gwydion's and Pelagios'."

There's another flare of fear across his face. He's jumpier tonight that he was sneaking through my crypts. Not so brave without his guards and a magician at his back.

"I have nothing more to say on the matter-"

"Pelagios ordered you to silence, did he? I'm curious, how did he react when he heard you got caught red-handed?" His face starts to harden, and I sigh dramatically. "You wanted to know who I am to Pelagios, yeah?"

"Not if the price for my curiosity is treason. If my father finds out-"

"I won't be telling him, you have my word on that."

Curiosity and caution war on his face, and he exchanges a look with his wife. Silent agreement passes between them.

Hesitantly, he asks, "What do you need to know?"

"Whose idea was it, Gwydion's or your father's?"

"I do not know for sure, but I do know that Gwydion's interest in Corbin Castle predated my father's orders to- well, you know."

Well, Alastar's going to feel vindicated at least. "Predated by how long?"

"A year and a half, maybe two?"

I start to stiffen and force myself to relax before it's visible, but it must have been enough for Rum to feel, because his head moves the smallest fraction as he fights the urge to look at me. That timeline- did I draw him here? He came when I was experimenting with the Venedotian's Standing Stones?

"What did he ask your father for?"

Peleus shrugs. "His blessing, I assume, to trespass on what was then Crown property. I wasn't privy to their conversation myself. I'd only met the man in passing before the solstice."

Blessing my ass. "Uh-huh. And what'd he ask for at the solstice?"

"King's blood. Gwydion said that your castle was protected by powerful blood magic, and that he would need the power of a king's blood to counter it."

Still bullshit, but skewing alittle closer to the truth this time.

"If the esteemed Master Envoy only needed king's blood," Rum begins with barely-contained venom, "What excuse did they make for bringing Sisyphus? Even you would have to realize that he wouldn't need gallons of the stuff."

The prince blinks at us. "What?"

"Sisyphus is a king." I pause and amend, "Or he was."

"I knew him only as Sisyphus Basileus of Ephyra. Though he did mention something about it that night, didn't he? Right before you, well…"

I don't know whether to sigh or laugh. "Listenoise doesn't do much trade around the White Sea, huh? Basileus is Hellenese for King."

"Oh. Well, I suppose my father didn't know. I can't imagine he'd have involved me if he had another choice." Genevieve's lips press into a narrow line when he says that, glancing at me to gauge if I'm as skeptical about that line of thinking as she is. We share a look, and her expression tightens. Peleus continues, "Gwydion suspected that we would encounter ghosts and spirits. I'm told that Sisyphus claimed to be able to see and restrain such creatures. He was exchanging his services in return for asylum in our country."

"Hmm. And how far into the crypts did you get?"

"It's hard to say without seeing it again. Gwydion used my blood to pass the first barrier-" I blink dumbly at him, trying to hide more obvious signs of my unadulterated shock. He got past the first barrier? But they were in front of it when we met- "-and he tried a second, but something went wrong. He said someone had been alerted to our progress and ordered a retreat. It was a mad dash. We lost each other in the corridors and found each other again at the first barrier-"

"He was alone down there?" I snarl, gripping Rum's arms, knuckles white as my skin crawls. The only other barrier in the crypts was across the Vault entrance- and that one wasn't blood-magic, just a strong ward and an alarm. My mind races. "How long? What was he like when he came back? You know what, just walk me through it, turn by turn, every single detail from entering the crypts to seeing me-"

"Lady d'Corbin," Genevieve cuts in, "Just how many answers are expected from us in exchange for the single one we ask of you?"

I grind my teeth, annoyed by the interruption even as some distant part of my mind is impressed that she has the sense and the guts to interrupt. I spend a heartbeat in thought, weighing the information I already have against the possibility of getting no more out of them after they have what they want. I'm confident now Pelagios was only an opportunistic co-conspirator in this, as he was when he sent Nidhad's goons after my sword. I still wonder if he knows the full details of our families' common distant ancestry, or if Gwydion gave the 'king's blood' excuse to father and son alike, but still, on all but the specific details of the heist, I have most other answers they can provide.

If only we could get our hands on Gwydion again. I'm sure Rum would love prying the information out of him.

"Alright." I decide. "You wanted to know who I am to Pelagios, yeah? I'm his sister. Pellamos was my father. My mother was a descendant of the old de Corbin lords."

"His-" Peleus stares with wide eyes. "You're my-?"

"I'm no one to you. You're almost as much a stranger to me as your father is."

"I had heard tell that King Pellamos had a handful of bastards." Genevieve murmurs. Her expression shutters, eyes sharpening, "But if you have no relationship to speak of with the king, why did he remake a province for you?"

"From what your husband has told me, I think he wanted to do that with or without me. I was just available and willing to pay for the privilege."

Her eyes flicker briefly to Peleus, suppressing annoyance, before returning to me. "And what did you pay?"

"That's between me and him."

"Do you owe him loyalty? A debt?"

Rum scoffs. "Loyalty can't be bought, dearie. And if it could, he couldn't afford it."

I suppress a smile and add, "Something tells me that Pelagios inspires more fear than loyalty- which means he inspires nothing in us."

"Nothing, Lady d'Corbin? Not even animosity?"

I flash a sharp-toothed grin. "Well, you know how siblings are."

"No, I don't." Peleus says, and for a second there's open anger and grief on his face. "I loved my brother and sister."

My smile falls, my free hand flexing as I resist the urge to clench it into a fist. "I know how you feel, lad. I've lost more than one brother to more than one king."

He meets my eyes, for a second surprised and distrustful at my genuineness. Determination settles on his face, lending a certain glint to his eyes that tells me he knows my answer before he even asks, "How did you live with it?"

"I killed them."

Husband and wife share a look. Peleus sets his shoulders.

"You are new to the Council, Lady d'Corbin, but you are one of our own now. Let us sit. There are things you should know about these past years for our country."

It's late in the night when Rum and I leave the Prince and Princess and step back out into the gardens, and the wind now carries a sharp biting cold that stabs needle-points into my face. I trot us towards the secluded spot we've been using to teleport from and weave a silencing spell to hide our conversation.

When it's complete I say, "I'm impressed by how many eyes and ears the boy's got. He knows alot about his father's dealings for someone who wasn't included in them."

"I wouldn't be so certain they are his."

"Aye, you've got a point there. He's the heart, she's the brains."

Rum flashes a teasing smile. "Sound familiar?"

"What, us? Darling, I've been reliably informed I don't have a heart. If you're the brains, I'm the brawn."

"No heart? You, little wolf, are all bark that only occasionally bites."

"Just because I only occasionally bite you," I shoot back with a grin, "Doesn't mean that anyone else would get off so easy. And they don't usually enjoy it."

He hums an acquiescence, then adds, "And how can you be the brawn next to the Dark One?" I scoff, because the first thought in my mind is, Because my powers don't come with a giant off-switch attached. "What?"

"I'll tell you later. Maybe." I glance pointedly around our surroundings; even with a silencing spell, I wouldn't risk mentioning the Dagger in the Pellinore's castle.

When I teleport us away, we appear in the depths of Corbin Castle. The ease and warmth between us drains away as the smoke clears to reveal the halls of the crypts, and focus rises up to take its place. We stalk the path from the stairs to the Vault with the hounds at our side, using Dyrwyn's blaze as a torch. Scenarios are piecing themselves together in my head, crystallizing into a jagged-edged, hole-spotted approximation of what happened, building to create paranoid scenarios of what Gwydion could have done in the brief time he was alone down here. We reach the entrance to the Vault, and I pace in front of it while Rum leans against the statue to watch me.

"So he used Peleus to dismantle the first barrier-"

"No, he didn't." Rum points out, voice tense. "He used Peleus to get them all through the barrier. Without destroying it or leaving evidence that it had been altered."

Ice creeps up my spine. "Blood-y hell, he's good."

"He's experienced, specialized. Likely powerful."

"But not specialized enough to avoid the alarm?"

He frowns. "If he meant to activate it…"

"Why would he do that? Trying to lose the rest of them?"

"There's no need to share the spoils when you walk away empty-handed."

I cross my arms and mirror his frown. "That's a risky play. Cutting his time down to seconds, before he's even gotten into the Vault… If I didn't want to share the loot, I'd deal with that after the fact before I'd risk getting nothing at all."

"Not everyone can be as clever as you and I, dearest." It's a joke, trying to lift my mood even as he frowns. He looks up and back at the statue thoughtfully. "Alastar would have told you if someone breached the Vault, wouldn't he?"

"I mean, he would, but he wouldn't have to. My barrier over it was still intact."

"Then it seems that Gwydion gambled and lost."

"...Yeah."

Still, I can't shake the unease crawling under my skin.

Rum and I make a performative appearance at the Winter Council the next day, but by lunch my anxiety about the looming trip to Neverland, and my mounting frustration at wasting our last precious moments of happiness, has me feigning an illness to leave at lunch. Adrianne and Genevieve come to my aide with masterful comments of sympathy that apply a womanly ailment, and Pelagios- though suspicious- blesses our absence to ease the obvious discomfort of the other noblemen.

We stop at Corbin Castle to collect Graham and spend the afternoon together at Kraken's brackish lake near my house. I create a warm dome for us to picnic in as we watch a light snow begin to fall, and on a whim Rum freezes half the lake. Graham is delighted at the novel experience of ice-skating, and for a few precious hours the rest of the world falls away as I fight to keep myself and my eight-year-old from wiping out on the ice, and laugh at the hounds as they slip and slide like newborn deer as they try to follow dutifully after us.

In the quiet moments, when Graham takes his first strides on his own, or I watch him marvel at the snow slowly sticking to our dome, reality slams back in- that these could be the last happy moments of our odd little family- and grief threatens to choke me. Rum takes my hand when he notices, but wisely says nothing about it until Graham has worn himself out and fallen sleep in the dome, curled up between Skriker and Padfoot with his head pillowed on my jacket.

He wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side, head resting against mine so he can talk quietly into my ear.

"I thought this would cheer you up, Ellie."

"What are you on about? I loved watching him have fun."

"That's not what I said, dearest."

I sigh and turn to wrap my arms around his waist and rest my head into the curve of his neck. "He didn't notice, did he?"

"No, he didn't. I, on the other hand…" He trails off, waiting for an explanation, and when none comes he continues, "You've been distracted, erratic, short-"

"Yeah, and you know why." I grumble.

He's quiet for a moment. "Do you really expect it to go so poorly?" His voice drops on the next words, gentle but melancholy as he continues, "You have the chance to see your brother again, Ellie. I'd burn the world to be in your place."

"I know, Rum. If I could trade places with you-"

I stop dead in the middle of that sentence. Would I? If I had to choose between reuniting with Ian, or him reuniting with Baelfire, who would I choose? My upbringing says Ian, always; my logic says that a boy needs his father so much more than either of us need our sibling; my heart doesn't know what to think, other than the nagging, cutting feeling that Rum has a better chance at a relationship with his son than I do with Ian.

"Ellie," He begins coaxingly, drawing me out of my thoughts. "I don't know that I've ever seen you scared. I often wish you were more cautious. Why are you so afraid of this?"

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Rum." The words should sound harsh, but they're only sad and tired.

"I'd love the chance to learn." He counters. "Tell me."

"...It's nothing, Rum. It's just that everything changes after this. I'm going to miss-" You. I'm going to miss you. "-what we have now."

His arms tighten around me. "Graham and I aren't going anywhere."

Don't make promises you can't keep, darling, I almost say for the second time in as many weeks.

At Rum's suggestion, I bring Phelan as my allotted guest to the last day of the Council, and present him as the man that killed the Questing Beast to begin to build the reputation he will one day rely on. I had thought that Phelan reminded me of Tor before, but when we reach the Council chambers he sinks into a demeanor that strikes me as so like a softer-edged version of my brother: quiet, but amiable when approached; stoic, but not cold like Tor could be to strangers. His politeness in conversation and his humbleness as he presents the 'evidence' of the Barking Beast's demise seems to endear him to the handful of nobles I most often talk to, and at least doesn't give the others any good reason to further look down their noses at us.

The Barking Beast was decidedly less enthusiastic about the whole thing; it had to contribute a clump of fur to the ruse. It and I are both lucky that I was able to source a basilisk fang and an ice bear's massive claw to pass off as trophies of the hunt, otherwise I might have needed more than fur. Pelagios watches me with a distrustful gaze when the evidence is presented to the Council, though I can't decide if that's because he suspects that we're lying, or if he's paranoid that we could use this to our benefit and his detriment. I pointedly ignore him; having to be at my social best for Phelan's sake, when Neverland is only a day away and without Rum here to anchor me, is already stretching the limits of my discipline and nerve. It's a small miracle that I'm not in the middle of a nervous breakdown the whole day.

"How are you holding up, lad?" I ask Phelan at the midday break.

He glances around, lowers his voice, and shrugs. "There's no doubt that these people are rich snobs, but I think most are ignorant, not malicious. I can't say I'd choose to spend my time with them but I can learn to work with them."

If I ever needed a reminder that my blood-family are better people than me, Phelan just gave it to me; I've operated under the assumption of nobles' maliciousness, or at least their selfishness, since I was a teenager.

"That's a productive attitude to have, as long as you keep cautious."

"I know, Auntie."

I flash him a small smile, as genuine as I can give in the circumstances. "I'm proud of you. You're handling yourself well here."

His eyes flicker away as a small, bashful smile crosses his face. "I'm just tryin' to avoid talking, else I'd remind them I'm not one of them. Aisling is better at it than me. She had them all charmed at the solstice just by keeping them talking about themselves."

"Smart woman. That's their favorite subject." I return with a brittle smile.

Phelan's expression falters. "Are you alright, Auntie?

No. "I'll tell you later."

As we walk through the Castle Pellinore Gardens after the meeting ends, I weave a sound-proof bubble around us and pick the conversation back up.

"If all goes to plan, I'll get to see Ian tomorrow. If it doesn't… Just know I'll do whatever it takes to get back to Graham and you all. And remember that you're head of the family after me, Phelan, not your father."

"You're making me nervous with that kind of talk."

"Sorry, lad. You're really not going to like this next part."

I put a hand on his shoulder and teleport us to the entrance to the Vault. Phelan blinks in surprise and looks around us.

"Are we in the crypts?"

"Aye. Pay attention now, I need to see that you can do this." I draw my hunting knife and hold it out to him. "Prick your finger and let a drop fall into the statue's hand. He'll move and speak when you do. I'll walk you through it."

"This place only gets weirder," He mutters as he pricks his finger. The statue's eyes flare red, and it draws it's stone sword.

"By what right do you trespass here?"

Phelan repeats the words as I whisper them to him. "I am Phelan nephew of Faolan, Heir of Corbin Castle."

"For your aunt's name, you may enter."

He hands the knife back to me, eyes darting between the statue and I as we wait for it to reveal the Vault and step aside. I motion for his hand, heal it with a small pulse of magic, and begin to lead the way down.

"This is the Vault of Corbin Castle. It contains a collection of artifacts that our ancestors spent generations collecting and guarding. If you're ever in dire need, Alastar can help you find something here to use."

We hit the floor of the Vault as I say it, and Phelan stops and stares in wide-eyed astonishment at the room of flashing metals and expert craftsmanship. Alastar appears in the center of the room and floats towards us.

"I heard my name. Is there something I can help with?"

"I'm showing Phelan the Vault in case they're ever in real trouble." Alastar turns a keen, concerned stare onto me and almost says something, but his eyes flicker to Phelan, and he keeps his silence. "I was just telling him that you'd be able to advise him if the time ever came."

"Of course. I am at your disposal."

"Auntie-"

"My predecessor gave me a metaphorical sword and shield, so I'll pass them on to you. First, the Pellinores can breach the blood-magic that protects the castle. Hey, Alastar, how exactly does the Vault entrance work? I've seen it used by Heirs or Lords, but can the rest of the family access it?"

"It requires a drop of d'Corbin blood, the invocation of the name of the most recent Lord or Lady, and to name a plausible relationship to them- though anecdotes suggest that that part becomes rather flexible as the blood thins."

I nod a thanks and continue to Phelan, "Keep that in mind, then, for Pellinores and distant relatives. That's the shield. The sword is all this." I gesture to the artifacts.

My nephew only stares at me for a moment, anxious and confused. "Is something going on? By the gods, you're talking like you're dying."

I hesitate. "I just don't know how much I'll be around in the next weeks. I haven't seen Ian in decades, and I'm not sure how life will look for me after that." I flash him a thin smile and lie, "It'll be fine, Phelan. I just want you to be prepared."

Anxiety softens to concern, and he puts a hand on my shoulder. "I understand. Don't worry about us. I can handle things here. And when things are settled, he doesn't have to be a stranger. Your family is our family."

"Thanks, lad." I pat his arm. "I'll see you at dinner, yeah?"

When he disappears up the stairs I almost sag from relief, so tantalizingly close to not having to put on a face for anyone, so close to being able to stop holding off the weight of guilt and panic and just let it crush me instead. "Alastar, give me a minute, will you?"

He looks over me searchingly. "Something else is bothering you."

"Yeah, and I'd like a minute alone in the only place in this bloody castle I could be guaranteed some privacy."

"I trust that you would have told me if it was the Venedotians."

"It's not."

"Then what-"

"It's Rum." I snap, hoping that the quickest way to end this conversation is with his least favorite subject.

"Trouble in paradise?" It's mostly sarcasm, but with just a touch of hope.

My hands flex at my sides. "You could at least try not to sound happy about it."

"What is the problem?" He deflects. "I'd have thought that I would hear of a fight if there'd been one."

"There hasn't been, yet."

"Yet?"

I sigh and give up. "We're going to get my little brother tomorrow, and it's going to go… bad. At this point I can't be sure I'll be coming back with either of them." At this point, I can't be entirely sure when or if I'll be back.

Alastar cocks his head. "What do you mean?"

I hesitate for a second, wondering how much to trust him with; he could take any incriminating information to Rum if he thought it'd finally get him out of the castle.

"There's something he doesn't know about me, and he's going to find out tomorrow. I… don't think there's any way it goes over well."

"I see." He spends only half a heartbeat in contemplation. "Would you like my advice?"

"Not particularly."

He's already flipping the lid on a glass display case and pulling out a familiar brass signet ring. He holds it out to me and explains, "The Seal of Solomon. A god's gift to an ancient king to allow him to control demons. It uses a creature's own dark magic to bend them to the wearer's will. It can be resisted at first, but with time…"

I frown. "Yeah, I get the idea. I saw Zoso use it when-" When you died. I hesitate and amend, "When he went up against Gorgon."

Alastar gives me a patient look that tells me I've missed the point somewhere. "Yes, it can be particularly useful against a hostile Dark One." I recoil, but he's already continuing, "It is not as iron-clad as the Dagger, but in a dire situation-"

"Stop, just- just let me get this straight. I'm worried about having a fight with my lover, and your answer is to mind-control him? I'm sorry, what the fuck is wrong with you?!"

I'm halfway to shouting now, any of my previous anxiety washed away under a current of outrage and protective zeal. Determination hardens Alastar's face.

"This is not just a lover's spat! A Dark One is one of the most powerful beings on this plane. There is nothing to stop him from killing you-"

"He can't."

"And why would that be? Love?" He sneers.

"That's enough!" I snap, more stung than I'd ever admit. I was speaking literally, but something about the sheer derision of his tone and how automatically he said it hits me in a raw spot today.

"Ellyn, if you cannot keep him under control, that man is a threat to our family, our legacy! He knows the power of mages in our bloodline, he knows the collection of artifacts we protect- do you truly believe he will just let that go? You are his key to control over this family and our magic. If he does not have you to grant that access, then he will take it by force, or he will destroy it."

"The hell are you on about? You're as paranoid as-"

"As he is?" Alastar challenges. "He cannot allow the possibility of our arsenal being wielded against him. You know that- or at least you should." He steps forward as though to shove the ring into my hands, and I step back.

"Gods, Alastar, just calm down. Nothing's happened yet, and even if it did he wouldn't-"

"Then take it as a precaution. If you are right, there will be no harm in having it." There's something almost desperate creeping into his expression, his voice, so much so that I spend half a second anticipating a Please that never comes.

I sweep a searching look across his face. This is about something bigger for him, I realize, frowning and looking down at the brass Seal in his hands. For a moment I envision the possible future he offers, one where I actually do have a chance of keeping Rum and Ian from each other's throats, and one where it doesn't take an endless cycle of agonizing resurrections to do so. For a moment the temptation wraps my mind and holds me in place, and I look at the weapons on the wall, at the glass cases of artifacts in neat rows beside us and shelves more beyond them as I replay Alastar's paranoid rant.

"Put it back, Alastar. That's an order."

His face drops into disappointment and something else, something heavy and aching, like grief or guilt. I get the stark sense that I've failed some kind of test, and for a minute I'm a teenager again, reading the unspoken displeasure in Zoso's severe expression and stiff body language. When he turns to replace the Seal, I leave without another word.

After the sun sets I pace the castle grounds like a wraith, knowing that to sit still will drown me in a catatonic spiral of dread that will waste my last hours, driven only by the desperate instinct to isolate myself before that happens so I won't subject my loved ones to seeing it. In some ways it's akin to the animal desire to find a place to curl up and die alone in: find a place where no one has to see the damn break over me, where my guilt and panic and selfishness doesn't have to cause them distress. My loops around the castle takes me through the ballroom with the intention of disappearing into the gardens, but I pause at doorway when I see the moonlight-figures moving across the dance floor. I pause a minute to lean in the door, watching the Echoes as Rum and I did in what feels like another lifetime.

It jolts something in me when I see them. Us. I don't know why I'm surprised; Alastar said that his parents' figures appeared here while they still lived. I watch the echo of Rum and I play out in the moonlight, watch them dance and smile, so obviously in love, so painfully happy. An odd melancholy rises in my chest and clenches my throat, sharp yet sweet, grateful to watch the memory even as I already mourn it. For the first time in weeks I'm only vaguely aware of time passing, have no care for the minutes as they slip by. I might have watched them till dawn if left to my own devices, floating in the comforting agony of memory, but as the moon rises and the angle of light changes the figures begin to fade from existence, and all too soon I'm standing alone, starring into the dark room.

It's only then that I realize I'd been crying.