If there were ever three months that screamed past and crawled like a snail, Garek had never experienced them before now. When Garek was on active combat missions, the days passed like seconds. When he was not, his lips ached to kiss her. His arms ached to hold her. And other parts of him just fucking ached.

And he wasn't wrong about how old Tarlech would respond to him returning that fall, either.

"Back again, lad. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were bewitched. And the weather is not pleasant for camping. Could be colder, might come a frost later."

"Maybe I am bewitched, Tar. Maybe I am."

The old man grunted. "Well, mind you don't lure others to your fate then. And watch yourself, spirits can be tricky things."

And don't I know it. Demanding too.

He made it to his campsite without incident, all as it had been left. He had even taken to installing small tells that would warn him of anyone having visited on foot in his absence. None had been disturbed save by what were clearly animals, based on the tracks.

It apparently wasn't proof against all intrusion, however.

A stone, apparently dropped from a height, lay in the center of the clearing, embedded an inch or so into the soft ground. Affixed to it was some sort of waterproof sleeve.

And inside that, a folded letter.

Dearest Garek,

I hope you will forgive my immaturity, or perhaps insecurity. I know you will not receive this letter until your arrival one month hence, but the mere act of writing it and knowing it has been delivered to our shared place feels like having you now. I needed this. Mother told me that she had an important gathering of servants, and requested I absent myself. She often bids me limit myself to private quarters or travel during such things. I now believe she wishes to prevent my involvement in such affairs, or exposure to such individuals.

I took such opportunity to write and deliver this letter.

I miss you desperately. I love my mother, truly I do. But as the weeks have worn on, I feel a void in my life here. There are people, and my Grimm companions, but it is not as it was. I understand now that there are topics Mother's servants have been bid to avoid discussing with me. I wish your companionship and the easy way we speak of things together.

But more than that, where once I was content, now I find that I cast my eyes around rooms and down corridors, hoping for the sight of something that I cannot find here. When I lay in my bed at night, I imagine warm arms around me, and a body against mine. I miss you, and I cannot wait until we are reunited.

I also wanted to reassure you that Mother has asked me no questions regarding my travels, nor shown any suspicions, other than a few… pointed remarks, regarding my increased desire for (as she has called it) 'alone time'. I have attempted to be more discrete, but I confess that thoughts of you often lead to thoughts of you. I need not explain further, other than to say that I think of you far too often.

I remain yours, and you will see me on the morrow when you read this.

Selene

His heart swelled as he read the letter, and a sense of relief washed over him. Not only that his… lover? Yes, at least in intent. That his lover was safe and well and missing him, but also that she had resisted the urge to declare him to her mother, and further that her mother, Queen of the Grimmlands, did not appear to have some supernatural ability to detect that her only daughter was doing some very intimate things with a Huntsman of all creatures.

He set about preparing the campsite for their stay, and turned in early that night, bundled against the cold.

The next day he was anxious for time to pass. His Selene. His. She would arrive after dusk, and he was high strung. She would come, and play her little prank on him, and they would fall into each others' arms, and… well he would see what happened after that. He was still terrified of allowing things to progress further. But it was a heady sort of terror. He had even taken the precaution of setting up a more comfortable pallet, large enough for both. He smiled at himself.

Hours later, he sat in his usual spot, and exhaled when the stars were eclipsed by shadow. He sat still, though his heart hammered in his chest as minutes passed.

And then it came, the soft footsteps. And then her voice.

"Pray tell me." A deep feminine voice rolled across him, sultry but freezing him in place. "Why I should grant you a swift death, rather than peel your flesh from your bones one inch at a time."

It was not Selene's voice.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Seconds crawled by in agonizing slowness as he came to terms with what… who… must be behind him. He cast back to the first time he had encountered Selene, and how she had reacted then. His life now hung in the balance. He took in all the things Selene had told him about her mother, and the feeling of Power that had washed over him with that voice, and reacted with the caution a mouse would when faced with a snake.

"My…" he cleared his throat softly. "Your Majesty, may I have your permission to kneel in your presence?"

There was a pregnant pause. "You may." It was hard to read her tone. Was she suspicious? Bemused? Amused? Bored?

He didn't fully rise, but leaned forward, planting one knee, and slowly rotated his body around it until he knelt on that knee, hands crossed carefully on it, facing toward her but head lowered so that he saw only her flowing robes a few meters away from him. He kept his eyes downcast.

"Your Majesty." He rasped again. His body was shaking, and she would see that, but he struggled to keep his voice as even as he could.

"I find myself surprised. You are… more polite than I anticipated. Less irritating. My daughter appears to have trained you well." Her tone was more thoughtful than it had been before.

Would you kill a faunus, if it knelt before you, asking you questions?

He had a suspicion that this woman's answer to that question was 'Yes, without hesitation'.

But he also suspected that every minute he could draw this conversation out, increased the minute possibility that she might not do so immediately, or that she might do so less agonizingly.

She confirmed his thoughts. "It will not save you, though it may go toward convincing me to grant you a painless end. You may look upon me. I do not desire your obsequiousness, though your deference does you credit."

Garek raised his head, and his eyes, to the woman before him. Bone-white skin. Black sclera and pupils. Scarlet irises. Traceries of vein-like red and black framed her cheekbones. Her hair was done elaborately with decorative hairpins. She was dressed regally, as befit her title. Her face was alien and her eyes bore into his. Unlike Selene, there was no warmth there. No humanity, though he disliked the term. Only cold calculation and perhaps a hint of curiosity.

She reeked of power. He could feel it radiate from her. Power that could kill him before he could move, aura or not.

She was flanked by dozens of Grimm, of various sizes and breeds. Their red eyes glowed, locked onto him, but they neither made a sound nor a move toward him. In his peripheral vision, he saw more drawing forward, surrounding the campsite. More than a team of Huntsmen could manage. More than enough to overpower a single man like himself, regardless of skill.

He was glad he was already kneeling, because the sight would have caused him to fall otherwise.

He realized who was not present. "Queen of-"

"You may call me Queen Salem, for the time you have left. For the sake of brevity."

He took a breath, exhaled slowly. "Queen Salem, please tell me, is Selene unharmed?"

"I tell you of your fate, and you ask of my daughter's." It was not a question, but a statement, and delivered with what might have been surprise.

Yes. It mattered. For many reasons. One was selfish. If Selene were alive, if her mother… Salem… cared enough to spare her drastic punishment, then it was possible her daughter's emotional pain might influence Salem. But if she were callous enough to harm her own daughter, then he had no possibility of mercy.

And beyond that, he didn't want to see Selene punished.

"Yes, I… please. If I…" he couldn't find the words. "I would beg of you not to punish her for my errors."

Salem looked wary. "You have… feelings for my daughter, beyond carnal."

"I do."

"Another point in your favor, then. And what are these errors of which you speak?"

"If I confessed that we did not… that I insisted we must not..." He was shaking so hard, and the enormity made it difficult to find words that he could be sure would not send the Queen into a rage. "We held back, out of respect." Fear, more like. Fear that was justified. He closed his eyes.

He did not expect laughter. But he received it. Unpleasant, mocking laughter.

"You believe I care for my daughter's chastity? For her virginal purity? Poor creature. It would not have mattered. You could have…" She considered. "No. No. While the fact of it would not have mattered, your consideration shows respect. Another point. Have you other points to share?"

"Selene please. You have not told me how she-"

"She is well, and unharmed. Unpunished. In fact, she is ignorant of my awareness, and of my presence and intentions here, and will remain so."

It should have spelled his doom. He should have been devastated. Instead, he felt a rush of air as he nearly collapsed in relief. "Thank you, Queen Salem."

"You thank me. Who will be slain in minutes. Though now, I am content to make it as painless as possible."

"Yes." He considered, trying desperately for an angle. "But she will be hurt. She will insist to come here, and will know that you have-"

Salem gestured to her left, and two Grimm came forward with the bodies of several humans draped across their backs. "Bandits. Pirates. When my daughter comes, after she has finished being delayed, she will find your body, surrounded by those you have slain." She gazed on him for a few moments. "In light of your… consideration for my daughter, you will have bravely fallen defending this encampment. To ensure that she did not fall prey to them in turn."

"She'll be devastated." He threw out desperately.

"I will console her."

He ground his teeth, angry at the duplicity, the hypocrisy. His mind was desperately trying to understand Salem's motives, her intentions, to find a way out. "What if… what if instead I were to leave, and not return?" He felt he knew the answer already.

He eyes hardened. "She would seek you, eventually, and I cannot risk that you would be found by my enemies, and tell others of my daughter's existence. I will not risk her safety."

There it was. It was the mere knowledge of Selene that Salem feared. He felt his anger fade into resignation. Sorrow. There was nothing he could do. Nothing he could say. He could not fight this.

So be it.

"Where should I be, so that the blood shed is convincing."

"You accept this?"

He laughed bitterly. "Accept?! No. But to spare Selene pain? And with no chance of survival regardless of my acceptance? I'll do what I have to." He tried to rise, and failed. His legs refused to bear him and he fell to his knees. "Unless you choose to spare me, to stage my death here and send me away," he threw out as a last attempt.

There was a moment of pity, perhaps wistfulness. "Had I allowed the possibility beforehand, I might have. But there is not now time for that to be done convincingly such that she had no hope of your survival, and would not seek to learn your fate. She is delayed only." Garek gasped when a slender but powerful hand, white as bone, gently took his arm and lifted him to his feet. He met inhuman scarlet eyes. "Come, I will assist you."

He kept his gaze away from her, eyes stinging. This was not the end he wished. He wasn't a martyr. He'd hoped to end his life with a family, or falling in battle. Not impotently facing something that could not be beaten. He tried to blink tears back, but they came despite him.

Salem. Queen of the Grimmlands, guided Garek over before his tent. Other Grimm came at her silent command, depositing the bodies of those he would have slain nearby. "It would be best if you withdrew your aura. For your sake," She spoke softly as she drew a well-used sword from the scabbard of a nearby body.

"Yes. I…" He swallowed, and closed his eyes. "If you can, make sure she knows that I loved her."

"If she confesses her sorrow to me, and she believes it, I will not dissuade her."

He withdrew his aura from his chest, and braced himself for pain and oblivion.