I stood before the mirror after my bath, staring at my reflection with a mixture of disgust and horror. I looked almost exactly the same as I had when I'd first arrived, except that my skin was no longer quite so pale . . . and the burn marks on my wrists had healed.

Silver scars ran in crosses around my waist, and there were jagged gashes, now healed over so that they were just indents, on my ribcage and stomach. There were scars on my shoulders from one of Mariana's whips. My back was completely covered with jagged lines, burn marks, and other mutilations.

Each scar told a different story of what I had endured at the dungeons in Casnen. I remembered how I received each one. But I hoped that, one day, I would be able to forget. That the scars would fade, as well as my memories, and I would only remember the happier times with my family, and not the years without them where I had been a prisoner. One day, maybe I would be able to move on. At least, that's what I hoped for. But it hadn't even been a week since I'd left Casnen. It seemed that I would have a while before I would be allowed to forget this part of my past, if I was ever able to.

I could not look away from my reflection, and yet, it hurt to look. I was so skinny and sick-looking. My cheeks were hollow and my ribs protruded prominently, stretching against my skin like they didn't quite fit there.

There was nothing to my arms or legs but bones and a layer of skin. No muscle or fat. My eyes burned with unshed tears and my lip quivered.

I took a deep breath and it made my chest ache as I tried so hard to keep from crying. I walked over to my bed, where Azula had left my nightclothes, as I'd asked of her. Tonight, I'd requested to bathe by myself, and she'd said that I could and left so that I could be alone.

I slid into my nightgown, which was long and loose. I could not see any of my scars, could not see my emaciated form—aside from my face—while wearing it. I climbed onto my bed and sat with my feet dangling over the edge.

It was so quiet. The silence only made my thoughts feel that much louder, my memories that much closer.

I closed my eyes, letting out a long, slow breath. The room glowed dimly from the candle on the table beside my bed. I watched the light as it flickered and swayed, as though controlled by some invisible force.

Letting the candle remain lit, I crawled under the covers in my bed and curled up. The sheets were soft and thick, the duvet a solid, warm weight, cradling me. Even as I lay there, waiting for sleep to come, I could not stop the memories that worked their way to the forefront of my mind. These memories played over and over in my head, haunting me, mocking me, as I drifted off to sleep . . .

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I could hear screaming. It never stopped. There was always screaming. Indeed, it was so loud that it drowned out all my other thoughts. In some ways, it was a relief. It was too loud to allow me to think about anything else. I heard the rattle of chains somewhere nearby. And the screaming became louder. I heard the crack of a whip. The screech of metal against metal as a cell door was opened. I was thankful it wasn't mine.

"No, no please. Don't take me up there. I'm begging you. Please!" A woman cried. She was human, and looked to be in her early thirties. The two creatures were dragging her across the stones, past my cell.

"Mama!" I heard a small voice cry. It was a little boy's voice. He cried and screamed as his mother was dragged away. Another voice added to the screams. He was only one more. And soon, he stopped.

They all did. Soon, there were no more screams. It was silent. And the silence was louder. In the silence, echoes could be heard. All the souls that had never left the dungeons. That had never seen their families again, or felt the warmth of the sun, or tasted freedom. I could hear them. I could hear the agony and feel their pain with them, knowing that I would soon follow. Just another voice, another tortured soul that would never again know freedom.

The whip cracked again, and the screaming started anew. Somewhere else, another one could be heard screaming. It would never end. I wanted to cut my ears off, wanted to hear only silence. Curled up against the icy stone wall, I wanted everything to just . . . stop.

I shut my eyes and clapped my hands over my ears, trying to drown out the noise. But, even when I could no longer hear it, I still could. It echoed in my mind, drowning out every thought.

I remembered being dragged through the dungeons and to Mariana's throne room. I'd tried to run. I'd tried to escape. And, when I'd been caught, I was surprised she didn't kill me. I'd wanted her to kill me. I'd wanted it all to end. And I think she knew that. Because I never reached death. Death never came to claim me.

She chained me to the wall in her throne room, a vicious smile on her face. "You must be punished for trying to flee, my pet." She'd said to me.

I hadn't said anything. I just watched as she waved her hand and a boy was dragged into the throne room. I didn't know who he was, had never seen him before. But the look of pure terror in his eyes was all too familiar to me.

"This is your punishment, Lyra. You will watch as I kill this boy for your disobedience."

I stared at her, completely horrified. "No, please," I begged. "You can't kill him. It was my fault! He doesn't deserve to die!" I was on my knees, begging.

"It's too late for that now." The smile on her face chilled me to the bone. And I was forced to watch as she killed the boy who had done nothing wrong. His death was slow and painful and he cried and screamed, begging for her to end him. But she dragged it out as long as possible.

I yelled at her to stop as tears spilled down my cheeks. I felt the blood run down my hands from the manacles chafing my wrists. I pulled against them, throwing myself toward the boy. He couldn't have been older than myself. He was young and he didn't deserve this.

In his last moments, where he lay dying on the floor, his blood pooling around him, he looked at me. And he smiled. It was a small, reassuring smile that told me it would be alright. Maybe I would join him someday. I would see him again in the next life. The look in his eyes spoke more than words ever could. He was relieved.

And I was made to watch as he died on the floor. The light left his hazel eyes, but they were still staring right at me. Only then, did I start screaming.

⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡

I heard screaming. It followed me from my nightmares. And it was a moment longer before I realized the screaming was coming from me. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes and I gasped for air as I lay in my bed, my eyes wide as I stared at the ceiling. The candle still flickered from beside my bed.

Just another nightmare.

I drew a shaky breath and sat up in bed. I ran a hand through my sweat-soaked hair. I pressed my face against my pillow and let out a muffled sob.

Not only a nightmare. A memory.

I could still see the look in that boy's eyes as he was led into the room. That look of complete terror. And I'd never even learned that boy's name.

I sat up and threw my legs over the side of the bed. I couldn't stay in here. I had to get out of my room. I landed on the cold, marble floor and shivered involuntarily. I crossed the room and pulled open the door into the dimly lit hallway.

Unconsciously, I began walking toward the library. Though, I'd only taken a few steps when I heard a voice. "Nightmare?"

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the voice. I'd thought I was alone. I whirled to face who had spoken and found Queen Amaryllis standing in the hallway, watching me. How long had she been there? I hadn't even noticed her.

It took me a moment to recover from the fright before I answered. "Yes, did I wake you?"

She laughed softly. "I'm pretty sure you woke everyone in the palace."

My cheeks flushed and I looked away.

Amaryllis walked toward me and placed a hand on my arm. "It's alright, though. They understand." She smiled at me. She wore a cream-colored night gown and her golden-red hair was unbound and cascaded down her back in loose curls.

Even after just waking up in the middle of the night, she was beautiful. I couldn't help but envy her just a little.

"You know what I find to be a nice relief after having a nightmare?" She did not wait for my answer before continuing. "Food!" She whispered excitedly. Before even waiting for my response, she took my hand and pulled me down the hallway.

Wordlessly, I followed. I could not even hear her feet against the marble, she was so quiet. After several moments of silence, she spoke. "When Rylan and I were children, sometimes we would sneak down here for a midnight snack."

"Really?" I whispered. I could hardly see that being something Rylan would do.

She nodded, smiling distantly. "Back then, we thought we were like ninjas, always sneaking around after dark, so proud when we weren't caught by his parents. Looking back now, I'm pretty sure they let us get away with it."

I smiled at her memories as if they were my own. I could picture them as children trying to sneak around at night, their proud faces when they reached the kitchen without getting caught.

"We did it so often that the chef, Gustav, eventually would just leave food out for us. He would set it on the counter before he went to bed, so it was still partially warm when we came down to retrieve it." She smiled fondly at the memory.

Amaryllis led me through the long hallways and down the set of stairs through the dining room. I hadn't actually seen the kitchen, so I was curious. Although, I hadn't forgotten the nightmare, I no longer felt like was going to be sick at the thought of it.

We walked past the dining room and through a closed door and into the kitchen. It was large, though that was to be expected. Ovens lined the walls, pots and pans dangled precariously from hooks hanging from the ceiling, and kitchen utensils sat on the counter. I could still smell the lingering scent of what we had for dinner, though the kitchen was completely empty.

"This way," Amaryllis said, tugging on my hand. In the back, there was another door. And, upon opening it, I discovered it was a storeroom. Though, an enormous one. It was probably almost as big as my own room. There were so many different kinds of seasonings and foods and everything that I could hardly comprehend it all.

Amaryllis, however, seemed completely unfazed. She walked decisively toward the back, where a selection of cookbooks stood against one wall and she pulled one out. She sat on the ground in the storeroom and I sat next to her.

"We're making the food?" I asked uncertainly. That seemed like a lot of work for a snack

"Sort of, yes." She said as she opened the book and began flipping through the pages. "What do you want to eat?"

I shrugged. I didn't really care. I wasn't even very hungry.

She paused on a page. "What about pie? Do you like pie?" She asked, her eyes never leaving the page.

"Yes, I suppose." I nodded.

She smiled. "What's your favorite flavor?"

I had to think about that. "Well, I like blackberry pie."

"Excellent." She placed her left hand on the page she was on and murmured something under her breath, in a language I couldn't understand. But it sounded like a chant, almost. Then, she slammed the book shut, smiling. "It's in the first oven on the left."

I blinked at her. "You must be joking."

She shook her head. "I'm not. Go see for yourself."

Feeling unconvinced, I went over to the first oven on the left. When I opened it, I gasped. A pie sat on the oven rack, still warm. I took a cloth and pulled the pie out of the oven and went over to set it between Amaryllis and me.

She smiled. "Isn't magic amazing?"

I nodded. "Yes, it is." I replied. I went back out and dug around for silverware until I found them and I brought two forks back to where Amaryllis was sitting staring at the pie. I handed her a fork and sat next to her and we dug in to the pie.

I hadn't had blackberry pie since I was a child and I wasted no time in eating it. It was so much more wonderful than I remembered it being. It melted on my tongue, tasting both sweet and sour at the same time. I smiled, savoring it.

Glancing at Amaryllis, I saw that she loved it too. She was smiling as she took another bite. "This is really good, Lyra. Good choice."

I nodded in agreement. "Yes, it's amazing." I took another bite and could not help the feeling of nostalgia that rose up in me as I ate it. I remembered being eight years old and eating blackberry pie on my birthday. I'd loved it so much. I'd told my mother that she did not need to give me anything else, as long as I got my pie. Of course, my parents had still given me presents.

I began thinking about my best friend, Kai. His father had owned a bakery. When I was at his house, we would pretend to be ninjas and sneak around the shop, stealing pastries when no one was looking. Often times, we were successful. But we were punished if we got caught, so we learned very quickly how to get to the desserts without being caught. I hadn't thought about Kai recently. I wondered how he was doing.

"What are you thinking about?" Amaryllis asked, pulling me out of my reverie.

I looked at her to find her watching me, smiling. "My home." I answered laconically. I did not really feel like talking about it.

She nodded thoughtfully, and sighed.

I glanced at Amaryllis who was staring down at the pie. I remember what she'd said when she had first arrived, about another thing we had in common. Curiosity got the better of me and I spoke before I could think about it. "Amaryllis—Mary," I corrected when she gave me a stern glance. "When I first met you, you mentioned something about us having another thing in common having to do with Mariana. What did you mean?"

Her eyes darkened slightly, her mouth pressing into a thin line. "It was a long time ago." She said. At first, I thought that was all she was going to say about it. But, then, she continued. "I was still fairly young. I went to Casnen to speak with Mariana on business for my father, who was the king of Androvia at the time. I was training to be queen. It was the first serious matter he had given me and I'd been so pleased. Though, Mariana took advantage of my naivety and she locked me away in the dungeons. When I did not return to Androvia, my father came to Casnen to look for me." She said, her eyes meeting mine.

I waited, listening intently to her story, the pie momentarily forgotten.

"Mariana used me against him as a bargaining chip. My father and I were always very close, and she knew he would do almost anything to get me back. He would have given up his title, even." She shook her head and sighed. "She brought me out to be used for negotiations and he was so close. She'd told him that he could have me back if he gave up his right as king of Androvia and handed over his crown. He almost did. But I was adamant. I would not let him. Mariana sent him away and locked me up in the dungeons.

"I was there for almost a year. She tortured me and played with me. I was used for her entertainment, much like you. She would not kill me because then she would no longer have the upper hand. My father gave her jewels and gold. I had to watch him get on his knees and beg. I'd never seen him sink so low in all my life. And I'd hoped I'd never have to see it again.

"Then, one day, my father came to meet her. I never learned exactly what happened during that meeting—he wouldn't tell me. But she finally freed me. He made her swear an oath that she would never harm me again. When the fey swear an oath, they are bound by it. Because of this, she will never be able to hurt me again." She smiled a little, though there was a hollowness in her eyes that hadn't been there before.

I shuddered, shaking my head. I felt such empathy that I'd never felt before. I understood. My situation had been similar to hers. Though, no one had come to rescue me. It had been sheer luck that I'd been released at all. I knew that no words of comfort could take away the pain of that experience. So I said nothing. Instead, I took her hand tightly in mine and met her eyes.

I know your pain, was what I said. But I did not use my words to say it. And I knew she understood. Tears sparkled in her pale eyes and she smiled and squeezed my hand tightly.

Neither of us said anything for a long moment, content to listen to the silence. I spoke first. "How could you ever go back there, after that?" I asked my voice barely above a whisper. I was thinking about the fact that she'd been at the Pardoning in Mariana's castle not long ago.

"The first time I went back there . . . it was not easy. The wounds were still fresh. It was awful. But I knew that, when I became queen, I would need to maintain the alliance with Mariana, so I went back. I did not go often, but I would go to speak with her on matters, and attend meetings and such."

I nodded, thinking.

"The reason I attend the Pardoning ceremonies," she continued, as though reading my mind. "Is because if I can free one person, then that is what I'll do. No one deserves the pain and suffering Mariana inflicts. I wish I could save all of them. But one is all I can manage and it's better than none at all." There was a fierce light shining in her eyes. I admired the compassion she seemed to have for the prisoners and her want to free them.

"What happened to the prisoner you Pardoned this year?" I asked her.

She smiled a little. "Her name was Wisteria. She is a guest at my home in Androvia. She is an orphan from Dacre, so she doesn't have any family or home. I am letting her stay with me. Although it hasn't been very long, she's kind of become like family."

I nodded. "That is very kind of you." I said honestly.

She shook her head diffidently. "It only seemed like the right thing to do."

A silence fell over us for another few minutes as we ate.

"Do you still want to go hunting tomorrow?" She asked suddenly.

I smiled. "Yes, of course." I stabbed my fork into the pie tin again, but there was nothing left.

She returned the smile, the haunted look gone from her eyes. "Good. We will leave early tomorrow, so we should go to bed soon. She stood, picking up the pie plate.

I stood with her. "Thank you, Mary, for the pie and everything."

"Of course! Come, I'll walk with you back to your room." She linked arms with me and walked out of the kitchen, setting the empty dish and silverware on the counter as we left. We walked back up to my room, chatting the entire way. Amaryllis was a very amiable person, and I found that I was happy we'd become friends.

I bid her goodnight when I reached the door to my room and she returned it happily, before walking down the hallway to her own room. I stepped inside and shut the door, sighing loudly.

Back in my bedroom, I found the memories of my last nightmare resurfacing to the forefront of my mind. I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to claim me.

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Hey guys! Sorry, part of this chapter may have been a little disturbing, but I hope you liked it! Let me know what you think, I am always open to feedback! That goes for if you see grammatical errors as well. Another thing: the title is temporary. I don't think it fits that well with my story, so if you have any ideas please tell me! You can message me privately, leave a comment, or post on my page!

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