"Nura."

Mumbling something incoherent, Nura buries her face deeper into her arms, refusing to leave the blissful darkness it seems as though she's only just managed to fall into.

"Nura, my love."

With those words, Nura lifts her head from her arms where they're draping over her knees, her neck screaming in protest at the movement. She blinks open her grainy eyes and glances in his general direction.

"They're going to come for you, Nura," Rephas says from his dark corner where she can't reach him, the wall propping him up. "I want you to fight."

She leans her head back against the stone, wincing at how stiff her neck is but thankful she at least got some sleep.

"Are you listening?"

Nura looks at her husband, appearing just as haggard as he was when she closed her eyes. "I hear you," she murmurs.

"Do you remember how to get out? Once you're free of the soldiers—"

"I know, Rephas," she replies with a sigh for she knows she has no intention of escaping this place unless he's by her side. All she has to do is stay alive long enough to kill Rólin or get both of them out.

When the footsteps sound outside of their cell, Nura is already getting to her feet, preparing herself. The door bangs open and a guard enters. He unlocks her chains, wraps his fingers around her upper arm, and begins dragging her from the cell. She doesn't fight, but she does look back at Rephas. He's standing, hunched over with his broken ribs, staring at her with a hopeless look in his eyes.

It's then Nura realises he has no intention of making it out of that cell alive, and for whatever reason that makes rage uncoil like a snake in her gut.

He doesn't get the option to give up, Nura won't let him.

"Where are you taking me?" she questions as they leave the cell behind but they don't answer, instead pulling her this way and that. Her legs are shaky, pulse erratic, nerves on fire, but still she doesn't fight against them.

She's focusing so much on keeping her feet under her that she doesn't realise how far they've walked until they stop before a dark wooden door. From within, Nura hears the gentle notes of a piano. The guard knocks on the door before dragging her through and shoving her forward. Nura stumbles and her knees thud against a patterned rug. Drawing in a breath as the music trickles away, Nura sits back on her heels and lifts her head.

Her nightmares refused to let her forget his face. Those golden eyes bore into her, fire captured within them. Rólin waits for the guards to depart the room before he stands, rounding the piano to look down at her.

"The halfling healer," he says, his deep voice raking down her spine. "I'm uncertain whether to call you brave, or just stupid." He continues to look down at her, like she's nothing more than a stray dog who has wandered into his home.

"I just came for my husband," Nura says, her voice sounding like it's being scraped out of her. "Please, let him go."

"Stand up, halfling," he orders like she hasn't spoken. Nura doesn't move, her legs too numb to obey her. Rólin's lip curls and his hand darts out. Fingers yanking at her hair, he drags Nura to her feet as she cries out, tears springing to her eyes. "I said stand, half-breed."

On her feet, gasping for breath, Nura finds herself face to face with Rólin. Her conviction leaves her. Her sheer drive flees, and all she's left with is dread churning in her gut.

She was born into the war that ravaged this land. Born into hate and fear and bodies and blood. She knew her enemy, knew the damage they had wrought on what was once a great kingdom, but never did she have to look her enemy in the eye and be brave. Never did she have to stare at them and pretend she didn't want to weep.

Rólin reaches to the side and she only catches a glint of something in the candlelight before cold sharpness is being pressed to her cheek. "You're nothing but a pest, half-breed." He tilts his head, a ghost of a smile twitching his full lips. "But maybe you have your use. I'd like to see Rephas' face when I send his beautiful bride to him with half a face, show him the ugliness under your skin."

Tears wet the steel that digs into Nura's cheek, but his grip in her hair prevents her from pulling away from its cruel bite.

Before he can cut, Rólin stops, his golden eyes darting behind Nura.

"He'll come for her," a husky, feminine voice says behind them.

Rólin tilts his head. "Who?"

"Taliondil."

Nura holds her breath, staring at Rólin as he reacts to this. The Sworn Elf lowers the blade, his gaze flicking over Nura's features.

"He begged for you, half-breed. Why did he beg?"

Pressing her lips together, Nura doesn't answer. She refuses to give him anything. But she doesn't need to as the voice behind her speaks again.

"She is his etnevu."

Visible shock passes across Rólin's features. He steps back, lets go of her, and blinks, his lips parting. "A halfling? A halfling is the etnevu of the great White Dragon?" He barks out a laugh, but there's no humour in it.

Nura just stares at him, her shoulders beginning to shake, swallowing the urge to vomit.

"Have they bonded?" Rólin asks, his voice taking on a shrill edge. Nura shakes more to realise that it's fear she hears.

Careful footsteps approach her from behind and the woman who spoke rounds Nura to stand before her. Limp strands of midnight black hair fall around the woman's pale and gaunt features. Her cheeks are hollow, her eye-sockets sunken, showing the sharp structure of her skull. She looks more dead than living.

"Astrid, have they bonded?"

The deathly woman lifts her hand, skeletal fingers brushing against Nura's cheek. She flinches back with how icy her touch is, feeling it even with her hardened Elven skin. The woman palms Nura's cheek and lips as pale as her skin begin to move. She blinks, the violet of her eyes seeming to brighten, like the sun finally touching lavender.

"Astrid," Rólin insists, urgency in his voice.

Astrid blinks again, her nostrils flaring, but that's the only expression she shows to Nura before she turns to Rólin, her features blank. "No. But if she dies, he'll know."

Rólin sets the blade down on the piano and Nura can almost hear the cogs in his brain turning. "He'll come for her. He'll be foolish enough to come for her alone." Rólin spins around, a grin twisting his lips. "With the White Dragon by my side again, the Empress may well give up her crown now."

Astrid dips her chin, clearly agreeing with him, while Nura shakes like a leaf, tears dripping off her chin.

"Take her back to her cell. She's more use to me alive."

Those bony fingers dig into Nura's arm and she's hauled from the room, the woman carrying more strength than she should for her slight frame.

Once she's out of the room and down the hall, Nura yanks herself to a stop. Before she can stop herself, she vomits, sick splattering the floorboards and wall. The woman stands silently beside her, letting her vomit and sob.

Has she made a mistake coming here? Has she doomed the civil war by taking Talon from them?

The only way she can fix this is by killing Rólin, but how can she possibly do that?

"Nura."

Wiping her mouth on her shoulder, Nura looks at the woman with the pale violet eyes and the black hair hanging like thick curtains around her face.

"There's something else you should know, something I sensed."

Not understanding why the woman is even talking to her, Nura just stares at her.

"Nura, you're pregnant. You're at least a month along."

Whatever hopelessness, whatever dread had filled her when she came face to face with Rólin, it's nothing compared to what washes through her now, drenching her from head to toe. She leans against the walls, sucking in breaths, panic welling in her chest like a coming tidal wave. It's going to drown her. She's going to drown.

Perhaps a part of her wouldn't believe the stranger if it weren't for the unmistakable truth in her words, and the fact that the woman gains nothing from telling Nura such a thing away from prying ears.

"What..." she starts, wiping the tears from her face and trying to draw in an even breath. "What do I do?"

"Don't tell Rephas. He'll do something foolish."

Nura nods and looks at the gaunt woman. "Why are you telling me this?"

Astrid tilts her head, hair hanging down to her waist. "Because I pity you and the fate that has been forced upon you. In another life, things would have been different."

"Different how?" She doesn't know why she asks the question, why she even gives merit to this stranger knowing such alternate versions of the world, but she needs to know. How could Nura have prevented all of this?

Gripping Nura's arm again, Astrid directs Nura through the hall before she answers. "You would have died before knowing what true loss felt like."

Those words settle within her before quickly slipping away, replaced by the cold stone of dread that sits heavy in her gut.

Pregnant. She's pregnant and she's in the home of her enemy with no weapons, no allies that she won't doom by bringing here, and no way to get out without leaving her husband to die.

In another life, perhaps she wouldn't have been so foolish.

When she wakes, she has no idea how much time has passed. All she knows is the cold, the shadows, the nothingness of her cell. She empties whatever is left in her stomach into the bucket in the corner, groaning as dizziness grips her and threatens to force her onto her back against the icy stone.

Nura leans against a wall, waiting for the nausea to pass, too weak and exhausted to even wipe her mouth. She closes her eyes, willing it all away. The scuffle before her banishes those wishes.

"Are you alright?" Rephas asks from his dark corner, chains clanking.

"Yes," she manages past her raw throat.

"You should have—"

"There wasn't an opportunity," she interrupts him, squeezing her eyes, hoping to ease the pressure that presses against her skull. "Maybe next time."

His answering silence makes her open her eyes and peer at him through the shadows. Once again, he's slumped against the wall, hardly able to move without groaning in pain. He tries to hide it from her, but Nura knows him too well for him to hide how much he's suffering.

Her fingers itch to heal him, to break free of her chains and use the powers she sacrificed her mortality for. What was the point if she can't even save the man she loves?

"I know you think you can save me, but you shouldn't."

Lifting her gaze, Nura meets his dark gaze shadowed by the damp curls of his hair. Arguments are already rising on her tongue, but she's too tired to voice them.

"I chose this, Nura. To protect you, I chose this."

"And I will do anything to protect you."

Rephas shakes his head, baring his teeth in pain. "I deserve this."

"No one deserves this."

"You don't know what I've done."

Lurching forward, the once cold coals of Nura's familiar anger begins to burn within her again. "Then tell me," she demands, sounding like the woman she once did before she left the Human lands. "Tell me why you think you deserve this."

"Nura—"

"Just tell me!" Her croaky voice echoes down the hall, desperate and strangled with emotion. She needs to know. She's tired of being deprived of answers, only for them to cut her to the marrow of her bones later.

"I was from a noble family," he says, curling in on himself, pain flickering over his features as he touches his ribs. "Rólin took me to control them during the war and when they served their purpose, he killed them."

Nura's lips part and she can do nothing but stare at him. He's never spoken of his family, never spoken of his time before coming to Tiore beyond brief stories that lacked details. What information she's managed to glean from others about her husband has left her feeling sick.

"I don't know why Rólin decided to keep me, decided to raise and train me." His lips twist, heedless of the cuts that mar them. "Perhaps I amused him. Perhaps he saw something poetic about training a warrior to kill his own people. But that's precisely what I did. I was a spy and a soldier and I served Rólin well."

"When did you decide to escape?" she manages to ask, blinking the tears from her eyes.

"I didn't. I would have stayed by his side until my last breath if it weren't for Talon. I didn't even know there was such a thing as freedom."

Sniffling, she tries to take in his words without vomiting again. Perhaps she healed soldiers Rephas had cut down. Perhaps her father once fought him. Perhaps he would have been one of the men to drag her into this manor if Talon hadn't freed him.

In another life she would never have met Rephas and Rólin wouldn't know about her existence.

"And that's why I'm here and you shouldn't be."

Nura lifts her chin that's wet with dripping tears. "You think I'm so innocent? I wasn't born with the gift of healing. I watched men die, I helped experiment on them. I made their last moments those of suffering so I could save the lives of their brothers. But none of us deserve the fate Rólin wishes for us."

Rephas watches her in silence, either shocked by her words or done arguing, she can't tell amongst the shadows.

But before either of them get the chance to spill more of their secrets, the cell door squeaks open and in comes two of Rólin's guards. Nura hauls herself to her feet, her breathing shallowing. Has Astrid told Rólin about Nura's pregnancy? Has Talon arrived already?

Except the men don't approach her, they move to Rephas' corner. She blinks, confusion clouding her mind for a moment before she realises.

"No," she utters, staggering forward but the chains don't allow her to go far. They drag Rephas to his feet as he grunts in pain. "No, please stop."

The men ignore her, unchaining Rephas to wrangle him out of the cell between them. Clanking metal sounds as Nura yanks against her chains, terror clawing up her throat.

"Leave him be!" she shouts, the bite of her manacles in her wrists numbing her fingers, but she doesn't care. Her voice echoes through the cell, bouncing off the stone, but still they ignore her, taking Rephas from the cell and disappearing where she can't follow. She's locked in and left alone.

Nura sucks in breaths, trying to think of something to do. She glares down at her useless hands, swallowing the sob that rises in her throat. Desperation gnaws at her insides, demanding she act.

There's nothing she can do.

She slides down to the floor, her back to the icy stone, tears pooling in her eyes.

There's nothing she can do.

It takes a while before he starts screaming, his bellows reaching her from whatever depths they dragged him to.

There's nothing she can do.

She doesn't block her ears. She doesn't try to unhear the man she loves being tortured.

To kill Rólin, she'll need every reminder of his atrocities.