Lydia

A soft tapping woke Lydia. She stirred as the door to her bedchamber opened and a shaft of faint gray morning light spilled inside. A silhouette quickly blocked the light and Lydia rubbed at her eyes. The silhouette crossed the room, taking more distinct form as it drew near her. When it knelt by her bedside, Lydia could make out Zavier's features in the dimness.

"Good morning, Princess," he whispered.

"Zavier?" Lydia mumbled.

Zavier in her bedchamber. Zavier...in her bedchamber in the early morning...

Lydia shot upright, suddenly alert. "What is it? Has something happened?"

Zavier stood, resting his hands on Lydia's shoulders, pulling her from her frantic thoughts.

"Princess, breathe," he said softly. "I am here because my ship leaves with the morning tide." He dropped his hands. "I wanted to say goodbye. Possibly in your sitting room so I can see your face."

Lydia's panic was replaced with a sharp urgency.

"You're leaving now?"

"Almost, yes. Will you come out?"

Lydia nodded and slid her legs over the mattress. Zavier retrieved her silken robe from the end of the bed. When she stood, he held it open for her, his hands lingering on her shoulders a second longer than necessary. Tying it closed, Lydia followed him into her sitting room. The sky barely held any color, only hints of what was yet to come.

Zavier faced Lydia and a smile grew on his lips as he took in her hair. Lydia hurriedly ran her fingers through the wild curls, knowing she looked a mess. Zavier stopped her with a touch to her wrist.

"You look beautiful, Princess," he said.

He held her gaze for a long moment before clearing his throat as if self-conscious.

"I have something for you," he said, motioning to the settee.

Sitting on the pastel-hued seat was a wrapped package larger than the one he'd given to her before.

"Do not open it now," Zavier said. "Open it before you are to meet King Titus." He smiled shyly at the floor. "I hope it will remind you of the courage and strength you already possess."

The words seeped into Lydia's chest and buried themselves in her heart. Right where all the rest of his were stored away.

"Princess," Zavier said. "I want you to know, getting to know you has been a privilege. I am honored to be able to help you in the small way that I can. Being by your side will be the greatest honor of all."

Pressure built in Lydia's chest, something strong and solid pressing down. Zavier bent forward, hesitated then kissed her cheek. He spoke close to her ear.

"Clear skies," he said.

Lydia swallowed, the pressure growing stronger. "Clear skies?"

Zavier drew back enough to meet her eyes, their breaths intertwining.

"It is a saying of my mother's people. It means safe travels and a hope for a quick return."

Quick return. Return. They were parting ways and though every detail of their plan had been talked over there were so many unknowns. Too many things could go wrong. The memory of Zavier laying unconscious on the hard stone flashed in Lydia's mind. She could count on her two hands how many people she cared deeply for. Zavier one of them.

Suddenly afraid of what could happen, Lydia wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him. Zavier embraced her, straightening so Lydia's toes barely skimmed the floor.

"Please be safe," she said. "Please, please...I can't....I can't lose you."

Zavier tightened his hold on her, pressing his face into her hair.

"I promise I won't leave you," he whispered to her. "I promise."

Though they both knew promises were fragile, breakable things, Lydia believed in this one. She needed to.

Slowly, they broke apart from each other, Zavier trailing his hands down her arms till he reached her hands. He looked at them as if studying them. Lydia didn't know what he saw, soft hands that had grown callused?

She looked to the settee and the package sitting there.

"I wish I had something to give you," she said.

Zavier lifted his eyes and smiled gently. "You have already given me something."

With those words, he kissed her forehead and walked away. As he opened the door, he looked back.

"Clear skies, Zavier," Lydia said.

"Clear skies, Lydia."

When the door clicked shut behind him, Lydia remained frozen in place. Wilder leaving had filled her with a sense of panic and dread that came from feeling alone, losing the one person she knew, loved, relied on, protected her.

Zavier leaving filled her with a sense of fear that she might lose him, lose a person who had managed to capture a piece of her broken heart and patch it up again.

At the rumble of voices from outside, Lydia escaped her thoughts and rushed to the balcony overlooking the front courtyard. Below stablehands led horses out as Zavier, Quinn, Sparrow, and Alwyn exited the palace.

The three men moved down the steps but Alwyn paused and looked back. Wilder appeared in the doorway. Far enough away, Lydia couldn't hear what he said but saw how Alwyn smiled slightly. As she descended the steps, Wilder stayed where he was.

Lydia watched Zavier. As he mounted his horse, he tilted his head upwards, seeing her. Neither of them smiled or waved, both aware of the severity of the tasks ahead. To make light of it felt like tempting fate to steal the other away. As the other riders nudged their horses, Zavier touched two fingers to his heart.

Lydia watched as he rode towards the palace gates, hugging herself. With one more backward look at her, he rode through and was gone.

*****

The ocean breeze brought with it the sound of men calling out to each other in preparation. Lydia watched as one man easily navigated the rigging as three others hauled aboard cargo. Her uncle stood at the helm with Captain Isla and another man Lydia assumed was his main captain. Leaving... it was their time to leave Loria. The final group to set sail. A knot twisted inside Lydia's gut.

At the rattle of a carriage stopping, Lydia turned around. King Thayer, Queen Gigi, and Dimitrius exited the carriage. Gigi didn't hesitate, she approached Lydia and took hold of her hands. The warmth and concern in the Queen's eyes made Lydia ache. Though they'd shared small interactions, Gigi cared about Lydia.

"Dear girl," Gigi said. "Having you be part of our home and family has been a delight."

Gigi hugged Lydia. The embrace still reminded her of her mother, the quiet strength in the hold, the feeling of being looked after. Lydia soaked in the feeling, knowing it would be a long while before she felt it again.

"Stay safe," Gigi said. "I spent far too little time getting to know my new daughter. I want to know her more."

Daughter. Lydia hadn't thought she would be anyone's daughter ever again. She tried to speak but her throat seemed too tight for words to slip through. Instead, she nodded and glanced back at where Wilder stood. He would be the one to help see them through this.

Thayer surprised Lydia when instead of offering a solemn bow, he embraced her. Like Gigi had felt motherly, his hug felt fatherly, protective, and comforting. Tears built in Lydia's eyes but she held them back.

"When you see my son," Thayer said with a small smile. "Remind him he has a duty to you now, he can't be running off and getting into trouble."

The levity helped Lydia keep her emotions tucked away. It helped her feel like she would see Zavier again and nothing would go wrong between now and them.

"I will," she managed to say.

When Lydia stepped towards Dimitrius, he gave her an encouraging smile. Though Dimitrius had offered his assistance it had been quickly turned down by everyone. As Crown Prince, his place was where he was safe. Still, Lydia imagined it would be hard staying behind while your family went off.

"It has been a pleasure," Dimitrius said, bowing and forgoing a hug, which Lydia felt more comfortable with. "I know we will see you again soon."

Lydia felt bolstered by the reassurance, even though there was no guarantee for the future. When she stepped back, staring at the royal family, Lydia tried not to feel like it was the last time. She would see them again, she had to believe that. Despite the odds against them, she had to believe.

"I wish there was more we could do," Thayer said.

Lydia didn't know how he could think he did so little. This family offered her an alliance, soldiers, ships, and three sons willing to fight for her kingdom. It was more than Lydia could want.

"You have given me and my family's kingdom all that we need. I am truly grateful."

Wilder walked over to her and she knew it was time.

"Thank you," she said.

As she headed for the gangplank, Lydia heard Gigi murmur softly, 'clear skies'. The wood shuddered underneath Lydia and she fought the thought that the future was just as unsteady. When she boarded, Kristoff descended the stairs to her. In his face, Lydia caught the hint of apprehension and something else she couldn't quite name.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

No, she wasn't. She wanted to stay in this place where someone else was in charge, where she could slip away and no one would care. She wanted to race down the gangplank and keep on running.

"Yes," she said.

As the ship broke away from the dock, Lydia climbed to the quarterdeck and stared at the royal family still standing there. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest, a frightened rabbit. Wilder took the spot beside her. There were a million things that could be said, but the years of friendship made them pointless to speak. They were there, together, that is what mattered.

Lydia looked to the palace, thinking of the marble hallways that had once trapped her to the training grounds where she'd found herself again. Woven through each memory was Zavier. As she sailed home, she knew she was leaving a place that also felt like home.

*****

Lydia sprinted down the palace corridor, her bare feet slapping against the stone. Her heart fought to break free from her chest, her lungs burned with fire, her body throbbed with exhaustion.

Wrong. All wrong. How could everything go wrong so fast? In a blink of an eye. Everything in pieces.

Thunder rumbled behind her, the sound of men chasing after her. Swords shrieked against stone, taunting Lydia. A sob rose in her throat but she kept it down. Tears would blind her. She pushed herself harder, cutting down another corridor.

Then she heard it, a sound that made her heart leap with hope: her father's deep bass, her mother's lilting accent, Corwin's steady tone, Vienna's flute-like voice, Reen's laugh. They were all there, she could reach them. If she reached them she'd be safe, the nightmare would be over.

Lydia crashed into the ballroom and staggered to a halt. Her family was there but it wasn't them. They formed one long line before the dais, blood staining them. As one, they crumpled to the floor. Behind them stood a faceless man sitting on the throne.

"Welcome home, Your Majesty."

Lydia bolted upright in her bed, choking on a scream. Not real, not real. It wasn't real. She sat there, shaky, her body not caring that it wasn't real. Her heart beat so hard it hurt. She sucked in deep breathes, trying to counteract her panic.

She peered over the edge of her bed to where Wilder slept on the floor, a barrier between her and everyone else. Everything in her wanted to slide off her mattress and curl into the safety of his arms.

But she didn't. She couldn't, not when everything had changed between them.

She thought of Zavier, how he'd sat beside her bed and let her hold his hand. She'd memorized every inch of his hand, from the calluses to the scar he had on this index finger. He'd talked to her, his voice pulling her out of herself into him, his life, his world. Lydia desperately wanted that. Wanted him right then.

But he wasn't there.

But what he'd taught her was.

Bracing her hands on the edge of the bed, Lydia pushed herself to her shaky legs. She wobbled but managed to stay upright. Carefully, she stepped over Wilder's body, his breathing halting for half a second before settling again. Lydia collected her scabbard from the table and edged to the door. She slipped out without Wilder waking up.

Still trembling, Lydia pressed her hand into the wall to help her as she made her way up to the deck. The night air swept around her as she emerged, cooling her sweaty body. She breathed in the salty scent of the sea, willing it to calm her. The smooth wood of the deck beneath her bare feet helped her push away the nightmare. She wasn't in the palace. She wasn't fleeing for her life.

Only Captain Isla stood on deck at the helm. Lydia figured someone sat in the crow's nest but she didn't look up. She fumbled with the belt of her scabbard but finally got it secured around her waist. Gently, she eased her sword free and started to move through the routine Zavier had created for her and Wilder now coached her through.

All Lydia had done on the journey was learn to fight. From dawn till dusk, she trained. As she ran through fighting stances, Wilder instructed on her how best to defeat an opponent. Taught her what were the most vulnerable parts of the body. He told her she would always be at a disadvantage, that meant if she could wound her opponent first, she would have a better chance at surviving. He explained how could she use her surroundings to aid her, conceal her, protect her.

Over and over Wilder drilled strategy and defense into her until that seem to be all Lydia knew. Each night she collapsed into her bed bone-weary but stronger, more prepared. It was the only thing that helped because fear of the unknown threatened to consume her every league that brought them closer to the West Isles. She practiced, fueling her fear into something productive. Instead of her emotions overruling her, she ruled over them.

Eventually, Lydia stopped trembling, her heart calmed, and the nightmare receded. She kept to the routine, knowing she couldn't go back to sleep, not yet. As she fell into the final position, she heard frantic footsteps and spun around. Wilder pounded up the stairwell, his gaze panicked. When he found her, he bent over his knees, taking in a deep breath.

"You were gone," he said, crossing over to her.

"Nightmare," she said, sheathing her sword.

Wilder wrapped her in his arms and Lydia hugged his waist. He cupped the back of her head, his breathing still erratic. Lydia accepted this comfort, knowing it was for Wilder's sake as much as hers. Despite how their emotions had morphed over the years into something deeper the core of their relationship was friendship, that feeling would never go away.

"Wake me next time," he said. "Finding your bed empty is my nightmare."

"I'm sorry."

She listened as his heartbeat slowed and felt as his shoulders released their tension.

"Can you sleep now?" he asked. She shook her head. "Then let's work."

Wilder let go of Lydia, his countenance controlled, his manner reverted back to his usual authority. Lydia tried to mimic him, forcing everything out of her mind. Especially the knowledge that within the day they would reach the West Isles port.

Wilder pushed Lydia hard and she let him. Pain brought on by challenge and training was easier to bear than the pain of nightmares. Over and over again he drilled her until she felt her arms would fall off. When she could barely raise her sword, he stopped. Lydia stowed her sword and sank to the deck, leaning back against the railing.

Wilder sat beside her stretching out his legs. They sat there, silent. On the horizon, Lydia could see hints of the sky lightening, taking them into a tomorrow she didn't want to come. But it was a tomorrow that would come no matter what she wanted.

Tired and scared, Lydia dropped her head onto Wilder's shoulder. He didn't reach for her hand as he might have once before, instead he simply rested his head on hers.

Together, on a ship. How many times had she imagined this future? Watching the sunrise side by side. How many times did she wish for this? The life she knew, the life she wanted all gone. With the drawing of a sword, what she planned was sliced away.

Feeling the warmth of Wilder next to her, breathing in his scent, watching the coming day dawn, she saw the finality of it all.

"I wanted to marry you," she said.

"I know. I wanted to sail away with you."

"I know."

The rays of sunlight cut into the sky like it was fighting the night. The night didn't fight back. There was no fighting what was to come. It would come all the same.

"Wilder, I want you to know that I relieve you of your duty to my family. If you want to sail away after all this, not take up your father's position then I support you."

Lydia could see Wilder at the helm of a ship, wind rustling his hair, his face bright with a grin. She could see him free. Along with that picture came one of Alwyn by his side. A needle of sadness threaded through her heart, but she liked the image. He wouldn't be alone. Someone would be there by his side. Someone he wouldn't have to worry about protecting.

"Let's not talk about the future," Wilder said.

"All right."

They stayed there in silence. They didn't talk about the future but it remained with them, sitting beside them like an unwanted third companion. Lydia didn't acknowledge its presence, she couldn't. If she did, she feared what she might discover.

She felt her cheek slide against Wilder's shoulder as her head dipped forward. She jerked her head up and Wilder stood, pulling her up with him. He led her below decks and into the captain's cabin. He held the blanket up for her and she snuggled beneath it. Without her prompting, Wilder sat on the edge of the bed, a sentinel to her nightmares.

*****

Lydia felt as if she barely drifted off when someone called her name, tugging her from her dream of deep brown eyes and a low, smooth voice.

"Ly, wake up."

Wilder. She sat up, shockingly alert, her heart leaping in her chest. Wilder held up his hands.

"It's all right," he said. "Nothing's wrong." He said this but the wrinkle in his brow belied the statement. "The West Isles was spotted."

He was wrong then, there was something wrong, they had made it and were now about to walk into the lion's den. Lydia took a slow breath, but it did nothing to alleviate the tightness in her chest.

"I brought you food," Wilder said, using the same soothing tone. "Eat as much as you can, you'll need your strength. Then get ready. I have to talk with Kristoff."

Lydia nodded. Wilder hesitated like he wasn't sure if she were truly okay. Lydia didn't think she was. There weren't enough hours of planning to counteract the intense reality of putting plans in action. Finally, Wilder left and Lydia did as he said, eating as much as she could. But her stomach felt hollow and the food did nothing to fill the void.

As she finished off a roll, her gaze fell to the package that had absorbed a small corner of her mind since Zavier had given it to her. At least now she could know. Placing it on the bed, she pulled at the ribbon, unknotting the bow. She fingered the soft silk, knowing she was putting off opening it, wanting to slow everything down. But she knew time wouldn't wait for her.

When she lifted the lid, she paused, staring down at a deep maroon tunic. She lifted it and found it was more than a simple tunic, it was an imitation of the one Yasmine had worn on the Sea Siren: fitted through the torso then splitting down the middle and falling above the knees. It was the same but different. This tunic felt heavier and with the woven gold stitching on the high collar and along the edges it looked fit for a Queen.

Lydia held it, stunned with gratitude. In a time where all she felt like was an orphan, he'd given her something to prove she was royal.

Under the tunic was a pair of fitted trousers, boots, and an envelope. Lydia set aside the outfit and lifted the envelope. She broke the Lorian seal and slid out of the parchment. She felt the corner of her mouth lift at Zavier's familiar slanted writing.

Princess,

You are strong as well as beautiful and I hope this gift helps you remember that. I wish I were the one beside you now, but I know there is no one I would trust more to be with you than Wilder.

I wish for you to know that your bravery inspires me.

With all my heart, Zavier

Lydia ran her thumb over the last words: with all my heart. She could hear him saying those words to her and repeated them in her head as she changed. Everything fit perfectly and when Lydia peered down at herself, she realized the sleeve stopped right above the woven bands on her arm. It was intentional, she was still royal, still a Princess of the West Isles.

A second realization came when she belted her sword and found that the tails of the tunic concealed the fact that she wore a weapon. Strong and beautiful.

When Lydia ascended to the deck, she gazed around the sea of unknown faces and unfamiliar uniforms. She wished some of the soldiers were ones she'd known from around the palace but they weren't her family's men. Lydia found Wilder the same moment he noticed her. She released her breath. She wasn't alone in this.

"Zavier?" he asked, eyeing her outfit.

"Yes."

Wilder touched the high collar. "It's thick enough to help protect your neck. What of the rest of it?"

Wilder skimmed his fingers along the waist of the tunic and Lydia found she couldn't feel his touch at all with the protection sown into it.

"Your torso is protected," Wilder said in begrudging admiration. "He really does make it impossible to hate him."

Lydia laughed. But all levity was sucked away with a single shout.

"Ship approaching!"

Lydia froze as Wilder darted to the railing. Steeling herself, Lydia forced her legs to move. She reached the railing as Kristoff did. Her uncle met her gaze, his eyes sad and regretful. Lydia turned away, her own emotions were threatening to weaken her, she couldn't add her uncles to the mix as well.

A rowing ship cut through the water towards them. Around her, everyone fell silent as they watched. When the rower came parallel, it was not a welcoming sight. Besides the men rowing, were soldiers all armed with swords and bows.

Lydia's throat closed up and she gripped her fingers. In her mind, she saw the swiftness in which Wilder had sent an arrow into a ship captain's heart. Would one of these men take the chance to deliver the same end to Lydia?

As if reading her thoughts, Wilder edged his body in front of hers. The arrow for her would find him first. She hated and admired his willingness to put his life at risk for another's.

"I am Captain Slade and this port is closed by the request of the Crown," a man on the rower shouted.

He stood with his feet parted, hand on his sword, leaving no room for question.

"I understand," Kristoff said. "But I'm here to see King Titus. I am Prince Kristoff."

Slade studied Kristoff, his manner shifting into curiosity then to smugness.

"Your Highness," he said. "We have been awaiting your arrival."

Lydia dug her nails into her palm, her fear spiking at the man's too pleased tone. Then Slade surveyed the railing and spotted Lydia, half-tucked behind Wilder. A slow, predator grin slid across his face.

"Princess Lydia," he said, caressing her name in a way that made Lydia shiver. "It is a pleasure to have you with us. Please, allow us to escort you."

As he gave her a mocking bow, Lydia felt Wilder turn rigid, every muscle straining. The rower changed course and the ship followed along in its wake. No one spoke, the air thick with tension. Wilder looked to Lydia but there were no words that would make this situation less than what it was. They both knew that.

When they docked and set down the gangway, Slade climbed on board. His smile was even more unsettling than before now that Lydia could fully see him. He was an attractive man and that put Lydia on edge even more, knowing looks were deceiving.

"Your Highness," he said. "My apologies but this is necessary."

He held up a hooded cloak. Fighting to stay upright, Lydia took the cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders, and draped the hood over her head. Despite the lightness of the material, she felt as if she wore a vice.

"Prince Kristoff," Slade said. "You and your guards are more than welcome to join us."

Lydia's stomach flipped as the ease with which he invited soldiers along with them. He had nothing to fear, the King had nothing to fear since they outnumbered the soldiers.

"After you, Your Highness," Slade said, bowing and waving his hand to the gangway.

Lydia took a step but before she went further, she looked to the helm where Isla stood, looking unassuming. The captain gave her a nod. Lydia let all her questions be answered by that nod: the ships with soldiers coming from Loria, Zavier making it to the ruins, everything turning out all right. It was a lot for one nod to hold but Lydia needed to believe it was all true. That flicker of hope gave her courage to leave the ship and let herself be ushered into a carriage. Wilder, Kristoff, and Slade joined her.

The carriage bounced as it cut away from the port and into the city. Lydia didn't look at Slade, instead kept her eyes pinned outside. What she saw made her want to look away. The bright, happy people she'd always seen were gone. They'd been replaced with hurried, downcast people. A scared silence echoed through the streets instead of the warm laughter and vibrant chatter of voices.

It didn't matter what lies King Titus told about Corwin being alive, the people of West Isles knew the truth. The kingdom was no longer ruled by the true heir.

Lydia felt her chest constricting at the loss. Her family's people scared and unprotected. Now their fates rested with her, with this plan. On her, it was all on her. Lydia leaned forward, but Slade reached out and yanked the window's curtain shut.

"No need for that, Your Highness," he said, easily, his face close to hers.

Lydia stiffened while beside her she sensed Wilder keeping himself from attacking the man. Slade backed off but Lydia didn't relax. She tried to think of all the reasons she'd suggested this plan but her mind went completely blank. She knew there was a reason she put herself in this position but what? What could she possibly do?

The carriage stopped and Slade leapt out, turning back to offer Lydia his hand. Kristoff departed first, blocking Lydia from needing to refuse Slade. Lydia stepped down and kept her focus directed straight ahead. Don't look. Don't look.

The group trailed Slade and were trailed by their guards into the palace. The moment Lydia walked inside she felt it, like a cold hand pressing on her heart. This wasn't the home she knew. This was a tomb that held her family's ghosts. Lydia took a breath but her lungs wouldn't expand.

No, no, no, not here. Not here. Breathe. Keep breathing. Stay strong, have to be strong, must be strong.

But this place, that night....she heard it whispering in her ears, the screams of terrified people, the frantic patter of fleeing feet, the low rumble of pursuing footsteps. All because of the blood. So much blood-

Breathe, keep breathing.

Wilder's shoulders brushed Lydia's. She reached for his hand. The two of them again. He squeezed her fingers and Lydia sucked in a breath. Wilder's vice-like grip. His eyes filled with panic and fear. His fingers locked on hers as they ran, ran, ran. His hand with a dagger. The dagger plunged into the man's chest.

Lydia snatched her hand back, her breathing erratic. Not here, please not here. She couldn't...needed to be...

"Princess, just breathe. Look at me. You are okay. You are going to be okay."

Zavier's voice cut through the mounting panic and terror in Lydia's mind, replacing the gruesome memories with a pair of dark, caring eyes flecked with gold. She thought of his arms holding her, carrying her, comforting her.

"Princess, just breathe."

A safe place, a voice not warped by that night, the palace, the nightmare. Lydia breathed and it felt like her lungs finally worked again. She clung to the comfort of Zavier's voice and wrapped it around her like a shield.

Lydia felt Wilder's eyes on her, feeling her panic and helpless to rescue her from it. She met his gaze and nodded. One step at a time, she could do this. She would get through this.

Zavier's voice repeated in her head, embracing her as she followed Slade through a large, curved archway into the throne room. A tidal wave of grief hit her as she looked to the dais. Her father's throne. One he claimed was the most uncomfortable seat in the palace. The one he sat on day after day. The one he declared impossible to fall asleep on, but Lydia had fallen asleep on, in her father's arms. Her father's throne, stolen by a murderer.

Lydia stared at King Titus with unmasked loathing. This man with the ice-blue eyes and striking appearance had ripped her family from her. Fury, grief, revulsion swarmed through her, narrowing her focus to this one man. Dulling the world that she barely even registered the ringing of bells in the distance.

King Titus showed nothing but calm in the face of Lydia's piercing glare. He scanned their soldiers and nodded to the lead guard. The gesture doused Lydia's fire. Titus looked to Kristoff and smiled.

"Kristoff, well done," he said, pleased. Ice traveled down Lydia's spine. Titus set his cold, heartless eyes on Lydia. "You have brought me my prize."

**********************************************************************

WHAT THE FLYING STARFISH?! STORMING SEAS!! HOW COULD HE- HE BETRAYED THEM!!! *throws ice cream* I'M GOING TO KILL HIM! I TRUSTED HIM!!

*coughs*

Okay, no one was at all surprised by that. He was sketchy from the beginning and we all knew it! You can go ahead and take a moment to rant about how you called it or simply rant for different reason.👑⚔️🛡

AND NOW! NOW THEY ARE TRAPPED! Oh my goodness what is going to happen. *falls to knees* Curse you cliff hangerrrrrssssssss!!!

*takes a breath and stands up* Now that the dramatics are over tell me about your feelings, I give you a topic, you give me either emojis or words!

Zavier and Lydia's goodbye.

Lydia and Wilder's ship deck moment.

The cliff hanger.

I have to say walking back into the place where her family was killed must be tough! I don't even know if I'd be able to do it! Our girl might be on the verge of a panic attack but she brought herself back from the brink! *wipes away tear* And I am so proud!

Also who is teaming up with me to dump a bucket of spoiled milk on King Titus's head?? I need volunteers, I can't carry the bucket myself.

Take a deep breath, there's so much more to come!

Vote, comment, follow! (But also more story to come as well as your beautiful support)