A hand gripped hold of my chin, forcing it up. I flinched away, hands raised to protect myself. "Don't touch me!" I screamed, a bit of the innate fear taking over.

"You're not really in the position to be making commands," the King retorted, his voice terribly close to my ear, to the point where I could feel his warm breath against my skin.

"George, leave him alone."

My head shot up at that voice, allowing myself to take in the sight of him. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, wings folded. He wore all black, an outfit that looked just... wrong. No life, no color, no bright vibrancy. And the way his eyes swept over me, devoid of feeling. Devoid of love.

I turned away, unable to look at him for a second longer.

"What exactly do you think you're doing here?" the King asked, complying with Thomas and thankfully stepping away from me. He strode to the table in the middle of the room and sat down in one of the chairs on the opposite side. I could feel his gaze searching through me, as though trying to uncover all of my secrets. Thomas lingered for a moment too long, and I know I didn't imagine the brief look of concern that passed over his face.

"Are you okay?"

Thomas?

"Yeah, it's me."

Thank the stars. Relief gushed through me, and judging by the way the corners of his mouth tugged up a little, I could tell it spilled into him as well through our shared connection. I was worried you had...well, defected.

"That's my thing." His great wings unfurled and carried him across the room, setting him down to the right of the King's chair.

What?

"Stars. That's my thing." A pause, as if unsure how to proceed. "Sorry, I just thought that was cute."

Before I could say more, the King spoke, snapping my full attention back to him. "You haven't answered me. What exactly are you doing here?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I snapped, pushing myself to my feet and drawing a dagger. One of the soldiers who had thrown me to the ground stepped forward, his sword raised to strike, but he stopped in his tracks the moment King George waved a hand.

"There are other ways I can get it out of you, you know."

Thomas bristled, and if it was bad enough to make him squirm, then I doubt I wanted to find out what the other ways entailed.

"Is it just you?"

"Yes."

"Is it really?"

Can you let me focus, please? I snapped back at him. He stiffened, shifting a little, and I instantly felt terrible. Sorry, I didn't mean that.

He didn't respond.

"Well, Alexander," the King said, taking great delight in how slowly my name rolled off of his lips, "I'm afraid we are going to have to kill you. It's such a shame, especially after all the work I put in keeping you trapped in that damned world." He shook his head, as though I was nothing more than a doll that could be discarded whenever he was finished playing with it. "Guards?"

Footsteps beat against the marble flooring, in rhythm with my own frantic heartbeat. I glanced past the King and Thomas at the window sunken in the opposing wall, staring at the reflection of one of the guards with a sharpened sword drawing closer and closer with each passing second. I closed my eyes, trying to summon my energy, but with a panicked start, I realized it was gone. Ripped from my hands. Frozen to the spot by some unseen hands keeping me in place, I could do nothing but hope and pray and—

"Wait!"

The room went still.

"Thomas," the King sighed, hiding his face behind a hand. "Thomas, Thomas." He didn't have to elaborate to convey the disappointment so clearly etched in his posture.

Thomas sunk to his knees, whispering something into the King's ear. I tried to listen, but they were too distant, too hushed. So instead, I angled my chin up until I was looking through the skylight at the moon hiding underneath a blanket of clouds. Somehow, its light was still visible, beaming into the room and landing on a certain Avion. I blinked, looking back at Thomas, taking in his eyes, his skin, his hair. I could practically feel his warmth radiating even from where I stood. If the King was really going to kill me, then I wanted Thomas to be the last thing I saw.

Finally, the King sighed, waving his hand. "Fine. Do whatever you like. But it's been a long day, Thomas, and I'm truly not in the mood for this. So you better get this over with, understand?"

Thomas nodded and rose from his kneeling position. He stalked towards me, not unlike a predator advancing on its prey. He withdrew his scythe from thin air, gaze pointed on me. For a moment, I panicked. Was this really my Thomas? Or a trick? An illusion? I staggered backwards, almost tripping over my own feet. Pain erupted through my body where my arm had been cut open into; I could still feel the blood trickling down my side.

"Let's make a deal, Alexander," the King drawled, leaning on the edge of his chair as if this was the most boring thing in the world. "You are going to fight my little pet, which I've been taking really good care of, as you can see." He smirked, eyes focusing only on me. "If you lose, you'll be dead. If you win, he'll be dead, and you can walk free. Well, as free as you can knowing you took the life of a poor, defenseless dragon."

"Alexander! What's going on?" Aaron's voice exploded in my mind like a bomb going off.

I don't know.

"How do you not know?"

"Alexander, relax." A wave of calm rolled through me momentarily, panic diluting. "And tell Aaron to relax too."

I froze, brandishing a sword that appeared in my hand. I don't know where it came from, as I sure as hell didn't summon it. But judging by the flash in Thomas's eyes, the hesitation in his stance, it was from him.

What's your plan? I asked, directing the thought at him.

"Just trust me, okay? We're going to have to duel, but I'll do everything in my power to make sure you don't get hurt."

My throat tightened, mouth going dry.

"Well?" the King prompted, oblivious to the silent conversation whispered between us. "Get on with it already."

Thomas lunged forward immediately, but I saw him coming steps before he left. An image of him poising his scythe flickered through my mind, and I had just enough time to raise my sword and parry it. His next attack was a flurry of movement that I wouldn't be able to keep up with in any other circumstance, but the images he sent me of what he was prepared to do kept me on my feet.

"Alexander?" Aaron asked in my mind, unusually loud. "Lafayette says that Thomas is purposefully making mistakes."

No shit.

"Alright, fuck me, I guess."

I'd apologize later, but they were right. Even I could identify the retreating steps Thomas took when he should have advanced. The dodges and parries when he should have struck out with full force.

"You're off your game," I mumbled out loud without meaning to. Thomas cocked an eyebrow, rolled his eyes, but I saw the gleam of a smile touch his lips for that brief moment.

Training. That's all this is, I thought to myself, over and over again.

Despite Thomas's passive approach, sweat still trickled down my face, and my muscles grew tired and sore. How long had we been going? How much longer did we have left? What was our endgame here?

I could sense Thomas was wearing down too.

"Alexander, I have an idea." A pause, a moment of deliberation. "But you're going to hate it."

I already knew what he was going to suggest. Adrenaline woke up the same old feeling of horror rooted deep in my stomach. A heartbeat passed, and I couldn't look Thomas in the face.

"Thomas," I whispered.

"Just trust me, okay?"

Thomas.

"I'll be fine."

I couldn't. I'd rather drop my sword and let the King wrench my life out of my hands than follow through with Thomas's insane idea. The look in his eyes, that glimmer of absolute trust and safety and love and I couldn't do it.

But Thomas didn't wait for me. He lunged forwards, and some invisible force plucked him out of the air and slammed him against the ground. He managed to spin in the air so that his stomach hit the floor. I watched it happen, unable to stop it. The sword yanked free from my hands and thrust itself right between Thomas's shoulder blades. A muffled cry of pain hit the air, silenced immediately.

I panted to catch my breath, the room silent now that the clang of metal against metal had disappeared. Bile rose into my throat, and it took everything I had not to throw it up onto the pristine marble floor stained with crimson, and now with black.

"Shit, Alexander," Aaron hissed inside my mind. "Shit, Alexander! What the fuck did you do?"

I don't know.

Had I been speaking, I would have dissolved into tears and screams right then. But something held me together, something kept me from breaking apart. Perhaps it was the utter shock and surprise.

The King sighed, bored, and rose to his feet. His boots clacked against the floor as he crossed over to me. "Huh," he said. "I truly wasn't expecting you to actually kill him. How does it feel?"

Kill? No, no no no.

"I have no pity for killing the person who took all I've ever loved away from me," I spat in return. I don't know where it came from, but I do know it wasn't pointed at Thomas. But perhaps the words would have had more effect if I wasn't shaking.

The world swayed around me, but I couldn't look at what I had done. I made no attempts to hide my tears. My hand moved to my mouth on its own accord, covering the screams that I could already feel churn inside of me.

No no no no no no. I thought that one word over and over again, unable to think of anything else, unable to look for that single ray of light that always beamed through the darkest clouds. Where was it now?

I stared up at the skylight just as the clouds drifted away, and I caught the sight of one of the brightest stars. It grinned down at me, laughing, taunting. Is this what you wanted? I demanded it, my throat too tight to actually speak. Are you satisfied?

"Well, unfortunately for you," the King said, kneeling down next to Thomas. He placed a hand on his back. A fire sparked with in me, fueled by anger and hatred. He had no right to touch Thomas. "He's never truly gone."

The thick, black fluid that had scattered across the floor snaked back to Thomas's body, moving by itself. I staggered backwards as it rushed past me, its one destination locked in place. After it had all retreated back to him, a heartbeat passed, and then Thomas pushed himself to his feet.

"You know I hate it when you do that," he said after a moment, placing a hand against his temple.

Without any warning at all, the sound of a hand against skin filled the air. Thomas grimaced and held his face where the King had slapped him, pausing, then looked up at him. I watched in baited breath, forcing myself not to move.

"Leave."

"George—"

"Leave!"

Thomas folded his hands behind his back, his gaze unblinking.

"Take him to whatever prison cell we have available and return to your own. I'll deal with both of you in the morning."

Thomas turned away from him and marched over to me. He grabbed me by the hand and pulled me from the room. I followed in silence, too afraid to say anything. Hours could have passed just as readily as minutes. Each step dragged onwards, and Thomas didn't speak until we were far enough away from the King and his entourage.

"Bitch."

"W-what?"

Thomas ran a hand through his hair. "He's a bitch! I'm going to kill him." He paused for a moment, then turned to me, his expression changing at once. "Are you alright?"

I nodded and let out a breath of relief, but before I could do anything else, Thomas pulled me into a room. I blinked, adjusting myself to the darkness broken only by the window's gentle moonbeams. "Is this your room?"

"Yeah, but I don't like to think of it like that." Releasing a sigh, he slunk over to the bed and practically threw himself down on it. "I've contacted Washington. He'll come and get you in a moment."

"And you?"

Thomas sat up, chewing on his lip. "I'll come up with a lie or something. It's the one thing I'm good at, right?" The words were supposed to have humor behind them, especially when accompanied by that little smile, but it fell just flat.

"Are you alright?" I asked, joining him on the bed and pulling my knees to my chest.

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"I didn't...?" I couldn't finish the thought, but Thomas shook his head. I noticed how he edged a little ways away from me, as though my touch had burned him.

"No. I didn't die. I could have though, if George hadn't gotten there in time." He dragged a hand up his chest, right where my sword had gone through. "Damn, Alexander. That still really hurt though."

"You're the one who made me stab you."

"I know! I thought you'd take it as a compliment." He turned away, playing with something on his wrist. I grabbed his hand, lifting it up for me to see.

"My bracelet!" I exclaimed. "You're wearing it?"

"Of course," he said in that lightly teasing tone that felt so wrong given the current situation but so right at the same time.

I edged closer, closing the distance between us. Thomas watched me for a moment too long before glancing away. I turned my body and leaned my head against his side, closing my eyes. "You didn't have to leave, you know."

"I know."

"And that really hurt me, you know?"

"I know," he said, bowing his head.

"And that wasn't fair at all."

"I know."

"I miss you."

"No you don't."

I pushed myself away from him. "What do you mean?"

"I got your letter."

"What letter?"

Thomas paused, staring at me as if he was searching for something when he didn't even know what he was searching for. Hesitantly, he stood up and pulled a thin, crinkled piece of paper out of his desk drawer and handed it to me.

I glanced down at the letters, puzzling through them. "I didn't write this," I said, finally reading the message they emboldened. My heart caught in my throat as I looked back up at Thomas. "I didn't write this, I promise."

"You-you didn't?"

"Of course not. I would never...I..." I stumbled, searching for the right thing to say. I reached out a hand, touching his shoulder. "Thomas, I would never write something like this."

He held out his hand, and I set the paper back into his. He skimmed through it once more, then set it down on the bedside table. "It doesn't matter anyway," he returned, in that impossibly impassive voice that I hated more than anything else in the world. Why did he have to hide how he felt? He fished through his coat for a moment and pulled out a vial that he shoved into my hands.

It was small and thin, but it was the substance inside that caught my attention, the glowing blue light that enraptured me. I tightened my grip on it as my hands began to tremble a little bit. Though I had no clue what it was, some instinctive part of me know I couldn't afford to drop it. It was familiar, in a hazy, sort of way, as though it had come straight from a dream. I know I had seen it before.

"Thomas—?"

"Your memories," he returned quietly.

My head shot up at the word. I extended my hand to him, but he wrapped my fingers around the vial and shook his head sadly. "You can take them, Alexander, and you can remember everything." He shifted. "I'm sorry I kept them away from you for so long. I was selfish. I deprived you of something that was rightfully yours."

The words of his letter came rushing back. "Thomas—" I began, but he interrupted us before I could get a word out.

"They're almost here."

"Come with us." A long silence followed. Thomas smiled up at me, and once more shook his head.

"I can't, Lex."

"Why not? There's nothing left for you to do here." I grabbed his arm, pulling him down so I could kiss his face. He didn't resist, but the hesitation in his eyes made me let go of him. "I want you to come home with us, Thomas," I breathed, voice catching in my throat. My eyes burned. I caressed his face lightly, trying anything. Anything that would work, that would make him see reason. "I can't stand not knowing if you're safe or hurt or dying. I-I just want you t-to come back."

Thomas leaned in, kissing me, and the world finally fell away. I pressed him against the wall, finding the safety and comfort that I had tried to find for so long. He was my everything, and he was right here. "Please," I whispered, pulling away an inch or two.

Thomas smiled at me, and for a moment, a breathless, giddy moment, I was so sure he's accept my offer.

But instead, he pressed his hands to my chest and softly pushed me off of him. "They'll be here in seconds."

"Why do you have to stay?" I asked, not looking at him as he rose and crossed the room.

"There's still work that needs to be done."

"And what about after? If we win the war? Are you going to keep hiding from me then?"

"Of course not." I didn't like the way his voice rose a little with that last word. He was lying to me, wasn't he? You'd start to think that after a while, I'd be able to tell when he was lying to me, but I was still just as clueless when it came to him as I always was.

"Nobody hates you," I said, joining him and placing my hand on his back. He stiffened, and mumbling a quick apology, I dropped it. I guess he still wasn't over what happened to him.

"I know that." He didn't sound so convinced.

"You don't have to stay."

Thomas turned to look at me, his silver eyes softer than they had any right to be. It was infuriating and calming all at once. He kissed my forehead, the touch fleeting and far too little. I wanted to grab onto that moment, hold it forever, and never let go.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled.

"Don't apologize, Lex. None of this is your fault." He brushed my face, angling it up so I was looking straight in his eyes. "Give me two months. I will find a way to win, stab George right where he stabbed me. And the first thing I'll do is come straight back to the castle, right back into our bed, but more importantly, into your arms."

My breath catching in my throat, I forced out the only two words that came to mind. "You promise?"

"I promise."

"Okay," I said, laughing shakily and pulling that fraction of an inch away from him. "I'm holding you to that, though." I tried to hand him back the vial of my memories, but he shook his head and took my hands in his, tightening my hold on the bottle. "I don't want them."

"Yes you do."

"No I don't."

"Well, keep them anyway. Just in case." He watched me until I set the vial inside the inner pocket of my jacket.

"Happy?"

"Very much so." His head shot up then, the pupils in his eyes constricting to thin lines. "Hide."

"Wh—"

Thomas all but pushed me off the bed. "Somebody's coming."

A heartbeat passed. Then, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in."

I couldn't see. Who was it? What was going on?

"Stars above! You gave me a damned heart attack."

"Sorry," came the voice of Hercules, grinning. "The others are waiting outside. Where's Alexander."

"Here," I said, pushing myself to my feet and shooting a look at Thomas, who shrugged apologetically. Brushing off the dirt on my jacket, I stepped up to Hercules. "Are you sure you don't want to come home with us?"

Thomas shook his head. "I can't."

"What?" Hercules exclaimed. "But Washington expects you—"

"I know. But I can't go back. Not today."

"Washington—"

"Tell him I still have work to do."

"He's not going to like that."

Thomas shrugged. "Nobody will. I'll see you all in a while, okay? Stay safe, and please don't do anything stupid. Now, leave, before soldiers find you and I have to clean up that mess as well."

Hercules sighed, grabbed my hand, and pulled me away from the room.

"I love you," I said.

"I love you too."