A week later, Rakta woke up because the world was trembling.

Then he heard the scream and clatter of wrecked stone, the shouting of soldiers... the shrieks of those unable to fight.

Everything slowed and blurred within him for half a second, then he was dressed, the blades Avinos had given tucked safely into his belt. They were the only weapons he wanted or required today.

She was out there.

Rakta could hear cursing and men colliding in their haste to prepare for a battle that shouldn't have been happening. He didn't have time to fight his way through them, not without accidentally injuring his own men.

He had no time.

Half formed thoughts of a potential retaliation from the wrecked Black Decks flew through his head as he turned toward the window, throwing it open. He backed up, set his feet, then ran at the narrow opening, diving through it. He curled himself into a ball and flipped right side up, his feet hitting the ground for less than a second before he was sprinting to the castle.

Screams of dying men and the clatter of steel against steel assaulted his ears. The salt-sweet scent of blood and the tang of gunpowder filled his nose and mouth. Smoke obscured his vision. The courtyard was the absolute madness of a hand-to hand battle. Red sheeted across the cobblestones, making the ice more treacherous than normal.

Above the castle wall, smoke gushed into the sky, the crackle of fire sinister even though he couldn't see where the flames were coming from. He didn't need to, they were burning the surrounding town.

At first, he thought perhaps uniforms had been stole from the dead they had been unable to recover. His eyes scanned for the dark hair he was expecting, but found only familiar red.

Traitors.

The word whispered through his mind, insidious and wretched.

A sword swiped through the air, aimed for his throat and Rakta brought up his knife, catching the sharp edge on his left blade, his right easily finding a home in the heart of his attacker. Rakta's lips parted in belated surprise at the red eyes drilling into his own. He yanked his dagger free and the Heart soldier collapsed, his blood mixing into the snow beneath him.

His breath came in startled rasps as his eyes fell on the Heart mark on the dead man's neck. Then his vision expanded to take in the fallen all around him. Diamonds decorated the tender skin of necks everywhere he looked, blank red eyes glaring back accusingly like he should have been there to save them. Rakta's teeth clenched, his head snapping up to take in the battle as more men poured into the courtyard from every direction.

The dead were rapidly joined by their brothers-in-arms, many of them putting up a valiant fight before being overcome.

The crimson of their uniforms masked the blood but not the betrayal.

Rakta looked up just in time to watch a catapulted stone sail overhead, crashing into the western side of the castle, crumbling walls that had stood for centuries. The screech and grind of shattered stone was deafening, the debris scattered through the courtyard like deadly rain.

His breath rushed out, his pupils expanding as adrenaline coursed through him and he was once again sprinting, pushing hard for the castle. For Avinos and the Queen.

He was barely slowed by the Hearts that tried to kill him, slicing through their ranks until his hands were so covered in gore that the daggers slipped in his grasp. His blades found hearts and throats, livers and the small, vulnerable cracks in skulls. He barely avoided killing his own men on more than one occasion, his brain not used to having to distinguish between the Red Decks.

Always the only thing he had needed to look for were dark eyes or obsidian hair.

Days ago, he had trained and traveled with these same men. Every now and then he would recognize a face, but it didn't matter. If they crossed him, it could only end one way.

Red misted his vision, one thought, one need ringing repeatedly through his mind.

Avinos. Avinos. Avinos.

His princess.

Rakta was nearly there when a gigantic form loomed in front of him, forcing him to skid to a halt on the slick ice. His eyes widened, taking in the massive Heart foot soldier who stood in front of him, a wicked cudgel dripping blood in one hand, the other holding a shield roughly as tall as Rakta at the shoulder.

His breath heaved in and out and cold winter air prickled at his skin, cooling it. The Heart gestured at him, slamming the cudgel against his shield in a warrior display. Rakta eyed the weapon, lip curling slightly at the sheer ugliness of it. He took a moment to wipe the blood from his hands as best he could on his already soaked shirt, then hissed and sprinted at the fool in front of him.

The cudgel was heavy and slow, meant to crush bone in melee combat, not for a showdown with a quicker, lighter, more skilled opponent. Rakta ducked the first swing, just for the shield to crunch into his side, dislodging his shoulder from its socket as it spun him sideways.

The spiked cudgel chased after him, but even unbalanced, Rakta was much too fast.

Rakta used his momentum to slip behind the man, the dagger in his left hand sliding effortlessly into the man's liver, then between his ribs, into his lungs. Lumbering drunkenly, the man turned and he sank his dagger into the side of the soldier's throat, tearing the blade though soft flesh. He stepped aside as the man fell, blood like a torrent from his throat onto the pale stone of the steps leading to the castle doors.

Feeling roughly along his shoulder, Rakta located the ball-like top of the bone and shoved it back and towards his center-line. He inhaled slowly as the pain spiked then dulled, the sharp pop of a replaced bone reverberating in his ears.

He bolted up the last few slippery steps, then slammed against sealed doors. Rage coursed through him and Rakta spun desperately, running back across the courtyard, skirting the edges of the castle's walls to avoid any more skirmishes.

The bitter taste of treachery burned his throat as he watched his men being cut down around him, but he couldn't stop to help them. He had only one objective.

A dull whistle filled the air and Rakta was thrown from his feet as another boulder smashed into the castle mere feet from him. He collided hard with the wall, his already injured shoulder taking the brunt of the impact before he dropped to the ground, the wind knocked from his lungs.

Rakta rolled to his side, his back pressed against the stone wall behind him as he fought for breath. Finally, his lungs expanded painfully and he lurched up, just to have to throw himself to the side as an arrow came zinging past his head. It clattered against the stone and he rolled to the side, getting quickly to his feet, just to stumble. Another arrow tugged at the fabric of his sleeve.

He ducked slightly at the sharp pock of a bullet striking stone nearby.

Rakta shook his head, only succeeding in clearing his head slightly, then staggered toward the hole in the wall. Sliding over the debris, he found himself three halls over from the throne room, where his connection to the Queen was pulling him.

Breathing raggedly, he made his way through the corridors, his head clearing slowly as he picked up the pace, his blood pumping hot and fast through his veins. The daggers in his hands sang for more blood, begged for repentance from the dishonorable Hearts.

How he wished he could kill them all, one by one. Pain and blood would be the only payment he required.

Rubble and bodies forced him to pick his way a little more carefully through the castle, his boots slipping in unexpected scarlet pools.

A battle cry tore itself free from his chest as he caught sight of the throne room doors. Two Hearts stood guard there, but they were dead before they hit the ground and then Rakta was throwing himself through the doors.

The scene here was shockingly calm compared to the chaos outside.

Noblemen and courtiers lay scattered about, but Rakta didn't care about them, his eyes seeking poppy colored hair and eyes like a sunset.

His breath froze in his chest when he finally found her and her mother, standing on the dais beside Mavros, who was lounging in the Diamond Queen's throne. They were unbound and he knew why that was. They didn't dare move. Tamsus was more effective than rope or chain ever could be.

Avinos parted her lips in warning, but Rakta was already diving to the side, the gentlest sigh of air over steel alerting him. A dagger winged its way forward, slicing into the blood reddened fabric of his shirt, cutting the cloth just at his shoulder.

Rakta turned, his own daggers held out in front of him as he met Tamsus' impassive gaze. They stayed that way, staring at one another for what felt like an eternity. Battles and meals shared with this person flashed through his mind. Private jokes and easy banter tried to fill the air.

The memories only intensified the sensation of being double-crossed. But it couldn't stop him from wanting to understand this person who he thought might have been a mirror of him, once upon a time.

His lips parted, and he asked, "Tam?"

Something flickered briefly in the other Ace's eyes, but it was soon hidden by a smile and the glint of another blade appearing in the Heart's hand as though by magic. Rakta recognized those blades.

They were the same ones he had used when they had fought Dynami Club together what felt like eons ago. The metal shimmered cruelly and Rakta was frozen as he watched the images that glimmered within them.

His death. Those blades showed him his death.

There were no questions. No words. Rakta knew why. He could see it in the way the Heart Queen was looking at him.

And that eventually gave him his answers concerning Tamsus, someone he had briefly called friend.

His hands tightened on the daggers, a miniscule movement, but enough. Tamsus shot toward him and Rakta's world narrowed down to almost nothing. The flash of metal. The biting sting of being cut. The stink of blood. Tamsus' blood-crystal eyes, narrowed in what could have been mistaken for regret.

The strain of muscle. Steel crashing against steel. The way their boots slipped every now and then on the marble as they fought their way up and down the long room. A blade glanced along his jaw and there was a vicious shriek that sounded down the hall, bouncing off the stone until it surrounded them.

"Subdued only, Tamsus!"

The command sent a shudder through the other Ace and Rakta smiled as he realized what that meant. He slashed out, his arms criss-crossing back and forth in front of him as he chased Tamsus back, leaving bloody slices in his clothing.

His head snapped to the side when Tamsus punched him, taking him by surprise, but not totally as their fight turned into a weird mix of thrown fists and blades grazing flesh. Rakta performed a tricky little flip until he was holding his right dagger to where the blade extended past his pinky, while the knife in his left hand was held with the blade like an extension of his thumb joint.

He parried a strike with the left, then jabbed at Tamsus' face, making him flinch to the side slightly to avoid the hit. He wasn't quite fast enough and Rakta hit him, the hilt of the dagger in his palm hardening the blow so that the skin over Tam's razor blade cheekbone split neatly. The line was so clean, it was like Rakta had sliced him with metal rather than just landed a hit.

Tamsus snarled and tried to slam the pommel of his left weapon into Rakta's temple. Rakta dove forward into a low roll, then whipped around still in a crouch, just for Tamsus' shin to slam into his shoulder, throwing him to the side in a long skid.

He rolled to his feet, breathing hard as they started circling again.

Every inch of him hurt. He was bleeding.

But so was Tamsus.

The Ace's loose, bloody locks fell into his eyes and Rakta had the briefest moment to remind himself to thank Avinos for urging him to cut his own hair. He darted forward. His daggers sank high into the Heart's chest, but he realized too late that he'd mis-calculated.

Tamsus had bent his knees slightly to jump at Rakta and it had saved his life.

An elbow came up, smashing into his temple hard enough that Rakta was temporarily blinded. His foot skidded in a pool of blood and he hit the marble floor, a horrified scream echoing weirdly around him as his ears buzzed. Something clattered next to his head, then something else. The musical chime of metal on stone preceded by a wet sucking sound let him know they were his daggers.

Tamsus had pulled them out with barely a sound, dropping them next to his head, just out of reach.

Rakta's vision cleared just in time to watch Tamsus drive the heel of his booted foot down into his right leg, just above the knee.

A horrifying crunch sounded through the room and Rakta screamed in pain and shock, then screamed again when Tamsus stomped down onto the same leg, splintering the bones below his knee. Jagged spikes of white poked sickeningly through the flesh of his calf and the coarse fabric of his pant leg. He choked on the nausea that swept through him aided by the rolling waves of pain.

A desperate scream chased his, then there was cold metal biting into the sensitive skin just under his jaw. The edge pressed in hard enough that the razor edge of Tamsus' blade slid into his skin effortlessly.

Avinos froze, falling to her knees with her hands held out in supplication, silently begging the other Ace to stop, her face white as the stone around her. Tamsus tilted his head and Rakta hissed when the blade was taken away from his throat, letting his own blood trickle slowly down his skin.

His breath was in short bursts that did nothing to help the trembling in his muscles, the flesh shivering around the shards of shattered bone. Pain skittered through him, weakening him, sending him ever closer to panic.

There was a small laugh and Rakta looked up through hazy eyes to find the Queen of Hearts standing, smiling at Tamsus approvingly. She snapped her fingers and said, "Make sure he behaves."

Tamsus set his foot gently against Rakta's ruined leg, pressing down very carefully. His entire body bucked in protest and he fell to his side, choking on another scream. The Heart crouched down, gripping his elbow softly, his other hand hovering over his leg, ready to grasp the already shattered limb. Whispering, he said, "Please, Rakta. Don't make me break you anymore."

Rakta snarled, but couldn't manage anything more as sheer terror blasted through him when Mavros pulled a small, decorative dagger from the folds of her gown. It looked too pretty to actually be useful.

The Diamond Queen had fallen to her knees in fear when Avinos had run toward Rakta, but now she glared up at Mavros. The Heart looked down at her, then at Avinos and Mielas trembled slightly. Softly, Mavros said, "I would not be that cruel, Mielas."

Lovingly, she brushed the other Queen's hair to the side, pressing her hand against Mielas' cheek. Tamsus' fingers bit into his elbow, but Rakta couldn't have moved anyway. Everything had frozen.

He knew what was happening. He couldn't stop it.

Rakta only prayed that it would be painless. His eyes went to Avinos', she was watching the Queen. It was still his job to protect her.

"Avinos," he called, ignoring the way Tamsus hissed threateningly. When the princess didn't look toward him, he said, "Avi."

His voice was low. But she turned her gaze to his.

The fear in her eyes was like a knife to his heart. He swallowed hard and said, "Look at me. Just me."

Her gaze flicked back to the two Queens, then to Rakta. Her breath was coming too fast. She would make herself sick. Tears streaked silently down her pale cheeks. Rakta's eyes fluttered slightly, stinging and he said, "Don't look."

She drew in a rattling breath, but didn't turn.

Though it was impossible, he heard the moment she drew the knife across his Queen's throat. He heard the wet slip of steel through flesh.

Then he arched up as something was torn from his chest. A scream that was echoed in eerie synchronization by Avinos was ripped from his throat, reverberating through the room. Words made themselves clear over his own agony.

"Please, Rakta! Save her! Please!"

The terrible, desperate sound was cut off as the air was pulled from him, leaving nothing but an aching emptiness that was suddenly stoppered and refilled.

Avinos gasped and clapped her hand to the side of her neck as her rank mark branded itself into her flesh, the lines glowing scarlet against her white skin.

Deliriously, he thought that he had been right all those years ago. When she got it, Avinos' mark would be the loveliest of all.

She was still staring at him, wide eyes never leaving his. A shuffle of movement caught his attention and Rakta lunged forward as Avinos screamed his name. But he was trapped, caught by Tamsus, who dug his fingers into the punctured flesh of his lower leg. Rakta's spine arched in pain, but he couldn't move or fight.

Through his haze of fury and terror, he heard the Queen speak and then Tamsus wrenched Rakta upright, turning him to where he was staring at Avinos again.

She was trembling, but her eyes sparked in defiance when she pushed herself to her feet. His heart slammed painfully in his chest and he flailed desperately, ignoring the shocks of agony sent through his body. Tamsus' hand wrapped around his throat, fingers crushing into his windpipe as the Ace pressed Rakta firmly against his chest, holding him in place, forcing him to face the Queen.

Forcing him to watch.

Rakta jerked once more, violently, in an attempt to reach her.

His efforts were repaid when Tamsus quickly grabbed his right wrist and with a sharp twist, shattered the small bones there. Avinos cried out, tears pouring from her eyes as she backed slowly away from the Queen.

Viciously, Tamsus hissed, "I will break every bone in your body if I have to, Rakta. Don't force my hand."

But Rakta couldn't stop himself from trying to get to his princess. He threw his head back hard, his skull connecting with nothing more than the other Ace's jaw. Tamsus sighed in a weary fashion, then Rakta cried out when a fist slammed into his side with the force of a battering ram. He heard and felt as two of his ribs cracked.

"Rakta!"

The word was shrieked out, echoing and high and would be forever branded into his memory.

He looked up just as the Queen fisted her hand in that poppy colored hair he loved so dearly. Avinos' eyes found his one last time. There was a bright flash, then Avinos crumpled to the floor, her hands flying to her throat.

For the briefest possible moment, he had the thought that she was just wearing that ruby choker she loved so much. The stones were glittering and shiny on her throat.

The illusion couldn't last. It wouldn't. The rubies liquified and spread in a slow pool around her, saturating the fan of her hair, coloring her skin.

He was supposed to be the only one stained with blood. Not her, never her.

Another tortured scream was pulled from him, harsh and ragged as it tore his throat. An emptiness that would never be filled caved his chest in, just like it had when Mielas had died.

But this was worse. So much worse, and Rakta would never understand the depth and breadth of the pain that engulfed him.

His heart shattered. His world shattered.

The Heart's Ace finally relinquished his hold on him and Rakta crawled, his broken leg sending shocks of fire through his body.

But that pain was nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to what was ricocheting through his head. After an eternity, he reached Avinos and sat, pulling her into his lap. Her limp body rested heavily against his and Rakta brushed the hair from her face, rocking her back and forth.

He couldn't stop the tears. Then he couldn't stop the sobs. The scream of pain. The thin keen of loss.

She was gone. His princess... she was dead.

He held her tighter, his chest catching painfully. He was finding it difficult to exhale as tears continued to cloud his vision, splashing onto her still face, washing the red away. Burying his face against her neck, Rakta felt the warmth of her lifeblood smear across his cheekbones, over his eyes and forehead. He could taste the copper on his tongue as his lips parted in an effort to remind him that he must take in a breath, regardless of how much he didn't want to.

The muscle just below his ribcage spasmed under a fresh wave of silent tears, the only sound filling the room his choppy, inconsistent breaths.

His chest ached with the force of his sorrow. It was crippling.

More so than any broken bone or torn flesh ever could be.

Rakta cried until he could cry no more, lamenting the loss of his princess. Of his love and his heart.

A blackness crept from the hole in his chest, spreading through him, at once soothing and increasing the hopeless agony shredding him.

He didn't resist when too hot fingers grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up, revealing his tear and blood stained face to all those present. His gaze wandered carelessly over the Hearts watching in stony silence all around them.

Rakta blinked slowly at the red-haired woman in front of him, his arms locking around the body of his beloved.

The Queen would not take her from him twice.

"Rakta," she said gently and his breath stopped once more, his shoulders hunching in a pitiful attempt to shield Avinos.

Softly, he said, "Kill me. Please. End this. Wonderland is yours. Please!" The last word rose up on another cry of anguish, washing through the room as he tipped his head back, baring his throat. Still begging, he cried, "Kill me! Let my blood spill where hers had. Please, give me this mercy." His words came faster, more fevered. "Please, please don't make me live with this. Kill me. Kill me! I'm begging you, grant me this clemency. I loathe every breath taken now that she will never draw another. Please."

Once, he would have been sickened as he pleaded to die. The only comfort he could find was that he wouldn't ever beg for his life, even here, at the end of all things.

Mavros stroked his bloodied hair, making him quiver under her touch. He dipped his head out of her reach, his lips pressing to Avinos' temple. Kindly, the Queen said, "No, Rakta. I do not believe that is your fate."

"It's what I want. Damn whatever fate might have wanted, if it wanted this!" he snarled. "Kill me!" he howled, the sound lonely and wrecked.

The Queen shook her head. "I seem to remember owing you a life debt for Tamsus."

"You cannot owe a life debt to someone who is already dead. You've already killed my heart, my body is just too foolish to realize it." He looked up at her. "Please, let me go with her."

The Queen blinked once, slowly.

Then, something in the air shifted. Rakta desperately pressed his mouth once more to Avinos' before the Queen's words tore through him, filling the emptiness of his chest with a vile darkness, different from the blackness that had leaked from his destroyed heart.

"Stand, Ace of Diamonds." The power in her voice crackled and he shuddered as some outside force dragged him to his feet. His shattered leg refused to support his weight so Rakta dropped heavily to a knee, his head tipped back as he stared at the Queen.

She strode toward him, pressing her hand hard into the side of his neck, right over his mark. He gasped, her touch singeing him, burning into his flesh and eating away at his mind. His lips parted in surprise when she demanded, "Swear your loyalty to me."

The words bubbled in his throat, but Rakta struggled against them. He fought furiously with himself, the words like serrated hooks as they tried to drag themselves from his mouth. Mavros pressed her hand harder into his neck, making him hiss. It was as though she was pouring molten glass onto his skin that then seeped into his blood. The glass cooled, turning into jagged spikes that ripped into his body.

He struggled for as long as he could. But the inevitable happened. The glass found what was left of his heart.

The words burst from him, instantly relieving his pain. "I swear to serve you and faithfully execute your will to the fullest, may death take me or pain break me before I disobey."

Mavros smiled benevolently at him and Rakta watched her through a painless cloud. He could breath again.

He slumped to the side when Mavros turned, the agony like a distant memory that grew stronger with each passing moment as he lay on the slick floor, his fingers curled limply against Avinos'. One breath after another came, slowly in, slowly out. He barely blinked, knowing this would be the last time he saw the only thing he had ever loved more than battle.

Then, someone was picking him up and carrying him away.

He looked up to find Tamsus had him cradled against his chest like a newborn child, his movements as smooth as water, careful not to jostle his broken leg. Feebly, his fingers clutched the Ace's shirt, making Tamsus look down.

In a deadened voice, he asked, "Will you at least bury her? Don't burn her, not like the Clubs."

Tamsus nodded slowly. "You have my word that she will rest."

Rakta let go, sliding gratefully into darkness.