Your vision was blurry upon opening your eyes. You felt your brain being pounded within your skull and your body ached. You let out a soft whine and rolled over in your bed, the soft sheets offering little comfort. The room was still fairly dark, with only a few candles lit. The memories of the night prior were hazy. You remember going to the party, but soon after your second drink, it all became incomprehensible. It was all a haze of music, candlelight, and dance.

It must have taken you an hour to will yourself out of bed, the only motivation being a pitcher of water that was placed all the way in the living space. It had forced you to get out of bed all so you could quench your thirst. You found yourself sitting on one of the couches, nursing a cup of water when Amara and Liriel skipped into the room.

They wore happy faces and presented no visible signs of wear from the party. It was as if they did not drink and dance heavily, but rather got a full night of rest. It was likely due to their experience - who knows how many times they had done that in their lives.

"Good morrow, dear friend." Amara sang happily while opening the curtains to your room. The light from torches and fireflies outside - which happened to be surprisingly bright - invaded your room. You could do nothing but grunt in response and hold a hand out to block the light from your eyes.

"Well, you are taking it surprisingly better than I thought," Liriel stated as she placed a tray of food on the table, "For the amount that you drank, I was sure you would be on the brink of death."

"Really?" You responded with a thick coat of sarcasm. It felt like you were dead already. You reached out and grabbed a slice of bread. It was an elvish bread and you had come to deeply love them over your stay. The emptiness in your stomach hurt and you were glad to eat.

"Get some food in you and you'll be better. You're the talk of the castle today." At Amara's words, you dropped the piece of bread and looked at her with alertness in your eyes.

"Please tell me I did not do anything stupid or embarrassing." You crossed your fingers in a silent prayer. It would be awful if you had done anything bad, as your actions may be taken to represent all humans. You did not want to carry the weight of the image of humanity in front of such esteemed beings.

"Not bad, on the contrary. Everyone is praising your ability to handle elven wine. It is an impressive feat." Amara reassured you.

You raised one brow before gesturing to your slumped body, "Does this look like someone who is handling it well?"

"Oh, be thankful they are speaking highly of you." Liriel laughed as she began to look through your wardrobe.

"I'd much rather have my work praised, than my ability to handle my cups." You reasoned as you ate a few more pieces of fruit. Amara had gone to your vanity to select jewelry.

"Then you best get ready for the day." Liriel turned around with a dress in her grasp and laid it out on the settee in front of you. Your eyes trailed over the light sage fabric. It had a silk underside with some sort of tulle layering on top. It looked like the dress you had worn on your first day there, but a much better colour. You gave Liriel a gracious smile at her selection and rose to your feet to change.

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You had hoped to gain your bearings before leaving your room. However, after leaving, you had only just begun to feel better. The pounding in your head had subsided, but the aches in your joints from the hours of dancing still affected you. Your footsteps echoed across the stone hall as two guards escorted you through the caste. Before your morning rounds with the patients, you had to pick up some books from the library that you found the other day. The guards opened the doors and allowed you to enter without their presence.

You were so wrapped up in your task and struggling to recover from your night that you failed to notice the figure sitting at one of the tables, flipping through a large ornate book. You walked past them while rubbing your eyes. Once at the shelf you needed, you grabbed the three books and stacked them in your arms. Their weight felt heavier than you expected, but you recovered easily and moved to turn back. Your gaze swept across the wide-ranging room before it settled on a body in a seat. His back was to you and facing the entrance door.

His long silver hair draped pin straight down his back and you could see the top half tied up. A familiar strap of leather banded around his head, which you knew belonged to his eyepatch. His back was broad and he had on a leather tunic dyed a rich dark green. His sword was strapped to his side and rested on the bench with him. You cursed yourself for having such luck. Out of all of the libraries in this castle, Aemond had to choose the one that happened to be right next to your study. Of course your luck would be so rotten.

You took in a breath. Perhaps you could quietly make your way out of the library. You did not wish to disturb the king in whatever task he was enraptured with. Your hold on the books tightened as you moved to swiftly and quietly vacate the area. You passed by him with your gaze down on the floor.

Lately, however, your victories seemed to be short-lived.

"Do you think you are here to drink your weight in wine?" His smooth voice drawled out right as you had managed to reach up for the door handle. Your fingers squeezed the air in a desperate attempt to calm yourself. You spun on your heels, only to regret it immediately by the temporary loss of vision. The ache in your head returned. Aemond sat a few metres in front of you. He was staring down at the pages of parchment below him. His agile fingers swept at the page and turned it.

"No, your grace. I was simply being cordial, having been invited to it by his grace Prince Ageon." You defended. It was true, Aegon extended a branch your way and you decided to seize it. You had not planned to drink, but you were an incredibly curious person and succumbed to the curiosity of what their wine tasted like.

"It is not a surprise Aegon would do that. Again, do not forget the task set forth on you." Aemond had not bothered to spare you a single glance yet. His focus largely was on the book at his table.

The ache in your head worsened and you wanted nothing but to escape, but you knew you had to be cordial to the king, "I am thankful for this opportunity and take it seriously. I will be here for a year, so I thought it best to forge friendships." Your response seemed to elicit a dry chuckle from the elf.

"Friends with..." He finally looked at you, piercing you with the intensity of his eye, "your kind? You are nothing more than an oddity to them right now, a silly little human way in over her head. As soon as they are bored of you, you will be nothing again. They have forgotten the threats your kind poses."

It was likely the effects of your aching body that caused you to stick up just slightly for yourself, "If I am nothing but a silly little human in over her head, what threat do I truly pose, your grace?" While your words had been aggressive, you coated them in the most flattering voice you could muster; the call of an innocent animal hiding their violence.

Aemond regarded you for a moment as you stood there. You adjusted the weight of the books in your hands. He still was giving you a look that deeply unsettled you. You felt like a bug under his gaze, though you knew he would not treat you as gently as Helaena does to her insects. Aemond would not hesitate to squash you under his foot.

"All humans are a threat." His voice came out strained, edged with spite and some other unheard charge akin to a lament. You stood strong against the battering waves of his blue-eyed stare; the oceans within his iris in constant turbulence. You had no recourse for his words and could not choose a path to take. To your great relief, tinged with an ounce of disappointment, Aemond appeared unwilling to speak further. His attention went back to the book in front of him and you took that as an opportunity to leave.

Why, out of all the libraries in this castle, did he choose the one by your work?

His figure consumed your mind as you walked a short distance to the laboratory you shared with Daeron. Aemond was, in some ways, a walking contradiction to the stories you grew up with. There was truth in the mutterings of his immoral attitude and penchant for aggression. Yet, you had not seen any physical aggression so talked about. His paragon of brutality was unseen.

Aemond was calm and calculating, his refrain from violence you had seen so far instilled a greater fear within. If he was like the stories - quick to barbarity - you could count on that predictability. It would be comforting in a sense, to place your bet on wanton aggression. Men, regardless of human or elf, could be counted on for that predictable nature.

However, he had not shown you his hand in whatever game he was playing. In Aemond's cunning sense, there was no predictability. It frightened you, to be at the mercy of nothing short of an enigma. You could not place a bet on what he will do and what he is capable of. Sure, you can rely on the stories, but they have already proven to ring with some semblance of inaccuracy. You began to doubt even your own memory.

In your contemplation, you had dropped the books off in the laboratory and swung into the sick hall to make your rounds with the patients. You carried your notebook with you, along with a fitted bag at your waist to carry any small utility item that could be needed to help the sick elves. You had realized that elf physiology is surprisingly much like humans - minus the ability to live for multiple millenniums.

You had begun your move through the rows of countless beds. At each one, you sat with the elf and recorded their symptoms to keep track of their progression. To the ones you were able to, you administered some pain relief. Unfortunately, for those who had been sick for long, no type of pain relief would do them any good.

In your rounds, you moved to a bed with a new patient. It was a young elf. Though likely centuries old, she appeared as a child. Her hair was as golden as the light of the lanterns in the room, but oily from the relentless sweat caused by a fever. Her skin showed obvious signs of taint progression. Its glass-like appearance was underscored by intermingling cracks. Dark purple, near black, tint washed over the skin, with some areas more concentrated than others giving the appearance of bruises.

She was the youngest you had seen in your time here.

Something in you never even thought about the possibility of younger elves getting it. That was not a place your mind wandered to and you had gotten used to treating the older elves. Your heart ached at such a youthful being having their life slowly drained.

You moved towards the bed to see her, "Hello," You introduced yourself before standing next to her laying form, "I have not been granted the pleasure of meeting you yet." You kept your voice kind and cheerful to ease the emotions of the young elf. The little girl slowly turned her head in your direction. Despite her weakened state, the girl looked cheerful.

"I'm Lyra," She paused to cough, "You're a human." Lyra's voice was gentle, with notes that sounded like windchimes on a calm day.

"Yes, I am. I'm here to help." You sat at the edge of the bed and reached out for a bowl of water and a cloth. You moved the rag through the water and got rid of the excess water. The back of your hand rested on her forehead. Lyra was burning up. You laid the cloth down where your hand had been and she let out a breathless sigh of relief.

"You look like an angel." Lyra's words were covered in the haze of a fever, but you took them to heart. This whole time, being surrounded by naturally beautiful beings, you had begun to feel worse about your appearance. There was something so pure and true when the words came from such an innocent child.

"That is kind, especially from a girl as pretty as you." You watched as the corners of Lyra's mouth rose faintly. She was in obvious pain, but taking it with graceful strength.

"I'm going to die, aren't I?" Her question was so abrupt that it halted your movements as you tended to adjust the blanket over her. You paused, unsure of how to handle the situation. With all of your other patients, they understood their time was limited. The taint only spread to bodies through openings and you wondered what could have happened for a little elf such as Lyra to be infected.

"I and the other healers are working towards a cure, you need not worry, darling." While not a direct answer, it was sufficient enough to get Lyra to rest her head back down against her pillow and close her eyes. You backed away to allow her to sleep and went about aiding the other sick elves.

During your rounds, your eyes kept wandering back to Lyra's form. You were plagued with an even heavier burden. Your goal had been clear for many years, to find a cure. However, there was always an air of impersonality in your work. While the driving force had been to help people and carry on your father's work, your motivation was still disconnected. The taint - other than destroying the lands of your kingdom - had never deeply affected you personally.

With Lyra, you felt perhaps the same driving force your father did. He worked to help, but mainly to make sure you had a future. You saw that same sense of need to safeguard that future when looking into Lyra's eyes. While old from a human perspective, she was a young elf who had barely begun her life. Your father wanted a future for you, you wish to provide the same for her.

After a few hours of menial tasks in upkeep for the patients, you found yourself in the laboratory. In your hands was a simple vial, lilac and gleaming with specs of light. It was a newer version of your previous concoction that proved to be of little success. There was a hope - in fiddling with the ratios of ingredients - that it could be more effective than the last.

You looked down upon a sample of taint kept in a glass case. It was a bundle of flowers and weeds that had lost their colour of life, covered in the black mould and goo so familiar. You tilted the vial in your hand and allowed a few drops to spill upon the sample. You took a step back and watched as nothing happened. Your eyebrows furrowed.

You were overcome with frustration and anger. The events of your stay, your inability to make progress, and the new added weight of the reality of lives on your shoulders caused you to boil over. You let out a grunt and slammed your firsts on the table.

Just as you expressed your anger, Daeron strolled into the room. He saw your actions and raised his hands in feigned surrender.

"Surely the table did not deserve such violence," He joked. You glanced up at him and felt the ache in your hands from striking the wood so fiercely. You rubbed your knuckles and could see some skin was scratched off, but not enough to require any special attention.

"I tried messing with the ratios of that last experiment. It did not make it any better, on the contrary." You voiced.

Daeron walked to where you stood and picked up the vial. He inspected it for a moment. "You tried, that is what matters. If it's any consolation, none of mine have been as successful as yours was." He patted you on the shoulder and you sent him a look of appreciation.

"Thank you, but I think I am going to spend the day doing more research." You wanted to leave the laboratory. The walls felt like they were closing in on you and you could not bear to look at any more ingredients, vials, or damned samples of tainted nature. It was a curse, a plague on you.

Daeron spoke, "Go on, I have some of my ideas to work on." You backed away from the table and turned to your right to leave the room. Your hand gripped the wrought iron door handle with extra strength as you yanked it open and found yourself in the ever-familiar hallway.

Despite being given the limited freedom of your room, laboratory, library, and sick hall, this place began to feel more and more like a prison. Your adventure into another area of the castle last night to attend the party was allowed, but you doubted your freedom could extend beyond that.

You felt guilty, for thinking so negatively about a truly once-in-a-lifetime experience, but the whole castle felt like a gilded cage. It was beautiful, there was no denying that. This kingdom, with its connection to nature and elevated lifestyle, was beyond what you could dream of and served as a trap for you. On the one hand, you relished in the good parts, but on the other, you knew this would never be a home.

You would never belong here. Your humanness, the mortality that came with it, will only be nothing but a blink in time for these people and their kingdom. Unless you found a cure, there would be nothing left but the faint memories of your form walking down these halls. Eventually, it would be lost to the annals of time.

How fickle a human life was when compared to the immortality of nature.