It was early morning and the light from the fireflies and strung-up lanterns illuminated the garden you were in. It was located just outside your room and full of countless herbs and other plants that you needed to keep stocked in the laboratory. You had begun your routine of tending to patients, meeting with Lyra a little longer than most, and entered the laboratory when Daeron sent you on a mission to stock up some of the dwindling plant stores. You did not think how much you would miss gathering plants until you were set about that task again for the first time in many days.

You were winding through the garden. All of these ingredients grew in little light but bloomed like nothing else. You relished in the ability to be away from work, while still completing a useful task. Your body went through the motions of cutting off leaves or stems when needed and placing them in their respective jars that sat in the wicker basket next to you. You hummed quietly to yourself, lost in your task.

Like a cloud blocking the sun, a figure stood just behind your kneeled figure and blocked the light from the lanterns strung above. You ceased yourself from cutting a leaf from a plant and turned around. An elf stood, his eyes piercing you with simmering hatred. You recognized him from just a few short days prior. It was the same elf that had been walking beside Aemond when you passed him in the hall. His skin looked sunkissed, despite there being little sun that actually penetrated through the canopy of trees. His dark hair matched the darkness of the deep forest beyond the settled lands.

He was altogether the embodiment of the elvish characteristic of beauty, but there was something wrong about the energy he gave off; it was almost predatorial.

"Make any progress yet?" He spoke.

Your face scrunched up in confusion as you rose to your feet, "What?"

"Is your kind so stupid as to not understand words?" The elf had his arms held behind him and he puffed out his chest in indignation.

"I am merely confused by such a sudden question from someone I do not know." You met his scorn with a tone of veiled aggression. He seemed to catch on to your attitude and it only angered him further.

He looked you up and down with judgement, "Remember your place. You are nothing but an unwelcome guest, I am on the King's council, Ser Criston Cole."

You held back a retort. He was obviously looking to anger you, for why would he even bother to stop and talk? You breathed in and out and remained calm. He would not get a rise out of you. There was no way you would further instil whatever ridiculous negative notions he had about your kind.

"Oh, my humble apologies," You presented a veneer of respect, though deeply despised it, "I spoke out of turn. Forgive me, my nature as a human must have gotten the better of me."

Criston seemed satisfied at your words, "A human and a woman. It's a wonder you've risen to such a station." He adjusted his posture to lean on one leg. You reached down and picked up the wicker basket of herbs and brushed at your skirt.

"Princess Helaena honoured me with her advocacy so I may take up such a position." You know you hit a nerve, for he could not rebuke what you said without inadvertently insulting the princess. A quiet huff escaped his mouth as the two of you stood there. You stared one another down, each silently challenging the other to strike first.

"As if your knowledge can come close to that of the elves?" He challenged. It seemed as though he was not willing to give up the fight easily.

"My father was an exemplary scholar whose research has led us closer than ever to finding a cure, Ser Criston." Your voice slowed upon reaching his name, undercut with disgust.

"Was?" He rebuked, "Maybe humans should stop trifling in matters that do not bother them, lest something unsavoury happens."

Criston's words made you choke down any possible means to defend yourself. The mere mention of the possibility of your father meeting an unjust end had your stomach rolling. It was something that had been long toiling in your mind. He had been gone for so long, a part of you was relentless in coming to terms with the fact that he may not dwell on this earth anymore. The reminder of it - of the very real reality of it all - paralyzed your body.

You compose yourself, "The taint affects the world. We all must work to stop it."

Criston then gestured behind him, his arm outstretched, in some kind of mockery, "Well, by all means, you must get on with it." His mouth curled into a grin. You did not want to walk away with him having dismissed you. It felt like a surrender on your end, but truly you had no care to continue. He could think and act however he wished, but he would not have you lash out and further jeopardize your stay in the kingdom.

You bowed slightly and walked around him. You knew he was staring you down as you left - there was no way he was not by the terrible dread you felt. It was with only a look that he could raise the hairs on the back of your neck. His gaze was predatory, in every sense of the word. He seeked to exploit you - for reasons unknown. You merely were nothing but a possible plaything to beat around and annoy.

Once you knew you were out of his vision, you released your anger and stormed down the halls of the castle toward your study. Your hastened and heavy footsteps pounded against the stone like heavy rain. Who was he to question your merits? You were here, that counted for something. You knew that elves were naturally imbued with more wisdom - they lived so long it was no question. Perhaps, that wisdom did not translate to being smart.

You already showed your prowess in knowledge. You had even beat Daeron at the progression towards a cure. One of your experiments worked - if only for a moment. That was something he and other elf healers had failed to do. You knew, despite your lack of experience, there was something in your mind that made you equal to them. At least, you hoped there was something there.

You had arrived at your study and set the ingredients down before making haste to the library. If there was one place you could expect peace and quiet, it would be there. You had shut the door abruptly and marched in. Your feet took you from the ground level to the first level in the many balconies that encircled the inside of the tower. You were so lost in your march to cool down that you bumped into one of the shelves, making a couple of books tumble to the floor.

A sigh escaped your lips. Everything had been building up inside after Criston's desperate attempt at angering you - which unfortunately worked. Watching those books fall was like stones falling from a damn and you had no way of releasing that pent-up frustration. You knelt down to pick them up. One of the books, bound in dark black leather and detailed with iron bindings piqued your curiosity. You placed the other books back in their respective spots but carried the other one away.

You made your way down to the ground floor where all of the tables were. Picking a spot in from of the centre fireplace, you sat down and opened the cover; forgetting all about your disturbed morning in the garden.

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You were on a mission. The past few hours were spent scanning through the book you found. It was a tome on more unconventional plants linked to the use of dark magic. While a topic such as that would normally throw you off, you had decided there would be no harm in reading it. However, you did not expect to become so enraptured with the study and use of these bizarre plants.

It was when you stumbled upon one plant that felt so familiar. The sketches on the side were well done with in-depth observations written down. It looked like the belladonna plant, but the flower was much darker. Mortua terra. That was the name inscribed to such a plant. It sparked an idea in your mind and that was how you now found yourself marching through the laboratory and into the sick hall in search of Daeron. At the end of the hall, by some of the grand windows, was a balcony where Daeron would settle to get some written work done in the encompassing environment of the elder trees and fireflies.

The door was already open and you spotted your friend in a chair by a wooden desk, hastily scribbling down on a piece of parchment. A lone candle burned on the desk with a wax melter on top. You took a moment to take in the sight of the lit-up darkness around you and noticed the white stone settlements throughout the trees with elves going about their day.

"Daeron?" You questioned. He halted his movements and looked up. When he spotted you, a friendly smile made its way on his face.

"Do you need anything?"

You placed the book down on his desk, and opened to the page on the flower you found. "I was wondering if I could receive an escort to get this plant. I think it may be of use."

Daeron inspected the page, reading the words. He flipped the book to the cover and read the title while his other hand keept his place in the pages. His face was a mix of curious and anxious.

"No." His tone was unnerved. Daeron closed the book and shoved it towards you. You picked it up and wrapped the book in your arms.

"No?" You were both confused and disappointed, "Why?" You wanted a reason for his hasty dismissal of your suggestion. The whole time you had worked with him, he was always open to trying new ideas. Daeron was an elf who loved to expand his knowledge, so why was he so resistant to this?

"This is nearing dark magic," Daeron reasoned, "That is not something one would wish to dabble in." He picked up his quill and began to write again.

"The taint is dark, right?" You steeled yourself to remain calm. You were steadfast in your position and would not waver. As with your last experiment that was almost successful, you felt the same deep need to pursue this one.

"Where are you going with this?" Daeron shifted a pile of parchment on his desk. In the short time you had known one another, he could tell when you were gearing up to present an argument.

"My last experiment involved the principle of poison against poison. It obviously did not work. But what if the taint is dark magic and not poison? Why can't we use dark magic to fight itself?" The idea had come to you in the library as you flipped through the book. It came from nowhere but had taken root in your mind.

Daeron stopped fiddling with objects on his desk. He rested his elbows against the surface and brought his hands together, "Do you know a single thing about dark magic?"

"Admittedly, no, but-"

"If you did, you would know this is a dead end." He cut you off. His shoulders were squared and his head was tilted slightly.

You rested your hands on the desk as you leaned down to speak to him more clearly, "Daeron-"

"No, this is for your safety as well. That magic requires types of sacrifices I would not wish on anyone." He spoke with such sincerity that you almost wavered. He was only doing it to protect you, but if you were truly honest, you cared little for your safety when it came to the possibility of finding a cure. What was a single life when compared to countless others?

"Please," Your voice whispered as the fireflies above seemed to fly more erratically, "I truly think we could have something here." You did not wish to beg, but if that is what you must do, you will do it.

Daeron looked into your eyes and folded. He hung his head down and nervously picked at his fingers, a habit you had seen Helaena do several times. His chest rose and he exhaled a long sigh, "I will think about it. If we get more desperate, then possibly, but you must understand what you are asking to do."

"Then help me understand," You responded. Daeron looked around the balcony - as if searching for a way to get out of answering.

He spoke your name with a sudden ounce of severity, "One day, but not today."

You stopped holding on to the desk and stepped back, taking the book with you. There was nothing but silence from the forest around and you could hear your own breath. Daeron went back to his work, dismissing you in a way that reminded you of Aemond when he dismissed you in the library. With the amount of similarities you started to find between the Targaryen siblings, you began to wonder about their childhood. Surely, if they shared such subtle characteristics, they had grown up quite close.

With your dismissal, you left the balcony and walked back into the sick hall. You scanned the space and watched other healers aiding patients in their beds. You made your way down the aisle. You stopped at Lyra's bed, wishing to possibly talk to her again, but saw she was in a deep sleep. Patients had difficulty sleeping after a few days of taint infection and it led to insomnia. If she was getting sleep, you would not dare disturb it.

You decided it would be best to spend the rest of the - admittedly late - day in your room as opposed to the laboratory. With Daeron's dismissal of your idea, it is not like you could pursue any experiment - for the mortua terra plant was the only idea you had come up with in the past few days.

You were walking down the halls of the castle towards your room when the elf you wished to see the least seemingly appeared out of nowhere, "Make any progress yet?" Aemond's sultry voice hit your ears, eliciting another wave of annoyance through your body. Out of all the damned halls in this castle, he had to be here?

His words were the exact same that Criston had uttered to you that morning. You began to wonder if this was some sort of coordinated attack. It felt like some sort of ruse to torment you, throw you off of your work so you would fail. You knew they likely wanted to see you fail. Regardless of your studies to cure the taint, they wanted a human to fail. If Criston's words were to be taken seriously, why should they be bothering to throw you off? You were a human and in their eyes inferior. By that logic, there would be no need to exact such a mockery.

The events of the day - Criston's lecture, Daeron's dismissal, and now Aemond's taunt - folded over you. You turned to Aemond, dressed in similar attire that you usually see him in with his sword strapped to his side with his hand resting on the hilt like he was constantly prepared for a spontaneous fight.

You plastered on a pleasant smile to show his tricks would not falter you, "Perhaps I would be making faster progress if some members of your council were not so intent on disturbing my activities, your grace."

Aemond moved his hands to connect in front of him as he looked you up and down - a habit he made in the rare times you two conversed. "Disturbing you?" You were further bothered by his response. He dared to pretend he did not know anything. An elf king, older and wiser beyond your years, believed that was a smart play? That you would not understand?

"Whatever you and Ser Cole are trying to pull will not waver me or drive me off, your grace. I am here to find a cure, something that would greatly benefit both kingdoms." You retorted. You wanted to find the fastest excuse to leave. Something about Aemond sent you mixed signals. His presence felt dark and foreboding, eliciting fear; however, a part of you could not help but feel lured in. It had to have been an elf characteristic - to be so pleasing.

"No doubt it would benefit all," Aemond responded, "I simply wished to receive an update." You wanted to understand the hidden motive behind his words, for surely there was one.

The book in your hand felt heavy, but you decided not to inform the elf king you had begun to pursue dark magic paths to a cure, "There is not much to talk about, other than the menial progress one of my experiments made."

"One of your experiments?" Aemond questioned.

You wanted to leave - desperately - so you could continue your research and draft up a few plans for concoctions with the newly discovered plant. If you had solid plans, Daeron would be more likely to pursue that path.

"I am in the middle of some important research, your grace. Prince Daeron can fill you in. He should be in the laboratory at this time of day," You bowed to the king, "Good day, your grace." You dismissed yourself and went back onto your path to your room. The familiar feeling of his eye on your back almost made you drop your book. You held it firm to your chest as you turned right to the hall with your room.

When you entered your room, you placed the book on your table. Dinner had already been delivered to your room and you saw in the wood-carved chair. Next to your plate, you opened the book and began to reread many of the entries. You flipped to the page of the flower that absorbed so much of your attention.

It grew in the dark depths of the elf forest, outside the boundaries of the settled kingdom. You leaned back in your chair in thought. Glancing out the window to the garden in front of you, you were overcome with an idea. It was stupid - beyond stupid. Risky, no doubt.

If you were able to obtain a sample of the flower and brew a potion, that could perhaps persuade Daeron to consider following this course of action. You had permission to conduct your own experiments, technically the gathering of such a plant would fall in line with that. The only issue was the security. You had only just been able to get rid of the constant guards escorting you around the castle. Daeron insisted on it - as he felt it was nothing more than a hindrance when you needed to set about tasks.

The rules set forth for you had been lax in the past few days, but security around the castle was still tight. It would be difficult for you to sneak out, but the risk seemed worth it. If your experiment was successful, there would be no need to fret over how it was done.

It was a simple plan. Before the hours of the morning, you would move through the garden and out of the palace grounds. The garden by your window was the medicinal one, and only the healers ever went there. They would all be asleep, as would most of the castle. You closed the book and took a final bite of your dinner. The plan was settled.

Tomorrow, you will venture into the deep dark woods.