When you enlist in the Second Army, you are taught a multitude of lessons.

First and foremost, you are told that in the Second Army, there is no room for mistakes. You cannot afford to slip up and be taken out by the enemy. You, as Grisha, have an advantage. Use it. Allowing them to catch you off guard is like giving them expressed permission to attack your country.

Secondly, you are a soldier before you are a human. When you are out in the field, you must be prepared for anything. You will not back down from a fight. If your friend is killed, you ignore it and you keep fighting. If you watch someone be blown to smithereens, you dust your Kefta off and you keep fighting.

Perhaps that's where Thalia first failed. It had happened during one of her first trips with the Second Army, led by the infamous Pip Vargova. She had been warned against volunteering for this particular outing by Alice because she was not fully trained, but Thalia had simply shook her off and insisted she could handle it.

It very soon became evident that Thalia could not, in fact, handle it.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

   "Grisha, take cover!"

Fifteen years old and Thalia is on the battlefield. Fifteen years old, four years into her training and a thousand miles away from home. This was not supposed to end in a fight. The Second Army volunteers were only supposed to travel the borders of Ravka to retrieve casualties from a mission gone awry. But they had crossed Fjerdan battle lines, and they were now fighting for their lives.

   "Vassilieva, watch out!"

Thalia barely had time to throw herself down to the snow coated ground, narrowly avoiding an axe being hurled in her direction. She huffed, muttering to herself as she dusted her Kefta off and got up from the ground. A quick glance around told her that

She came face to face with the very Drüskelle who had attempted to behead her, poising her hands with a pointed frown, "That was uncalled for." The man hisses something in Fjerdan in response, and Thalia does not need to know the language to understand what he said. Witch. She frowns at him, shaking her head, "Now that, that was downright nasty. Really, did your mother not teach you proper etiquette?"

Before he can respond, Thalia channels her magic into his body and squeezes the air from his lungs. He lets out a choked sound, clawing at his throat as his legs give way to the floor. He splutters blood onto the snow while he attempts to hook his hand around Thalia's ankle, but she simply traps his hand beneath the shine of her new black boots. The Drüskelle lets out a howl of pain when she puts pressure onto it.

"If I were you, I'd use my manners from on."

She slows his heart enough to knock him out before tearing a piece of fabric from his worn down undershirt and using it to secure his hands behind his back, then using the remaining fabric as a make do gag and shoves him into the small corner behind a boulder near them. She's not quite at the point where she can kill someone yet, but if he happens to die out here from frostbite, well. . . that's none of Thalia's business, is it?

But as she turns to join the battle once more, Thalia finds herself frozen. The snow beneath her feet is stained with blood. The red mirrors her Kefta, and Thalia feels her heart in her throat as her eyes dart between the pool of blood and the knocked out Drüskelle.

   You did this.

She can't move from her spot, eyes glued to the pool of blood. The battle has not ceased, but Thalia cannot join when she feels as though the floor is swallowing her like quicksand. As if in a moment she will be submerged beneath ground and meet her fate.

   It's nothing less than I deserve.

Only a few feet across from her, she can see Zaria being fought to the ground by another Drüskelle soldier, but still cannot bring herself to intervene. She has eyes on him and could stop him from right here if she so wanted, but Thalia's hands are glued to her sides. She can't move.

The ground will swallow you whole and you will be met with with the only destiny you are worthy of.

   You will die alone. You do not deserve anything else.

"Thalia, get down!"

But she doesn't get down. Zoya's tornado sweeps her off her feet and Thalia falls, rolling across the slippery ground, where she meets an edge. The edge of a cliff. Her body tumbles, and Thalia barely manages to grip the edge of the rock with her left hand. It does not take her longer than a second for her to realise that if she moves an inch, then she is going to fall off.

Fall to your death, then. It's only fitting your fall from grace should be brought to an end by an actual fall. You will return to the Heart of the World either way.

Let go. The instinct is powerful, almost overwhelming. Let go and spare everyone the trouble of trying to save you. You are not worth saving.

She does let go. And just as her fingertips are slipping and she can feel the weight of the world lift from her shoulders, a grip is tightening around her wrist and Thalia is being tugged back to land.

"Are you barking mad?!" Zaria cries, her voice loud in the quiet of the cliff now that the battle had ended. "Why didn't you shout for help, you arse! Letting yourself fall to your death like you aren't worthy of at least dying by my side. Honestly, Thalia, what in the name of Sankta Anastasia happened to 'best friends for life?' We can't be best friends for life if one if us is dead!"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

   "We can't be best friends for life if one of us is dead."

Thalia whispers the words to herself in the dark of the Grisha tent, wide awake. Her peers are sleeping off the long day, but Thalia does not think she'll be joining them in the Land of Slumber anytime soon. Every time she closes her eyes, she is back on the skiff and kneeling over Zaria's lifeless body, staring into blank eyes she once knew to be blue and full of joy for life despite all the obstacles constantly thrown at her.

She had frozen like she did back then today, and it had cost Zaria's life.

She could have saved her. If she had just tried, she could have saved her. She could have brought her back. She wouldn't be here alone. She wouldn't be writing a letter to Mrs Petrova in the morning to let her know that her youngest daughter is dead. She wouldn't be laying in her bunk bed, staring at the ceiling of the tent as rain hammers down, wondering where to go from here.

Where did she go from here, when she had lost the only light she had to guide her through the dark?

She didn't know. She didn't particularly care. She just needed out of this tent, the one plagued with memories of Zaria like a sickness bug in the winter.

Thalia lowers herself down the ladder of the bunk beds, feet dropping to the floor silently. She does not sit on Zaria's bed to put her boots on as she usually does, but instead picks them up along with her black jumper and marches outside.

The rain begins to pour down on her immediately, but it's only fitting. A miserable day topped off by miserable weather. She stops for a moment to slip on her boots and pull her jumper over her head, pulling the hood up and tightening the drawstrings to hide her face.  She trudges into the night with no particular place to go.

Once upon a time, she might have woken Zaria and asked for her company on a midnight walk. They would have shared the rations sent by Mrs Petrova while talking all about Zaria's new play toy, and they would have laughed freely. As if they were actually children allowed to act as such in the midst of this war.

The thought only makes Thalia want to cry now.

She runs a hand down her face, feeling the rain begin to cloud her vision. Maybe a walk in the relentless rain wasn't such a good idea after all. Thalia realises that in a flash when the wind howls in her ear and she hears not only her mother, but Zaria, too.

"Be quiet," Thalia entreats, stilling her footsteps and pressing her hands to her ears. The wind does not relent, only torturing her further. "Please. Leave me alone."

You got what you deserve, Zaria's voice taunts. I will haunt your every move until the day you die, and then I'll haunt you in death, too.

"Please," she whispers harshly, pushing down her hands further in attempt to block out the whispers. A sob wracks from her throat and Thalia feels her knees buckle. "Please."

Best friends for life, eh? A good best friend would have saved me. A good best friend would have died in my place.

She feels a scream tear free. She cannot stop it. Another escapes, and she is going to wake the entire camp. She will be found here, wailing like a little girl when they suspect a monster is hiding beneath their bed. She hears her mother tut, presumably shaking her head.

Monsters don't hide under the bed. They live out in the open, and they look just like you.

She'll be labelled a mad woman. The girl who hears voices the wind. A mad woman's tragedy, they'll call it. She was alright, her. What a shame she went mad.

A body is next to her. Probably Berezvosky, wondering what in Saints name she is doing out here after dark, screaming. She'll be scolded. Given check in duty and excluded from any and all ventures until she can get herself together.  Or she'll be carted off to an asylum where she will live out her days alongside Ravka's finest.

   "Thalia," they say softly. Thalia recognises their voice, but she can't filter it out between the whispers of the wind. "Thalia, come on. They'll hear you out here."

She feels her legs being raised and a hand supporting her back, and Thalia all but stumbles as she is led away from the scene. She is hit forcefully by the distinct smell of hay and manure, and realises her Samaritan has led her into the horse stables. Charming. She is guided to a small stack of hay and lowered down, and while it does hurt to have hay poking her bum imprudently, she's not exactly got the right to complain about comfort when she just had a meltdown in the middle of  the camp.

   "Are you alright?" How the hell is she supposed to answer that? Yes, I'm fine. Sorry you had to see me like that. Is it alright it I go now? That'll get her far, right enough. "Did something happen?"

Thalia recognises the voice now: Mal. This is somehow becoming worse. They were only acquaintances, not friends. This isn't Mal's responsibility. He shouldn't be woken from his sleep for this. For her.

When words fail her, Thalia settles for a simple nod. She leans her head back against the wall of the stable, squeezing her eyes shut once more. She is met with the image of Zaria's dead body, and sucks in a harsh breath as they snap back open, willing them to stay dry until she is alone. She can't cry in front of Mal. She won't.

   "Thalia. . ."

"I'm fine," she insists, nodding her head rapidly as she rubs at her face. She huffs out a laugh through her nose, giving him a watery smile when they meet eyes. "I mean, as fine as I can be when I watched my best friend die this morning and failed to stop it from happening. Funny how life works. Don't worry your pretty little head about me, Mal. I'm cool. I'm good."

He knees beside her, frowning. "She was your friend, the Grisha you were with earlier?"

Thalia nods, "Yeah. Zaria. Best of friends since we were eleven. She's gone now, though. No use in dwelling on it."

Mal gives a short hum, rubbing his thumb and index finger together as he speaks carefully. "You're allowed to grieve her. I know that being in the army conditions you to just move on and forget about it, but I think that's silly. You're a person. You're allowed to mourn the things— and people, in your case, you've lost." He pauses there, weighing his next words. "What happened out there. . . does it happen often?"

She shrugs, "So so. Mostly when I'm having a bad day, which I'm sure you can guess I was today. I'm sort of having a terminally bad day, but today was. . . something else. I haven't felt like this in a long time. Not since I. . ." she trails off, shaking her head and deciding against putting this poor lad through an info dump today. "I won't keep you any longer than I have already. Sorry for waking you, Mal."

As she makes to stand, Mal grips her wrist and Thalia feels a shockwave ripple through her. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"As good as I can be," Thalia promises, and isn't a lie entirely. "Like you said, I need to grieve her. I'll be right as rain tomorrow."

   Mal's face is sullen, his eyes unsure. "Thalia—"

   "I'm really tired," she lies. "I don't feel like discussing this tonight, I just want to go to bed. Thank you for saving me from a lifetime of taunting and whatnot. G'night."

Thalia raced out of the tent before he could think to follow, her mind racing with a million thoughts at once. She wouldn't let herself get attached. Someone like Mal Oretsev caring for someone like Thalia Vassilieva was utterly ridiculous. He deserved someone who was not falling apart at the seams.

Take care of yourself, she finds herself thinking. Do not waste your time caring for someone like me.