The icy white ceiling she woke up under was familiar, but the fingers interwoven with her own weren't. Icen blinked, sitting up sharply, her eyes darting over onto the figure slumped in a chair by her bed. Clearly the annoying little puppy had some ideas about limits, since he hadn't tried to snuggle up next to her on the bed, but Icen couldn't say she was too pleased about how clingy he seemed to be. Even in sleep, his grip on her was tight, and Icen didn't have the strength in her to move. Besides... his hands were warm.

Not the boiling hot touch she was used to—the touch that stung and burnt—but instead a soothing sort of warmth which seemed to fluctuate. Sometimes it was comfortably warm, other times it was cool and relaxing.

Icen started at that realisation.

He was slipping under her skin.

Slowly, but surely.

She bit her lip, desperately pulling at her hand until it came loose with an alarming click. Wincing, she shuffled back, scowling as Aldrik's hand seemed to move closer towards her.

"Stupid mutt!" she hissed, stomping on his hand, ignoring the whine that slipped past his lips seconds before his eyes snapped open.

"Morning, cuddlebunny." He grinned, seemingly unaware she'd just stomped on his hand in an effort to get away from him.

"Go away, mongrel." She climbed out of bed, keeping her back to him. Icen couldn't face him just yet. Just one look at his smile would no doubt cause another chink in her armour—and she couldn't have that. She liked her armour the way it was—in place and unbroken.

"Nope."

"Get out of my face already!" She spun, glaring at him as he continued to smile at her, with that stupidly happy smile of his. A smile she was starting to loathe.

"I'm on guard duty, Icen... I'm not going off and leaving you to the same fate as that other girl," he said, his eyes burning holes into her back as she slunk behind the divider. "You're my doll... so I'm going to look after you."

"I don't need to be looked after!" Icen scowled. "What don't you get about that?!"

"You sure about that?"

"What is it with you and asking that question?" she hissed, pulling on another one of the dresses the Dollmaker had so kindly left out for her. "I know what I want, and it was never to be stuck in this stupid place with you!"

"You're wrong."

"Excuse me?"

"You didn't want to be alone anymore..."

Icen gritted her teeth.

She knew he was right.

What she feared the most wasn't the dark... spiders... or anything as complicated as that. No, what terrified her was the thought of being alone.

Like hell she was going to admit it, though.

"Tch. It's not like I was used to it or anything!" she growled, striding out from behind the divider, folding her arms as she faced him. "Now. What exactly are we doing?"

The Dollmaker chose that moment to enter the room.

"Well, doll, you've got some dancing lessons today, followed by ballroom etiquette and history," he said, holding the door open for the pair of them. "After breakfast, of course."

"Shall we?" Aldrik held out his hand, smiling brightly at her as he waited for her to take his hand.

And some small part of her wanted to take it.

That same small part of her was also growing louder and larger every minute she spent in his presence. She'd never tell him, but it reminded her of sunshine. Cold, comfortable sunshine—like that of a clear winter's day. The sunshine she liked.

Could she open up to him, though? Could she stand his inevitable rejection? Could she rebuild her walls after he was gone? After he'd left?

And the answer was no.

She couldn't.

She couldn't let herself get even an inch closer to him.

She wouldn't be able to take it.

She couldn't take it.

So she did the only thing she could think of—the only thing she knew how to do in that situation, like so many before.

She ran.