A/N: Image is Sig in his lil castle (minus a beard).

"I am iron and I forge myself." 

Marya was sat on the old rocking chair when her morning went from bad to hell.

She'd barely slept the night before, knowing that somewhere in the forest, Sig was proposing to her best friend. Not wanting to interrupt, she'd stayed away the entire time, curled up on her mattress, staring at the pages of a book she wasn't reading. The night was cold and dark, and a blustery wind continually flung out the tiny flame of the candle. When she gave up trying to distract herself and instead lay down in the darkness and attempted to rest, her only reward was a fitful dream of being best man at Sig and Vasilisa's wedding, until her dead mother Tatiana turned up, laughing at her attempt to hide her feelings.

Then she'd gotten up to give her speech and instead of making the guests laugh, she'd delivered a heartfelt soliloquy in which she recounted everything she'd liked about Sig.

She woke up almost convinced that there had been a wedding, and was disappointed to find she didn't yet have an excuse to flee the country.

Breakfast was a silent affair, with only the clock ticking on the wall her company. She mixed flour and eggs, collected earlier from the chickens, into a batter, and her comfort food for the morning was a plate of steaming pancakes, cooked using a little of her elemental fire over a hot plate. Things were improving marginally as she was halfway through chewing her first bite when Aloysius hurled open the door from his nightly hunt.

Her uncle's temper had not gotten better in recent years. Marya tried, whenever possible, to avoid him entirely, opting instead for long days outside of the cabin and sleeping in the wild forest. She found she had to return at least once a day, or else her uncle's anger only sought her out, irritated at her simple, peaceful existence.

On truly awful days, he'd try to teach her magic. The spirit of the koldun flowed within her, he proclaimed, and she should act like one. He'd start with flora. 'Set fire to this,' he'd demand.

But then he'd move onto animals. Mice, dangling by their tails, were choked without air, poisoned without substance, harmed without touching a hair. Aloysius taught her how to control small animals and make them do her bidding. Birds became spies, aloft in the air, high above the towns. Deer willingly lay at her feet before Aloysius broke their necks. And at night, she would hold their broken bodies and pray that whatever life came next, she would be forgiven.

When she disobeyed, Aloysius would get angry. But every few months or so, whenever it all became to much, she inevitably snapped. She'd fight back, refuse to do what he told her.

On those days, he always shouted. On those days, she was punished tenfold.

It seemed like today would be one of those days.

Swinging the door shut on them, her uncle strode into the cabin, splattering mud across the floor. Marya would have to clean it later— her uncle never cleaned, nor cooked, nor cared for her, ever. Not that she wanted him to: the small wooden hut without Aloysius was much better than with him in it.

His savage growl was enough to rattle her fork on her plate. She jumped.

'For Dana's sake, why are you so weak?' he hissed, hating her jitteriness. Marya made herself smaller; by tucking her elbows in, not making eye contact, sometimes Aloysius would forget to be so angry with her. Privately, she prayed that Dana would not let him get angrier.

'The possible legacy of our great kingdom— in your hands,' he sneered, and Marya caught him pouring out ale from a keg. Her stomach rose, protesting the food she'd tried to eat: Aloysius and alcohol never partnered well for her. And it was only eight in the morning.

Sometimes, her answer was to move, silently, away.

Sometimes, that was enough to calm him down— not having to see her.

Today, he threw the mug.

It smashed above her head, shattering against her closed bedroom door. She'd been moving towards it, ready to lock herself inside, even knowing that locks didn't stand a chance against her uncle. But sometimes it was enough to make him think, reconsider.

Today she wasn't even going to make it to the room.

She trembled, and cursed herself inwardly.

Trembling in front of her uncle was like giving him a head start in a race. He pounced upon it.

'Where do you think you're going?' he lurched towards her, crossing the room in a few paces. Marya protested her urge to step away as she watched his muddy black boots move into view. The room was suddenly stifling, and the forest outside the windows very far away.

Sometimes, Marya's ability to shrink and hide caused Aloysius to try worse punishments. Ones that would physically remind her who was stronger, in control, her teacher. Whose mercy she remained at.

Those days were the worst.

As he stepped closer, Marya's nose was overpowered by the smell of bird. Her uncle's nightly adventures as an owl meant that he had a pungent smell. She tried not to let it show.

His hand clasped her chin, forcing her to look at him.

Marya couldn't see any resemblance between she and him; his hair was brown and peppered with white, his skin a much darker grey. Her eyes held a light, electric blue, whilst his were the amber of a tawny owl. Perhaps it was her imagination, but even his nose had a beaklike quality, and his eyebrows seemed too large and feathery for a normal man's. His mouth was a thin line, usually downturned.

For all his intimidation, Marya was now the same height as Aloysius. But she hated that even more; now, when he tilted her chin upwards, she was staring into his eyes, and his breath hung heavy in her face.

This time she did not tremble.

Ironically, the thing that saved her would be her ultimate ruin.

The knock at the door was urgent. Aloysius's eyes flickered in a confused, slightly dazed way. The cabin never had visitors. Hardly anyone knew about the two koldun living in the thick, uninhabitable forest on the outskirts of the country's capital. Those that did were of some use to Aloysius— the healer in the town over, for example, he had spelled to forget when they came to visit and could never disclose them to another without losing all sense of where he was.

The door wasn't locked; the person knocking tried the handle, and the door swung open with a heavy gust of wind conjured from a flick of her uncle's fingers.

The door slammed open, and Marya flinched where she stood. Aloysius's fingers gripped her chin sharply enough to make her gasp, and then drew away.

'We have a guest,' was all he said, enabling her to turn and look.

The prince bustled in, his uniform slightly askew. Marya wouldn't have noticed, except for the haunted look around his eyes, and the way he looked at her— as if he couldn't decide if she was someone he knew.

Sig. She wanted to shout. She wanted to cry. Above all, she wanted to not react to him as though he were sapping all the air around her.

Sig stood in the doorway, all red uniform and blustering purpose. Marya prayed he notice the thunder in Aloysius's eyes, the red marks across her chin, even as she remembered the proposal. What was he doing here? He'd never come up to the cabin before, but he'd never needed to. Marya had told him she lived with her bad-tempered uncle, and details of his cruelty were often evident but unspoken.

But the light in his eyes told Marya everything; that today, the Prince could see her being punched in the face and it wouldn't stop him from ploughing on with whatever it was he needed.

Marya had a rough idea what it was about.

'Marya, I need your help,' he said, breathless. Aloysius slunk to the chair and sank into it, and Marya could tell he was assessing every moment of this conversation, a small smile toying along his features. He looked so smug that Marya's own idiocy was willingly revealing itself so easily. Now he just had to control the situation.

Including, she was sure, the hopeless way she could never refuse Sig anything. Even when it might cost her health.

'Of course,' she replied, trying to look pointedly towards her uncle. 'Perhaps we could meet somewhere—'

Sig cut over her, shaking his head. 'I asked her. I asked Vasya.'

She could not disguise the sharp, winded noise her throat made. 'And?'

Sig's face wobbled into a smile. 'She said yes!'

Then, the words properly sank in: Vasya will marry him. Any remaining hope in her chest shrivelled, and the ice that slid through her gut was even worse than Aloysius' mood.

But what was worse was that Sig had just used Vasya's name. Aloysius, for all his flaws, was no fool. He would know immediately that Marya had something he didn't want her to have: a friend.

And now he knew how to punish her.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Marya debated the best way of getting Vasya to safety. If she could get Vasya away from here, and safely with Sig, then what happened next would be bearable.

But how to respond? If she refused, would that detract from Aloysius' anger? Would it buy her more time for Vasya? Marya had no idea. The panic unfurling in her chest made her clutch at her threadbare clothing, the plain cotton shifts that she wore instead of fur.

'Of course, Marya will help,' her uncle stepped in, smoothly. 'May I ask who you are...?'

Marya bit her lip. Her uncle's intervention could only spell bad news, but Sig was too relieved to care.

'Siegfried,' said Sig, thinking that by omitting his prince status that Aloysius wouldn't realise. Marya wanted to hide her face in her hands. Aloysius probably already knew who he was, and was simply winding the situation around his finger.

'Nice to meet you, Siegfried,' Aloysius said sweetly. He placed a protective arm around Marya, and squeezed hard enough with his nails to make her eyes water. 'What can we help you with?'

Marya began to protest. 'No, Sig, don't—'

But Sig was ignoring her, which was not like Sig at all. He was determinedly not meeting her eyes, which cast a foreboding feeling into Marya's chest. For all his happiness, Sig seemed to be acting strange.

'Vasya's been taken,' Sig said. 'I think she's been taken to the Fortress.'

Marya reeled. 'What?' It was impossible. Vasilisa couldn't physically leave the boundaries of the lake— although Sig did not know this.

'I can't find her anywhere,' he explained, still not meeting her eyes, 'but I heard her scream— and it came from the direction of the Fortress.'

Marya hesitated. 'If that is the case, why would you need me? Surely the fort is easy for you to enter and navigate.'

Her brain was flashing with warning signals. Sig was lying to her— but why? Why did he want her to go to the Fortress?

'People will recognise me,' Sig said. 'I've brought you a uniform— you can sneak in, relatively unnoticed, and find her for me. It must be because of me that they've captured her, so they won't let me out of their sights.'

Lie. He's lying.

But he's lying for a reason.

'Very well,' Marya agreed, bowing her head. 'Lead the way, Sig.'

Sig's eyes shot back to her own, meeting for the first time since he'd arrived. They flickered over her face, uncertain, confused.

Marya smiled. 'I trust you,' was her whisper. 'What's your plan?'

Sig, recovering, thought quickly. 'Tonight. I'll meet you on the path out of the forest. Just after dark. Deal?'

Marya dreaded the moment he left the cabin.

'Deal,' she said, giving him a weak smile, and her friend gave a quick nod before leaving.

----------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Do you trust Sig?