❝ There was a feeling of inevitability when I met you. And our lives were fated to converge like some cosmic dance. And I think I had to break your heart and you had to break mine. ❞
As Cressida Black's lungs ceased to draw breath, Aurelia Martell's...
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Cressida was woken by a not so gentle nudge to her ribs, and she jerked upwards as her eyes flew open, anger and fear warring; anger that anyone would wake her so roughly; and fear because that's how her mother did so when she was younger.
But it wasn't her mother looming over her, an angry, disgusted expression on her face. No, it was a solidly built man with blonde hair and a fierce scowl on his face.
"Get up," he spat crossly, thick arms crossed over his broad chest.
Cressida scrambled to her feet, baffled. Not only because of the unfamiliar man, but because her body did not ache as it usually did, from the burns she had received in the Romanian sanctuary and all the wounds gained throughout the war and through her work as a curse breaker. Her profession was not particularly safe and a day at work wasn't successful if she did not have at least a few new scrapes. And, yet, her body did not ache. Not like it usually did when she was in the middle of a case, at least.
She looked down at herself, surprised to see that not only was she wearing a long, white greek-style dress, but what was truly shocking was how clean and smooth her skin was. There was no trace of the scars she had gained with the dragons or of the many injuries she had gained fighting in the war. No trace of the cuts and scrapes received as a consequence of being a mom of three or from her job crawling through old crypts and monuments.
How...? She did not know where she was, or how she had ended up in this throne room. The last she remembered, she'd been in Hungary, in the ruins of an old castle, working to bring down the wards leading down to the vault where a long dead family had kept their valuables.
"Who are you, how did you get past the wards?" Cressida asked, turning so she could look at the room in its entirety. "And how did you manage to incapacitate me and move me?"
"There are no wards that could stop me, Cressida Black," the man smirked. "Do you not understand what has happened?"
"What has happened?" Cressida asked as she moved closer to him, only to gasp in shock at what she saw.
Down on the floor, by the mysterious man, was the body of a woman in her early thirties. One would be forgiven for assuming she was sleeping, for she looked peaceful. The lack of the rise and fall of her chest was the only thing that hinted at her state. And, yet, it would take more for her to truly accept things.
"You're dead," the man said bluntly, and Cressida's head snapped up from her own motionless body.
"What?"
"You died, only a few days ago," the man continued, unfazed by her reaction. "One of the spells you used backfired and brought down the ruins with you among them. But if that hadn't happened, it was only a matter of time. You were meddling with magic beyond your concern. Using it was going to kill you either way."
Cressida gaped at the man, thoughts whirring through his mind.
The man stared at her, cross and unimpressed. Cressida straightened, remembering all the lessons of her childhood. Smile, suck in, deep breath. Don't show your fear, wear an armor around you. "Who are you?"
