Somewhere in the dead, darkened forest, a twig snaps; elsewhere, a wayward princess startles and jumps nearly out of her skin. Sleep has not come easily for the travel-worn sylph, and now that she hears the shuffling and cursing of another in the distance, she knows it will be impossible. Her heart beats fast as she rises, turning slowly toward the sound as if in a dream. The scent of blood reaches her first as she crosses through the cold, long-burned forest, well before she glimpses shadowy red through the blackened corpses of trees. She soon finds that this is no dream; the massive creature among the dead trees can only be something out of a nightmare. At least, that's her first thought. Her heart stops for a moment as her steps halt, and her eyes go wide as she takes in the sight of him — a wolf, not some monster of the night. Then she notices his paw, lifted unnaturally as if he cannot bear to put weight on it. He's hurt, she thinks past the fog of fear, and then she's speaking before she can stop herself. I-I can help.

Confusion floods her as the other wolf speaks, and her fear intensifies. I-I'm sorry, I don't t-think we've met, Ever the quivering, stammering disappointment, she struggles to get the words out. If her father could see her now, he might even shed a single tear from those stony eyes of his; he'd always been so certain that independence would harden her. Or at least, it'd seemed that way to her. He must have threatened her with it a thousand times. She takes in a breath, fighting to compose herself. He's not here, she tells herself as she struggles with her fears, and I'm no one's disappointment now.

He steps forward, snapping at her with more words she doesn't quite understand. H-him? She cowers, cringing away even more violently than she always had at the first flash of scarlet in The Pit. She's never been able to stomach violence, or the threat of it, but somehow it feels different when it's directed at her. More cutting. Tears sting her eyes, and she urges herself to think, to remember —
You — Her voice falters, and she tries again. The P-pit. You were there — you — You're the one. The reason he stayed, the reason he died. I will never forget him. Her voice breaks on the last word. The tears come then, but not from fear.

She blinks rapidly to clear the tears away, reminding herself of who she is; a daughter of kings and queens, royal blood flowing through her veins. Queens never cried. But I'll never be a queen, will I?
Mostly dry-eyed now, she forces herself to answer the question. I... there was nothing left for me in Dynverther, and the Empire sickened me, She takes a step back, hoping to calm her still-racing heart. I'd hoped for a new beginning. Not a ghost from the past.