She’d made it to the edges of the Steppe before she could go no further. She’d been drawing on Alice’s strength for days, eating listlessly and limping every mile, pushing through the agony and the night terrors just to try to find her way back home. It was the slowest journey she’d ever managed, but she was terrified of her broken ribs and – more importantly – her fractured leg growing any worse by jostling herself too hard. Hotaru felt like a shadow of her former self, huddling in the blue cloak Thranduil had thrown around her, staring out at the world with a fearful expression that hadn’t twisted her features since childhood. When she was young and afraid of the monsters in the shadows, long before she broke herself apart and poisoned the remains in order to become one of those monsters. Was it not fitting, then, that the monster of the fairy tales had been the one to break her so completely? After all, she’d convinced herself that she hadn’t believed in them any longer.
 
Alice refused to leave her side, fur warm and familiar against her legs at all times. She could sense the constant, pervasive terror inside her mistress’ heart. But even that could not quell the agony of Hotaru’s spirit, the constant terror that kept her from sleep, kept her moving even when she was sure she’d simply crumple to the ground and give up. She had been broken, twisted, and shattered so fully that she could not even recognize herself in the fragments. How could she return home like this? How could her people see her, so frail and scared, and not despise her for her weakness? Would they turn her away from the gates, spit upon her as they wrenched her well-deserved crown from her head?
 
Hotaru had never been more scared in her life. Her body hurt in every fashion, her hooves dragging limply across ground that grew more frozen with every step she managed onward towards the Basin. The cloak provided warmth, a solitary comfort as Thranduil’s scent seeped into her nares. He had saved her, and yet…she had no idea how to feel. Those cold, distasteful eyes that judged her for a weakness she’d already lashed herself for. She loved him like something broken, trying to place the fragments of herself in the gaps of his composition. Trying to burrow inside and make a home for herself in the empty caverns of his heart, because no other place would take her in. Did she love him, or was she simply looking for the one person who could – would – give her what she thought she deserved? Was he just another whip’s lash against her back? A reason to hate herself even more? A punishment, for daring to want for the romance her mother had regaled her with as a child?
 
The Lady shuffled onward until she could find no strength left in her battered body, too exhausted from nights spent awake and fearful of Tingal’s return, too many miles traversed on battered limbs. She sank into the snow, the cape spreading around her like cerulean wings, the deep rose of her hide the only thing left to stand out beneath the sharp color of the cloth. She panted softly into the snow, Alice whining as she curled up against Hotaru’s breast. There was nothing she could do. And in her grief she lifted her head to the heavens and howled, a long and drawn out song of distress. 

Set after their spar!