She’d wandered aimless for much of the time since returning to the Dragon’s Throat. The heat could not scourge her of the past and the endless sands could not seem to drive away the lingering sense of hopelessness. So it remained a splinter, a parasite, a bitter gnawing of the flesh that Essetia could not escape, but only sometimes forget. Too many ties had been left frayed and somehow unhinged, and where her feelings had once been vibrant and sound, they were but mere shadows of days past. Yet, as the weeks grew long and the sun brought endless opportunity, she tried once more to replace what had been lost, even if Essetia couldn’t put a name to her grievances any longer. They were illusory and burned just as hot as the Throat itself, but still, they remained just outside her reach.

Flames of wonder had spirited her away from the security and tedium of the south in search of purpose once more. How many days had she spent in equal frustration? How many nights had she been plagued by the emptiness that lingered after being upset not only from the Falls, but from herself? Her sense of being had been ripped from between her fingers, torn away from her steadfast resolve, and transformed. Was she not a different creature than she was before? The truths she evaded could hide no longer, not now, not anymore. Essetia had lied too many times to Elsa, to Ghost, as she nurtured hurt that was not her own; there was no one to blame, but she was still angry.

Where her anger stemmed, Essetia cooled the growing flames, but never did the fire die. It gave her false direction and motivated her endless vagrancy, but never fully satisfied her. Thriving on hatred was a dull and bitter life without its release.

Again, the young spy roamed the plains of Helovia, tearing through the night until the sun began to peak along the horizon. Golden light flushed across the treetops and fell between their thick trunks, coaxing Essetia’s curiosity and drawing her from her ravings toward the illustrious ideas of what lurked beyond. The Grove was a land unfamiliar to the mare and furthermore a heavy burden that remained untouched within her being. What was it that had cajoled her from her bed, enticed her from sleep, and lured her toward the dangers that awaited her away from the comforts of home?

She was sheathed in a fine layer of sweat, her hide a deep and flawless earthen brown, and there was a wild look of distrust lingering within her pale and unforgiving stare. It wasn’t often that her memories kept her so alert, so hell-bent on seeking refuge from their wily grip on her heart, but at times they mounted their silver thrones and drove her to the crest of exhaustion before leaving her to again struggle toward inner peace. As she wove between tall oaks and ancient pines, Essetia caught wind of a fragrance well-known to her and Romul alike. The wolf bristled, hesitant, but Essetia was without reservation and pursued his memory as she’d done many times over in dreams, in nightmares, and now in reality.

On a whim, perhaps rashly, the spy compelled her companion to leave her, her walls bending against his will to remain at her side. As wild and uninhibited as she felt, nervous tension built within her muscles and joints. In fact, it was now bordering the second time Essetia had seen Ulrik since the invasion and without the proper circumstances to bridge the gap between them, errant emotions, all hate and fear and wonder, forced her to desire their expulsion. If at last she could purge him from her thoughts, then perhaps she could move on forever…

With as much caution and grace as a heated bull, Essetia searched for the answers that would finally free her. Everything would come forth and she would reclaim what she’d lost when he’d robbed her of her dignity, of herself. Yet, when a tall figure loomed between the trees, his darkness besting even the privacy of the Grove, Essetia faltered. He stood a frightening beast even then as she watched him from beyond, but there was something else about him, something she couldn’t quite describe. It was a marginal difference though and one she didn’t quite recognize from her wayward daydreams… but she clung to it with vengeance.

Essetia didn’t wait for his notice nor did she care if he spooked, though such a reaction would probably be denied, and she approached with words of confusion and doubt hanging from her lips. “It must be so easy for you,” she lashed, “-to move on after all that’s happened.”

“Some of us haven’t been as lucky.”

He reminded her of the Reaper come to collect.

His body betrayed the tension and ire snaking violently at his core, while Essetia was the damned and the agony finally bringing his demons to surface. She’d seen him before, a true monument with all his sharp edges and calculating grins, but not like this. Her words had stilled him against further movement, yet it was not the reaction she’d been praying for. Instead, he balked, his muscles gripping him in a wild frenzy that sparked the flames of fear into settling warily in Essetia’s gut. If she’d been unable to put a description to him prior, it came to her suddenly and with vehemence. Where he’d once been controlled, analytical, and foreboding, he was now wild and wolfish, lethal even.

For a moment, her walls began to crumble, her pleas pressing against the stone and the wood that separated her from Romul. Her eyes lingered on the subtle curve of his ears as they swiveled to catch the lingering notes of her false loathing. Had she truly meant them? Was she just looking for someone else to carry her burdens? Somehow, she felt ashamed and distraught and suddenly, without reason, she longed for the Throat and all its security. After all, who could save her now that she’d prodded a growing storm? Who would keep her safe from the events that unfolded like a wildfire before her?

Tension grew untamed along her skin and before the spy could fully register her own distress, Ulrik had turned full tilt, his smoldering gaze bringing her to mind before him. Her muscles rolled and Essetia threw her head back as he stormed her, leaving no space in which to run or hide from the gathering clouds. Nervous energy surged unkempt in her veins, but Essetia couldn’t turn away from the challenge Ulrik posed; she’d managed this long without him, encountered situations far worse, hadn’t she? Yet, his scent, his closeness, only served to extinguish her rampant flames until she was nothing more than a wet cloth hung out to dry.

The bronze in his stare, the unruly forelock that often fell over his eyes, and the sharp planes of his face were all suddenly too real now. Many times, too long ago, she’d admired him for such attributes, but now she found herself confused by them. She recognized this man and yet could not find in him the things she had known. It wasn’t until he spoke, venom lacing the very syllables as they turned from lip, that Essetia suddenly understood. He’d been changed somehow.

There still remained traces of the cunning engineer, but there also existed a wild and unfortunate beast trailing in his wake. Instead of absorbing her accusations as he’d done in the past, he matched her insults and brought Essetia to heel, despite her defiant stare and open hostility.

"Your fucking Midas shook the ground on which I had comfortably stood for years, and then you...."

What did any of this have to do with her? She laughed when he paused to gather his thoughts. She wanted to remind him that she’d never designed to cross paths with a creature such as he; she’d never wanted to be absent a battle for her home, for her honor. However, as he continued, she stilled noticeably. She shook her head in an attempt to blot out the sentiment, compel him to stop lying. They’d shared nothing but animosity. How could she possibly break a monster so intentionally made for the cold?

It was his breath against her cheek as she turned away from him, his admission of feeling just as lost as she, which kept her from further abuse. For reasons she couldn’t yet understand, she sought peace in his destruction, if only because she longed to piece him back together again. Confusion overruled her sense of understanding and when she turned again to face him, her face somehow softer, more open, she sighed. Essetia had wanted to ruin him for what he’d done, for taking her into captivity, for standing idly by when Midas had died, but… there was new emotion too. It was longing that surpassed her best intuition, her best sense of self-preservation- it just was and had always been. “I ruined you?” she spat. “I didn’t ask for you. I didn’t want you to leave the Basin. I don’t give a shit about your legacy. I didn’t want any of this.”

The embers were still smoking, but slowly burning out. The longer she fought, the more her body betrayed her. She wanted. She desired. She cared. “I don’t understand you either and as far as I’m concerned, I think I’ve paid enough.”

Then, just as she’d done on the day of her capture, she reached toward his shoulder, still just as stunned by her actions as she’d been in the past. Yet, a small smile curved in its wake… After all, hadn’t Ulrik been right?

Hate is only cathartic for so long.

In some ways it made sense, their chaos, but in others Essetia felt blindsided by actions strewn across the map from one place to the next. They fell here and there, brushed against her, and fell away, still just as pointless and unmoving as the day she’d first encountered the mighty Engineer. He had been a splendid creature then, a hulking man with wit and reservation. Now he appeared more a pup, content to suckle at her breast as he pleaded and offered her the parts of him that others had left behind. It felt unfair to her- to have to deal with a mess of a man that she wasn’t certain she even trusted. Everything was too sudden in her opinion….

Yet, the burning sensation of her longing remained. It unfurled into flames that promised to swallow them both should one or the other look away. It had always been as such, her desires, but never so solid and so pronounced that she was forced to bring them to heel before him. It was maddening to crave so many different things all at once, but even more so to croon at his touch upon her back. It was the softest of sounds, a mere warble that passed her lips like a whisper, but embarrassing and defeating nonetheless.

Essetia had ignored his attempts to gain her favor, avoided the words that likely tied his heart to hers, but in a rush, her own emotions became boiling. What did it mean? How was she supposed to respond? In the moments that followed, Essetia became unaware of her own flesh and bones. They acted without consent and followed the warmth of Ulrik’s breath while leaning into the softness of his mouth. The mare couldn’t find the words to appease him or the promises meant to bind them forever, but the day was still just as long as she remembered and that was enough.

Whatever came would eventually pierce the careful heart of the life Essetia led. But in the final moments before she gave up and stopped fighting what felt almost inevitable, she felt calm. For the time being, the Queen met her King with as much care and confidence as he bestowed. Her breath was sheer and labored, anxious and excited about the unknown as she was. Yet, before she allowed for the first time what she’d never been willing to give, she fixed him with a glare all too knowing. “You’ll never get them back you know.”