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"You can't. You can't leave now, Ainsley, not when Lettie has finally returned. I won't allow it."

"Dorian, let Ms.Redwynne speak! It's her matter, not ours."

"Aye, and thank you, Lettie. This isn't my quest, it's yours and Lettie's, but mostly Lettie's. It's not my place to be."

With a slam of a dagger, Ainsley roughly made her point into the wood of the dining table, and Dorian matched her action by slamming his fist. He didn't look furious, but defeated, and very upset. Lettie, however, remained composed on Ainsley's shoulder, content and comfortable. Dorian didn't understand why Ainsley had come to such a conclusion, especially after he'd made his promise to her, which Lettie knew by now. Ainsley confided strongly with him, if this was something that had been on her mind for awhile, he would have known about it, and the two of them would have reached a solution. It felt, to him, as an overnight ploy, something she'd quickly hatched and hope to get over with. It couldn't have been Lettie's fault, for if it was, it would have been ridiculously obvious. Instead, it was not, and confusion reigned over the Arelgren heir. This was an abrupt announcement, and it made something within him churn horribly that had not been there before. He gazed at the bearslayer through bewildered lens, and she stared back with her usual smile.

"It should have been clear to you--" Ainsley continued. She seated herself across from Dorian, and allowed Lettie to crawl off her shoulder and into her hands. "--that we Redwynnes embody focused heroism--and obviously, you'll lose it if you aren't careful."

"So! I need to travel elsewhere to help with my Da's work. You, at least, have yours."

"Ainsley. Don't be absurd. We have been traveling companions for almost a year. What makes you...what makes anything different?" He searched her eyes for an answer, anything that would compel her to stay. He didn't want her to go, and he was shocked that Lettie supported her leave. He had made an agreement with her, a personal one. One that he vowed to keep forever, and truly felt responsible for. Whether Lettie knew about this or not suddenly became irrelevant. The mystery was Ainsley's motivator. "I made a promise to you, Redwynne, that I would see to your growth. I wanted to change with you."

"And you have," Ainsley chuckled, and reached her hand out to lightly hold his. "But I'm still young, and there's much for me to do. I haven't slayed all the bears yet."

"Ah. So it's an issue of age."

"Dorian! Do you truly fancy Ms.Redwynne to that degree?" Lettie cried, secretly pleased. She put her hands on her grimm's and guardswoman's and giggled into them."But nevermind that, continue, Ms.Redwynne!"

Ainsley released her friend's hand and composed herself. Lucien's words had deeply affected her the night before, and while he was addressing Lettie's growth, she felt as if he was also addressing her own. It didn't matter to her that the words came from Lucien. What mattered was that she didn't know what she truly wanted to do with her life, how she wanted to develop outside her guardswoman training and Dorian's quest. She could have chosen her mother's route and developed into an erudite alchemist, but she chose the path of the sword instead. The image of a ladyknight had always been her motivator, but it wasn't until she wasn't able to defend herself that it became clear to her as to why it was so. She didn't want to rely on Dorian, or anyone, to protect her when she, by her own choice, chose to pursue a career where nobody would have to. He was a weakness that she couldn't identify, mainly because she'd never loved anyone before, and she wasn't sure if marriage was a suitable niche for her. The bearslayer plucked her blade from the table and returned it to its sheath.

"Dorian, do you remember when you asked me what the trouble was in Ironvale?" She asked slowly, carefully.

"I do."

Lettie looked from Dorian to Ainsley, confused. She opened her mouth to inquire on the matter, but decided to remain quiet because Ainsley made a motion to explain.

"I allowed you to protect me. 'T was my mistake. I wanted you to protect me. I trusted you to do it." she answered, her voice shaky. Dorian realized that this was a confession, and he sucked in a breath. Ainsley, at this moment, was being as frank as she possibly could, and Lettie's silence only encouraged her to continue. Self-conscious, the guardswoman pulled a chair out and seated herself across from her cultist companion and his Plague. Her expression was one that Dorian had never seen before: a combination of regret and bashfulness. Ainsley boldly continued, but it was as clear to Lettie as it was to Dorian that she was highly uncomfortable. "It's never happened before, and it's not anything that I...that I wanted before. It was a weakness, Dorian, and weaknesses are, like Da says, 'c**k and bull'."

"You...you're different from the other men that I've encountered, Arelgren. I usually hate your lot. All of them. Liars. Aristocrats. But not you. You're different, and your Plague is too. I learned to love you, and as you questioned your goals, I began to question mine."

"Ainsley..."

"You are a guardian, Dorian. I don't know what I am. I don't know if my choice to follow the sword was of childhood naivete or---or something brilliant. I don't feel strong, which is what I should have always felt. Those bears gave me a title and nothing else."

"Ainsley, please."

"Searching for Lettie with you made me think a lot. You have had your share of titles, good ones and bad ones, some of them from me. But you don't fit any of them, because you...you know that you are yourself. You know who you are. I don't, Dorian. I haven't lived as long as you--I haven't had the plague's inflictions, I don't know what it's like to lose anyone...! And I...have not accomplished half of what I have boasted of!"

Finally, her voice snapped, and whatever it was that ate at her began to expose itself now.

"It's not fair. It's not fair that I have to travel with you while you. While you become something magnificent as I stay a wallflower...! Did you know what Ventus was like?! You can't...! You can't know..!"

She paused to stare into Lettie's eyes, and opened her palm to her, beckoning the Plague to come close. After Lettie had settled into her hands, Ainsley began to succumb to crying, and Dorian could only sit in his own disappointment as Lettie tried her best to dry her friend's face with her skirts. Ainsley hated where she was now, vulnerable and naked in the coils of her own confession. She didn't like exposing herself in this way to Lettie of all people, but she didn't understand why she chose the Plague's comfort over Dorian's human one. It was slightly confusing to the Servos girl as well, but Ainsley's choice became clearer to Lettie as she thought more about it.

"Shh. It's alright, Ms.Redwynne. Lettie's here. Shh." Lettie soothed while patting the girl's cheek. Her own eyes looked sad also, for what Ainsley said reminded her of Agnes and Marian. It seemed to her as if Panymium's women always had ails, be them Plagues or humans. Dorian could never understand this special kind of suffering, and Lettie knew that despite that he knew Ainsley for longer than she, it was herself that empathized with the girl better.

"Ms.Redwynne, tell Dorian what you want," Lettie encouraged. She was using the same voice that she did when addressing the Panymese poor. A voice that the Obscuvians began to associate her by. The voice of charity. The voice of kindness. The voice which Ainsley took refuge in.

"I want...I want to go home. I..."

"Take your time, Ms.Redwynne. Nobody's rushing you."

"I want to know who I am. Why I chose to be a guardswoman. I want to become strong."

At this point, Dorian could no longer contain himself as he was extremely depressed as he was confused. He couldn't reach for Ainsley's hands, so he balled his own into fists instead, and raised his voice over Ainsley's trembling one. He wasn't livid, but his emotion was relative to being so. "Ainsley. You are the strongest woman I know. Why would you think otherwise? Because I protected you? Because you couldn't kill a man in my presence? Don't be foolish--"

"--You're the one being foolish, Dorian!" Lettie shrilly screamed. She was furious now, and began to advance towards her grimm with an accusatory finger. Her cheeks were redder than a rose, and her face felt like a furnace. "You! I thought you learned your lesson, Dorian, on considering the feelings of others! She's miserable Dorian! She's miserable because she...she..."

The words that left Lettie's mouth were the loudest ones that she'd ever shouted.

"SHE CAN'T BE MORE THAN SHE IS WHEN YOU AIM TO CONTAIN HER!"

A pregnant pause filled the room before Lettie began to speak again. Dorian was completely pale, and Ainsley looked relatively shaken.

"Just like me," Lettie whispered, sending chills down Dorian's spine. "Just like me, she was playing a role to you. A maiden heart. A rabbit heart. A heart that you, at your current strengths, could protect."

"I may not be a guardswoman, but I'm warning you, Dorian! I have strength of heart. I have watched a single maid tend to an entire dead village. I have buried those lost to the Plague. I have known things, Dorian, things that you wanted to keep from me. Don't keep them from Ms.Redwynne."

She looked hard at Ainsley now, and the girl looked back at her, genuinely terrified.

"That is what you want, yes, Ms.Redwynne?" Lettie began, her voice soft again, but eerily so.

"A-Aye."

"And what do you think, Mr.Arelgren?" Lettie asked, but it wasn't Dorian who answered, which caused him to jump.

"I think that is something noble to pursue," came Lucien Arelgren's reply from the doorway. He ignored his son's bewildered look and passed Ainsley a handkerchief to wipe her eyes with, though, his eyes focused on Lettie's. Something in his eyes told her that he understood, and Dorian made no motion to stop either of them from speaking, so Lucien took it as an advantage to slip in his own interjection. He cleared his throat.

"I must apologize for being here on short notice, Dorian. I chose not to meet with you until today, but there are reasons for that. All Arelgrens are inherently soloists, so this is relevant to Ms.Redwynne's wishes. Arelgrens cannot get anything done to the bone if they are in the company of others."

He sighed and rubbed his temples.

"We are social butterflies as we are easily distracted. I am not implying that Ms.Redwynne is a distraction to you, for as I'm told, she's benefited you much of what you've accomplished. You, however, are a distraction to her, so as your father, I implore you to respect her wishes."

Dorian almost screamed himself.

"And why are you suddenly imploring for me to do things!?" Dorian reduced to a hiss, and slammed his fists on the table. "Isn't that the mark of a hypocrite!?"

"It does seem that way--" Lucien began, and made a sideways glance at the window, anxious. "--But we have approximately two hours until Engelde reaches us."

"What! E-Engelde!? Why would he be here!? Th...There's a headhunt for him. Lady Gilenda ensured it!"

"Lady Gilenda has equal authority in the cult as you. A headhunt by her command could hardly count as a draconic attempt. Engelde never managed to end me correctly. He was saving you, I believe. We can't be dead here, now, can we? I must get you to the Lady Gesthenes. It's the final step."

"No. Engelde is a friend. He gave me mother's dagger. He...he said that he favored mother! And how would you know about Lady Gesthenes!?"

"Never mind Lady Gesthenes! Engelde stole your mother's dagger and she threatened him to return it. She tried to steal his life, but he did well to escape. Your mother may be a titan, but her mistakes bear fruit. Come, now, Dorian, we must leave. Make haste!"

"The Engeldes are not to be trusted. This doesn't come as a surprise to me." Ainsley muttered from where she sat. She had stopped crying now, but patted both her daggers. Her features were hard for a moment, but when they broke into a smile, she looked like herself again. "This is my first step too. I am a child of Ventus. Holding up forts is what I was born for. You lot go ahead."

Dorian stood up, and Lucien handed him a heavy parcel.

"Tailored for a purpose," Lucien commented with a wistful smile. He gave the parcel an affectionate pat. "Your mother and I had both worn this at one point. We hope that the costume of the manticore will give you strength. It's a useful item."

The Arelgren heir looked sullenly at the gift in his hands, and Ainsley led him upstairs to properly don it.

"Ainsley..."

"It looks lovely on you, butterfly. I've always liked reds and blues. Strong colors, they are! And there's lots of silver that comes with this. D'you figure they're real?"

"Ainsley..."

"Ach! There's a place to hook your Da's sword and your Ma's dagger. Nifty, innit? I like this."

"Ainsley. What Lettie said. Was it...true?"

Ainsley finally stopped patting him down, and looked seriously at him, her hands lowered, but didn't immediately answer. Her silence was difficult for him to accept, but he figured that he would wait until she was ready to speak. She looked happy, blissful even as she led him back downstairs where Lettie and his father were waiting with horses outside. Her fingers traced his jawline, but they fell as quickly as they lingered. It felt unexpectedly awkward to him that she made the gesture at all.

"It was, but that doesn't mean that everything else I said is false. Lettie is very wise. It would do you well to consult her more," Ainsley admitted, and finally laughed. Her face was weary, but her tone was lighthearted, forced perhaps, but close to her usual self. She patted his cheek and kissed it, topaz eyes twinkling. "You must go, but first, promise me something, won't you, boorish butterfly?"

"Anything."

"Ach! Dandy!" She laughed, and he reddened.

The Redwood Bearslayer stepped on her tiptoes and kissed him promptly on the lips. The contact was as innocent as it was brief, and Dorian wouldn't have wanted it any other way. He'd experienced "deep" kisses before, passionate ones that followed with more intense happenings, but Ainsley's made them pale. She followed with a tight hug, which he found himself enthusiastically returning, his face buried in her hair.

Ainsley breathed in his chocolatey scent, and exhaled.

"The clothes you wear, they're proof that your Ma and Da trust you with legacy," Ainsley murmured, her voice slightly muffled by his vest. She looked reluctantly tearful, and her voice began to show unsteadiness. He realized that she had been putting up a front during their prior conversation, and that this was Ainsley genuine. "M-my Ma and Da left me n-nothing of the s-sort. S-So while you should still pursue your own path, never forget that you still walk in the shadows of the great, a-aye?."

She squeezed him.

"Y-You have a devilish tendency of forgetting. S-so don't forget Dorian Arelgren, and d-don't forget Ainsley Redwynne!"

Dorian gave her a firm nod. It wasn't as if he wanted to forget her. He didn't want to separate from her, even if it meant meeting the Lady Gesthenes, whom he knew little to nothing about and was interested in seeing. He never expected Ainsley to become a crucial person in his life, for he'd always treated women as social devices, like Linda Reese. What made Ainsley different was an alien concept, one that he could never hope to understand even if he spent his entire life devoted to decoding it. He paused in mid-walk and considered kissing her, but it seemed inappropriate in context, so he decided against it. The junior Arelgren saddled up beside his father and tried to think of something to say, something meaningful that parting lovers would, but can't. Ainsley already has her daggers drawn as she waited by the moor for Engelde, and as the Arelgren's horses passed her, he could see a shade of darkness overlay her features. He forced himself to look forwards, and Lettie did well to reinforce this by sitting on his shoulder and simply being there.

"Oi! Boorish butterfly!"

He whipped his head around and saw Ainsley waving to him, grinning madly. She's loud this time, and zealously so, half shouting and half suppressing the urge to cry again.

"Godspeed! And to you as well, Lettie!"

"Good luck!" Lettie shouted in return, and then a "Wait! Dorian, ride back, I have to give Ms.Redwynne something!"

Dorian meekly obeyed, and Ainsley was surrpised when the little ghost pulled a heart off her skirt and handed it to the guardswoman.

"Ehe! Now you have my love, Ms.Redwynne!" Lettie giggled, and Ainsley laughed too. She thanked the hot cocoa girl while apologizing that she had nothing to give of her own, which Lettie was perfectly fine with. Dorian doesn't know what to say, and he doesn't quite want to peek at Ainsley either, so he looks the other way. Riding away from her, he found, was much easier than riding towards her.

Soon, Ainsley becomes a speck in the moor, and then, she's gone, like Linda and those before her.

Dorian thinks himself foolish for thinking that she would stay, and Lucien Arelgren looked sideways at his son with a remorseful look of his own. He sounded sad when he spoke.

"Your mother would have liked her," Lucien quietly said as he looked at the road ahead.

Dorian looked sharply at him.

"...Would have...!?"

The elder Arelgren shook his head, his voice grim. He shut his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, he couldn't bring himself to look his son in the eye, so he diverted his stare to Lettie instead.

"Did you truly believe that Engelde would go alone? I can't promise the Redwynne girl's life." He hoarsely admitted.

Lettie opened her mouth in horror, but Dorian made a promise to believe.

"You don't need to promise her life. She already promised herself."

He would have said it with more vigor, but without Ainsley's presence, confidence was suddenly difficult to summon. The words repeated themselves in his head, and he couldn't find it in himself to reply to them. The irony that it was Ainsley who recommended Gilenda to deal with Engelde only weighed him more, and he wished he'd given her something to remember him by, and he cursed himself for not thinking of it when he could. He didn't even request a lock of her hair. He didn't have any tangible token of Ainsley's memory, and he wondered if his father was the same with his late mother, or any woman for that matter.

In the end, it was exactly like what the alchemist Ivylyn said. Ainsley would not be going with him to Stillcrest, and the winter would be cold there.

The journey from Auvinus to Shyregoed was a quiet one for Lettie, and she almost preferred traveling with the Finches again where she was, at least, allowed to sing. She knew better than to break into song now; Dorian still hadn't completely recovered from divorcing himself from Ainsley's company, and Lettie knew that if the guardswoman was actually dead, he would never forgive himself. Lettie, however, was comforted by the fact that she had nothing left to confess to neither Arelgrens. When she yelled at her Grimm earlier on Ainsley's behalf, Lettie had already exposed to him much of her dynamic, Panymian experience. She didn't want to return to her life prior either, for her sweetness felt noble now because it was serving a purpose, charity, specifically. She was glad that Lucien didn't aim to take the trio to Arelgren House upon reaching Shyregoed, and instead, directed them into a the Northern Bases mountain path that sheltered a mage hub. Dorian could only hope that they would be well-received by mages, but his father didn't seem to be worried.

He was slightly miffed when the mages paid their company no heed, though some of the younger members eyed Dorian warily, and the latter assumed it was because he was carrying weapons. Lucien continued to press forward into the mountain path on the outskirts of the Northern Bases, and halted his horse when a circle of young, fair maidens came into view, each holding a basket of native flowers. When they saw him, they dropped their baskets and began to shout a woman's name, and Lettie realized that it was Lady Gesthene's.

Dorian dismounted with his father after the pattering of the girls' footsteps receded. His father looked almost anxious, and he detected color in the elder Arelgren's cheeks despite the frosty atmosphere. Lettie also noticed this, for she had moved herself from Dorian's shoulder to Lucien's. It only made the both of them more curious about the enigmatic Gesthene. Dorian knew little to nothing about her, while Lettie knew the basis of everything, which simultaneously excited and scared her. Lucien had a purpose for bringing Dorian to her, and the Plague was just as curious as her Grimm as to what Lucien's intention was. He had purposely made curt replies when Lettie inquired upon the matter. She began to gradually understand what Dorian meant by the "Arelgren game of smoke and mirrors", and Lettie felt that it was unfair. Dorian's life was his own, and she wasn't content with how his mother and father showed their care for him. When the Lady Gesthene finally appeared from a mountain slope, Lettie could do very little else than stare.

"Lucien." came the woman's deep, authoritative voice. She was dressed in the blackest garbs that Lettie had ever seen, and she carried a bundle of dead flowers in her own arms, which provided a stark contrast with the living ones that the girls had dropped. Her lips looked anything but natural, for they had a eccentric kind of beauty to them in the way they almost blended into her skin. But it wasn't her lips that intrigued Lettie the most, but her eyes. Her eyes were perhaps the most startling aspect of her person. They were milky grey like those of an oracle's, and when she looked at Dorian, he knew exactly who she was and what she meant to him.

"Mother." He breathed, and remembered that his father had told him that she was supposed to be dead. Yet, the person he saw before him was unmistakably the one in the family portrait. The likeness was uncanny despite that Agatha Gesthene had aged since then, but her maturation only augmented her austere mien. She eyed Dorian for a moment before tucking a dead wildflower into the fold of his vest, and offered Lettie one also. The Plague didn't want to appear rude, so she took the odd gift, and squeaked a "salutations" of her own. Lucien, pleased, stepped forward.

"Agatha. I have delivered the boy to you," he quietly said, and reached toward her with an anxious hand. She shook her head and gestured for him to stay put, her eyes serene.

"Don't. I cannot touch." Agatha said, her voice as impassive as her features. She pointed at a necklace that hung from her neck. "It is a magic. Anything I contact is cursed with rot. It is protection."

Her lids fluttered, and she muttered a single word which summed up the situation perfectly: "Engelde."

"Engelde," Lettie seconded, and Agatha noticed her for the first time, and gave the Plague a nod of acknowledgement followed by a terse. "Lettie."

"Yes, my love, this is Dorian, our son, and Lettie, his Plague," Lucien encouraged, ushering the Plague and Grimm towards his stolid wife. He patted Dorian's shoulder and stepped back a bit, allowing his wife and son some distance. "I've done what I could. He is a Butterfly Crow. Obscuvos favors him. The House means to promote him."

This information should have pleased her, but from the way her brows furrowed, Dorian assumed that it did not. Lettie wondered if the woman had a sense of pathos at all, and why any sane woman would want her son to believe her dead. There things about both Arelgrens that made Lettie' blood boil, but Agatha's apathy was enough to induce her fury. It was wrong to Lettie, how Dorian had to develop under Nancy's care alone, while other boys and girls were raised properly by both their mothers and fathers. It was selfish of them, to her, regardless of Lucien's charm and Agatha's beauty, for any responsible guardian to neglect their child after his only maternal connection was claimed by the Plague. She couldn't empathize with her Grimm anymore, for he did not look as if he made the same inquiries, and he ultimately obeyed what his father wished of him despite not having met the man at all during his lifetime until two years ago. The way he explained Dorian's House status reinforced her dissatisfaction, for it made Dorian sound like a cognitive tool and not a person. His statement made it seem as if Dorian's life was not only a plan, but a direct product of his parents instead of his own actions. Agatha Gesthene surprised Lettie by sharing her sentiment.

"You should be angry with me. You should hate me. I did not raise you. I did not love you like a mother should." Agatha darkly whispered, and Dorian, unsettled, wondered if this was some kind of test or if his mother was, true to what most people told him, more empathetic and thus addressed him in a more reasonable way than his father did. She didn't look sorry, but she appeared to be uncomfortable and it showed through the unsteadiness of her voice. Lettie interjected after having been silent for so long.

"And he should. Dorian is not a tool. I know not of what you have planned for him, but I will not let him become a cog to you, and less so his mother." Lettie angrily said, and she threw an accusatory glare at Lucien also. "And you, was it real love? It seems to me as if you were simply grooming him like a stable horse!"

Dorian was surprised that Lettie shared his opinion on his parents. He rarely spoke of his relationship to them, for he didn't want Lettie to become conscious that he'd been cheated a normal childhood. He had been angry at both his mother and father for the majority of his life, and it wasn't as if Lucien's return could amend his entire absence. He always assumed that the Butterfly Crow business was his father's way of involving him in family life. To Dorian, it was a filial and moral duty, but he now began suspecting if Lucien intended it to become something greater. Lettie's words inspired him to speak for himself, but Agatha was quicker.

"That is precisely my reasoning behind my words," Agatha admitted, and she tossed several of her flowers onto the ground. "I have never wasted words in my life before, and I will not do so now--" She gave Lettie a understanding nod before continuing. "--because Dorian Arelgren was nothing that my husband nor myself were ever prepared for. My father was an unfit example for a guardian, and Lucien's were more detached than he. Yet, Dorian was, to us, the greatest treasure that we have ever possessed."

"And that gives you reason enough to store him in your treasure cove, Arelgren House? He's been without a mother for many years." Lettie glowered. She couldn't help raising her voice. Agatha Arelgren was as infuriating as she was disappointing. Lettie had always envisioned Dorian's mother as the Arelgren that was the embodiment of everything that she wanted to become: reliable, strong, and remarkable. Yet, there was nothing about the Agatha Arelgren--or Gesthene--that impressed the Servos girl, and the woman surprised the Plague by agreeing with her statement. Agatha's grey eyes met Lettie's browns.

"And he can live on without a mother for another twenty-six years. He does not need me, and I do not deserve him." She ducked her head. "...That is all I intend to tell him. That is the purpose of this meeting."

At this, both Grimm and Plague were speechless. Lettie, in her bewildered fury, and Dorian, in his discomfort. Granted, he did not know what it was that he should have expected, but that his mother had apparently just severed a bond that never existed. He wondered what the Butterfly Crows meant to him now, and her for that matter, since she was, in fact, alive. He did not know if he should hate her for her resolution, but cannot, for the sake of himself, decide. When he finally spoke, his words were as unsteady as his receding steps.

"So what was the purpose of the Butterfly Crows?!"

He looked at her, desperate for some sign of empathy which he did not receive.

Agatha shook her head, and Lucien joined in to help explain.

"The Butterfly Crows is something that your father and I decided would be best for you to inherit. We no longer operate it."

"We simply are in no condition to continue protecting the welfare of others--" Lucien reinforced. "Because we struggle to protect our own. You were the treasure that we left behind in Shyregoed, and you were the head that my crimes were placed upon. Surely, you do not deny that the reason that you are living is accredited to us in some way."

"Wh...! Do not ******** with me. I have been my own guardian ever since the two of you chose to flee. Nancy was sweet to me, but I was always my own guardian."

Dorian began to tremble, and Lettie placed her hand on his cheek to remind him of her support. It was all too ridiculous and the Arelgren heir began laughing dryly, ironically, and almost hysterically.

"It does make a horribly fascinating amount of sense, does it not? Why would I, of all the Panymese, be chosen to become a guardian of a Plague? I was well-prepared. And I became more prepared. You have given me an organization that will die with me."

He clenched his fists and shouted as loud as he could: "AN ORGANIZATION WITH A SINGLE MEMBER--ME--WHILE THE TWO OF YOU...THE TWO OF YOU DID WHAT!?"

"Dorian!"

"TRY TO KEEP YOU ALIVE WHILE WE BUSIED YOU WITH MORAL CRUSADES, YOU FOOL!" Lucien roared back, and stepped into Dorian's space so that he was the buffer between his son and his wife. "DO NOT. TREAD ON OUR EFFORTS LIGHTLY. YOU NEEDED THE BUTTERFLY CROWS AND WE PROVIDED AN IDEOLOGY THAT FIXED US IN THE PAST."

"Lucien!"

The Arelgren men stared each other down while breathing heavily, and Agatha was at a loss for words. Her basket had dropped to the floor, and she fell to her knees along with it and scrambled to retrieve the dead flowers that had spilled from their vessel.

Dorian was delirious by now, and he felt as if every step of his life had simply been the marks of a puppeteer, and nothing at all like what Ainsley had spoken to him of: a mixture of personal efforts and fate. He was told that his life was accredited to someone else, and the fact that he'd made it thus far was nothing short of a great scheme. He would not accept that. He could not accept that, and neither could Lettie.

"So you thought that protecting Dorian was the best way to give him the development he needed?" she quietly said, her dotted mouth shrinking. "You never helped him like I have, or Ainsley have, or Wickwright have. You just insult him."

Her eyes flickered.

"An insult to my Grimm is an insult to his Plague. We Arelgrens are meant to be iridescent and swift, and you tell Dorian that he is not because he needs protecting before his goals can be accomplished." A pause. "Does that, then mean, that you do not consider him a proper Arelgren? Surely you have not watched him like me."

"It is true that I have spent isolation from him, but I am far more impressed by what Dorian has accomplished than any of you."

"Allow me justice, dear Plague," Agatha whispered in her defense and folded her hands. "As I said earlier, I only wish to leave him be. You are correct. He has proven himself with far more potential than myself or his father. He does not need to hide under the cloak of a Butterfly Crow to show kindness to scientists, mages, and the emperor's men alike."

She smiled thinly.

"He has strong allies, and he always will have strong allies. You are among them, Lettie. ...It is only just for Dorian to meet the two people that had cursed him before death claims them in time.

The grass under her fingers began to rot, and what she said next evoked a lump to form in Dorian's throat.

"Some of us were never meant to live good lives. That is why we have sons."

The map was safely in Dorian's hands, and Agatha had bid him a terrible farewell. She had spoken of returning to the Northern Bases where she'd been living for most of her life, and Lettie had given her one of the hearts on her dress to remind her that she was loved. She now was missing three hearts from her dress. One had been given to Hopkin Finch; the second, to Ainsley Redwynne; and the third, to Agatha Arelgren. It didn't matter to her that her dress was now asymmetrical in its ornaments, but that it now held sentimental value. Three hearts had been touched, and three hearts had been given. Dorian, the manticore, now had a true purpose that he wanted to present to the House, and the only question remaining was what roads, if any, should either of them take. It had been an arduous three years, a terrible three years, and a rewarding three years. The gadfly Grimm and ghostly Plague were no more, and instead, Dorian Arelgren and Lettie found themselves in exactly where they wanted to be at the apogee of their lives.

They found themselves surrounded by snow again, by the forest near the Annex, the inception of Dorian's Obscuvianism. It was where Dorian wanted to be, and Lettie couldn't think of anywhere else more appropriate. She stood beside her Grimm, and looked beyond the pines that zigzagged around them. Mettleburn had been released prior to entering the forest, and the sun dropped rays and shadows through the forest's skinny leaves. It was beautiful to the Plague, and she didn't know how to verbally elucidate how happy she felt, for the drop-off had gone smoothly, and the Obscuvians had been more than pleased with the Arelgren for his competence. His name had risen more during Obscuvian discussions, and he was pleased that his inter-factionary notion piqued the interest of several brothers and sisters. His successes, he hoped, would become inspiration to others, for like Ainsley had always said, "life isn't all about factions and loyalties". And it was true, he'd been given claps on the back, kisses on the hands, and reserved nods from several elders, which, to him, was the most praise he'd ever received in the entirety of his lifetime. While Lettie didn't pay specific notice, her Grimm recalled seeing Linda Reese during the customs, but she was in the company of another man now, and he was glad for her. But whenever Linda smiled, he was reminded of Ainsley's smile, and the part of him that cared resurfaced.

It never stayed for long. He'd remember that Ainsley told him to believe, and that she was in possession of Lettie's love. He could only hope that Engelde had not actually bested her, and that no-one would ever best his own, Arelgren self. What he didn't know or could hope to know was that his accomplishment sparked a greater inquiry for his Plague, and that she had been wondering about it for a very long time.

"Dorian?" Lettie began, as she raised her palms to her waist.

"Mm?"

"Dorian, I...I have been wondering," she carefully continued."About your opinion on something."

He chewed his lip and looked at her.

"Well! Don't keep it from me now, Lettie. Do tell."

She fumbled with her hands. "O...Okay. But promise you will not be cross."

"Promise."

Lettie nodded, and spoke with an air of serious concern. "I have realized, throughout my travels, that you can't become healthy unless you are first sick."

"Very true."

"But you can't help others get better unless you're better yourself."

"Also true."

"So I don't think I can do it right now, what Agatha says, that charity business. Not as I am, at least."

Lettie's words were as ominous as they were disappointing, and her Grimm immediately felt a pang of something uncomfortable within him. Dorian dropped to his knees, and lowered his face so that he was on even ground with Lettie, his eyes filled with concern and a look of confusion that had only recently returned. His voice was raspy when he found his words again. "Whatever do you mean, Lettie?" was all the Arelgren could muster.

"What I mean to say, is, that I've been feeling changes in my body. W-weird pains. I did not tell you because it was not important."

"What! That is clearly important, Lettie, why on earth would you not say so?"

"B-Because your father said something to me! Why else would I have agreed to come out to the cliffside?"

"The cliffside!? Lettie, I thought we ventured this far because you liked the forest! You aren't...you aren't going to--!"

"It's something that I've noticed, Dorian, that as I meet more people that are sick, the more I feel uncomfortable, too. And it's not just sickness of Plague, but also sickness of heart," she whimpered, "And I feel as if my body wants me to take it away from them."

Dorian dreaded the conclusion that his Plague had come to, and he isn't all the more reassured that she didn't arrive at it on her own.

"Take...what away from them, Lettie!?" He slowly inquired, his voice barely audible.

"It's not..It's to take a fall for them. It...it's charity."

That did it.

"LETTIE ARELGREN--" he shouted, clutching her small body and shaking it. "YOU. CANNOT. THROW YOUR LIFE AWAY. SO. FOOLISHLY."

"N-no, Dorian! I...I think it is necessary...I...my
body...says that it's...safe...!"

"Are you...are you certain you're...unharmed?" Dorian inquired, lips cracked from the Shyregoed winter. He looked at Lettie Arelgren whom no longer belonged to him. He did not know if she still preferred to be referenced to his house title, but she didn't flinch at the association. Yet, she wore House Arelgren's colors. She had his coat around her shoulders, though she hardly needed it. Her new attire was more than sufficient in shielding her from the cold that birthed her. The Grimm had been anxious since his Plague's maidenhood, and was in a position where he didn't know whether it was inappropriate to make physical contact with her. She now had skin to touch--and breath that he could see in the December air. The Locos slowly raised her head, so that her opal-swirl eyes found his jade ones. Lettie smiled gently, and wrapped her fingers around his, causing him to stir and look sharply at her.

"L-Lettie?" his voice sounding lost.

With a shy, dampened expression, Lettie released his hand.

She removed her Grimm's coat from her shoulders, and draped them over his, her eyes half-lidded when she finished. She stepped back to examine him, giving a satisfied "H" sound before patting his chest with both hands. "There." she promptly said. She tapped his butterfly sash. "This is yours."

"I..." Dorian began, and forgot himself again. He didn't quite know how to react to her in the context of her transformation. She'd been so small to him until the present. The Arelgren struggled with the concept that Lettie no longer needed to be physically attached to him for travel, and that this...this maiden form embodied the autonomy that she'd earned. The odd dissonance that plagued Dorian made it difficult for him to make eye contact with his closest companion. He wanted to be supportive of her independence; he wanted to be the champion advocate of whatever her goals may be. Yet, this simple, physical change, was the most complicated "boundary" that had ever occurred between them. Lettie's exterior had certainly undergone a metamorphosis, and he wondered if it affected her interior feelings toward him or her feelings toward anything before. Lettie hadn't spoken much since their encounter with the "doctor". Cheeriness from both the Grimm and Plague felt forced, but he didn't know how to address it. It was possible that he'd only given her his coat to gesture that he still had some power or responsibility over her. Didn't she mean to break from that? With this? To heal the sick? It mattered to Dorian, very much, that Lettie fulfilled her needs and wants just as much as he did. She was Agatha's devil's advocate, after all. It was Lettie, not Dorian, that had won over the Obscuvian map.

"Forgive me." the acolyte muttered, looking morosely at his feet and away from his Plague. She raised her head in surprise. "You did not need that." Dorian hurriedly said, fingers tightening around his coat. He gazed wistfully at Lettie. "You must understand that you are by no means obligated to be in my company. This change. It means something for you. Do not pretend, for my sake, that it does not."

Lettie's lips twitched at this, and she placed her free hand on his cheek. She hadn't spoken at all since their reunion, and Dorian found that her voice, when she opened her mouth to speak, was deeper than it had been when she was an Excito, and also more mature.

"It's true that I have changed. But my feelings towards you, dear Grimm, are no different. Why should they be?" Lettie explained, smiling not for herself, but to reassure her Grimm. "Your loyalty to me is not forgotten. I have changed because I know that above all else, nothing between the two of us has."

She released him, and unclenched her fingers to reveal a red ribbon resting neatly within her palm. She focused her eyes downwards and kneeling, tied it around his belt. When she had finished with the task, she stood up to meet her Grimm's eye.

"We are Grimm and Plague. The bond between us cannot be easily severed," Lettie breathed, her voice bell-like. "And that is what our bond shall forever serve. You are my, Grimm, are you not?"

"Yes," Dorian admitted.

"Will you protect me, Grimm, if harm were to come to me?"

"Yes."

"Will you guide me, Grimm, were I to go astray?"

"Yes."

"Will you love me, Grimm, as you always have?"

"Yes."

"And do you know me to do the same for you?"

"I...Yes."

"Then I, Lettie Arelgren, shall re-make you my Grimm, my King, my Companion, and my Sun."

She ceremoniously removed his sword from his sheath, and he, out of his own inspired accord, dropped down to a knee, sash tumbling into the snow. While a mundane Panymian would have found both gestures embarrassing or slightly melodramatic, Arelgrens take drama to new heights, and Dorian found wanted to subjugate his doubts. Lettie solemnly dipped the Mithris's blade into Dorian's shoulder, and knighted him as a queen would, no, perhaps more.

"I am glad to be in your care." the hot cocoa replied. When she had finished, the blade fell to the snow beside her, and Lettie got down to Dorian's level and enveloped her Grimm in their first physical embrace. She smelled of cacao to the Arelgren scion, and shivering, he hugged her back almost hesitantly. He trembled when she tightened her half of the embrace, for he was afraid of making her feel any sense of awkwardness or discomfort. On the contrary, Lettie was more than pleased that she had been heightened to a new, physical form, that allowed her to be more emotionally intimate with her Grimm. She was happy to be able to reciprocate the safety that he'd given her. For her entire lifespan until now, she'd been protected by Dorian, and shielded by him too. His gestures were brotherly and thoughtful, but now, despite Lettie's reassuring words, Dorian could only ponder about how unecessary those actions would become. The Anhelo is warmer than he'd have imagined her to be, and she smiled into the crook of his neck, and kissed it as thanks. Perhaps that was the meaning for her evolution--to not only be able to subtract the pain of others, but to be able to thank her Grimm in a better body. "What will you do for my sake, dear Grimm?" she quietly inquired once more.

"Everything," Dorian breathed, earning him a well-expected "Why?"

He squeezed her tighter and felt himself wanting to cry into her shoulder, not out of frustration nor anxiety, but because he couldn't find a reason to feel any relief or happiness for her. Knowing this truth is painful; his answer is a harsh truth. "Because you're all that remains of my history, and you are a guide to what I shall become."

Lettie let him go, truly let him go, but held on tightly to his hand. Her curls brushed her cheeks and snow wet them, too.

"I am glad, Dorian Arelgren, that you are my Grimm," she said, closing her eyes. He nodded stolidly, and Lettie understood that Dorian didn't feel up to leading the way.

"Come, Dorian. Shyregoed awaits us. I was born again to you, but it's only proper that I'm introduced to all."