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Throné knew the nightmares would come for her tonight. She had failed in her goal to kill Father, and he had stabbed her as she let down her guard, just as she had planned to do to him. The sting of humiliation was worse than the pain, and still the scent of her own blood lingered over her.
She remembered Agnea's worried expression as she had rushed over to the injured Throné, trying to stop the bleeding, and a part of Throné had been glad Agnea had not seen her kill.
As she slept in the guest bedroom of Melia's manor in Winterbloom, she dreamed of that familiar darkness, a darkness that threatened to consume the dawn itself. At her feet lay all those she had killed, and Pirro was now among them as well. She also saw Donnie and Scaracci, their blood pooling onto the frozen ground, and again that horrid stench seemed to settle in her lungs.
In her hands she clutched a bloody dagger, the blood burning her skin. The crack of Mother's whip and Father's mocking laughter echoed in her ears, drawing ever closer. The collar around her neck tightened, choking her, and she fell to her knees. She couldn't breathe, and her chest burned as blood pounded in her ears, and no matter how much she scratched at the collar around her throat, it remained tight, biting painfully into the flesh.
Until she was free, she had nowhere to run. And the cost of freedom…
A light appeared in the distance, and she could breathe again. She forced herself to her feet, and a sweet song now filled her ears. This wasn't part of the nightmare, she knew. She wasn't supposed to wake until the darkness consumed her.
Throné touched the poisoned collar at her throat, and as she headed toward the unfamiliar light, the singing grew clearer. She broke into a run, and the darkness around her began to shatter like glass. She knew that voice, a voice much like the sun itself. A warm light caressed her cheek, and pulled her into a tight embrace.
A part of her might have thought that she didn't deserve such warmth, dirty as her hands were, but in this moment, she didn't care.
Throné forced her eyes open. Kneeling at her bedside was Agnea, and Agnea held Throné's hand between hers as she hummed softly. Upon seeing Throné now awake, her eyes went wide in surprise. "Oh, I didn't wake you, did I?"
Shaking her head, Throné tried to sit up, but Agnea seized her shoulders to stop her. Agnea was stronger than she looked, Throné thought idly.
"You're still hurt, so you need to rest," Agnea said firmly.
Gingerly Throné touched her side, where Father had stabbed her. Although he claimed to have avoided any vital organs, it had still hurt like hell. Agnea had helped her out of the Snowhares' den, half-carrying her while as she drifted in and out of consciousness, and once at Melia's manor she vaguely remembered Castti cleaning and dressing her injury.
She let out a heavy sigh; she'd been fortunate that Agnea had disobeyed her and followed her into the Snowhares' den, but the idea of Agnea entering such a dangerous place alone frightened her. "I told you to stay at the entrance," she said finally.
"I know, but…" Agnea bit her lip. "I didn't want you to face that man alone."
Throné too chewed her lip, turning her gaze aside. She thought of asking Agnea if that malnourished woman had gotten to safety, but she couldn't bring herself to do so, afraid of the answer. She had already failed in her goal to kill Father; she couldn't bear Agnea knowing she had failed to save a life too.
She and Agnea had met in New Delsta, and she had been impressed by Agnea's courage in standing up to those two thugs trying to hurt a puppy. What had compelled her to tell Agnea her story, she still didn't know, and she had expected Agnea to flee from her out of fear or disgust, but instead Agnea had proclaimed her support for Throné. More than once Throné had wondered how a sweet young woman like Agnea could look at her with such warmth, but she welcomed that warmth nonetheless.
Gently Agnea touched Throné's cheek. "You don't want me to see you kill, do you?"
Again Throné sighed. "You're too kind. Nothing good will come of you helping me kill Mother and Father."
"I want to help you obtain your freedom." Agnea hesitated a moment, and Throné felt her hand tremble. "I know I'm naïve and sheltered compared to the rest of you, and me saying I wish you didn't have to kill won't do any good, but…" A weak smile came upon her lips. "I still want to do what I can to support you."
Throné's breath hitched in her throat. No one had ever smiled at her as Agnea smiled at her now. Whenever Pirro, Scaracci, or Donnie had smiled, it had always been with a grim resignation, and Mother or Father smiling was never a good sign. Agnea's smile was sincere, a sincerity that Throné found herself longing for. "You're a strange girl, Agnea," she said with a faint chuckle.
Agnea laughed as she stroked Throné's hair. "And you're strong, Throné. Beautiful and mature too, like a proper city lady. I wish I was as elegant as you."
The way Agnea idolized New Delsta was rather innocently endearing, Throné thought to herself. Beneath those dazzling lights were the shadows where the unwanted were forced into, where those like the Blacksnakes stole and killed without remorse. Yet Agnea had seen that dark underbelly with her own eyes while helping Gil with his tavern, and still she had reached out to him, unafraid. Even in darkness she would find that smallest sliver of light, it seemed. With those thoughts, Throné leaned more into Agnea's touch, wanting to savor that warmth.
"I really do admire you," Agnea said softly, running her fingers through strands of Throné's hair. "I know you have a kind heart."
Throné said nothing, feeling Agnea draw her fingers down her cheek. At first, she had thought Agnea naïve for being so freely affectionate toward someone like her. Yet, as they had continued to travel together, she found herself happy that Agnea wasn't frightened of her. Despite all that she had stolen, all the lives she had taken, Agnea knew all of that and still smiled for her.
Agnea began to quietly hum, and Throné lifted her gaze, simply staring up at Agnea. That tune was one Agnea often hummed to herself, and she had once told Throné she learned it from her mother. Familiar lyrics fell from Agnea's bright lips: "No matter how far away, my song will forever be with you. So think of me whenever you feel blue…"
She sang softly, but her voice was still warm. Throné raised her hand, and Agnea clasped it between hers, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it. Throné swallowed dryly; was it truly right for someone such as her to be with a kind and bright girl like Agnea? After all, not even freedom would erase her sins. But once she was free, she would no longer be bound to those sins either. Agnea smiled so sweetly at her, and more than ever she longed for that warmth.
In that sense, she really wasn't much different from a snake, always seeking the light of warmth. Perhaps once this journey was over, she could grasp the dawn itself and share it with Agnea.
"Agnea," Throné said, savoring the feel of Agnea's name on her tongue, "stay with me tonight, please."
"Of course," Agnea replied with a nod. Throné lifted the bed sheets for Agnea, and Agnea climbed into the bed beside her, being careful not to aggravate her injury. Agnea was warm, Throné thought, a warmth much like the dawn.
"Thank you," Throné whispered as she wrapped her arm around Agnea's waist to draw her closer, and she brushed her lips against Agnea's cheek.
Throné wasn't naïve enough to believe that her journey for freedom wouldn't end without further bloodshed, but because Agnea loved her, she could allow herself to dream of dawn.