> Fire.
> A roaring inferno engulfed his form, throwing him amidst the blazes like the seed of a dandelion in a storm. Every second was as painful as the previous, scorching his nerves, severing his humanity and making him feel like he would snap.
> Anonymous would try to cry out for help, for anyone or anything really, but naught a sound escaped his lips.
> The deafening sound of a beast’s thundering howls disoriented him. Its rumbles would echo countlessly over itself like there were many, all taunting, mocking and belittling him.
> Numerous hooves, claws and wings collided with his form, tossing him around and around, the shrieking cries of metal splintering.
> … And then, in an eclipsing crescendo… all stilled.

> An ocean of silent water and nothingness swirled around him.
> The flames vanished like grass dew on a hot summer’s morning, and he could finally feel his own heartbeat pulsating in his chest. Drawing air into his lungs no longer pained him from the heat and ashes. Instead, the humid air felt cool and pleasant on his form not covered beneath the water.
> For what felt like years, he floated on as the gentle waves carried him in circles. It was a comforting feeling of serenity – to simply drift amidst naught.
> He was faintly aware of his injuries, but alas they did him no scorn. Alas, so great was his peace, he did not sense the presence settling beside him. Anonymous’ eyes remained closed. He knew it would not do him harm.
> A soothing calmness radiated from it and the seas stilled their movements.
> ‘Peace, son of Iron, a voiceless greeting struck him. He could not place neither age nor sex of the entity. Anonymous opened his eyes.
> A majestic ship towered above him. Its build was like that of obsidian glass and silvery mithril, radiating so brightly his eyes hurt. A shining prow stood at its front, but it carried neither shaven oar nor flowing sail from its onyx mast.
> A hooded figure peered over the side of the ship, bowing its veiled head down towards him in greeting.
> ‘You have faced adversity few could ever dream of, alas even fewer could topple as its victor’ it said, the forlorn voice rang. The soft creaking of the ship stilled as the voice spoke, almost as if holding an imaginary breath of air, in courteous respect.
> Anonymous brows furrowed in bewilderment.
‘Who are you, how do you know me?’ his thoughts echoed, forming small rings in the still water.
> The question remained unanswered for a long while. Then:
> ‘I have sensed your presence for a long time, Ironborne. I am-’ it started.
> Before the voice could finish, an insistent pressing sensation began on his shoulder, all but hurling him from the serene emptiness into the land of waking. Drawing in a deep breath of air, he opened his eyes to stare into the mournful eyes of Chrysalis sitting by his side.
> Soft tears threatened to well up beneath her vertical irises as a pained smile crawled across her face. She said nothing, opting to simply look at him as a hoof delicately traced the curve of his cheekbone.
> The whole-born leaned down to nuzzle her head beneath his chin in long content strokes emanating with longing, as she breathed in slowly.
> Feeling the soft locks of her mane tickling his beard, he looked over his form. White bandages covered his right side, starting from his shoulder all the way down to a heavy brace woven into the fabric around his wrist.
> The sensation of a lightly sticky but cool feeling told him that Matabele must have procured more of that clover honey of Albuna’s, to apply more of the ointment to his arm before wrapping it up.
> A fuzzy feeling told him his head was bandaged in a similar fashion, as Chrysalis’s soft caressing had grown more and more insistent as she moved over the side of his face.
> The humming of her ethereal wings filled the air, as her griff clattered contently in soft thuds.
> Raising his unhurt hand to rub small circles on the front of her breast, a deep purring joined the chorus of sounds. Scoffing softly in mirth, Anonymous chuckled.
“I could get used to waking up like this,” he said in a voice still groggy from rest.
> The queen stiffened, before sighing deeply. Her eyes betrayed her tranquil demeanour, hesitant yet mournful.
> “Anonymous, precious love, it-“ she started, slowly.
“I know, I know,” he said. “How long was I… asleep?” he interjected. Rising to carefully sit upright , his ribs stung ruefully. Not daring to take a deep breath, the human turned to look his queen in the eye.
> She studied him without comment, her eyes never leaving his face.
> “Five hours, the day’s twilight is soon upon us. I sent for Scriba to postpone the next fight for as long as she could. Whilst the Ladies of change was compassionate to our appeal, Noctuid’s pushed and insisted on a…” she paused, hesitant of her next words but then continued.
> “Noctuid’s insistent arguing has turned the Ladies against us, and they mandate you ‘return to Sanctuary and face the Three’s final challenge’,” she finished reciting, her teeth grit in barely held anger.
“How long do I-“ he started.
> ”One half of an hour,” she responded.
> Anonymous sat silent, before moving a hand to caress her cheek, one finger wiping away ethereal traces of tears past.
“I understand,” he said. “Soon, you and I will snuggle for a whole week, and not even Caci will be able to drag me away from your side.”
> Scoffing in hollow mirth, Chrysalis turned her muzzle slightly.
> ”She would be a fool to try,” she admitted with a huff.
> Placing a comforting hand to rest on her withers, Anonymous looked across the room. The armour plates rested on a piece of intricate cloth, whilst his byrnie and gambeson sat upon two stands.
> The polished plates had been hastily repaired whilst he was asleep, to mend the damage from Buddleia’s flame and claws. The immaculate surface from before was now stained in shallow scratches and superficial cuts, both doing little to distract from the onyx material’s shine.
> The shoulders of his gambeson had been singed, but hasty combing of the hairs had removed the most egregious burnt ends.
> Sighing in barely held gallows humour, Anonymous sighed.
“I don’t think I can repeat the success with my pavise again, love,” he admitted. “My wrist is killing me,” he said as he tried to nonchalantly roll his bandaged hand. A soft hiss of pain stopped his futile attempts.
> Chrysalis was silent, then: “I’ve talked it over with Caci. We have agreed a tower shield would be your best option for the next fight, all things considered. The runes should allow you some agility and with enough bracing of the straps and runes, your wrist may be spared the brunt of the weight.”
> A soft smirk played as her lips as a rueful scoff escaped her.
> “You are quite right, you won’t be able to repeat the triumph over Buddleia, but you’ve already done something greater.”
> Anonymous placed a soft hand against her check, drawing slow circles with his thumb.
“And what would that be, love?”
> It did not take an empath to sense the schadenfreude in Chrysalis tone of voice at her next words as she closed her eyes and hummed into his touch.
> “Why, you showed every single changeling from lowly labourer to hive queen, that at the end of the day a fifteen inch spike to the chest can knock down anyone.”
> The human chuckled at the casual delivery of the otherwise gruesome mockery.
> Chuckling to herself in return, she continued.
> “I’m being serious, beloved. Few beings on this continent can brag about facing such an foe and coming out on the other side as the winner,” she adamantly decreed.
> Anonymous paused, a sense of déjà vu washing over him. Sensing his change of mood, the queen tsked her tongue.
> “Regardless, you should know that I took no small amount of pleasure in having to ask Matabele to oversee her recovery – he even had to bring out one of the restitution pods. We haven’t used those since…” she hesitated, “…A long time ago.” She finished lamely.
“I thought she would have healed by now?” he asked.
> “You’d think,” Chrysalis shrugged. “However, she used up so much magi on healing her wounds during the fight, her mana reserves all but shrivelled. Sure, she may walk around within the next couple of hours, but the damage to her reservoirs run deep.”
> “That, and the emotional trauma of being shanked won’t relent its grip in her for years, I’d say.”
> Huffing in agreement, Anonymous turned to stand on weary legs again. While his stride was coherent, he could still feel the fatigue emanating from his muscles. Slowly, he made his way to the armour stand to strap in for a third time that day.
> ‘Just one more session, you’ve had plenty of rest already’, he told himself.
> Chrysalis sat motionlessly, watching him intently. He knew she could sense the state of his weariness, but she did not comment on it. She did not need to.
> Bending slightly to pick up his gambeson, he moved to draw it over his head. A sharp tinge in his bruised ribs halted him, as he gasped softly.
> The incandescent green hued light emanating from Chrysalis’ horn encased the piece of cloth. Relenting his grip on the weave, he instead opted to adopt a stance of surrender and let the Whole-borne dress him like a doll.
> Next, his vambrace, bracers and gauntlets followed suit once more. As the piece of protection was draped across his form, the flurry of emerald shimmers flowed over the buckles, tightening them along the way to fit his physique perfectly.
> Repeating the motion from before with the gambeson, Chrysalis moved the mithril chainmail across his chest. Turning his head to look down and inspect the surface, Anonymous’ could not have told a soul where Buddleia’s claw had impacted the material.
> Strong enough to pierce behemoth chitin, yet it barely scuffed the surface of the silvery interlocking chains. He starred in puzzlement, trying his hardest to gauge any semblance of damage.
> “Look up, love,” Chrysalis said hovering the onyx chest plate patiently.
“Oh right, sorry,” he said sheepishly
> The rest of the body plating came afterwards. Every step of the way, Chrysalis’s gentle ephemeral touch guided the armour to their exact resting place. Every brace and chain was drawn and tightened to their precise measure. Every piece of plating glided smoothly as he flexed his joints.
> Anonymous watched wordlessly as the love of his life worked deliberately and concisely, a sliver of her forked tongue poking out the side of her muzzle in her state of deep concentration. Not even Flux could have matched the tenderness and eye for details on display.
> Catching his eyes studying her intently, Chrysalis scoffed softly as a mournful smile danced across her lips.
> Raising his bandaged and braced right arm up towards her, the queen picked up the hefty tower shield. A series of additional buckles and padding had been added to the back of the shield.
> Carefully guiding his arm through the hoops and grip, Chrysalis delicately fastened the shield to the human’s arm. The additions to the shield would reduce his degree of freedom no doubt, but it was a much better alternative than fighting without it.
> The weight of the chitin also rested on his shoulder more than it did the lower half of his arm, providing even less strain on his wrist.
> “How does it feel, dearest love?” she asked hesitantly as she inspected the arrangements with a sharp and scrutinising glare.
> Taking a few seconds to move the shield around and get a feeling of its momentum, Anonymous returned the smile.
“Better than I had expected,” he admitted. Shrugging his shoulders in combination with the shield, his brows furrowed. It was… lighter than before, noticeably so.
“Chrysalis, did you-?”
> “Dearest Mother, I myself have not, Anonymous,” she said with soft mirth. “Mentha has, upon my enquiry, added additional runes to the plating.”
> Anonymous raised his left arm to study the brace against the lights, and just so, the delicate weave of the runesmith’s work reflected like silvery threads across the surface.
> The runes were criss-crossed, in painfully ordered lines making up even more impressive vertices and lattices.
“Is it, you know, stable?” he asked with some hesitation. He swore he could hear a faint humming from the plate.
> “Perfectly so,” the queen said with determination. “Whilst the chitin will deteriorate over the next couple of weeks from the strain of the matrixes, it’ll hold for the next bout. You need every advantage you can have.
“I see…” the man said, voice trailing off as he looked to the shoulder guard, recognising a similar pattern interwoven with the familiar existing runes.
> Starring at the fine work, he locked eyes with the Whole-borne, as she stood still. She looked every bit as ragged as he felt. Her mane was frizzled and started to split at its ends. Her breathing was not the deep and calm bellow he was so familiar with. But most notably, her eyes had a harrowing look to them.
“How are you holding up, love?” he asked quietly.
> Chrysalis was silent for another pause, then.
> ”I… I feel everything happening, Anonymous. Even now, I feel the strain within Albuna from her heavy spells and the toil of her self-doubts. I wince at the magic burns on Mentha’s horn in the infirmary and shiver at the thought of losing my own. I shudder at the punctured lung of Buddleia and tremble at the feet of her first experience with her own mortality in centuries…”
> Her voice trailed off. A very small and very delicate voice continued on.
> “But above all else, I feel every single one of your hurts. Every bruise, every broken bone and each and every feeling flying through your head down in that arena,” she said breathlessly. The human placed a gauntlet underneath her muzzle, silently motioning for her to continue.
> “I have been schooled and bred to rule as a queen, Anonymous. For millennia, this hive has strived to produce the greatest leaders of changeling society, and I stand at the pinnacle of all this effort. I am the spearhead to lead my kin to prosperity and peace. And only now, I realise how heavy a burden this crown really is,” she said, a shaky hoof following the curvature of her soft crown.
> “Not on the head, but the heart of hearts.” She said, voice again growing delicate.
> Chrysalis drew a shuddering breath. Her large emerald eyes were like the deepest shade of a forest grove, all but begging him.
> “Things have already been put in motion, things not even I can stop, the aftermath of which I cannot predict. Please, never ask something like this of me again – to allow you to put yourself through this.”
> He blinked.
“You know I would never allow you to come to harm, love.” He said.
> Her eyes pinched slightly and fresh tears welled up, not in anger but in pleading.
> “Anonymous, I will not ask again,” she started. “You are beautiful and you are mine. My consort, my chosen, my love. I beg you, please never stand in my stead again,” her voice turning frail.
> The man struggled. Struggled to refute her wish, her own selfless desire to shield him. He struggled to rein in the gnawing thoughts of what might come of her, should he oblige. Yet, he had to.
> Seeing the exposed and raw hurt in her eyes, the wispy trails of tears in her voice and the pleading insistence of her hoof tapping on his chestplate.
> He sat frozen in time. A vanquisher of trickster’s mirages, dragon’s fire, and soon to face off against the greatest spellcrafter in all of changeling existence. And for all of that, he was but a mortal man.
“If that is what you ask of me, you have my word and my everything.”
> Chrysalis sat, mulling over his words. Eyes soft from thoughts racing past behind the emerald pools. Her mouth opened as if to say something, jaws moving with naught a sound.
> Then, finally.
> “Good”, she said. “A consort should know his place, shielded from harm,” she scoffed with a hint of humourless satisfaction.