He moves on the bed but I don't even dare look up. If this is it then I don't want to burden him with pleading, I will take whatever he gives me. His arms circle me and he picks me up. He brings me to the bed, cradling my body.

  I tremble harder in his comforting arms as I try to pull away. How could I allow his comfort? He just pulls me closer to his chest.

  "I'm s-so—"

  "Shh, baby bird. Don't cry. It's okay." He interjects to comfort me.

  His words make me plummet harder in my sorrow. I wail like someone just died.

  "It's okay, my love. It's okay." He brushes my hair, but I can't even look at him, keeping my eyes shut.

  After a few hours, sleep claims me, and I descend into a nightmare-filled sleep. Nothing like the peace I always experience when he's near. I relive the nightmare over and over again.

  A sharp pain in my chest wakes me. I clutch where the pain is emanating from as last night comes crashing back to me.

  It's right where I stabbed him.

  I am alone and the emotional pain is suffocating me. I shake my head hoping to shake the pain away, and draw a large gulp of air as tears burn my eyelids.

  I tried to kill him, and he comforted me all night. And now he's gone and I'm in pain.

  What was I thinking? And what happens now?

  The inkling that he may have left because he couldn't stand the sight of me and that he hates me blankets me, barrelling down on my soul. The thought of him not even wanting to speak to me again hurts most.

  His rejection would end me.

  But I can’t blame him, how could he still want the woman who tried to kill him in his sleep.

  He will never trust me again.

  I thought I wanted his death, that it is what I had to do. I thought I could run from all I feel for him, and save myself. But after last night I'm not entirely certain I can. I think about how I would feel if he hated me and wanted nothing to do with me ever again. But the thought is too horrible to dwell on.

  If he hates me, will I try to beg for his forgiveness? What is to be our relationship now? Will he start locking me here again or will he take me to a worse dungeon?

  Can he even forgive me?

  Can I forgive him?

  He destroyed my life, but he has never harmed me directly. He didn't even know me when he massacred my village. He came to take what he thought was his and Samson was in his way.

  Am I justifying his actions now?

  Do I understand?

  Does it change anything?

  Does it erase all the evil he has done?

  Can my failed attempt really erase everything he has done to me and my village?

  Can we really survive everything?

  I find myself once more at a crossroads.

  What do I do now? Do I try and find him and apologize for my lapse in judgment? Was the judgment even lapsed? I wanted to kill him, and I took time researching ways to do it. Or do I just pretend nothing happened and hope he forgets about it?

  Discomfort in my chest tells me that won't be possible, and I find myself rubbing the spot trying to make it feel better.

  But I know that my thoughts are foolish, who could forget someone stabbing them.

  And isn't he by law supposed to execute me? I did try to kill one of the sons of Odin. Will he tell his father? And what happens to me then?

  I push the covers and only then realize none of the sheets have his blood, nor do I. He took them with him and cleaned me too. But why would he do that? Why would he not want to remind me of my transgression?

  He is the god of war after all.

  A cold shiver grabs hold of me at a new thought. While attempting to exert my revenge, I had become exactly like the monster I hated.

  I had become like him.

  I am alarmed, wide eyed when I see him at the door holding a tray of food like nothing happened. Holding my knees tighter, I stifle the shivers.

  He moves to the bed like he always does, and I watch in horror and utter terror waiting for the other shoe to drop. For him to give me his red eyes and go full growling angry god like that time when I tried to end myself.

  I watch as he does everything like it's a normal day. Movement in my peripheral catches my interest and Gary slithers inside.

  He slides after him, and I feel even worse. My own snag doesn't like me anymore.

  Vidar picks up Gary before he sits on the bed. On the same side I attempted to kill him.

  When tears burn the back of my eyes, I turn trying to blink them away. I have cried enough in front of him.

  If anyone should have grievances it’s him, though I doubt he's ever cried a day in his life.

  Minutes pass by in silence and I feel his intense gaze on the side of my face, but I don't look his way. I’m too afraid of what I'll see.

  "Baby bird." His voice is calm and soft, but a shiver runs all over my body, giving me goosebumps.

  I rise, not trying to test his patience, and I try to still myself.

  If he changed his mind and plans to strangle me in his lap, I guess I would deserve that too. I can only pray for a quick death. My feet thankfully move forward, and I climb on the bed, heart thumping faster and faster the closer I get to him.

  I sit on his lap hoping he makes it quick. Blinking a few times, I draw a shallow breath trying to still myself as I think about the possibilities. A part of me hopes he has poison in the food. Maybe he plans to give me slow poison for maximum impact.

  Gary moves to my lap, and snuggles his furry body into my shaky hands. I drop my gaze to focus on him, trying to give him a few tickles, but they don't seem to be working as he growls a low growl of disapproval.

  I sigh. Even my snag feels my evil spirit.

  Vidar pulls the trencher to us. He bulks the soft bread with garlic butter then mounts the soft meat and egg on top and brings the combination to my lips.

  I hesitate for a second. Poison slightly flashes in my head before I open my mouth and I bite at the deliciousness.

  He takes a bite after me, and I almost groan; it isn't poisoned. Just my luck. He takes a sip of the soup before he brings it to me. His movements are less graceful.

  Guilt stabs at me once more and I look down at the snag.

  Gary darts his tongue out and Vidar shakes his head to him, and he backs down. Is it sorcery? How did he get this lazy snag to listen? Gary has refused any sort of training for as long as I've known him, opting to laze around and goad us to carry him everywhere.

  What has he done to my snag?

  "How did you do that?" I can't stop the question from breaching my lips.

  He smiles fondly and shrugs. "I am good with animals, remember?"

  I nod and ask nothing more as we finish breakfast.

  I feel the discomfort in my own body; he is still hurt. I want to ask him about it, but I can't open my mouth to say anything. So, I just climb off his lap and go back to the chair and fold myself in, resting my chin on my knees.

  He gets up like he always does and takes the tray with him to the door, but I feel the question burning me inside. I have to know. Everything is confusing me.

  "Why aren't you angry?"

  He halts his movement as he opens the door and looks back at me over his shoulder for long moment. Many emotions flash in his eyes but I can't look away. I need to know he is angry, and I need him to give me his punishment instead of acting like I didn't try to kill him in his sleep.

  "You are my soulmate," he says softly, then leaves and closes the door.

  The words don't give me relief. They trample on my shoulders, adding more weight as my heart rate escalates again.

  The Suffocating Dragon

  Thalia

  He holds my trembling hand tight as he leads me outside after lunch and I have no protest in me. Usually seeing the garden in all its colors and smelling the scents always improves my mood, but today it all seems bleak. Like it is withering, fading. I can't enjoy anything.

  We sit under our peach tree in silence, and he never lets go of my hand. There is so much that has gone unsaid between us. So many conversations, so many words. So many things I want to tell him but it’s hard to open my mouth to say them.

  I want to tell him I'm sorry.

  That I'm sorry I tried to kill him.

  That I'm sorry I have fought our connection.

  That I don't know how to handle everything.

  That my heart is his, but I also don't know how to forget what he's done.

  But that I want to.

  Instead, I say, "Can I see it."

  The silence stretches between us when he doesn't respond. Minutes spill into more minutes as silence threatens to swallow me whole. I want to ask again and look in his direction and I find him looking ahead.

  Finally, he looks my way and gets up, pulling me with him. I walk beside him, back to the castle. My heart clenches at the thought that he won’t address it and he’s probably taking me back to my room. But instead of taking the stairs down, he walks ahead, the same route we used the first day I came to the castle. The way to his wing.

  We walk in silence; this part of the castle is quieter. He pulls me up the stairs and opens the door to his private chambers. I try to steady my breathing as all the memories I’d prefer to forget resurface.

  The last time I was here did not end well. His hand squeezes mine and he eyes me with concern, like he sees what I'm thinking.

  He pulls me in the direction of the bed, then turns away and takes off his tunic. Ripped muscles stare back at me and my lips part unintentionally.

  When he faces me, tears threaten to come out, but I force them back. The wound has sutures. He sits down, willing me to come closer.

  "I'm sorry," I say in a low, regretful voice.

  "I would have done worse," he says thoughtfully, and I see the truth in his eyes.

  Moving closer, I reach for him. I stop when I am almost touching it and I look at him for permission, before he gives me a small smile. I don't know what these sutures are made of but there seems to be a plant in them.

  My chest burns a little when I touch him, making me touch the same spot on my body.

  He covers my hand with his.

  "Can you feel it?" His brilliant green eyes look at me.

  I nod.

  "Is that why you cried?"

  I swallow.

  "Part, yes."

  He frowns. "The other part?"

  I shake my head. I don't know if I want to talk about my feelings just yet. I know I've confessed much, but I'm still not ready.

  He doesn't hound me for answers. Just puts his tunic back on after I hand it to him. A pang of discomfort hits me, he must feel it too, but his face gives nothing away.

  "How can I help?" I realize I have to repay him somehow. I'm not dead yet, I should be grateful, right? I can help him by looking after his wound or read to him or anything.

  "Stay." He says instead, begging.

  I look up to him. He wants me to stay? Here? With him? After everything.

  "Why?"

  "This is where you belong."

  Wrapping my arms around myself, I retreat from him. I don't know if I can. But he wraps one hand around my arm, not allowing me to retreat, asking me to not leave.

  "Why can't you just hate me?" Tears blur my vision and I feel even worse. I'm crying in front of him... again.

  "The same reason you can't hate me."

  I step away from him and walk to the balcony. With his careful steps behind me, I open the door and step out.

  Guilt and shame envelop me as I remember everything. Everything I've done and all the times he's pulled me from the deep end. How he's been my lifeline constantly for the past year.

  He touches my shoulder. "Come, there's something I want to show you."

  He offers me his hand; I take it and he leads me down one flight of stairs to another floor. We walk to a room at the end of the hallway, and he pushes the double doors open.

  My mouth touches the floor as I gawk at the room. A painting room. There are two easels with different size of canvas. One is the normal size I mostly paint on, the other much larger. On the wall hangs another canvas almost as big as the wall it hangs on.

  He lets my hand go and I advance in the room. There are a few tables that hold all sizes brushes and more color paints than I've ever seen. Shelves hold pots and oils. He remembered my dream painting room.

  Instead of making me happy, I feel cold. I wrap my arms around myself as a lump grows in my throat. His warmth envelops me, and I close my eyes. He kisses the top of my head and rests his chin on my head. We both stand there unmoving.

  His chest rumbles when he says, "I miss seeing you happy."

  Silent tears fall on their own and we stand there as I cry because of my sorrows. I am crying for myself this time. I miss being happy too. I miss smiling. I miss waking up with a smile on my face, looking forward to the day, to the future. To life.

  We don't part the rest of the day.

  We go to the library and he shows me around himself this time. He shows me the relics like he's sure I won't use them again.

  "Aren't you afraid I'll try again?" I manage a small smile and he grins back at me.

  "You can try, baby bird. But you'd have to aim for my heart this time and you need to be faster and quieter," he says nonchalantly as he strolls in the direction of the weaponry.

  I sigh as I follow him.

  "You are tempting fate," I say under my breath. He has no regard for his own life.

  "Fate has been good to me so far," he responds without looking back.

  I shake my head. He's too sure of himself.

  When we finish, it’s time for dinner and he takes me to his wing. He shows me my clothes. I have never seen more beautifully sewn clothing or more luxurious fabrics. They are too beautiful for me to wear. I don't feel like I am worthy.

  "Thalia, you are my queen. All this opulence is yours too. You should accept it," he replies to thoughts I hadn't uttered. It's something he's always done, even back when he was Eros. He's always seen through me.

  I nod and he gives me space to change into a nicer dress. Undoing my braids, I let my hair hang behind.

  His eyes flash with fire when he sees me, before he leads me to the dining hall. It is a grand room dripping with elegance. Chandeliers hang on the high ceilings and a long, expertly crafted table, that looks like it sits a whole party, rests at its center.

  Maybe he hosts.

  "Bhalar insisted on this." He gestures to the table, and I can't help the smile on my face. That giant leprechaun bullied Vidar.

  "Are you laughing because I got muscled by a tiny creature?"

  I chuckle. "I mean, yeah, look at yourself and that tiny—" I clear my throat and Vidar chuckles as Bhalar walks in.

  Vidar leans into me. "He has sharp ears."

  With widened eyes, I look at Bhalar who is giving no indication of having heard anything.

  "Lord, my queen," he greets us coolly, as he always does.

  "Yes, Bhalar," Vidar answers.

  "Hello."

  I want to kick myself as soon as I say it and it is made worse when Vidar vibrates in a soundless chuckle, and I pinch his arm. I clamp my mouth and remove my hands from him when I realize I just pinched him like we are friends.

  He takes my hand back, placing it on his arm with a head shake. After a moment, he sits down as I take that time to look around. Bhalar pulls my chair and I sit at the left of the head of the table.

  Bhalar bows to both of us before he exits.

  I pick up a bowl that has mashed potatoes and Vidar just stares at me pointedly like I am forgetting something.

  "What's wrong?" I ask when he doesn't say anything.

  He pushes his chair back and says nothing more. Sighing, I put the bowl down. I can't keep doing this.

  "Vidar, I mean lord Vidar," I clear my throat. "I eat now. I am back to my weight. Can we just—"

  He shakes his head.

  "But…" I protest with a pout.

  "Baby bird," is all he says as he looks at me, waiting.

  I try to hold his gaze. I don't want to back down, and he takes my challenge. After a minute passes, I rise with a grunt, and he smirks as I sit on his lap. He circles me with his hand, securing me and trying to get everything on the table. I roll my eyes and help him.

  I pull a trencher for us and dish the different foods. I take the soft bread and pile shredded meat on it then pour some of the sauce on it and bring it to his mouth. I don't want his right to move too much. It's still painful though he will never admit it.

  He bites into the food and nods in approval. I bite into it and nod as well.

  After dinner, we head back to his wing. When we enter the living room outside his room, I look around.

  "Where's Gary?"

  "He's with Bhalar. He asked for him."

  I sigh, I miss that little fuzz ball.

  "Do you want me to get him for you?"

  I shake my head. "I'll see him tomorrow."

  He stops outside the door, and I look up to him.

  "I will give you space. I will sleep next door.".

  Taking a moment, I study his face for his motive. Even though I am grateful for his consideration, but not at his expense.

  "I can use that room. You don't have to move for me. This is your home."

  "It's our home, Thalia."

  Staring into his eyes, there’s only sincerity reflecting back at me. I finally nod. He leans in and kisses my forehead. I close my eyes as his affection washes over me and leaves me warm everywhere.

  Then he walks away, and I open my eyes to see him entering the next room. I turn and walk into, I guess, my new chambers.

  I change into a sleeping gown and settle in his huge bed. The atmosphere feels different here.

  My mind wanders as I stare at the posts of his—our—bed. He showed only kindness and understanding of my predicament. He said he would have done worse. Does he understand my need to seek payment for all the fallen? Will we talk about it? Or is it just something that will remain a suffocating dragon in the room?

  Our Castle, My Garden, Your Snag