This little cottage at the edge of the woods was different from anywhere else on Shaman she’d lived. The labyrinth had been filled with the sounds of others her age, orphaned by war or abandonment. There were tears at times, and laughter most times and always some companionship to ease the painful memories that surfaced at times. The cottage by the lagoon had been a place of love and happiness for two young people until the love turned to betrayal and hurt. But it had been a home to her two older children, both lost now. The castle had been full of bustling activity and rekindled friendship that had only grown closer. The cottage by the sea had been a refuge from that activity and the gossip that seemed to grow around her and the king, and it had turned from a dream home to place she still found herself in nightmares. Only in that shack in the deserted world was she as alone and forgotten as she was here, but she’d still been less lonely there. No reminders of what life should have looked like in the crowds arriving at the stone dragon, or being avoided by someone she thought to consider family.

It may have been small and lack the grandeur of a god’s palace or a king’s castle, but it would have fit a small family on holiday from the duties to the kingdom. It might have been a fine home for Ciara even alone, but it wasn’t perfect without the small boy and kindly, stoic king living under its roof. The flowers outside livened it up and created the gifts for the lost king each day, but they were also a show at happiness and moving on in case the grief became suspicious. Besides, tending what flowers needed it and watching those hearty enough not to need minding took Cia’s mind off what she was unable to care for and raise.

The fact that her little boy was here now, crossing the threshold for the first time into what should have been his home, twisted in her gut. For a single moment, longer than she wanted to admit to, jealousy gripped her. He could stay. He should stay. Ned was hers and she was his and… And he’d be killed if he stayed. And he’d be distraught not to see his -the thought felt like bile in her mind as it passed – parents again. It was still safer for him on Earth with her father than it was here with her.

She smiled at him, unsure how many of the thoughts had made it to her face as she knelt down to his shoes and then showed him around the more comfortable areas where he could sit and wait. She turned the kettle on as he explored and she tried not to notice him pause at the items that had been his father’s as though he might have been drawn to them. She glanced out the window, making sure none of the guards in the town had followed, and jumped as the pot began to whistle with steam.

The next question came as she poured the hot water over the mugs of chocolate. She hissed, pulling her fingers to her mouth as pain splashed against them. Buying herself time, she turned to the faucet to run cool water over the new burn to ease the redness and pain. How was she supposed to answer that? Attempts to control her breathing and keep her hands steady took up enough mental space as she brought in the two mugs along with sweetened cream, marshmallows and the requested sprinkles. They were as colorful as the flowers outside and she added some to her own mug in an attempt to make herself as happy as the sprinkles looked.

“It’s hot,” she noted before settling next to Ned and taking the picture into her own hands so he could add what he liked to his own mug. Her eyes stung and drifted out of focus as she looked at the smiles on both sketched faces: hers broad and his more in his eyes than his mouth. “No,” she finally managed to squeeze through her tightening chest. The picture passed back to Ned so he could look more if he liked. “My… friend.” She turned to smile at the little boy who looked so much like his father it was a wonder he hadn’t noticed the resemblance in the image. “The one the dragon took away. The dragon took a lot from a lot of people here.” She didn’t answer the last question. She didn’t know how.

Instead she took a shaking breath and looked away to wipe her eyes with the unburnt fingers before smiling at the little boy again. “So, how did you become squire to your brave knight friend?” She’d much rather here her son talk about some good memory, learn about what she’d missed, than reflect on the sad things and what she couldn’t get back.