My Lord, my Lord!" the maid cries out, quite frantic, importuning him in such a manner that one might think, should the dream not pass, the heavens themselves might fall.

The girl stirs, her eyes fluttering open, wide and clouded with confusion, her breath erratic. "What. what is this? What hath befallen me?" she exclaims, rising from her bed as though some unseen force hath torn her from a slumber too wicked to remember. She doth sit upright, her hands clutching the bed's edge as though it might offer solace to her tormented heart.

Thou hast had a nightmare, Your Grace," the maid whispers softly, her voice low and soothing but laced with concern, as she smoothes the covers about the girl's legs, her hands shaking in sympathy.

The girl blinks, still caught in the remnants of the nightmare, her gaze unfocused. "Felicity." she stammers, her voice breaking, a cry of disbelief. "Thou art alive?

"Aye, Your Grace," says the maid in a quavering yet clear voice, "I live. I stand here before thee, as real as the dawn."

The girl stares at her maid for a very long, doubtful moment, before her arms fly to hold her maid in a desperate embrace. "I thought I had lost thee forever," she whispers, her voice fragile, as if the very act of speaking might cause the fragile reality to fracture. She clings to Felicity as though her very life depended on it.

Felicity strokes her hair with trembling hands, offering what comfort she may. "I am certain 'twas naught but a nightmare, Your Grace," she soothes, her voice soft, though her own heart doth flutter with uncertainty. "Here, thy meal is prepared, Your Grace.

She takes a bowl of broth from her maid's hands; hers shakes while she stirs the liquid inside, though her mind is somewhere very far away, adrift on a sea of shadows. "A nightmare?" she says, though her tone is vacant, as if that question did not have any real answer. "Perhaps it was but a dream, after all.

"Ah, Your Grace," Felicity doth interrupt, her voice turned to a whisper. "The emperor doth come to finalize the dowry arrangement." And she presents the fine silks and garments for the girl to wear, arranging them with delicate hands. "His Majesty cometh anon, to settle all matters. The day is upon thee."

The girl doth shudder, her breath catching in her throat. "The emperor…," she murmurs, her voice faltering, as she grips the sheets tight, her heart racing with a fear she cannot name. "He cometh?"

"Art thou well, Your Grace?" Felicity asks, her brow furrowed with concern as she doth see the girl's pale visage, the trembling of her hands. "Is aught wrong?

Aye," she repeats, her tone barely a whispered word, which shakes and has no certain decision. "I. am alright," she had lied, as the words beneath the weight felt brittle, like cracked concrete for the truth unspoken. She looks elsewhere; her thoughts swallowed by some deeply hidden place and space that existed far from the present. "I will be well," she mutters, though her heart whispers otherwise in her mind's ear.

Felicity steps back, her eyes lingering with worry. She prepares the girl's gown, her hands quick but a shadow of unease hanging in the air. Her mind runs with questions she does not dare ask, as she knows the girl would not speak of them yet.

The emperor." the girl whispers again, her voice trembling with some unspoken fear. Her mind whirs, yet she is unable to make sense of her thoughts. It's as if the very room itself closes in on her, the walls pressing in tighter with every passing moment.