Unsatisfied with how their beloved story was unfurling, the creators of This Dark Dream, who would be Cupcake and Mai, decided to start the dream over...

"WHERE IS SHE?"

Cursing, flinging his dark blue-silk lined cloak furiously behind him, Zachariah the Blue Rose Prince stalked up and down the sapphire carpet of his shadow-filled throne room. The shadows themselves were pulsating and quivering along the walls, across the ceiling and floor, as if completely in tune with his angered state.

"It has been days... A whole week!" He shouted, taking up a vase and hurling it against the nearest wall. The shadows there split apart the barest instant before the vase connected and shattered against the black, white-veined marble, before convulsing together once more as the shards showered down to the floor like ice.

Ignoring how the shadows split apart, how the vase that cost more than a small country lay in pieces, Zachariah put a hand to his forehead, squeezing the dark skin.

"I have not seen her in days..." he murmured. "What reason could she possibly have for staying away so long? She needs me... She made me... She wants me. But does she still? Megan," he hissed out, bright blue eyes flashing with a non-existent light. "I will have you answer for ignoring me like this..."

A moonless sky bathed its illumination onto one lonesome girl, in a world far away from the one an azure rose prince dwelt in. Far away, yet sometimes a mere grasp away. This girl sighed, glancing down at the pills in her delicate, tiny hands. Zoloft and Paxil and Buspar and Xanex, Ambien, Prozac. The medication that had kept her stable for the past six days. It made her mind foggy during the daylight, but her mind became as clear of dreams as the night sky when there was no moon like on this evening.

But sooner or later, you had to dream again. There's no way to escape from nightmares. And maybe, maybe this girl wanted to feel. How could you go on, if you were numb at the funeral of your own parents, the ones who died at your hand? A quick trip to the bathroom ensured tonight's freedom from a silent night of peace. That's the way it should be though, the girl though. That's the way it should be.

Slipping into starlight coloured pajama pants designed with purple shooting stars and crescent moons, and a cami that matched, the girl took once last sip of water, before climbing into her bed, and slipping her headphones on, praying the music would take away the unspoken screaming of nightmares untold.

"She's not coming, is she, Raphi?" Zachariah muttered darkly to a particular shadow on the wall.

Instantly the shadow peeled away to form into a fully fleshed-out man, human to anyone who looked upon him, except for his eyes that were completely black, even the usually white sclera. "My Prince, perhaps she--"

"No."

"Then maybe it is only--"

"No."

"Or it could be--"

"NO!" Zachariah shouted, slamming his fist into the wall; the shadows scattered as before with the vase. "No," he muttered again. "No, she wouldn't have forgotten me. She wouldn't have forgotten US. She must have a reason for staying away for so long..."

"My Prince, it has only been a week. Maybe--"

"Only? ONLY?" Zachariah let out a bark of laughter. "She has been coming to us for an entire year up until now, Raphi, unless you forget?" The scorn in the Blue Rose Prince's voice was as undeniable as the sapphire rose signet ring upon his right hand. "Then she just suddenly 'forgets,' or has actual dreams?"

Again, the laugh.

"No. Not hardly. She had better have a good reason for avoiding me."

As the girl fell asleep under the glow of a moonless sky, her sub conscience repeated a familiar pattern. Racing under the cracks of the window panes, it surged towards a star that was not too long ago wished upon. A wish of a world to claim, where imagination and creativity were cherished, and dreams could come to the fruition. Where you were loved and never lonely, never a freak, but... special.

It did not take long for the girl to arise from her slumber, but the setting was different now. A sharp breeze prickled her showing skin, causing her to shiver down to the bone. Wrapping her arms around herself, the girl noticed then that her body slumbered against a willow, it's bark like ivory, it's limbs intertwining with the other trees around, making the sky a web of white, with darkness creeping through the cracks. The girl thought it was beautiful, too beautiful for words.

She didn't notice the crystallized snowflakes that tumbled and spun their way down from the cracks in the sky. It soon built up on her head, becoming like a crown. And the world, seemed, in a mystifying and enchanting way, whispering 'Megan' for that was her name. She could hear it in the whistle of the breeze, and the sighs of the trees.

It was almost like Megan had been here before, with the nature of this world being so familiar with her, it seemed to cry out the her to become a part of it once again. Though the girl thought she had not been here before, she still felt the longing of this universe. She did not care to question if it all was a dream, or if reality was always this cold, 'cause in this world, she felt and that was intention in the end. To just feel.

Zachariah's head snapped up, his eyes intent on something in the distance--no, something that could not be seen by normal eyes.

But then again, whoever said that the Blue Rose Prince was normal?

"She's here," he hissed out. "Finally. Raphi, take me to her."

The man bowed in reply, before his body began to morph and waver back into its shadow state.

The shadow then swirled around Zachariah, engulfing him, before soaring to the door, beneath the crack between the door and the floor, and out into the night.

Mere moments later, the shadow swirled about once more before the girl and the willow, drawing away to reveal the Blue Rose Prince. Raphi himself transformed back into his human shape and knelt behind the prince, head bowed, hand over his heart in submission.

Zachariah paid him no mind.

"Megan," he growled, blue eyes flashing dangerously. "Decided to come back, have we? Decided to grace us with your presence?"

The disgust and scorn were plain in his voice, the words practically wreathing themselves around Megan's head like a diadem of briars, a coronet of thorns. What was not so apparent was the hurt, the betrayal, the relief of her return.

The tiking and toking of time did not pass long before Megan Edwards realized that her attire was not suitable for this weather. She was barely wearing a tank top on, and it was snowing! But the train of thought was interrupted by the arrival of the shadow. Mind you, it was a massive shadow, bigger than Megan herself. Upon it's arrival, she scrambled to her bare feet, hoping for the best with it.

She did not expect it to melt away, or grow wide-eyed when the man who was contained it in use such familiarity with her name. She had never seen him before! And he was handsome, beautiful. The most beautiful man she had ever seen, with coffee-coloured skin, and dazzling sapphire eyes. Those eyes were dark and mysterious, mesmerizing, and Megan felt that if she looked deep within them, she'd never be able to break the gaze.

Even though this man was beautiful, he seemed cruel and cold, like this world she temporarily dwelt in. Perhaps his mood affected the weather? She thought, not willing to ask the question aloud. She wrapped her arms around herself, as the temperature dropped a few more degrees and the breeze became stronger. "What do you mean 'come back'? I've never been here before. Who are you? Where am I? How did you know my name, and how did I get to be here?" Megan shivered under the man's harsh gaze, trying to figure out the connection between them.

Raphi's head jerked up at the same moment that Zachariah stepped back, gazing at Megan with wary eyes. "Are we playing games now, Megan?" He questioned, his voice suddenly, deceptively light. "Let me tell you, my rosebud, I am in no mood for games."

And just as suddenly as it had come, the light mood was gone. His eyes were flaring, firing, as the breeze picked up force to an outright gale.

"Where were you?" Zachariah's voice roared and howled along with the gusting winds. "A week, Megan, a whole week I have waited! With not a word, not a sign from you whatsoever! Do you know what I was feeling, what I was thinking all this time? Abandonment! Heartbreak! That was what I was going through, Megan! And then you come and decide to play with my heart some more!"

The gale was gone. The landscape was quiet; nothing moved except for Zachariah's lips.

"Have you come to do away with me at last, Megan?" His eyes were no longer furious, but filled with sorrow. "Have you tired of your prince and lover?"

"G-games?" Megan asked with a trembling voice. It was getting colder and colder around her, and she seemed to be falling deeper and deeper into a nightmare that there was no way to get out of. Displeasing this man who seemed to know her very well felt like a bad idea, and she had no idea the cause of his anger. Or the extent of it. "I-I'm not p-playing g-games with you... Please, can someone tell me where I am?..." She glanced at Raphi, a plea for help.

As the world darkened to a thunderstorm, Megan stepped back, bumping against the tree. She slid down to the ground where she had peacefully slept not to long ago, drawing her knees to her chest. He wouldn't stop yelling, and every word broke her heart. What could she say to calm him, to make him understand? When the winds and his voice finally died down, tears were steaming down Megan's face. Her heart was shattered from the verbal abuse, and her teeth chattered.

"Why do you keep talking to me like you know me? I've never seen either of you before, or this place. My week has been awful, I can't even remember how many times I've been out of the hospital, the doctor's office, the funeral parlor. I can't count the number of drugs I've been on, how many people I've seen, how many people have apologized. I can't get the screaming and crying out of my head, even though it's my own. I only hoped tonight if I didn't take my meds, I'd remember what happened. Or maybe have a pleasant dream. But no, I find myself in THIS." Megan's voice cracked.

"I'm in this beautiful yet strange land, I've got this guy yelling at me who says I've had SEX with him. I'm cold, I feel like I'm about to get sick, I'm soaked to the bone, and... and..." Megan burst into more tears, openly sobbing hear heart out.

Raphi hesitantly spoke up, his pale hair falling into his dark eyes as he ventured to quaver, "M-my Prince, I think she really doesn't--"

"I know," Zachariah cut him off. If there was one thing he knew about Megan, it was that she had never been a good liar.

"But then what... is the reason for this? Hospital, funeral parlor..." Zachariah still burned with a passionate fury, but it was dimmed somewhat by his struggle to comprehend what was happening. "Megan, you truly do not know," he murmured at last, staring down at where she sat crying. "You do not remember me. You do not remember Raphi. Or Magara at all."

He knelt in front of her on one knee, gazing into her face, scrutinizing, his eyes both open and cold at once. "Tell me what happened this week, Megan," he told her. It was not a request. "Raphi--"

The shadow enveloped both prince and girl before he finished speaking. A minute later, and their eyes were unveiled from darkness to the cold, regal beauty of the throne room.

Zachariah did not touch Megan, but instead went to sit on his throne. "Raphi."

The man, older than Zachariah by perhaps five or ten years, bowed hastily and went away. Soon he had returned with a blanket and a seat for Megan. "Here, my Lady," he murmured, eyes downcast as he set them before her and backed away.

The Blue Rose Prince waited for Megan to settle herself before he opened his mouth again. "Megan, tell me what has been happening."

Megan tilted her head slightly, eyebrows furrowed to a point. Remember? "So I've been here before? Is this," waving her arms around (but realizing that was a stupid move brought them back towards her body) "Magara? It's beautiful..." She noticed herself getting off topic, so she bit her lip and glanced at the snow. Megan didn't hear the man's command, so she said nothing.

And then... and then she was wrapped in darkness. The shadow was colder than anything Megan had ever felt in her life, but it was over before she knew it. And they were somewhere, that looked to be like a throne room. She gazed around in bewilderment, astonishment. There were details to everything. Megan would have changed nothing to the room, it was simply perfect, though not simple at all.

The servant, who she connected with the name Raphi, left and came back with a blanket and a stool. "Thank you," Megan's dry voice said as she took the blanket from him. She couldn't help but sigh at it's soft fluffiness. It would have been embarrassing to rub it against her cheek, so she simply wrapped it around herself and sat on the chair.

"I'm not going to tell you anything until you at least say your name." Megan paused, taking a deep breath. "That came out rude, I'm sorry. It's so hard not knowing who you are and where I exactly am and why I'm here. It just doesn't seem fair."

Raphi nodded jerkily to Megan, concealing his sorrowful eyes behind his pale loose bangs. He refrained from mentioning that it was spun and woven from her favorite fiber, that of the catrilack, a wild and graceful feline creature of her own imagination.

Zachariah sighed with impatience both for himself and Megan. "I... am Zachariah. The Blue Rose Prince, ruler of Magara, the land of your making. You created me, from your own imagination, as a... companion for your oh-so-lonely life." There was undeniable scorn in his voice. Unlike Megan, it seemed that he had no qualms about being rude--on the contrary, he almost seemed to be reveling in it. Raphi looked up at his prince, his dark eyes expressing surprise amongst the sadness.

"Really, Megan," Zachariah continued in a voice that was almost bored. "I am quite offended that you could have forgotten me so quickly, so suddenly. I thought I meant SO much more to you than this would imply.

"As for why you are here, now, with no memory of anything about Magara... Why, I have to admit to having no idea. Why don't you tell me?"

"YOU'RE WHAT?" Megan stood up swiftly, ignoring the way her body swayed, the way her head felt like air as gravity tried to pull it down. "That's not possible. There's no way that is possible. I couldn't have created this place. It's so beautiful and perfect. I'm not that smart, not that creative." The brunette shook her head, not mentioning that she couldn't have created that bewitching and elegant prince who she stood before. He was the essence of a God, with those eyes, and the crook of his frown that could easily be a dazzling smile. And then again, Megan couldn't fashion such a character, who could easily be so inconsiderate and verbally abusive.

Or could she? The thought make Megan's head spin wildly, and she slowly sunk back into her seat. She ran her fingers through her hair, remembering the blue and black and purple that shouldn't have been there. This wasn't supposed to happen, none of it was...

"I don't want to talk about it... Even thinking about it makes my head pound harder. I remember..." Megan paused, looking at the floor. "Rain, trickling down the windows. The drops raced each other as the car sped on the highway. I wanted to go home, I was complaining. Dad turned around to say something, and then then mommy was screaming. The car swerved and I blacked out. When my eyes opened again I was in the hospital. I guess... I-I guess..." Megan started crying, her breaths coming out short, chopped up. A few moments of tortured cries, the girl returned back to normal. (Whatever normal meant.) "The funeral was yesterday, and I've been staying with my mom's friend in the meantime. Tomorrow I'm going home with Gabe and reading the will with the Browning's."

"I don't know why I'm here now. But.... what did I do to deserve your animosity, your Highness?" She looked up to the Prince, with tears in her eyes. If she created this beautiful beautiful boy, why did he seem to hate her?

Zachariah shrugged, seemingly uncaring. Now that he was over being powerfully furious, he merely looked bored and unconcerned. "Perhaps you underestimate yourself. Perhaps I am lying. What do you honestly think, Megan?"

As Megan began to sob, Raphi could not resist rushing to her side. "My lady!" He cried, flustered and unsure of what to do. Normally he would have put his arm around her shoulder, let her sob into his vest. But she no longer knew him, knew not of the friendship they had once shared. He offered her his handkerchief instead, the one with the blue rose embroidered in the corner, while biting his lower lip anxiously.

"Let's see... For one thing, you kept me from knowing my right mind, prevented me from knowing myself. In your selfish desire for companionship, a BOYFRIEND--" he spoke this with scorn. "--you formed and shaped my body and mind to kowtow to your every whim and need. If you snapped your fingers, I jumped. If you said fly you, I flew without ever questioning. Do you know what it was like to have my eyes opened at last, Megan, and realize what you had been doing to me? To realize this, and then have you vanish on me for a week? With no explanation for either act? And now, this! You forget! You forget everything!"

Zachariah buried his face in one dark hand and began to laugh, but there was no humor in his voice.

"With no explanation? Really?" The girl's voice was dangerously calm, odd in her state of tears moments ago. "You think it's easy, waking every morning, and wanting to sleep, never waking again 'cause you know death would be better than the shit you had to experience in the daylight?" Megan was not one to swear, her parents had taught her better than that. But when vulgar words could describe when nothing else couldn't, they slipped off her tongue like poisoned honey.

"Do you know what it's like, Your Highness," the term was tossed out mockingly. "to never have a true friend, to be tormented every day, just because you are different than all the rest of them? Do you know what it's like to bury both your parents?" An awkward silence. "I don't suppose so. My mother and father died only a few days ago, because I was careless, because I was selfish! And I'm really really sorry for forgetting you, but if you want something to blame, blame this."

Megan lifted her hair to reveal a bandage, and unraveling that, further revealed a bruise the size of a baseball, or a full grown blooming rose. It was the darkest hues of amethyst and azure, unnatural for the human body. She threw the cloth onto the the ground, her eyes dark.

"I deny ever creating you, Zachariah of Magara. You are not a prince, nor a lover. You are the most self-centered, narcissistic, egotistical CHILD I have ever encountered in my life! Again, I apologize for forgetting you and this land you claim to be mine. Maybe I'll just go and DIE, then you won't worry about being controlled or being forgotten about, BECAUSE I WON'T BE AROUND TO BOTHER YOU!" And with that, Megan cast the blanket off, storming towards the double doors that led to hallways where Megan could get herself lost.

"My lady--!"

"Let her go, Raphi."

Raphi paused, conflicted, his head moving back and forth from his prince and the girl who was rapidly moving away. "But... my prince, she--"

"Exactly, Raphial. I AM your prince, and you will do as I say." Zachariah's voice was soft and lilting, but underneath all that ran a terrible undercurrent that made Raphi bow his head and move to his prince's side.

"She... she created us, my prince."

"Your point?"

"She is in pain."

"I know nothing of pain. I was created to feel nothing but a trumped-up version of 'love' and 'devotion'."

"And nothing of that remains? Not even a little bit of concern for--"

Zachariah finally snapped. Shooting upright in his throne, he shouted at the timid Raphi. "Be QUIET. I said I care nothing for the chit now, and I swear on my signet ring that nothing could move me to feel otherwise! You may be unchanged, Raphi, you may still be your usual simpering self. But I... I know better than that now. I know myself now, and the self that I know says to let the girl go. Let her do what she wants until she wakes to her own world. Let her go die as she said, if that's what she truly wants. This is HER land, after all, isn't it? Aren't I just a figure head? Let her go."

The Blue Rose Prince slumped back into his seat, muttering darkly, "And let her never come back."

She ran. Megan Edwards ran, because that was so much easier than facing the problems that lay in front of her. She ran because she had no choice, to find out what laid beyond her eyes. She ran to get away from him, his cruel words spoken, and his revulsion towards her.

The girl wanted to hate him. She wanted to hate him, and kill him, but a part of her wanted something more than that. She wanted to make that Prince feel her pain, all of her pain, her torment, her salty tears. It was selfish and vile, but in her misery, she longed for acceptance and someone who would understand. No one understood, they all asked her to go back to normal, to before. It wasn't that easy, and no-one got it.

Finally, Megan found herself at the end of a hallway, before a set of glass doors, with sky painted curtains blocking the eye from seeing in. Megan placed a hand on the knob, and with a turn, pushed it open. The room itself was the same azure shade, with whips of white in the walls, making the space seem heavenly. Candles, off white ones of every size and shape cluttered most of the space.

Except for the piano. It was a baby grand Bosendorfer smooth ebony with ivory keys of the highest quality. It was beautiful, it was sublime, it was. Megan had to play it. There was no question about it. She couldn't have sat down any faster, and placed her hands on it. It had been seven days since she last played, so her fingers were not as tuned in. But that was ok, because it was still elegant.

Megan was a vessel for the music. It poured out of her soul, Beethoven, Mozart, Strauss and Chopin. The rest of the world melted away as Megan scanned the imaginary sheet music. She wasn't anywhere, she wasn't even there. It was her fingers, and the music. All the hurt and hate was momentarily gone, seeping out of her soul into the keys, into the music and air.

Raphi's head jerked up as he heard the notes, the music, and yet... more than that. There was a kind of emotion, desperation, wanting to be heard. He knew this, he knew this... His dark eyes filled with tears.

"My prince," he quavered. "Do... do you hear that?"

He received no answer. Glancing over at the Blue Rose Prince, trying to hide his reaction to the music, he saw that Zachariah's own eyes were hardly dry.

"I remember this..." Zachariah spoke quietly at last. "I remember..."

A tear overflowed down his cheek. He reached up to touch it, drew his hand away. Looked surprised.

"...A tear. Crying." His voice was flat, it no longer contained the mysterious note that Raphi could not name. "The girl has made me cry."

"My prince? What did you remember?"

Zachariah wiped away the rest of the tears with a business-like air.

"Nothing of consequence. Make her stop playing, Raphi. The music pains my ears."

"Pains--"

"--my ears, Raphi. Do you not hear? It is too loud. It is too fast, then too slow. She plays with no consistency. There is no art in what she is pounding out."

The manservant looked at his prince sitting on the throne, then bowed his head and went out, sighing. A little while later, his hand was on the doorknob to the room with the piano. His voice was calling, low, "My lady, my prince wishes you would cease..."

His face held regret, for he felt it. He felt that while Megan might not have been producing art, she had all the while been baring her soul.

As Raphi's voice reached her ears, Megan paused her playing to listen. She pitied him, having to serve an obnoxious little bot such as Zachariah. The thought of him made her feel angry and upset, he was horrid!

The sickening emotions that left vile on her tongue and had a devastating effect on her stomach, Megan cast them out of herself and threw them far away. Far enough away that she wouldn't have to deal with them for awhile, if not forever. The only feeling left was the burning desire to return playing the piano. To make her fingers and arms ache when this stupid, terrible dream ended.

"I-I can't stop Raphi" Her Fingers pressed down on the keys, creating a dark, low, chord. "You don't know what this feels like, so be so broken inside." Megan's voice cracked over the sound of the instrument, tears spilled down her cheeks and onto the ivory and ebony. Another chord, added along with a grace note, where was this song going? "I-I killed my parents, why doesn't anyone understand this?"

Starting to speed up, her fingers danced, a waltz from once upon a time. She conscientiously did not recall ever hearing or playing this song before, but it was so easy to play, and lose herself in being a vessel for the music.

"If your prince wishes for me to cease," Megan stated in a mocking tone. "then maybe he should get his lazy form off his shiny black throne, and tell me himself. I don't care if you send that back to his face." She took a deep breath, forming her thoughts together. "And maybe, if I really was the one who created Magara, then maybe, maybe I should be able to do whatever I want. But maybe you don't tell him that, ok Raphi?" And with that, the girl gave her full attention to the visions pouring forth from the music. Visions of waltzing with a certain Blue Rose Prince...

He heard the waltz. With his ears, mind, and... something else. Something he did not want to name, did not want to feel. Did not want to still exist.

With one fluid motion, he was off of his throne, down the hall, throwing open the doors to the room with the piano at which Megan sat, playing the waltz. How did she know that piece? Had not she forgotten? Had not she forgotten him? He did not care, he told himself he did not care, but he cared too much--

"STOP!"

His voice thundered, crashed, reverberated throughout the room like the clash of a massive gong. Raphi flinched back and fell to the floor, his head bowed in either submission or pain, or both.

"Stop. Playing." Zachariah gritted out. His hand moved to grip Megan's shoulder, her hand, then drew back as if it was about to grasp a venomous cobra.

"You can't tell me you don't remember. You can't tell me a lie like that and then play THAT." His head jerked towards the piano. "Are you mocking me? Is that it? Are you trying to tell me that you are still in control of my life, even though I am now aware of the sham that it is? Will you not let your puppet be at peace?"

"My prince, she--"

"Silence, Raphi." Zachariah's voice was cold and consciously cruel, and Raphi's eyes filled with tears. His prince had never before spoken to him in such a manner.

"Why don't you leave?" The Blue Rose Prince continued quietly to Megan. "Why don't you just go? This world has no place for you. Not anymore. And neither do I."

Megan's visions shattered all to quickly for her liking, flying away as though they were birds that you got too close too. It was like waking out of a trance, she was dazed and light-headed and the world was spinning around and around... Megan was waltzing into the night all over again... She blinked, looking up above her head to see Zachariah, but when realizing the depth of the situation, spun around and grew quickly anxious and panicked.

"I-I only played what I heard in my head... Are you telling me... Oh dear lord..." The dreamer was going to be sick, plain and obvious. Her paling face was looking as green as the grace. "I don't believe it... It was just an image in my head, beautiful and wonderful and blissful and I LOST IT!! I swear to god I just lost the music because YOU had to be so stupid and make me stop! You startled me out of Heaven..." Megan appeared as though she were about to cry again.

"I don't want to control you Zachariah. I barely even know you, and it's out of the question if I even LIKE you. You are not a puppet, and I'm sorry if you think that. Make your own choices, even if the voice in your head is not mine, maybe it will turn you into someone who's nice to others. Why is it that you hate me? Because I don't remember my sins? I don't want to remember, that part of my life is done. Maybe I should leave... You'd certainly be in more peace then..."

Her eyes looked down to the white driftwood floor. If she was to leave, how would she get out? And would Zachariah's pain ever ease?

"My prince... Zachariah!" Raphi was on his feet, his arm around Megan's shoulders, comforting as much as seeking comfort himself--he did not care that she did not remember him or their friendship, he did not care that she might recoil at his touch. He simply wanted to offer it, to feel some sort of warmth in this cold room.

"She does not remember, Zacharaih," Raphi continued. His completely dark eyes were flashing, his voice stronger than ever. His grip tightened around Megan's shoulders securely as he continued. "Do you not understand? She does not remember you! She does not remember any of us, any of this! She has no idea the pain she has caused you... Except maybe she does, for you have been letting it out on her. She is now as much of a victim of herself as you are, don't you see?

"My prince." Raphi's voice dropped to a murmur. "She never did harm you consciously. Even when she did remember, you know she never meant to hurt you. She thought you loved her truly as she loved you... You know this, my prince." His voice was quietly begging.

"My prince, why are you still so angered if, all things considered, you are now free?"

The brunette gasped in surprise as the manservant and adviser to Prince Zachariah defended her. Her, Megan; the freak, the enemy, the one on the opposite side of the spectrum. It was like in the stories she read long ago, when the sidekick would save the nerd from the bully. This had never happened to Megan before, there were never happy endings like this, before today. (Even though it was far from ending, little did she know.)

Megan kept her lips closed tight as Raphi went on and on. He was a savior from His Majesty's wrath, and she did not want to loose it because of a witless word spilled from her mouth.

Her eyes looked up to him with tears, she thanked him with them. Then she looked back down at the white-wash floor, not making eye contact with a certain Prince.

Zachariah could not speak for a moment. Then:

"I thought you supported me, Raphi!" He cried out. "Not just a servant, but my only compatriot in this world... This prison of HER mind that is now so open to possibility. Do you not know how this affects me, Raphi? I thought you understood... But now I find that you defend this girl who has brought this upon us..."

Raphi flinched back from Zachariah's tone. But the voice of his prince was not harsh or cruel. It was full of passion, or emotion. It was more from the knowledge that he had hurt his prince, truly hurt him, than from anything else that the manservant bowed his head.

"Maybe it would be better if I had never had my eyes opened at all," the Blue Rose Prince murmured after a long period of silence.

"My Prince?" Raphi ventured to ask quietly.

"You." Zachariah turned to Megan, his eyes bright for the first time in the flood of emotion that filled him. "What will you do? Now that you know your role in this? Now that you know the power you hold over me, and him?" He pointed at Raphi. "You are the mistress of this world, even more so than I am ruler."

There was defeat in his features, in the sudden haggardness that appeared on his face. He knew his throne was about to be wrested from him. He feared for his newfound freedom, even as he loathed it for all the empty possibilities that it held.

Megan looked to the side, biting her tongue but feeling her lips curl into a smile. There was a whole world that she had created, that she could have ruling power over. And power over its residence and its magic. The thought was as tempting as the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Megan had never really felt total control in her fingers before... It was so tempting so close.

She drew her eyes to look at Zachariah and Raphi, to try and imagine what it would be like to have her dominating power over them.

The look in Zachariah's eyes broke her.

His eyes were the blue of a raining night sky, depressing and weak. It made Megan want to cry, those eyes. They were beautiful and so sad, but so so beautiful.

"I- I don't want the power. Keep it, or take it away from me or SOMETHING. I can't keep it... I will hurt people with it..." Megan was shaking her head, knowing she couldn't keep it.

Zachariah looked first surprised, then triumphant, then thoughtful.

"Yes," he finally murmured. "I will take the power away... Rather, I will have YOU taken away from IT. Goodbye, Megan."

He had no sooner spoken the words than a mist, appearing to be struck through by non-existent sunbeams, began to slowly appear in the castle of shadows, winding and twining its way around the brown-haired girl.

"The Gates of Mist and Being," Raphi whispered, eyes wide as he looked upon what was happening. "They'll cause her to wake... Before she was the only one who could--"

"No longer, Raphi." A certain smugness could be heard in the overall factualness of the Blue Rose Prince's voice. "She gave up the power the moment she gave up her memories. Magara is hers no longer.

"Magara now finally has a true prince to reign."