undoing.

"He broke your heart, didn't he?"

Mare only exhales, her chest falling.

"What a fool," I whisper, speaking the familiar thought aloud. It doesn't bother her. She tosses her head, letting brown and gray hair flip over her shoulder. Revealing the bare skin beneath, and the brand still clear as day. M for Maven. M for mine. M for monster. M for Mare.

"So did you."

A sour taste floods my mouth. I expected her to quail, but I'm the one who has to look away.

My heart leapt into my chest when her feet slid, moving forward. She was just close enough that if I were to reach out my fingers to touch her, I could. But far enough so she wouldn't accidentally brush against the bars.

"I didn't want that for you." I murmured, barely audible but loud enough for her to hear. A coward, I knew that. But she had to know that no matter what, I never intended her heart to be damaged in the turmoil — one of the inevitable consequences of war.

"Oh really?" She laughed bitterly. I tensed at her tone. I lifted my gaze up at her, uneased by the moisture building up in her eyes. "You knew this would happen; you knew you'd hurt me." She spat out, enunciating each word, purposefully berating me to my very core.

"But instead—" She paused, almost contemplating for a moment. "You broke the part of me you yourself brought back to life." Her voice was surprisingly steady as the sour taste in my mouth became acidic.

She had moved close enough now that she was only a mere breath away from me, against the bars. "In a way, that makes me both the victor and vanquished." Her eyes illuminated, sparks of electricity travelling up and down her arm before she continued.

"You broke a part of me I could mend overtime. Not of the body. But of the mind." I flinched at the obvious provocation.

Her hands suddenly came in between the bars, gripping the thin linen of my shirt, holding me still. I stopped breathing at the feeling of her fingers against my chest, clinging onto me – my heart rate rising expeditiously in only a matter of seconds.

I wondered if she could feel it. The reaction she gave me. Feel what she did to me.

The sensation of her hot, Red blood pulsing through her body gave me more of a thrill than I cared to admit. It had been so long since I last held her, felt any part of her. It was excruciating. Electrifying.

Our eyes were interlocked now. Her grip was firm, to stop my gaze from wandering and her nails dug into my flesh. "I guess, in your case, it makes me far more victorious than you'll ever be." Her voice trailed off, and her eyes seemed to soften for a moment, almost mournful.

I didn't know what to say. That was odd. I had a rebuttal for everything, anything. Mother made sure of that and yet right now — I had nothing.

Instead almost instinctually, as if it was only a mere extension of my being to do so, I lifted my hand and slowly traced the hand that was still clinging onto me. Mare's gaze flittered towards the movement. She inhaled sharply, her chest slowly rising and falling, breathing heavily. Gently, my fingers trailed over her knuckles, lingering on the scars which had yet to be healed.

This was the cruellest irony of it all. I would spend my final hours with the only thing I wanted and never could quite claim for myself. Mare was obliterative, unparalleled, and a force to be reckoned with. I knew first-hand the wrath of Mare Barrow.

It reminded me of another like her, of same worth to me as her, a long long time ago. I often wondered what my life would have been like if he were still here, alive.