"You know, I was always jealous of your hair."

Her voice startles him. She's almost always there, in some dank, dark corner, but she very rarely speaks. It was just as melodious as he remembered her voice being, and it was a darn shame she said it while blood was dribbling from her mouth onto a puddle on the floor.

He side-eyes it, making a note to not step in it later.

"So obedient, long, smooth. Pretty." She expounds. He picks up a pale blond strand hanging from the formal topknot adorning his head.

Green eyes flit over hair that shined like the blood on the floor. "Lifeless." He tacks on to her list of adjectives, dropping the strand still pressed between his thumb and pointer finger.

She's smiling like she knows something he doesn't, eyes twinkling without humor and mouth not quite baring teeth, but before he can ask she disappears.

He's left alone in a room with a mirror and a puddle of blood. After taking a good long look into both, he leaves for a council meeting.

Adapt or die. A mantra that rang true all throughout history, so was it really any wonder that he got used to her? He most certainly couldn't die, not after all he'd done to get here, so he adapted.

Soon, he smiled when he was awoken by blood falling on his face. She smiled back, sometimes, and it was enough.

He would eat breakfast quickly always, all too aware that she could no longer eat. She never stared at the food, instead at him or anyone who took it upon themselves to join him for the most important meal of the day.

Soon, it got around that the king was most definitely not a morning person, and no one joined him. He actually quite enjoyed mornings as a rule, it was a fresh start and it meant night was the farthest away it could be.

What he didn't like was violet eyes focusing on someone else.

He went to Hak's grave, or rather, took her to Hak's grave. He had no desire to be there, personally, but every time the thunder beast's name was mentioned she would perk up, just the tiniest bit. It was enough.

She was waiting for him when he got there, leaning up against the garish statue erected over the remains of the beloved guard.

"He wouldn't have liked this." He said, pointing out the obvious.

"He doesn't." She said, so matter of factly he forgot they were talking of the dead.

"How do you know?" He asks, forgetting, as he seems to do far too often, that she is also dead.

"I hear him, sometimes. He's looking for me. He can't find me, and I can't find him, but sometimes I hear him and sometimes I think he can hear me too."

"Has... Has he said anything about me?"

Suddenly, her appearance changes, porcelain skin rotting and falling off before his eyes, blood slowly dribbling out of her mouth and gradually staining her dress red. She disinterestedly lifts her arm up to examine her wrist, where a particularly big chunk of skin is barely hanging on. It falls after a few seconds of her examination, and she turns to him, violet eyes the only part of her that remained the same.

"Yes. Yes he has." And then she is gone again.

He stays, beside a statue of marble and gold, until night falls and an icy chill scrapes down his spine.

Even in death, the thunder beast is formidable.

One day, he tries to touch her.

She's walking, not floating beside him. There's no blood and no gore and all of her pretty features are right when they're supposed to be. Her chest rises and falls with every breath and the sparkle in her eye is the sparkle of life.

And so, since she is so real and human and there, he reaches out.

He is fully prepared for his hand to meet nothing, to go straight through her into more cool morning air. Or maybe he isn't, and he probably isn't really but that's okay because that's not what happens.

His hand brushes against her arm, but it's not an arm. It's so very cold, freezing, like he was touching ice but the ice was still water and it was sticky and thick and it got stuck all over his fingers and started running down his arms like it was going to choke him.

She looks at him, no emotion, no sparkle, and shrugs. And then she is gone and he's racing to the bathroom to scrub and scrape his hand into oblivion.

A/N: I'm back I guess. Tryna get on prince Hak but it's hard mannnn.

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