The matter of the prince's task settled, Ivy nearly skipped over to her room, and lay everything out on her bed. She was sure she had never before owned clothing this well made. Because she was going to meet the Bloody Prince again, the dress could wait for now. She first tried on one of the two trousers, but its hem dragged along the floor and the waist fell off of her. The second had been fitted with a cord that she could cinch around her hips to her desired comfort, and the legs were a bit more suited to her height. Great.

Of the two tunics, she chose the darker shade, and while a bit baggy, she tucked it into the waistband of the pants and it was nearly passable as tailored for her. After tying her dagger’s sheath around her, she inspected herself in the full length mirror Rose had gifted her—another piece of luxury Ivy seemed to be taking for granted lately.

The figure that looked back at her almost seemed…no. She wasn't fearsome or intimidating. Ivy knew her small frame could ever pull that off. But there was something there in the reflection. Maybe…competence? Rose had just joked about the opposite, and for all intents and purposes had been correct. But at least she looked the part. Her black hair fell down past her shoulders, blending in with the matching tunic. The pants, sheath, and dagger hilt all also matched, and anyone that saw her tonight would assume she was up to no good. Maybe she should have some light armor made. That would improve the look and provide a bit of function.

Beyond just what she wore, though, Ivy truly for the first time recognized the changes in her face and body. She was no longer grime-stained and malnourished, her next bath days away in a dirty river. She filled out where before she had been stick thin. Her skin and hair held a glow under the candlelight that matched the shine of her bright green eyes. Instead of the unassuming mousy little thing she had been, a woman looked back at her. She could understand why she had been forced to beat back her admirer's whenever she went out in public. She couldn’t deny it any longer.

“When did I get so pretty?” she asked the mirror.

Her cheeks warmed at the silly question, her blush giving life to her realization that she had become someone else entirely. Over a year ago she had resolved to no longer be the scared little street thief she had once been. But now, it was more than just in her head. A different person than she knew was looking back at her through the glass. It didn't make sense, but it didn't feel wrong, either. Had it happened over time, or just recently? Perhaps it had been the moment she had awakened, or maybe it had been later on down the road like when she had met Rose, but it hardly mattered. Ivy knew what really mattered, now. She would never go back to a life of being stepped on at every turn. She had originally thought awakening as a witch had been the worst thing that could have happened to her. Now it might just be the opposite.

For a time, her gaze wouldn't leave her reflection, and she couldn't help herself from comparing what she saw to Rose. Ivy didn't think they looked alike, nor was she in any competition with Rose, but she did find several similarities. Her sister’s deceptive ageless beauty made it difficult to tell if there was any gap at all between them. She would need to ask Rose about that at some point. How old was Rose? And would Ivy look like this…forever? Or at least until she died. Did witches live longer than normal humans? They were always killed as far as Ivy knew, so dying of old age had never occurred to her.

She shook her head. Questions for another time. Throwing the pendant around her neck, she tucked it into the tunic and left her room. Rose had still not yet emerged from her own sanctum, so Ivy made for the exterior door.

She strolled along the streets leading to the Bloody Flag, taking her time this go around unlike when she had sprinted back home. There was no rush given the Prince’s three day timer, and Ivy was curious to observe what anyone else out this late would think of her. How would they react?

Unfortunately the area where Rose and Ivy lived was completely empty at this hour. Anyone here would be sleeping soundly in their homes. When she got to the harbor district, however. Things changed. The last time she had visited had been during daylight hours. When the sun went down, she had disappeared into the witch world. After her meeting, she had ran home not watching her surroundings at all, shouting about the princes authority.

Now, she was being actively followed. A team of petty thieves had caught her attention almost the moment she had arrived dockside. They had no doubt picked her out as an easy mark based on her size in the darkness. Once the scouts got closer, however, they broke off. Groups like those she had once been apart of would always avoid a target that could be trouble. The dagger was enough to ward off the majority of younger pick pockets trying to make a bit of easy coin. This happened several times throughout her walk.

It wasn’t until she neared the Flag did she encounter a team willing to confront her. A few grown men wielding clubs and other crude weapons would have no qualms about subduing a single small woman. But Ivy wasn't so helpless. Not anymore. She started to even her breathing and then slipped into an alleyway two streets away from the guild house. It would be the perfect place to ambush her, but by the time they reached her, she would be gone.

The witch world unfolded around her, hitting her with its trademark dizziness and confusion. Twice the distance from the Bloody Flag than she had been last attempt, her vision swam looking for the single familiar construct she could identify in this broken world.

Her once steady breaths started to shallow and pick up in pace as she searched in vain through the hazy, mangled lines that constituted her new reality. Where was it? She needed to find it! Dropping her power now was not an option unless she wanted to be mugged or worse. If she could not locate the Prince’s office, she’d just choose a random twisting path. But that could lead to even worse consequences. Where was—

Finally. The cheap imitation of Mister Couch came into view off in the distance. Up against a wall in the heart of the Bloody Flag guild house, Its numerous rounded peaks of tough cushion mocked her pillowy friend back home. Imposter! She wanted nothing more than for the Bloody Prince to be rid of such an abomination, but like her first visit, it was her only way inside. She focused in on it and hesitated. It was much too close. That was why she had missed it at first. Despite more than a street further back than the first time, within the witch world it actually appeared closer. Or more that the arching pathway that led to it would be shorter. Ivy shrugged, not questioning the incomprehensible witch world. It was how it was. She could handle that much. So far, it had not failed her.

She stepped along the path revealed to her, and in a few moments was standing before the couch. With a quick look around, she verified the Prince was not present, and fell out of her power. Natural sight returned, she eyed the impostor and frowned. It was getting pretty late...would this thing suffice for a nap? She had certainly had worse places to sleep in her life. She really had gotten spoiled lately. It must have come with all the other changes.

Ugh. She could best the hardness of the couch. For old time’s sake. But wait. Was she really considering sleeping here? Was she really so comfortable deep in a den of criminals? She patted herself down and found that she had forgotten the Prince’s token of authority. What if someone other than the Prince found her in his office? It wasn’t likely, but still. So…

“Screw it,” she said to no one, and flopped down on the sofa, “I’m tired.”

“…fly!”

“Dragonfly!”

Huh? Who’s that? Shut up. Ivy rolled over. Ouch. Why was her bed so stiff?

“Dragonfly!”

“What!? Leave me alone!”

She groped around with her eyes closed to find a pillow to throw at the offensive voice. Why were there no pillows? She rubbed her eyes with both palms and sat up. When she opened her eyelids nothing was right. Her room looked too large, too…not her room?

“Dragonfly.”

That voice again. She turned to it and found the Bloody Prince at his desk, staring at her. Ah. She had decided—stupidly—to sleep here and wait for him to return. Great.

“You were snoring,” he said.

“I don’t snore.” There was no way.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“I don’t.”

“Okay, sure”

She rubbed her sore back, once again frowning at the sorry excuse of a cushion she sat on.

“My back hurts,” she said, “make sure to get me a nicer couch before next time.”

“And when will that be?”

“Just do it right away.”

The Bloody Prince sighed and Ivy rubbed the hilt of her dagger, drawing as much confidence as she could from its comforting grip. Whatever changes were happening with her, she still could not believe her bold words to this man. Her attitude had stayed the same since their previous interaction.

“Well?” he asked. “Did you have a reason to once again sneak into my office despite me allowing you free passage?”

“How long have I—” she yawned mid sentence and stretched out her arms high above her head, “been here?”

“It’s probably midday.”

Ah, damn. Rose was probably freaking out. Unless she could read dreams? Or maybe appear in dreams? Whoa. In any case if Rose really needed to, she could read Ivy now, though the thought of it made Ivy want to jump out of her skin. Or back into the witch world.

“Perfect,” she said, trying to sound like it had been her plan to wake up now. She stood and found the Prince staring at her chest. Really? Him too? But when she looked down, she saw the pendant had made its way to the outside of her tunic.

His eyes turned hard before he spoke, “Did you kill the Archbishop of Atrican?”

“What? Don’t talk crazy.”

“I don’t understand how else you have that around your neck.”

“This thing?” Ivy held up the pendant and bounced it a few times in her palm. “I went poking around in the cathedral like you asked. I didn’t find anything that looked like a demon, but I didn’t expect you to just believe me, so I stole this.”

“While he was wearing it?”

What, did he never take it off? Without knowing the customs of the Archbishop or bishops in general, she only had one answer.

“Sure.”

The Prince didn’t look convinced—he didn’t change his expression at all—but he didn’t question her further.

“My information was good,” he said instead. Yeah well so was Ivy’s. “So am I to take the word of a girl I barely know over that of my trusted informant?”

“Do you have anyone else that can get into the cathedral?”

His eyes narrowed into slits.

“No.”

“Then what choice do you have?” Ivy fiddled with the pendant dangling down her chest. “Oh, did you want this souvenir?”

Of course, she had no intention of actually giving away Rose’s—keepsake?—but she needed him to believe acquiring it had been no big deal.

“Do you have any idea how much that is worth?” he asked.

“Not really.” She shrugged. “How would I sell it anyway? It’s not like I can go shouting in the market about it.”

“You’re not a very good thief, are you? In some sense you are correct, it is a dangerous item. But I can sell it for you for a cut.”

Ivy made a little circuit around the room, fiddling with the pendant the whole way before settling back down onto the couch. She leaned her head back against the cushions.

“Eh, I think I’ll hold onto it. It’ll be a reminder of the start of our great partnership.”

“Oh, partners now are we?”

“I think so,” she kept her eyes directed at the ceiling, “I can do things for you that no one else can. You can help with your...experience—"

"Are you calling me an old man?" One of his brows rose, and he wore a subtle smirk on his face, as though he was daring her to say it.

Ivy waved a hand through the air.

"Oh, relax. This is ideal. I told you before that I want a place where I can be accepted, but I am not looking for a lord.”

The Bloody Prince rose to his feet and Ivy watched him circle his desk to lean back on the front of it. Although he was older, he had not let his body slip into decay. When he crossed his arms, his forearms and biceps bulged against the fabric of his tunic, and his wide, tall frame would have terrified her a few years ago. She had not taken a whole lot of time to consider it the last time they had met, having been thrown out unceremoniously.

“Mutual benefit, huh?” he asked. “And what if I ask you to do something for me that you don’t agree with?”

Ivy scoffed.

“Then I won’t do it. You’re free to have the same right. I don’t see why we can’t have a friendly relationship rather than one of master and vassal.”

“You’re young enough to be my granddaughter.”

“Is that an issue, Armond?” Ivy asked. The prince shifted his stance, no longer leaning against his desk. “You don’t mind if I call you Armond, do you?”

“As long as you don’t mind if I call you Iveriani.”

Oh. She had not used her full name in some time. Yet it had only taken the Bloody Prince a single night to discover who she was.

She rose from the piece of junk couch and strode past the Prince toward the door without looking at him. Though they both knew more about each other than either preferred, Ivy wanted nothing more than to pretend that they didn’t. She said nothing, and threw open the door leading out of his office.

Before she could leave, he asked one more question, “Who are you, really?” Of course, Ivy didn’t answer. “Because you’re not just some no name street rat who disappeared a few years ago.”

She kept on moving, heading for the stairs. They had to have wine down there.