Lilith leaves her sword by the lakeside as she submerges her body under the freezing water. She should hate it, yet, she does not. The pain of the cold reminds every ache in her bones that she is alive, that she feels, and that—unlike the others, who were lost to the fire at the orphanage—she survived.

She rinses off shampoo tangled in wet, messy blunt cut strands. When she blinks again, a blade is pressed under her chin. "Edward," Lilith breathes his name as if it is a forbidden mantra, that should not be spoken, ever. "This is..." her eyes wander down to his sword, "certainly an interesting way to greet your commander." Edward digs the tip of the sword into her neck. It draws red. "You'll catch a cold if you stay here," Lilith adds, completely unwavering in the face of death. Shadows rise in her gaze. "I recommend you go back."

"You fucked me over, bitch."

She scoffs. "That's not very polite."

"And you think playing me was?" He digs his nails into her waist. "You think that claiming we are equals, promising me heirs, and breaking off our engagement the day before the tournament began, was fair?" His hand trembles against the sword's hilt. "If it weren't for you, I would have won our duel."

"So, what?" Lilith cocks her head to the side. The act draws more blood from her skin. Yet, she does not yield. "You're going to kill me for not being able to keep your feelings in check? For not being able to see past your rage? If you lost that duel," she smiles, "it was your fault, Edward. The head of guard should have a sound mind; clearly, you do not."

Anger spirals into rage across Edward's face. His features go red. "You talk smart but you have no armor, no weapon." He readies himself to plunge the blade into Lilith's neck, but a voice makes him freeze.

"Release her," someone orders from behind. And now, Edward, too, finds himself with a weapon pointed at the back of his skull—Lilith's sword.

"Ah." Edward chuckles. "The new girl, is it?"

"It doesn't matter who I am," Wolf says. "Your sword is not made for drawing against your superior. Release her. Now."

The man's shoulders tense. "Yeah?" he asks." And what do you care?" A vulgar, snort leaves him. "You're not even a soldier."

Wolf sidesteps around him. He knocks the blade of Edward's away from Lilith and curses under his breath. The water beneath them is having a field day freezing their legs until they are numb, close to being unresponsive—it is the worst kind of battlefield, Lilith thinks. And if they do not find an agreement soon, this could become problematic.

Edward grunts. He shouts indignant swears that are swallowed by the mountains around them. Wolf bends his knees. He braces himself for the impact of his sword. The blades collide. The move sends ripples across the lake.

Lilith hesitates. She could snatch the sword from Wolf's hands in order to fight herself, but she holds off from doing so. There is something unmistakably calm about the way Wolf wields the weapon. It is calculated. Detached. Potentially useful, Lilith concludes, as she continues to watch them, like a show made only for her eyes.

It doesn't take long for Wolf to find an opening. He slashes a deep cut across the man's face.

Edward screams when the wound starts gushing with blood. He falls to his knees, then howls in pain. He mentions something about his eye, and not being able to see. Lilith wonders if Wolf actually dared go further than permanently disfiguring the idiot, though, with an unimpressed huff and a sigh, she figures it doesn't really matter. Edward won't be causing much trouble anymore with how close he is to passing out, and it's not as if she cares. After all, the fool tried to kill her first, he had it coming—he's lucky she wasn't his opponent. Lilith wouldn't have taken his tongue, too, if she had gotten her way with him.

She crosses her arms. She turns around. Wolf is panting, shivering—perhaps from the cold, or something else all entirely. "You stole my sword," it is the first thing Lilith tells him.

He gulps, then nods. "I did." Though, he quickly averts his gaze. A flutter of pink grazes his cheeks that have been stained by drops of Edward's blood. "Um... your clothes," Wolf mutters. "Y-you might want to put something on. In case someone else comes to check on—"

Lilith steps forth and embraces him. Once her lips are hidden in the crook of his shoulder, she smirks. "Oh." She exaggerates a sob. She pushes up against his body. He is cold, and Lilith thinks that she loves this feeling the best after all. Nothing makes her feel more alive, than the skin of another. "Wolf, thank you. Thank you! Surely, you would appreciate something in return?"

Silence.

Usually, this is the part where they kiss her, let their hands wander, and imagine the concept of a love shared with her.

Lilith waits. She waits. And waits. And waits, but Wolf's heartbeat does not change.

He pushes her off. "You're too close." He wipes the blood away from his chin with his knuckles.

Without even sparing her a second glance, the young man goes back to the edge of the lake and tells her, "Take your own advice. Get out before you catch a cold, or worse." He drops her sword in its initial spot. "A dead commander would be useless on this mission. What I want in return is finding Lir. I'm not interested in having sex with you, and even if I was, I wouldn't do it." He wanders far into the forest before she has a chance to retaliate.

This is the first time a man has left her speechless, and Lilith finds herself cackling with delight.

She drags Edward's body out of the river and clothes herself. She returns to the camp, sends the traitor back to Aglia's capital with three knights by his side, and yet... And yet! No amount of tasks can keep her mind off Wolf.

As Lilith enters her quarters and rolls onto the temporary mattress of hay covered in linen sheets, she grabs the artefact that glows, beating—thump, thump, thump—like the heart she so wishes to conquer.

The boredom that had reigned during her departure has shifted and left her. Lilith licks her lips. What is life without a challenge? she thinks. And she decides that she must have him. Wolf is far too interesting to be sent back to his village located in the middle of nowhere. His place is here. In the city. By her side.

Though as a lover, guard, or foe, Lilith is not quite sure which one she wishes for the most yet. But that's okay.

Lilith will have all the time in the world to figure that out once Wolf realizes she don't plan on letting him go.

She cannot wait to savor every single one of his reactions. He may even turn out to be more entertaining than that fool Solomon.

Oh, the things she will do to him—what a treat it will be!