"I wonder about death, I who may never know it. It looks much like ecstacy, the way they open their mouths as they drown, the way their fingers dig into your skin. Their eyes are wide and startled and they trash in your hands as though with an excess of passion." ― Holly Black, Tithe

Sev had never understood why Midgardian faerie tales always had happy endings. Faeries were liars, tricksters, mischief-makers. Her own faerie tale is dark, grim, hellish. It's life.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where / I love you directly without problems or pride: I love you like this because I don't know any other way to love, except in this form in which I am not nor are you / so close that your hand upon my chest is my mine / so close that your eyes close with my dreams - Pablo Neruda, One Hundred Love Sonnets: XVII

Melantha made a mistake - a terrible, terrible mistake that led to the greatest opportunity of her life. (I know I'm bad at descriptions. Rated T mostly for language and violence).