Eirwen felt the wind pick up, ambient mana flowing faster towards her as she struggled with her fury taking control. She drew forth her own ice to cool down the fire, depending on her hatred to keep her rage in check, barely being able to fight it to a standstill. It felt like a losing battle, but she had to hang in there as long as she could.

Next to her, both Carraig and Pertrellan gave her worried glances. Her passenger sprung to action, falling back on guiding her gently, helping the cold flow just a bit faster, the fury slowing down but a tad. Enough to help her keep her focus. He really knew her too well. She hated and loved it.

The Flameheart guards were no stranger to this kind of fury, it seemed. They didn't even blink as they saluted. One shouted, facing her but clearly intending it for those inside. "The Duchess has arrived! Open the gates!"

The Duchess. Not her name, just the. They knew. And they had already accepted that she was in charge now. What other surprises had he prepared for her? Why didn't he just tell her? How dare he manipulate her even in defeat. She felt her fury build, in turn he steered her back to her ice-cold hatred for him. It scared her, how easily he was willing to make her hate him, just to protect her.

Don't. 

He drew back his manipulation of her emotions, guilt and concern tangible in his presence. It had helped her, though, just not in the way he had intended. Her concern for him had temporarily overruled her anger and hatred, allowing her to focus for a while. Until the next trigger arrived, most likely.

The gates had finished opening while she had been busy combatting her own emotions. Focusing on keeping up her mask, she moved through in into the courtyard. There she saw the rest of the guards. As she guided her horse forward, they all dropped to a knee and bowed their heads. "Your Grace! Awaiting your command!"

The blind loyalty left a bitter taste in her mouth. She also wondered what order would work well. She didn't know the precise situation, which made it hard to ask for the right thing. Deciding to swallow her pride, she shot him the mental equivalent of an inquiring eyebrow.

"Service staff has been kept from leaving for over two days now. A few of them, including your spies, were temporarily imprisoned. That might be where you want to start."

Another hidden preparation coming to life. She managed to put her thoughts on that aside as she issued her first command as new ruler of the estate. "Let the staff go home. Then guard the outside. Vicomte Carraig will handle guiding me." The guards ignored the slight, the hint that she didn't trust them yet. To a man they confirmed, then sprung to action.

Her entourage dismounted and the carriages emptied as everyone joined her. Only two stayed where they were. She on horseback, looking down on everyone, keeping her face expressionless. And in her carriage, he remained still as well, curtains closed, hiding his presence from the world. Even his link to her was laying low, as subtle as he could make it while still being able to help.

The main doors opened and out poured the servants, in shock at seeing her. They didn't understand, showing exactly how tight information had been controlled. Only a few exceptions were present, realisation hitting their faces. And then there was the elderly majordoma, Lady Róisín. With a face as expressionless as Eirwen's, she stood at full attention. "Attention! All hail the Duchess!"

Dozens of hails rang out through the courtyard, immediately from the guards and some servants, more delayed from those still processing. Róisín continued. "Reporting, your Grace! We have prepared quarters for your entourage. Fresh ingredients and firewood are stockpiled. The body of the former Duke was enbalmed and lies in his private office." Both of them ignored the gasps coming from a few surprised servants. "Permission to leave, your Grace?"

More preparations that she hadn't been informed of. More people actually in the know. She hated how everyone just made plans for her. Not that these people could have communicated with her beforehand, but at least he could have advised her more. How dare... Easy. Don't take it out on the servants. What is best here. She needed time. Time to get in control. Grasp the opportunity. "You're all off tomorrow. Anyone who doesn't appear the day after, I will treat it as your resignation. Dismissed."

The guards guided everyone through the gate, following them out and leaving only her own people standing in the courtyard. Carraig wordlessly closed the gate, then turned to her, awaiting orders like the rest of them. She had already weighed her options, so the orders came easy. "Sir Caerbychan. Take my doorguards and secure the gate. None may enter. Vicomtesse Pertrellan, have Vicomte Carraig guide you. Leave two knights and two soldiers with Bethan and the rest of my personal staff. Use the remaining troops to secure the building, floor by floor. Bethan, handle the horses first. Once the kitchen is secure, lead the staff in making sure the food is safe. Dismissed."

Bethan immediately refuted her order. "Your Grace, I believe I would initially be more useful here." No, she wouldn't. Her healing wouldn't help against a mana rampage. Only afterwards could she help. She shook her head, not trusting her voice. A mental thread flew past her, a warning that he also allowed her to overhear. To run to safety. Bethan stiffened then bowed.

Carraig was the next to complain, having already recognised her current state. "Your Grace, I-"

She cut him off, keeping her voice as cold as she could, anything to delay the onset of the fire. "Vicomte Ailbe Carraig. You have your orders. If you refuse to obey them, if you interfere, if you so much as try to spy on this courtyard, I will consider that treason. Do I make myself clear?" It was cruel to suggest he might betray her. She could see the hurt on his face, but also the concern. She kept her eyes on him until he bowed his head and turned away.

The courtyard finally emptied out, the horses guided to the stables, the troops all gone, only Caerbychan and the doorguards left. Silently she got off her horse and gave it a reassuring pat. It ran off at once, away from her, away from the danger. From behind came the sounds of her carriage opening, him climbing out, his footsteps coming towards her, barely audible over the rising sound of the rage building inside her.

He stepped around her, stood in front. She saw sorrow on his face, kindness, love. Pain, a response to the hatred on her own face. He had no right to care about that. She saw he was holding the sheathed sword he had surrendered to her before. Wordlessly he handed it to her and immediately she felt some of the rage seep into it, drain away from her. More secrets. But for a moment, while she could not trust her voice, she did gain enough self control to reach out.

Help me.

"I will. Sit down with me."

He sat down cross-legged, a meditative pose which she also took. He crossed his arms and took her hands in his, leaving the sheathed sword lying in her lap. In his eyes she could see fire and ice dancing, a mirror of her own, yet he wasn't out of control like she was, and there was no rage or hatred there.

She wondered how, how could he not be angry at the way she mistreated him. He was here to help, and all she did was throw her rage at him. His hair was dancing in the wind, caused by her drawing in more and more mana. His smile, sad as it was, was bewitching. She could fall for him a thousand times over, even if she wanted to hurt him even more than he had hurt her all those years. And from the love and pain in his eyes she could tell that he knew and understood.

"Come. Let me show you how to halt a mana storm."