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Ivy looks at him, her eyes filled with a mix of surprise and determination. "Why not?" she asks, her voice a challenge. "You can find another whore, another woman to keep prisoner here and in you're bed."

Vice's hand tightens around hers, the pressure on the arrow increasing. "Because," he says, his voice tight, "because if you die, so does the deal. And without you, James dies."

The color drains from Ivy's face as she realizes the gravity of her mistake. She didn't just threaten herself; shethreatened her daughter's father. The whole reason she made this deal in the first place.

"Vice," she whispers, her eyes stare at the ground. "Please, let go of me,"

Vice's eyes narrow, his grip on the arrow unyielding. "Why should I?" he asks, his voice a harsh rasp.

Ivy still doesn't look at him. Tears filling her eyes, she was obviously wrong. She doesn't mean anything to him.

"Ivy," he says, his voice softer now. "Ivy, look at me."

She doesn't move, her eyes trained on the stone beneath her feet, the tears threatening to spill over.

Vice's grip on the arrow loosens, and he gently takes it from her hand, placing it back in the quiver. His other hand reaches up to cup her chin, forcing her to look at him. "You're more than just a tool, Ivy," he says, his voice gruff, the words torn from his chest. "You're... something else to me."

"Yea a plaything, entertainment, nothing more." She said, the pain he heard in her voice as she repeats the very same words he said to her, causes him pain like he's never felt before.

"Vice, I need you to stop," she pauses, "and go back to the way you treated me when I first got here.

Vice's eyes searched hers, the storm clouds of his emotions swirling, a silent battle raging within him. He knew he had crossed a line, had allowed himself to feel something for her that could only lead to trouble. But the pain in her voice was a knife to his heart.

He nodded, his grip on her chin loosening. "Fine," he said, his voice gruff. "You're my prisoner. That's all."

The words felt like a lie on his tongue, but he knew he had to keep her at a distance. He couldn't afford to let his feelings for her cloud his judgment, not when so much was at stake.

Ivy nodded, the tears in her eyes not falling. "Good," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Because I can't do this anymore."

Vice stepped back, dropping his hand from her face. "Understood," he said, his tone cold and detached. He turned away from her, walking back towards the castle, his footsteps echoing in the stillness of the courtyard.

Her body felt heavy, her legs unsteady as she slid down the wall, her eyes following the retreating figure of Vice until he disappeared into the castle. The tears that had been threatening to fall finally broke free, tracing a path down her cheeks as she sobbed quietly, her shoulders shaking with each racking breath. The cold stones against her back offered little comfort as the reality of their situation sank in. She had allowed herself to believe in a glimmer of hope, to think that maybe, just maybe, they could find a way out of this tangled web of lies and deception.

But now, as the courtyard grew darker and the stars above seemed to mock her with their cold, uncaring light, she knew that was nothing but a foolish dream. She was his prisoner, a tool in his quest for power. And no matter what feelings might have bloomed between them, that was all she would ever be.

Her body felt like it was made of lead, too heavy to hold upright. She slumped down, her back against the cold, unforgiving wall. The tears fell unchecked, each one a silent scream of despair. She had allowed herself to believe, if only for a moment, that they could find a way to be together, to be more than just captor and prisoner. But his words had shattered that illusion, leaving her with nothing but the bitter taste of reality.

The night grew colder, and Ivy's sobs grew quieter, until she was left with only the sound of her own ragged breathing. Her eyes grew heavy with exhaustion, and she allowed herself to sink into the darkness that had become all too familiar. Her head lolled to the side, and she felt the rough stones press against her back, the coolness seeping into her skin.

Then, she felt it. The soft warm fur brushing against her, a gentle nudge that startled her from her misery. She looked up to see spicy nuggets. He curled up next to her and fell asleep. As did she.

When Ivy woke up someone was carrying her. She looked up to see Vice. She looked away from him. The tears formed in her eyes again. He laid her in her bed.

"Vice," she choked out, her voice thick with unshed tears. "What are you doing?"

He didn't answer, just continued to watch her, his eyes unreadable in the dim light. Ivy rolled over to face away from him, her back to his unyielding presence. She thought she heard a soft sigh, but she couldn't be sure. The silence was suffocating, pressing down on her like a heavy blanket, making it difficult to breathe.

But then she felt it, the softest of kisses, feather-light on her cheek. The warmth of his breath against her skin was a stark contrast to the ice that had formed around her heart. Anger bubbled up in her chest, a fiery counterpoint to the coldness that had settled there. She didn't know if she had the strength to push him away, to maintain the distance she knew she needed.

With a snarl, she rolled over to face him, her eyes blazing with a mix of rage and despair. "Don't," she choked out, pushing at his chest with all the strength she could muster. "Don't you dare."

Vice's expression didn't change, his eyes never leaving hers as he took a step back. "What do you want from me, Ivy?" he asked, his voice ragged with his own emotions.

Ivy's chest heaved with the effort of holding back her own tears. "I want you to stop giving me hope that you feel something for me because we both know there isn't." she whispered, her voice shaking.

Vice's eyes searched hers, and for a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of something that might have been regret. But it was quickly buried beneath his usual stoicism. "I can't," he said, his voice gruff.

"Can't or won't?" she spat, the pain in her chest a living, breathing thing that threatened to consume her.