The armor is heavier than the heart of a titan.

At least, that’s how it feels, trapped underneath that twisted mess of bone and blood and sinew; it flattens Dany’s lungs, presses down harder and harder as if desperate to dig down into the heart of the world, taking another girl with it. Its empty skull lolls hideously, its jaw broken, wiry sinews blossoming like flowers. 

Getting it off of her is an epic ordeal all on its own; the more she pushes against it, the heavier it grows. Sodden belts flap against her, as if trying to hook around her, pull her into the carcass of a killer, stand up crowned by Ares, avenge itself on Bella for daring to throw it away. How could she be so cruel? How could she be so careless? How could she give up her own flesh, her own bone? (The words are not her own; the words come from somewhere deep inside the carcass.) Doesn’t she know the universe is dangerous, and that if she’s not the most dangerous thing in it, something that’s willing to bite and claw and kill without remorse will kill her and chew her bones in turn? She is afraid. She should be afraid. Kill or be killed, Bella!

Pincers latch onto one cruelly thorned gauntlet and lift, and that’s the opening Redana needs, the breathing space, a chance to cough and ignore the smell of death reeking out of the armor. She punches one fist into its guts and pushes, for all that it becomes furiously leaden.

With a cry, Redana forces it off of her, knocking it down onto the sodden sand, where it lies dormant, bereft of the heart that sustained it for so long. And Dany, on one elbow, stares at it. The cruel lines, the wicked thorns, the blood clotting on its talons, the desperate need to keep everything out, to keep the wearer safe from everything, from a world full of nothing but betrayal and heartbreak.

This thing came out of Bella. This close, it’s impossible not to recognize her in retrospect. The cruelty, the power, the violence, the fear. And yet—

Bella tore it off. Bella tore it off for [i]her.[/i] And that means something just as much, doesn’t it? There’s still the girl there who refused to give up on Skotos. And looking at her, crouching low, putting herself between her charge and the monster waiting here at the end of everything…

Redana scoops up the crab, the second bravest thing on this whole world, and holds it close to her chest as she staggers up to her feet, letting it burrow beneath her breastplate and cling close with the last of its strength. Bella shouldn’t have to stand alone. So she won’t.

Princesses don’t abandon their subjects.

“[i]Avaunt,[/i]” the Shepherdess rasps, and draws the shape of a shield out of the empty air.