The news that a legend had stepped out of the wings to save the once-lost heir of Thenalium and to prove the sword right and true spread quickly from ship to ship, and Jill soon found herself glad to be tending Digory in her cabin, for even the crew of the Witch seemed annoyingly awed by Jill's new status as the Witch.

When the sword had sung, everyone on the surrounding ships had fallen to their knees. In the ensuing confusion over Digory's injury, Braed's death, and the sword of Thenalium's undeniable emergence, Jane had managed to get herself over to the Ranai and start healing Digory's terrible stomach wound.

Jill and Marcell had began the agonizing task of watching Digory die before their eyes, Heir to both Thenalium and death. Together, they had watched Jane struggle and falter and begin failing at her task before Braed's healer had come over--at a gasped "Solomon!" from Jane--and assist the Witch's Healer.

The wound hadn't gotten any smaller, but the blood had stopped flowing so profusely and Jill had watched as what she truly hoped was not some kind of innards moved themselves away into the wound.

Jane had pressed something over the wound and bound it there with some kind of sticky bandage. Then she'd summoned Jill and Marcell over and bade them bring Digory back to the Witch and to get her back to her cabin.

And that brought Jill to where she was now; fairly hiding in the cabin with Digory's once-again prone form. Marcell was presumably elsewhere on the ship, giving orders and organizing what was going to happen. Since the two of them had brought Digory back to the Witch she'd only stopped in once to tell Jill that several of the ships from the Ranai's fleet had left to bring the news to the capital that the fleet had surrendered to the Digory and the Witch and that there were hundreds of witnesses who would not be able to deny that they had seen the sword of Thenalium in Digory's possession.

For what had to be the dozenth time but what still felt like the first time, Jill was alone with Digory in her cabin. Everyone was purposely leaving them alone, and the only downsides were that Digory was unconscious and that she was the King.

The room was dark and quiet, and even Digory's breathing, though once labored, was quiet. Jill approached the bed and ran her fingers through Digory's hair, gently working through a tangle. "You were a prince before, but now you're a King," she murmured. "How could I ever compare to that?"

Digory remained silent on the bed.

"God," Jill sighed. "What now? Do I go home, or what?" She lay her arms down upon the bed, for they were heavy and aching with the strain of both fighting Braed and then carrying Digory's not inconsiderable weight between ships. Her head rested upon that, she elected to watch Digory's abnormally pale face for any change.

She must have dozed off, for when she awoke Digory's hand was heavy and warm on her arm. "You fell asleep," the King said simply when Jill's head shot up off of her folded arms.

"You're awake!"

"Mmm." Digory nodded, and winced as she swung her legs off the bed and stood, grimacing.

"You should be resting!" Jill exclaimed.

Digory pulled the bottom of her shirt up, and with it, the weird bandage. The cut, though nasty and surrounded by red, seemed half-healed. It was even scabbed.

"I'm fine out of bed," she said. "As long as I'm easy on myself most of the time, I'll be fully healed in no time."

"Most of the time?" Jill picked at the obviously careful phrasing of that sentence.

"Some of what I'm planning on isn't easy," Digory said solemnly.

"Such as?"

"I plan on giving up the crown," Digory said. An odd little smile was playing about her lips, but Jill couldn't focus on that.

"You're what?"

"I'm planning on giving up the crown," Digory said. "I don't want to be the Heir anymore--or the King. I want to give everything to Marcell because I know she hates the sea, and I think she would make a better ruler than I would."

"Marcell," Jill echoed faintly. Out of all of the people Digory could have chosen to rule, she picked Marcell? Jill was sure there had to be better candidates than the brash, handsome, impulsive, somewhat permanently injured captain of the Witch. If she hadn't been awake before, she was now. "How can you pass on the crown? I thought it was impossible--that's why you were running."

"It was. But with the sword I can do it. The sword is the only thing that makes it possible for me to pass on my birthright and not die while doing it."

"Digory--that's wonderful!" Jill heard herself exclaim.

"I also want to live on the Witch permanently," Digory said.

Jill couldn't say anything other than, "And?"

"And be the captain of the Witch in more than just name."

"So you want to give up the right to rule to Marcell, live on the Witch permanently, and travel," Jill said. "Have it got it all right?"

"You haven't even heard the best part," Digory added.

"What is that?"

The words both elated Jill and filled her with terror. "Will you marry me?"

"I can't marry you!" Jill exclaimed. The nervous smile left Digory's face as though a Rider had cut it off, and her eyes were dark and sad. Jill caught a flash of that old, cold brown ice, but it faded as quickly as it had appeared. For a long, long moment, it was as if the world were holding its breath.

Jill bungled on. "You're a king, or a queen, or--or--or something! You should be looking at princesses or something, Marcell at the least--she's somewhat royal--she even has a title!"

"Jill," Digory began.

"Don't even say that you need to because I found the sword for you," Jill blurted. "I can't--I won't hold that against you. I just wanted you and Marcell to be happy and safe and able to go home because I know what that's like, not being able to go home, because my home was back on the Witch with you."

Digory had grown more and more impatient-looking as Jill was speaking. "Jill," she finally said, interrupting Jill's increasingly erratic soliloquy. "I am giving up the crown, and I don't want a princess. I don't know why you think I should marry anyone else. To address last things first, I thought you would say that your home was back where I found you--when Rick was smaller than he is now and you were just as astounding as you are now. And as far as titles go, you're the Witch! You're the witch that the Witch was named after. You're aware of the land as much as I am, and that makes you something more than just a title can give."

"But I found you the sword," Jill said weakly. "I don't want to think that this--this proposal can be based largely off that."

"It's not," Digory said fiercely. "You found the sword because you wanted to, not because I sent you! That alone means the world to me. It means that you didn't look just because I asked you; instead you went to save me. To save us all."

"And that means?"

"And that means everything," Digory said in exasperation. "Don’t you see? I don't think you would have found the sword without looking without wanting personal gain. If I'd sent say, Jane to go find it, she would have been looking because I sent her for my own personal gain. The only one who could actually find it and take it from that pond was me. Thenalium's sword guardians would have killed anyone else."

"Sword guardians? Those things were guardians?"

Digory nodded.

"Then why did they try to kill me?" Jill asked. She could still feel the icy grip of the mermaids' hands around her throat.

Digory shrugged. "You weren't me. Just because you were able to find the sword didn't mean you were meant to take it."

"Oh."

"Look, what I'm trying to say is that you were the only one who could have found the sword. Yes, partly because you're the Witch from the prophecy, but also because you wanted to find it because of me, not for me."

Jill said nothing.

"It means that I love you, Jill." Digory suddenly looked very sad. "I can't tell you what to do," she said quietly. "I won't tell you that I won't take no for an answer, or lock you up and do something stupid. I'd rather that I would, but I can't lock you up. I don’t quite work that way, so all I can do at this point is just tell you again that I love you."

I love you too, Jill wanted to say. I love you to the depth and breadth and height of my soul, I want to be with you always.

Aloud she said, "I want--I want to be yours, but I do not quite know how. I cannot be a princess for you, but no longer can I be just Jill Lewin. I want to be more than that for you."

"I don't need anything more," Digory murmured. She was so close that Jill could feel the wind of each word's passing on her cheek.

Jill nodded. She seemed to be full of more than just words; love and hope and fear seemed to mingle inside her, filling her like a cup brimming over.

"I love you," Jill said. She felt not as though she were saying it as though for the first time, but as though she was stating a mere fact.

That small, nervous smile was back on Digory's face as she said again, "Jill, will you marry me?"

"How could I not?" Jill said. "Yes; oh, yes."

And so it came to pass that what had been wrong was now right, and a legend can sometimes come true in the most inauspicious of ways.

---

A/N: So... endings. Gotta love 'em, gotta hate 'em. But I think there might be a sequel in the works, which is good. It's going to focus more on Marcell and her search for a witch of her own. That story is going to be titled Witch's Blood, and it's got about a 60 percent chance of being my NaNoWriMo project for this year. Also, please keep reading my other stories, especially the short ones. Some of them are sadly lacking in ConCrit, so I could really use some to revise them. This will also be revised eventually since it's looking more to be a first really short, really stunted draft than anything polished. So if you have any ConCrit for this that'd be really useful, and much thanked.
Thank you guys for sticking with this story through weeks of no updates, and er... Ashley, if you ever get around to reading this, this was for you.