They had always fought, they were always in training and learning the ways of war. Sometimes the Gabriel Ratchett and the Hounds would pick fights just for the sport, sometimes they would duel and spar if only to keep in shape. Other times it was the hunger that drew them, the feeding upon emotions and the need for physical contact that so many of them possessed as weakness, and yet Spade was one that held both the ability to feed upon emotions and to possess the craving for physical contact to keep her alive and well.

As requested and expected of her father, the Gabriel Ratchett of the Wild Hunt, Donovan Malloy... Spade was expected to take part in those spars and duels. The drawing of blood, the take of emotion to feed the Hounds and to keep herself sustained. Even when banished from the Summer Court for her sister's law breaking of the Court, Sidonie was still expected to take part in the fights of the Hounds even if she shied from the idea of riding and running in the Wild Hunt alongside her father.

The spars and battles that the Hounds took part in were always savage, always bloody, and always violent. They fed upon the brutal emotions and the spill of blood upon the earth as they danced the dance of near death in the rings. Even Spade felt the rush when she was there amongst them all. The draw of blood was enough to leave her breathless and wild with anticipation for the next strike, the next block, the next step. It made her feel alive. She remembered then how addictive the rush could be of being one with the Hounds, being accepted, being one meant to run with the Wild Hunt. The addiction was a rush she could not get from any other thing save for one as to those of the Dark Court... everything revolved around sex and violence. It was all they were meant to know... and to know and possess such was a valuable treasure... something never to let go of once obtained. The wicked obsession of the Wild Hunt and her blood was tainted with the obsession like an addict... she was addicted, as they all were.

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The memories had come back with being a spectator in watching Harris fight for the Diamond title, she had watched and all the pain and anguish of the losses she had gone through had been briefly stifled by the memory of what it was to be a part of the Wild Hunt and one of the Hounds.

Quietly she knelt in her room, reaching under the bed for the item that she had kept as her own safe guarded possession. The knives of the Hound were lost to her, but the unspoken sword... that still remained.

Drawing it from the tanned hide it was wrapped in she curled her fingers around the hilt, testing the weight of it in her hand. The possession of the blade once more brought a smooth calm of darkness through her. It had been so long since she had felt that passive indifference. Laying her hands upon the blade brought it all back. She could not help but admire the beauty of the hound's head carved from onyx with a black diamond polish. The blade itself was a slick shining jet black. Dark as the night itself if not for the blazing of star sapphires set for the Hound's eyes. The blade was hers for the image set into the hilt was of her as the Hound. Her other form.

Spade rocked back on her heels, chewing softly on her bottom lip as she contemplated her options. Once so long ago Cookie had spoken to her about trying out dueling as much as coming to watch.

Weighing her choices she knew this was the only way to not forget... but to move on... and stifle the pain of a broken heart and a shattered spirit. Perhaps it was time she approached Harris and a few others to train her and take her on as a pupil in the duels.

If she could not be a part of the Wild Hunt then the Hound would know again its place within the rings.

Love is Dead.

The words run rampant circles through her mind, over and over again even as she left the world known to step within the lands of the Unseelie Court. The sithen had shifted and altered again to accomodate to the state and changes of the whims of the current Queen. Sidonie couldn't believe she was back here again, but sacrifices and sometimes judgement had to fall upon the innocent.

He had asked her where she wanted to be. He had asked her what she wanted, what she needed. She didn't have the heart to tell him that she was torn between wishing for death and being left alone. That she wanted everything and yet wanted nothing at all. He kept watch over her until finally she couldn't stand his presence, couldn't stand the presence of anyone near her. When the call came as much as it was met with reluctance, Sidonie would answer it.

Punishment. Someone had to suffer for the disturbance of the already fragile treaty between the Unseelie and Seelie court. The nature of power balance between the Summer Court and the Dark Court. The High Court had stayed out of it thanks to Roisin's coercement of the High Queen's ear and convinced both the High Court and the Winter Court to stay out of it and allow the dishonor of a broken treaty to be settled between the Summer Court and the Dark Court.

Spade knew how bad it looked. Truth had killed the Summer Queen and a few of the summer born along with her own sister to become the Summer Queen. It did not look good for Spade at all... in fact it all looked planned.

So much of her welcomed the punishment, welcomed the pain, as she was deaf to the judgement and punishment called out. Donovan at least had kept her from death no matter how much Sidonie would have welcomed it at that moment.

They had left her kneeling in the middle of the room as all of the Dark Court were summoned, as even the current Summer Queen ... her own sister and her consort were called forth to watch. Bound and naked upon the marble floor as the chains and shackles would bind her hands and feet over those deep grooves cut into the floor. She remembered those grooves well, remembered their purpose in the torture chambers hidden away from the throne room.

Head held down, the black strands of her hair as dark as the descending wings of a murder of crows. The blue-black sheen in the light of swan feathers dipped in ink. All spilled away to expose the dusk of her flesh where the ink exchange ran wild as the Hunt itself. Stretching limbs of the restless beasts moving and writhing on her flesh in nervous anticipation of the first blow.

She would not scream, she never cried out as again and again the strike of the flechettes carved into her skin, pulling and dragging the metal and iron of those tiny teeth of the blades into her skin. Instead she watched with vacant eyes and a numb spirit as the red of her blood traveled in rivulets through the marble grooves knowing well that such a punishment would feed the court... and they would thrive and relish in it.

Love was Dead.

As dead as how she felt inside.

But she remembered his face, even now... she still saw him. There was no escaping him or the memories even now.

A close of eyes and her cheek pressed to the cold of the marble, so far away now in her mind. Flashes of images of the Misfit Toys, the vision of a Dark Lover that was ever kept sacred and secret to any save the two of them... ever so connected they had been as if their souls were intertwined through more then just desire, and the face of a man she had only begun to know... so determined to save her from the Darkness that was swallowing her spirit whole.

It didn't matter... this was the end of everything she knew and she gave in to it... Love was Dead. There was nothing else but this.