#show me Hazel with her sword out standing protectively in front of people older than her with vicious intent

[shoecrabs]

There's a very low chance of it happening but I really really hope we get HoO adaptated... How cool would it be for Rick to completely change the events so that the story was streamlined better? Now that we know he's not against changing details to suit the themes he's working with?

how cool would it be for him to revisit these characters that he struggled writing? especially now that he knows what the end goal is?

How cool would it be to see their development technically cross over two versions of the same timeline? An extended version of canon where things went slightly to the left but happened nonetheless?

[loving-jack-kelly]

Percy Jackson Died

Percy Jackson died.

He was old enough, he supposed, older than so many of his friends he’d watched die, but not really old. Old enough he was tired, and suddenly finding himself in the lobby he recognized from when he was twelve years old was disconcerting but not particularly surprising.

After all, he was a half-blood, and being a half-blood often got you killed in very nasty ways.

But still.

Percy Jackson died.

Charon remembered him.

“Drown in any bathtubs recently?” he asked dryly, but he waved Percy’s apologies for not having a coin to offer him. “You paid me for passage once and it clearly didn’t stick.”

So Percy Jackson died, and he crossed the River Styx on the ferry, and this time, when he arrived in the Underworld, Cerberus was completely visible.

Last time he came to the Underworld to see Hades, he’d entered the fast-moving line and stepped into the fields of Asphodel. This time, he waited in line to see the judges.

He’d saved the world more than once, they’d better give him something better than eternal stasis.

“Percy Jackson.” Daedalus greeted him warmly, arms full of blueprints and a full toolbelt wrapped around his waist. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Before Percy could respond, he was pushed to the front of the line and was standing in front of three men he had a feeling he should recognize but he didn’t. He didn’t have to speak at all, the three judges talked to each other while flipping through papers Percy couldn’t read, and without actually acknowledging him at all, the one in the middle hit a green button and Percy found himself on the inside of the gated community he’d only seen from the outside.

Percy Jackson died and was sent to Elysium. For a little while, it held his attention. Pretty much anything he wanted, he could have. Blue Coke, straight out of the bottle, better than the blue Coke at Camp Half-Blood. Pizza just like the pizza from his favorite place to go with his mom. Infinite activities, everything he’d ever wanted to do but hadn’t been able to when he was alive. Skydiving, cliff jumping, he got to pilot a plane.

He got to see old friends. Beckendorf and Selena Beauregard, who’d found each other and were happy again. Demigods who’d died in the second Titan war who wanted to hear from him how it had ended, to know what really happened. Heroes who died in the second giant war who wanted to know everything about Camp Jupiter and all of their friends who’d outlived them. Hunters who’d died in battles he hadn’t even known about while he was still alive.

But Percy Jackson was the son of Poseidon, lord of the sea. He didn’t like being contained in one place, and even if Elysium was a paradise for heroes, it wasn’t the same as being alive.

So Percy Jackson died, and Percy Jackson was sent to Elysium, and Percy Jackson chose to be reborn.

Zak Mason was born to a single mom.

He was an ordinary baby, almost. He was born with blue eyes, but they turned brown. He laughed and cried and pooped and spat up. He started preschool with a choppy haircut he gave to himself, and loved sitting on his mom’s lap to listen to Dr. Seuss books and watching anything fast-moving and colorful on TV.

When he was six, Zak’s basketball team won against all of the other first grade teams in their town, and a big picture of his gap-toothed smile holding the trophy he’d helped win with his first three-point shot held the place of honor on the fridge for almost a year.

Sometimes, Zak Mason had nightmares he didn’t understand. Of burning pain covering his entire body, of monsters and shifting Earth and bottomless pits, of faces he didn’t recognize twisted in pain or looking down at him as he fell, of flashing swords and screams and bursts of arrows whistling towards an enemy he couldn’t quite make out. He woke up and forgot the nightmares quickly, but they always left him almost wistful for something he couldn’t quite remember, even with how terrifying they were.

As Zak grew up, he noticed things nobody else seemed to. People who were just...different in ways nobody else seemed to understand. He saw a horse with wings, flying high above the clouds while he was on an airplane. A man he swore only had one eye that winked at him when he passed him on the bus. A woman with a forked tongue poking out of her mouth on a corner who’s smile made him shiver and walk faster.

And when he was eleven, almost twelve, a man with goat legs showed up and took him away from his mom. Just for the summer, but it was still the longest he’d been away from home.

“You’re a half-blood,” the man who called himself a satyr said. “You need to learn how to defend yourself and survive.”

His mom hugged him tearfully, but helped him pack his bags and sent him away, all the way to New York from their quiet little town in Wisconsin.

He expected it to be awkward. He didn’t know anything about what this satyr, whose name was Ash, was talking about. Gods and nymphs and a camp where he would learn to swordfight and find out who his dad was? None of it made any sense at all, and so Zak spent the trip to New York dreading whatever this camp was going to be.

He and Ash walked until he saw a tree, and Zak knew, just like that, that he was home. There were plenty of trees around, but this one was tall and proud and straight, and seeing it sent a jolt of some kind of unidentifiable pride down Zak’s spine.

And Zak and Ash passed the tree on top of its hill, and Zak felt like he was home. They looked over a valley full of cabins, a lake, strawberry fields, a big blue house with a wrap-around porch, a climbing wall that seemed to be on fire, and a thick forest.

Everything that didn’t make sense on the trip here clicked in Zak’s head. This was right, this was where he was supposed to be, that was the Big House, and the climbing wall was beatable if you knew the trick, and that was the armory even though it just looked like a shed.

“How do you know all that?” Ash asked, looking confused.

Zak paused.

“I don’t know,” he said.

But this was home.

He met Chiron, the centaur, and it felt like waking up from one of his nightmares. Especially when Chiron looked at him like he already knew everything about Zak and led him around the camp he already felt like he knew backward and forwards.

He was given a space to sleep in Cabin Eleven but told he’d likely be moving soon, as his dad would claim him.

Somehow, it was instinct to head for the lake during free time and climb into a canoe. He was terrible at it, but somehow it just felt right to be out on the lake with the naiads laughing at him.

What he was good at though, was still basketball. Basketball, and archery, and he picked up how to play guitar pretty quickly, too. He loved it at Camp Half-Blood, he told his mom in every letter. He missed her, sure, but they promised he’d be able to come home for the school year.

On his twelfth birthday, a flaming lyre burned above his head.

“Hail Zak Mason, son of Apollo,” Chiron announced in a booming voice, and Zak was welcomed into Cabin Seven with open arms.

So Percy Jackson died, and Percy Jackson made it to Elysium, and Percy Jackson chose to be reborn.

And Zak Mason was born, and Zak Mason was claimed.

Zak Mason still woke up with nightmares that faded from his mind before he blinked all the way awake. Of the same burning pain, but with a face that made him smiled floating through it. Of monsters he knew by name, and names he heard in stories of heroes in the second Titan war and the second giant war.

Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena and designer of Olympus. Grover Underwood, the satyr who finally found the great god Pan. Nico di Angelo, son of Hades, and Jason Grace, son of Jupiter, and Frank Zhang, son of Mars, and Hazel Levesque, daughter of Pluto, and Piper McLean, daughter of Aphrodite.

Names that whispered “home” to him the same way Thalia’s tree did and the lake did and the entire camp did, and he wasn’t sure why.

Chiron watched Zak Mason carefully, always with an expression of almost-but-not-quite recognition. When he insulted another camper or twisted his face in a particular scowl, Chiron shook his head and turned away.

There was one name that didn’t just whisper home, it screamed it.

Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon, savior of humankind, one of the most powerful demigods of the modern age.

Zak didn’t know him, how could he? He’d died protecting a group of young demigods almost two years before Zak was born.

But somehow, Zak did.

He looked in the window of Cabin Three and saw the always empty bunk bed with a minotaur’s horn hanging above it and a ballpoint pen on the pillow and he knew the stories behind them without having to ask.

He’d dreamed them, he knew it, even if he’d forgotten the dreams. Rain and lightning and a woman who disappeared in a flash of golden light, and a sword that had killed a thousand threats to people Percy Jackson loved.

Zak stared at the pen sitting on the pillow and knew it belonged in his pocket. It didn’t surprise him when he woke up with it on his own pillow the next morning, and it didn’t surprise Chiron when it continued to do so every time Zak tried to return it to the little shrine to the fallen hero called Percy Jackson.

When he practiced with Riptide in the arena, it was like every sword fighting tactic he hadn’t been able to master with any other sword came naturally.

People whispered when they saw him fighting with Riptide. Whispered of Percy Jackson, who had fought the god of war and won when he was twelve years old. Who had defeated monsters Hercules himself couldn’t. Who’d wandered Tartarus with only Annabeth Chase beside him and come out alive. Who’d stopped Kronos and Gaea and was the reason camp was so busy and full of life. Who’d given his life to save people he cared for and who’d been willing to go to the ends of the Earth or further for his friends.

And those stories felt like home in the same way camp did, in the same way all those names did and in the same way his nightmares did.

Because Percy Jackson died, and Percy Jackson made it to Elysium, and Percy Jackson was reborn as Zak Mason, son of Apollo, who would surely prove to be as much of a hero as the first body his spirit had inhabited.

Because a spirit like that of Percy Jackson couldn’t be contained to Elysium, and couldn’t be contained to one life of heroism. Not when there was the choice to be another hero whose name would feel like home in his next life when the River Lethe tried again to wipe away memories that couldn’t be erased completely.

And a spirit like that of Percy Jackson could never be anything less than a Hero of Olympus, even if it started over in a new body with a new name.

[writingkeepsmewhole]

First Time

This is my entry for the Wheel Of Tropes Walking Dead Challenge created by the lovely @i-am-negan-trash If you enjoy  on point Negan in fics this you should go read her story Raise Hell. You won’t want to stop reading it trust me.

My Trope was First Time and my first thought was King Negan. So of course this is AU and not really in character for Negan. I tried to make him as much like the show as I could but I didn’t like it so I tweaked it a bit.

Reader is the daughter to King Rick, her marring Negan to grand a peace between the two nations. This is the tails of her first week being there.

NeganxReader

Warnings:Smut

It’s been two years since the dead arose and started walking the earth. No one knows why or how it happened. We only learned to fight and stay close to the kingdoms across the lands.

King Ezekiel to the west.

King Gregory to the east.

My father's kingdom to the south. King Rick.

Then to the north king Negan.

That’s where my family was headed now. The plague almost to hard for us to handle. I sat in the back of the carriage beside my brother. My father sitting across from us. I knew how hard it was for him to ask for help.

Our alliance with Ezekiel and Gregory was slipping. Are only choice was ask the north for help or be over run by the dead.

The whole ride there, father only told us to stay silent that he would do the talking.

I respected his wishes. Everyone knew the tails of the king of the north. A mad king with only a lust for power. Some say that’s why he was not just surviving this plague he was thriving in it.

Pulling in front the castle it’s structure towering over us. I pulled my hood over my hair shielding my face from the cold air whipping around us.

We followed a man named Simion into the building. I watched Carl look around his eyes bright with excitement where my father help his hand on his sword ready to fight if need be. It making me wonder how I looked.

My hands locked in front of me, my back straight but my head kept down keeping me from drawing attention to myself. My heart was pounding making my crosest seem much tighter than it was.

We entered the throne room letting me see the man himself. I was a bit taken back at the man sat in front of me. Rumors had him to be like a beast, gastly and hard to even look upon. Where I just saw a man. A handsome man at that.

He was tall with a strong build. His raven hair was pushed back out of his face letting his hazel eyes show. He had a nice salt and pepper beard covering his chin making him look older but not in a bad way. It made him look wise as if he knew a lot of things.

I let my eyes drift to the empty place beside him. Everyone knowing his wife died right before the plague started. It leaving him cruel and alone. Though it was no secret that he shared his bed with many woman. Some even claimed to be his mistresses but you never saw them at court.

“Well well, look who decides to finally visited. It is over do isn't?” Negan asks his voice bellowing throughout the throne room.

“I suppose it is.” Father says tightening his grip on his sword.

“What is it that grants me this rare visit?”

“I’ve come to talk about an alence.”

“The other kingdoms tell you of how my men protected them?” Negan asks pushing himself off the throne making him stand taller than I thought.

“In short yes.”

“Very well. Shall we speak terms?”

“I thought the terms would already be spoken. Them being the same you give the other kingdoms.”

“Why would I do that? Your fields are dying, the few heards you have are being thinned by the dead. You have little coin. What do you have to offer me?” Negan asks walking towards my father, him knowing he has the upper hand.

When his gaze meets mine I blush and quickly look away from him. First at the floor then once again at the thrones in front of me. Me knowing how weak a kingdom can be seen without and hier.

Negan could easily be over throne without one. If that happens then what would happen to my father's kingdom to my home. I quickly realize that this trip has been for nothing.

“We have weapons.” My father continues the conversation I have lost track of in my thoughts.

“My men have weapons.” Negan says smirking.

“Offer me something that I would gain with.”

“Me.” I say without thinking, the blood rushing to my cheeks when I realize what I have said.

“Y/N!” both my father and brother say shocked.

“Well I can see we finally have something to discuss.” Negan says smiling.

“Forgive my daughters loose tongue. She knows not what she says.” My father says throwing a glare my way.

“If I may be so bold father.” I say taking a half step from my brothers side.

“This would not only give you men to protect our people it would also make our kingdoms joined. Giving the people more space to grow and rebuild.” I say tightening my hands in front of me to keep them from shaking.

“Your daughter has a point.” Negan says stroking his beard.

“Sister are you sure this is what you want to do?” Carl asks softly touching my arm.

“It is.” I say my heart racing. It was too late to back down now. If I did I would make both me and my father look like a fool.

“Very well. If you wish it, it will be done.” Father says clenching his jaw.

“Lovely. Let us finish this agreement in the library shall we?” Negan smirks holding his arm out toward the hall.

“I will not leave my children unattended.” Father says.

“Oh yes of course. Simon.” Negan barks making me jump.

“Yes, your majesty?”

“Take these two on a tour of the castle.” He says smiling.

“Of course.” Simon nods and leads us away from my father and my may soon to be husband.

Once out of the room Carl grabs my arm stopping me.

“What do you think you are doing?” He asks his eyes ablaze.

“I’m thinking of our people. As should you.” I say calmly trying not to show my fear.

“You know what everyone says about him.”

“Yes. I also know what they say of father and they are rumors.”

“What if they are right?”

“Then I will make sacrifices for my family.” I say moving around him and continuing the tour without words between us again.

I barely remember anything about the tour. A garden here, a stone arch there nothing that distracted me from the thoughts dwelling in my head.

When we came to a large arch way and the sound of bellowing laughed filled my ears I looked up from my clenched hands.

At a large table was king Negan and my father. Negan was laughing at something but my father didn't seem amused in the slightest.

"Ah there she is my bride to be." Negan says holding his arms out towards me.

"So you made the deal then?" Carl asks.

My father only nodding and telling him they would be leaving tonight only to return in a weeks time for the wedding.

At that I felt blood rushing in my ears and my heart pounding. I would be married to a man I just met in only a week.

After lunch Negan sent my father and brother back home. Leaving me alone for the first time in my life.

I stayed outside in the cold wind to frightened to face my fiance.

I jumped when I felt something heavy and warm touch my shoulders.

"Be calm, I won't harm you." Negan's growing familiar voice said.

I looked down to see a black fur cloak wrapped around me. Looking at Negan I realized it was his own. His arms bare.

"Thank you." I say bowing my head.

"No need to thank me. I must take care of you. We will be married soon." He says smirking at me.

I only nod as a response.

"You are scared of me." he states.

"I... In some ways." I say seeing no point in lying.

"What makes you feel like that?"

"I've never been alone before. I've always had my father or brother beside me at all times. Now I find myself without them talking to a man I have only  heard terrible things about."

"Well, I'm sure some of those things are true." he says glancing at me.

He was right some of the rumors were true.

He used the dead as a defense, he ruthlessly when anyone broke his law, he was extremely cocky and powerful.

But something the rumors didn't tell was how he made sure everyone of his people where safe and had a job to do. How he would visit his people and play with the towns children. I'm sure even he wouldn't want people to know the way his eyes would soften when he would smile at me across the table in the mornings.

In the span of a week I had a mix of bittersweet feelings for the feared king.

But when father arrived looking more at ease. The news that they saved a village from being taken by the dead I used that as the strength to honor my word to Negan.

I was dressed simple, for a royal wedding but that I was thankful for. Negan picked out a long white dress and a corset. My hair had snowbells pined in it. A pale flower that flourished in cold weather.

I walked into the throne room it filled with faces I didn't know. The only ones familiar was my family standing at the front. Them giving me a smile as I stepped up next to Negan.

I could feel my heart race as he placed his hand on my back helping me up the small step.

It seemed like the walk down the aisle took hours but the wedding itself seemed to pass in a blink of an eye.

I stood there as Negan lifted up my veil only hearing the sound of blood rushing in my ears and my heart pounding. I closed my eyes when he touched my face. His hand large and rough but warm agents even my flushed cheeks.

Leaning towards me he smiles then softly brushes his lips across mine. I hold my breath as the first man to ever kiss me pulls me closer deepening the kiss. As soon as I relax he pulls away from me and smirks.

And just like that I was a married woman and a queen no less.

I knew the requirements for a married couple on their wedding night. I would have to lay with Negan in a room full of witnesses.

I had a knot in my stomach the whole wedding feast.

Feeling someone touch my back I quickly turned around to see Negan's hazel eyes.

"Hello wife." he says leaning around me to pick up a glass of wine.

I nod as my response fisting my dress.

"Relax. Enjoy the party.  Drink some wine." he says handing me the glass he just had to his lips.

Taking it I sip at it earning a chuckle from him.

"Your fathers not looking and no one will judge you in my court drink the barrel if you wish. Your my wife you'll want for nothing." he says softly stroking my cheek.

Taking a shaky breath I nod and smile I drink the glass.

The evening continued. I drank more it easing my thoughts and worries until Negan pressed his hand into my back.  Softly after my father and brother left Negan lead me back to his bed chambers a place I have yet to enter.

It was for the most part like my own. Yet the bed was larger and covered in black soft bedding.

Around the bed sat faces I didn't recognize. I don't know how long they were here but I didn't see them at the wedding or feast.

"Don't worry about them." Negan whispers in my ear as he unties my corset.

I feel my body flush and began to shake. As if sending this Negan leads me to the bed and helps me into it. After two handmaidens close the curtains around us I take a breath.

I jump when I feel large warm hands touch my face.

"relax it'll be better that way." Negan says moving closer to press his lips to mine.

This time he let's me kiss him back. Him slowly leading me on what to do.

I relax into his embrace feeling him softly push my sleeve off my shoulder. Kissing down my neck I close my eyes and tilt my head back my heart pounding.

"Relax. I'll stop if you want me to." he says looking up at me.

I shake my head no and place his hand on my breast. He smirks making me blush as he gently squeezed my breast. I bite my lip blushing.

Pulling me closer he kisses me again. I return it getting better at it. Sliding my dress down he bends to kiss my shoulders. I grab his arms when he  kisses the top of my nipple. Telling me to take a breath he takes my nipple into his mouth and sucks softly making me cry out. I blush at the pleasure and knowing that people can hear us.

Smiling at me he sucks my other nipple as he plays with the one that was just in his mouth.

I shiver feeling tingles shoot down into my lower belly.

Pulling away from me Negan pulls his shirt off.

"touch me." he says pulling me close and placing my hand on his chest.

I let my hand run down his chest feeling my blood rush through my veins.

As I touch him feeling the strength in his arms and chest he removes my dress.

I bite my lip blushing no longer touching him.

"don't worry love I won't hurt you.

pulling me under him he kisses down my neck once again sucking my nipples. I gasp when he  touches my sex. He gently caressed me while he kissed my skin.

I let out a sigh my whale body heating up.

I didn't know when he finished undressing but he was soon between my legs. Kissing me he moved to hiss my shoulder.

"Try to enjoy it I don't want to hurt you." He says as he pushes into me.

I bite my lip whimpering when I feel him tear threw my virtue.

He bends down to whisper sweet nothings in my ear. I at first don't know why he hasn't moved but I'm thankful for it when he does. The pain is leased still there but not as strong. He slowly moves his hips. I closed my eyes him softly touching my face.

"Look at me my queen. I don't want you to think of anything or anyone else when we are together. Only me." he smirks putting his hand between us.

When he touches me again this time it sends a shock threw me. Smirking he continues to rub me as he thrusts into me.

He goes slow seeming to know when to switch to something else when it becomes to stimulating.

When I feel my heart start to race and my stomach tighten he smirks at me as if he knows what's happening.

He kisses me again speeding up his efforts. I gasp as my body teases and an intense pleasure rushes through me.

"Did you enjoy that?" he asks softly rubbing my nipple with his thumb.

I nod blushing.

"I told you it would be better if you just relaxed." he smirks picking up the pace of his hips.

Soon his rhythm  becomes messing it followed by him twitching inside me. His warm seed filling my womb.

He smiles and softly kisses me as he pulls away from me. I tense at the sore feeling.

He pulls back the certain just enough to tell everyone that they can leave.

I jump when I hear them move and the door closes suddenly aware of that they heard everything knowing exactly what we were doing.

Leaving the certain closed Negan returns to my side.

"How are you?" he asks laying next to me.

"I'm alright thank you. "

"Good. Sleep tomorrow starts your first day as a ruler."

I nod doing what he asked.

I'm surprised when he pulls me closer to him and kisses my head his thumb rubbing my back.

I close my eyes thinking of everything that has happened to me in the past week.

First time going to a different kingdom. First time speaking for myself. First time getting engaged and married. First time being kissed and laid with. The first time I felt something for someone that wasn't my family.

I don't know how my life would be but I hope I continued to experience more first times as pleasant as this one.

[verifiefangirl]

Wildflower Crown

Prologue (10 years before)

Elain Archeron giggled as Azriel handed her his spare wooden sword, challenging her to a mock duel. He was a couple years older than her and all the girls in the castle had a crush on him and his brother. Elain was no different except rumour has it that Azriel was terribly taken by Morrigan, the Queen of Northsford only child. She tucked her brunet hair behind her ear, nervously. Her coffee eyes round with thrill.

She watched his gangly limbs feign right and Elain quick as a doe sidestepped his advanced which made him shoot a toothy grin in her direction.

She awkwardly tried to manoeuvre her sword in a way that would strike him on the shoulder, but he was too quick and in a mere three movements he had her knocked off her feet and face planting on the ground. She landed on her arm wrong and felt a sharp pain shooting from her chin and was surprised to see her fingers turned up stained crimson upon further inspection. She shifted her weight on her other arm and let out a howl of pain, the maids came running. She saw Azriel’s face looking pale and guilty. She tried to tell them that she fell but the evidence of the swords lay right in front of them. She was scooped up by one of the guards and swooped away. Azriel was hauled off somewhere, no doubt getting an earful. Her heart plummeted at the thought.

That night she snuck into his room to check on him. His figure lay in bed with his back turned away from the window she had climbed in through. Her stomach lurched at the sight of the lashings on his back. They hadn’t even bothered cleaning and bandaging it properly.

She knew he wasn’t sleeping. His breathing was too uneven for that and, how could he? He must be in immense pain right now. His back was raw and angry looking. She crossed the other side of the room. His eyes were red and swollen as he stared at Elain in surprise. Before she could even apologise he beat her to it.

“Elain.” He rasped, his voice hoarse and barely audible. “I’m so sorry that you got hurt. Please forgive me. Are you okay?” He begged, looking at her pleadingly.

Elain let out a strangled sound as she threw her arms lightly around him. She didn’t want to jostle him too much.

“It wasn’t your fault! I’m sorry you got in trouble.” She blubbered like the child she was. His arms came up lightly around her, securing her in place. He let out a soft wince from the movement and her guilt only worsened. “And I’m fine.” She felt him relax a little with relief.

“It not so bad, honestly.” He choked out softly. His voice sounding rough. Giving her a cheeky grin that made Elain’s heart lightened. She made him scoot over so she could lie in bed with him which made him blush furiously, causing him to look away. His bed was equally as small as his room but that’s how it was for people who worked for the Crown.

“I’ll have to deal with worse if I’m ever to protect you.” He teased. She giggled again and stared out at the starry sky. A sudden burst of melancholy tiding over her.

“Is that really what you want to do?” She inquired gently, turning her gaze back to him so she could read him better. His hazel eyes looked dark brown in the pitch-black night, she noted. He held her gaze, unwaveringly.

“Yes. I, Azriel wichmann, vow  protection to Princess Elain Archeron, to not only stand by her side as a dutiful Knight but as her best friend.” She felt her throat clog up with emotion. Unable to look away from the sincerity of his words and stare. She held out her pinky.

“Promise?” She asked softly.

“Promise.” He said his body straightening and face painted with seriousness. He entwined their fingers.  

That was one of the last time she had ever seen Azriel. Not shortly after that incident was he was shipped off to the Illyrian camps to learn how to become a real fighter. Her heart and been crushed. He was her best friend and co-conspirator in everything. He was the only one who let her do anything remotely dangerous and fun.

She had cried for weeks. Her father had brought her numerous gowns and toys to try to make her feel better, but she couldn’t ignore the gaping emptiness she felt. The first friend she had made was gone and all she felt was that there was this piece of her was suddenly missing.

She thought back fondly to the memories of how he’d love to teach her everything he’d learned in training. She was just as eager to absorb what he showed her but as time grew on Elain’s memory of Azriel grew fuzzier and fuzzier. The memory of him becoming a distant buzzing sound in her mind. Each day that passed the special place he held in her heart lessened and she met new people and became a different person.

||Thanks for reading! I've reached 300! And am so excited to celebrate and share this fic with you guys!  This is a medieval AU story. Chapter 1 is where the tensions at ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  and there is much more in store*whispers* drama... Chapter 1 will be posted tomorrow.

@court-0f-dreamers since yo ass complains about not seeing my work,

[mama-m1na]

The Kiss of Death: Chapter 1

~~~I~~~

It was a beautiful morning in the kingdom of Ukaidia, as the sun cast her rays over the brilliant, rolling fields and meadows.

Walking one of the still quiet, cobblestone streets was a young maiden only seventeen years of age with a small smile on her face.

The breeze felt nice on her smooth, golden-brown skin as her brown irises swept across the silent streets, light catching on the gold flecks within her orbs.

Her long, raven colored locks were held back in one braid which ended at the bottom of the female’s back.

The teenager wore a simple white blouse tucked into black leggings with a purple sash wrapped around her waist as a pair of brown, lace up boots protected her feet from the morning chill.

The girl had a crossbody bag that rested on her left hip as she held a book with the name ‘Rhamina Miyu’ on the spine in her right hand.

More and more people began to fill the streets as the ravenette made it closer to her destination, the castle.

The teen merely smirked with her plump, freshly glossed, lips at the glares she was receiving as she entered the castle gates.

As a pureblood Lemurian the teen had many rumors spread about her, but she honestly could not care less.

She did not exist to please them. In her own mind, she might as well have existed to just frustrate everyone who disliked her… Which is exactly what she did.

Upon entering a familiar courtyard, the female’s eyes fell not upon the two of her teammates that were there, nor the new face standing next to their instructor, but it was on the familiar male sitting on a bench that was shaded by a tree.

“Prince Umi?” she asked, gaining the attention of the slightly taller male with long silver hair tied up into a ponytail, “What are you doing here?”

“I live in the castle, Rhamina, where else would I be?” the male spoke back with sarcasm lacing his tone as he stood to watch the female set her things next to the bench.

“Doing your princely duties one would hope,” the ravenette chuckled as she brushed a few stray hairs behind her ear and out of her face, “No, but really, why are you down here? Don’t you have archery practice or something?”

“I thought it would be more difficult to get all of the painting done with just seven people,” he replied, earning a mischievous grin from the female.

“Awe, thank you,” she gushed before snickering with a certain glint in her eyes that the male did not like.

“Oh how gracious is the magnificent Prince Umi of Ukaidia!” the ravenette mused dramatically, earning a groan from the male.

“Ah, yes how- ow! Hey that’s not fair, you’re still wearing your armor!” coughed Rhamina in response to the male dropping his gloved hand on her back.

“Looking up into his golden/hazel irises, the ravenette smiled sweetly saying, “Really though, thank you, Umi, you really didn’t have to take time out of your day to help us.

His face immediately flushed and he quickly turned away to avoid people seeing; however, it was already too late.

“Oh? Is that Umi blushing?” a familiar voice asked as everyone turned to the entrance of the castle to see the headstrong, red-headed princess of Ukaidia.

“Haru!” barked the male as he turned to his younger sister, earning a cackle from the female as she turned to walk back inside.

“Your sister really is something isn’t she?” chuckled the ravenette as she walked over to a red cart holding a large, waterproof tarp that they would be painting.

“Before he could even reply the woman known as Krystal looked over at the ravenette and said, “Nice, Ramen, it’s a great day to wear white.”

“Oh shoot,” hissed the teen as she looked down at her outfit before shrugging, “I didn’t even realize, oh well. I don’t even wear this shirt much anyways.”

As more of the team members showed up, everyone helped unfold the floor and Rhamina was given a pair of scissors to cut the floor a bit smaller.

With quick precision, the ravenette got down on her knees and began opened the pair of blades before letting them glide through the tarp.

The female was finished with the job in under seven minutes as the others were preparing and mixing the paints.

Taking out a magical tool, the instructor began playing various forms of music to keep everyone entertained and on task.

Making quick work of the area she was supposed to paint, Rhamina then began working on assembling the props which would be used in the show.

“Damn, Mina, you’re really good with your hands,” commented one of her teammates who was painting, “what else can they do?”

“Strangle someone,” the captain spoke without missing a beat as she continued to focus on the props.

“Oh my god, Ramen!” exclaimed the instructor as she had overheard the conversation while the rest of the girls were howling with laughter.

“Don’t want a stupid answer then don’t ask stupid questions,” chuckled the ravenette as she quickly stretched out her back before returning to work.

When the lunch break rolled around, many of the girls sat in the sun on the ground near the tarp; however, two sat with the prince in the shade of the tree.

“This is going pretty well,” chirped the ravenette as she opened her bag and took out a sandwich that was wrapped in a napkin to protect the other contents of the bag, “We only need to finish writing the words and painting the rest of the props.”

The male nodded as he took a bite of his own meal which consisted of some marinated meat and rice as he took notice of the unusually small quantity of the ravenette’s meal. 

“Is that all you’re eating?” the male asked with a raised brow, causing the other female with short hair to look up at Rhamina.

“Mina, that sandwich is tiny!” the younger female exclaimed.

“Its fine, I’m not that hungry today,” shrugged the ravenette before taking another bite of her sandwich that was almost gone.

Umi narrowed his eyes at the statement since the entire time he had known the teen she was always hungry and eating quite a bit whenever she could, and for good reason.

She hadn’t told many people other than a few close friends, but she had an extremely weak immune system which relied on every nutrient she could get from eating anything she could get her hands on. 

In the case that she didn’t or couldn’t eat enough, the ravenette would become extremely susceptible to disease, so it did not make sense in the young prince’s head as to why she would just start eating in much smaller quantities than she normally would.

Then he remembered that unlike many of the other members of the Royal Band and Colorguard, Rhamina did not live on castle grounds but at the very edge of the capital city where she was more open to discrimination.

“Rhamina, are the people in town cutting you off?” the male asked suddenly as the female’s expression didn’t change.

It was quiet for a few moments before the female shook her head saying, “Of course not,” the smile never leaving her face as she looked up through the tree branches at the blue sky.

However, the few moments of silence was all the recently turned seventeen-year-old needed to get the truth before he huffed, shoving his bowl towards the older female.

“You need to tell me, or my siblings, or just anyone in the castle when things like this happen,” the male scolded with narrowed eyes as the short haired female looked up at her friend and superior.

“Mina, why don’t you just live in the castle with the rest of us?” she asked as the ravenette began taking small bites of the meal offered to her, knowing he would make her anyway.

“It’s not that simple, Chloe,” Rhamina explained as her gaze fell flat, not focusing on anything, “That just gives them a reason to call me a coward, trying to hide behind the castle walls.”

“Even if you don’t live here, you need to ask for help if you’re being deprived of things you need to live,” scoffed Umi as he watched the girl eat.

“I could be saying the same thing to you, Hun,” retorted the female with a light glare before she stretched, laying down at her spot on the ground with eyes closed, “Plus that would be too much of a hassle for everyone.”

“Rhamina, you’re wellbeing is at stake and all you’re saying is that its ‘too much of a hassle’ to get help?” the prince asked, not bothering to hide the blatant irritation seeping into his voice.

“Umi, you’ve known me long enough to know that I choose to suffer in silence rather than reach out when it comes to the people in town,” the teen spoke as she relished in the breeze that blew by, “Plus it’ll only give me more satisfaction when they finally suffer at the hands of fate for all the things they’ve said and done to me.”

“Good things come to those who wait,” she mused slowly opening her eyes as the shorter female hovered over her.

“Mina, that isn’t healthy though!” the brunette tried to reason, only for the older girl to shrug in response.

“If I die, then I die,” she replied nonchalantly, “If it's them who kill me, then they better prepare to get their asses haunted by a vengeful me.”

“You know, I would really appreciate it if you stopped joking about things like this,” the silver-haired prince spoke, his hands clenching into fists as they lay in his lap.

“I’m sorry, Umi,” Rhamina sighed as she sat up before all expression left her face, “But I must let you know that what I say is never a joke. I never joke about death. Everything I say about her is spoken in all seriousness.”

The air around the three became tense before a familiar figure stepped in front of them with a mischievous smirk on her face.

“So, how are things going here?” the red haired princess asked with a specific glint in her eyes that Umi did not like.

“Haru, convince Mina to live in the castle” pleaded Chloe before the ravenette slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Why? Did something happen?” the female asked with a raised brow as the sword at her hip lightly clanged against her armor.

“No, everything’s fine,” the ravenette chirped, acting as if there wasn’t a fifteen-year-old struggling against her vice-like grip, “Nothing happened whatsoever.”

The male beside them scoffed, earning his sibling’s attention before the ravenette shot him a warning glare.

“Are you sure?” Haru asked, emphasizing each word as her eyes wandered to those of her brother who only cracked his left middle finger.

“Yeppers!” chirped the seventeen, almost eighteen-year-old as the princess’ gaze returned to her.

“Alright then,” she spoke turning around, “Whatever you say…”

As the form of the princess disappeared back into the stone walls the group was called back onto the now dry, freshly decorated floor to begin their actual practice.

For the next two hours, the seven girls of the Royal Colorguard rehearsed and cleaned what they had of their new show.

“Alright, I need to get something real quick so behave and Anthony is going to be showing you parts of your flag feature,” Krystal said as she turned to walk back into the castle, letting the man known as Anthony step forward with a white flag.

“Yes, Mom!” chirped Rhamina as she stood closer to the front of her group as she picked up her own flag which, like the other girls, had a golden silk instead of white.

The entire time the male was showing them the new routine, Rhamina was the only one who could somewhat keep up as the male taught them the complicated work unlike anything they had done before.

“Yeah, that’s it now the palm roll,” the male commented as he caught the ravenette practicing the routine on her own off to the side as he was helping another girl.

She was very much under tempo, but she was actually doing it and understanding how the work was supposed to flow together.

“Damn!” a female named Isabelle exclaimed causing Rhamina to pause what she was doing and turn around to face the younger girl, “Oh, sorry. You just look really good.”

“Thanks, Hun,” chuckled Rhamina with a nervous smile before she restarted the routine to try and get it looking better or at least at a slightly faster tempo.

While all of this was happening, Umi sat on the bench with the ravenette’s bag and journal just watching as the female didn’t only practice, but performed with an expression of longing on her face.

‘Practice as you perform,’ was something she always said and as she was the captain of the guard she believed that it was best to lead by example. It was easy for her to encapture the character of a lone doll on a store shelf as she always had a deep sense of longing. For what he didn’t know, but he would try anything to help her find it.

“So when are you planning on telling her?” mused a familiar voice from behind the male causing him to jump in surprise.

“Where do you keep coming from?!” asked the prince as he turned around to face the second youngest in the royal family.

“Seriously, Dear Brother, you need to start going to work before someone else decides to take her from you,” the redhead spoke as she pulled a lollipop from out of a pouch, ignoring her brother’s question.

“What do you mean?” he asked with narrowed eyes, playing dumb as Haru leaned forward and gestured at the female who had just tossed her flag behind her back before turning to catch it facing front.

“Brother, Rhamina is young, beautiful, smart, talented, and to top it all off, she can use magic,” the teenager explained as the male’s gaze followed her hand, “you think she wouldn’t have caught someone’s attention by now? I mean she has yours, doesn’t she?”

The female sighed before she began walking in the direction of the stables.

“I’m just trying to help you, Brother, it’s quite obvious that she might feel the same way about you,” the princess called behind her, “Don’t waste your chance.”

At around two in the afternoon, the girls refolded the floor and placed it back onto the cart before wheeling it off to the storage room where it was housed.

“Rhamina, wait!” the prince called as the ravenette was about to exit through the castle gates.

The girl hummed in acknowledgement before she turned around to face her long time friend of seven years.

“Are you going to the festival in two days?” the seventeen-year-old male asked as the female looked up at him.

“Yep,” she chirped in response, “Its the Mid-Winter festival. It's the only one I even go to.”

“Well if it doesn’t bother you, might I accompany you?” Umi asked as he tried to avoid eye contact with the older female.

“That wouldn’t bother me at all, Umi. I’d love that,” Rhamina replied with a smile, “These kinds of things are best enjoyed with others.”

“Yes, so I’ll just come pick you up when the time comes,” the prince agreed before the ravenette wrapped her arms around his form briefly before walking out of the gates.

“Bye, Umi, I’ll see you then!” she called before disappearing down the road, leaving a stunned prince in her wake.

Throughout the many years he had known the Lemurian, Umi just could not get used to her sudden bursts of affection.

One moment she’s shoving her self proclaimed sisters away because she doesn’t want to be touched, but in the next she’ll be pouncing on any unsuspecting friend of hers within arms reach, demanding affection.

Quickly shaking off his shock, the prince made his way into the castle, finding his way to where those in the Royal Band and Colorguard were housed.

As soon as he reached a door with a bright red dot on the handle he raised his fist to knock, only to be startled by a familiar voice.

“What did you need, my dude?” a seventeen-year-old named Kerstin asked.

“Gods!” exclaimed the second prince as his hand grasped at his chest as he turned around, “Both you and my sister, I swear.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing,” the prince sighed, running his hands through his hair before taking a deep breath and asking, “Do you happen to know the preferred flower of Rhamina?”

“Why do you need to know that?” the darkette asked before a large smile spread across her face.

‘Oh dear lord-’

“Oh my god, are you going to start courting her?!” Kerstin exclaimed as Umi tense, making sure that no one heard her outburst.

“Yes, now do you know or not?”the male snapped with narrowed eyes.

“Of course I do, you goose, her favorite flowers are lilacs,” the darkette chirped patting the taller male’s shoulder.

“Oh and one thing,” she added before he could thank her, grip tightening on the male’s shoulder as a crazed glint appeared in her irises, “hurt her and I will personally com and kill you. I don’t care if you're a prince or whatever, I will make you hurt in anyway you make her.”

“O-of course I won’t,” Umi uttered in surprise and slight fear causing the darkette to loosen her grip on the male and act like nothing had happened before entering her room without another word.

‘Does everyone with Lemurian blood act that way?’ the silver-haired male thought to himself as he walked away from the quarters of the half Lemurian, ‘No, Chloe doesn’t act like that.’

Just as he turned the corner, Umi saw that the female who had eaten lunch with Rhamina and himself was there, just staring at him with narrowed eyes.

“Chloe?” the male asked with a raised brow as he slowly reached for the bow on his back, “Is everything alright?”

“Hoot,” the half Lemurian muttered lowly as her eyes narrowed before she backed away into another hallway, almost running into a wall as she did so.

The two days passed quickly before Umi walked out of the castle gates wearing thick clothing to protect himself from the cold and freshly fallen snow.

As he made his way to the home of the ravenette, Umi began to question how the female could stand making the walk all the way up to the castle and back almost everyday.

The male stopped in front of a small wooden house located quite a ways from the others, right at the edge of the woods.

‘Honestly, this girl is put in so much danger by being this far away from everyone,’ the male thought before knocking on the door.

A few moments later the ravenette opened the door with a large smile as she wore an all black outfit, save for the gray coat she wore that reached her knees and her usual brown, lace-up boots.

“Aren’t you going to get cold wearing just that?” the prince asked, noticing that the teen was wearing a thin pair of black leggings.

“Is that even a question?” the girl retorted as she turned around to lock her door before latching herself to the taller male’s arm causing him to tense.

“So, where to first?” the girl asked, looking up with bright eyes as the male slowly relaxed in her hold.

“Since it’s a little bit past noon, I was planning on grabbing some lunch if you haven’t eaten yet,” the male said as they began to walk back into town where the festival was being held.

“Mhm,” Rhamina hummed, nuzzling into the male’s shoulder to gain the comforting warmth he always seemed to emit, “I’m good with that.

After the two had eaten, a few friends had flagged down the ravenette and roped her into a very long, drawn out conversation. Before leaving.

“Sorry about that, Umi,” the ravenette sighed as she turned around to see the male holding a bag from the bakery that they were standing in front of.

“I accept your apology,” the male scoffed, “Although it wasn’t entirely your fault that you weren’t trying to be rude to them, so here.”

The male shoved the paper bag into the teen’s arms before saying, “You better not be sulking because of this the entire day.”

Opening the bagm a small smile spread across the female’s face before she asked, “How did you know I like these tarts?”

“I remembered you enjoying them at my brother’s birthday celebration a few months ago,” Umi explained as the female took a bite of a vanilla custard tart with blueberries on top of it.

“I’m surprised you do remember that,” Rhamina replied, folding the top of the bag over to save the rest for later, “It was quite some time ago.”

“It's just something I noticed is all,” the male shrugged, looking down to meet the bright smile that graced his companion’s face.

“Thank you, Umi, that’s very sweet of you,” she replied before the male let out a cough while turning his face away.

The two teens spent the rest of the afternoon walking around town, visiting the various stalls that were set up and watching the many shows until the sun set when everyone gathered in the town square.

“It really is nice to be around so many smiling faces every once in a while, huh?” Rhamina asked as a peaceful smile graced her features upon taking in the happy atmosphere of the festival around her, becoming completely engrossed.

That is until she noticed a flash of purple move in front of her and she looked down to see the second prince of Ukaidia down on one knee as he held a stem of lilacs up to her.

Her eyes widened before she began to blink rapidly as she realized what was happening since she watched it happen and sometimes helped it happen for her siblings and children.

“Umi, Hun, what, um, what are you doing?” Rhamina asked as she felt heat crawl up her neck and face.

“My fair lady, Rhamina, will you grant me the honor of allowing me to court you?” the prince asked as he had practiced, looking up to the ravenette with hopeful eyes.

“Umi, are you really sure about this?” the female asked, desperately trying to avoid direct eye contact, “I mean what would your father think of this? I mena, he hates me.”

“Rhamina, I could not care less what anyone says about this, other than you,” the prince spoke causing the female’s eyes to travel back to his own, “I swear on my honor that even if you reject me tonight, that no harm will come to you as long as I still breath.”

The prince closed his eyes as he saw the slight fear in his friend’s eyes, preparing for rejection when he instead felt warmth envelop his form.

“How could I possibly reject you like this, My Prince?” Rhamina asked softly as she pulled back to meet his eyes and rest her hands on his own before taking the lilacs from his grasp.

“Prince Umi of Ukaidia, I wholeheartedly accept your request,” she continued as she stood with a large, closed eye smile, “All I ask in return is that you protect my heart.”

Umi then enveloped the slightly smaller female in his own embrace as she happily nuzzled her face into the prince’s neck.

As the music behind them changed to an upbeat waltz, Umi pulled back and held his hand out to the slightly older female.

“Would you allow me to have this dance?” he asked formally before she smiled back and placed her hand in his.

“Of course but you’ll have to excuse any mistakes I make,” chuckled the ravenette as she was led to the center of the square, “I am not trained for this kind of dance.”

As the two continued to dance, two figures silently watched them from behind the large water fountain in the square.

“Wow, I really did not think he had it in him,” a dark skinned female commented as she took a bite out of a candied apple in her grasp, “but he managed to pull it off. Go you, Tsundere-kun.”

Meanwhile, the short-haired brunette could only watch in anger, seething at how close the two were while dancing.

“Hoot,” she grumbled, feeling very conflicted at the moment.

On one hand, how dare that specimen of the opposite gender lay his hands on her mother; while, on the other hand, the ravenette looked so happy.

Chloe had known that the teen had been longing for romantic companionship to battle her own loneliness from the war between Lemurians and Ukaidians that left her without her family, but the ravenette never believed that she was deserving of it, that she was destined to die alone.

The brunette knew that the prince could finally provide this for her friend, but the idea of the ravenette’s attention being taken by some boy just frustrated her to no end.

“Hey, Chloe, what’s the matter?” the other female asked as she looked down to the seething fifteen-year-old, “He will pay, hoot,” muttered Chloe, “pay, Tijarah.”

“Weren’t you the one saying how cute they would be together?” Tijarah asked with a raised brow.

“I didn’t actually think he’d actually have the balls to start courting her!” huffed Chloe, “Its Umi for crying out loud!”

“So, what are you going to do now?” the older female asked, taking another bite of the sweets in her hand, “Sabotage Umi?”

“No,” chirped the shorter female as she stood up with a determined blaze in her eyes, “But I can be annoying!”

“I don’t really think that’s a good thing,” Tijarah commented as she watched the smaller female cackle, “What would Mina do if she caught you?”

“She won’t find out as long as you don’t say anything, Tijarah,” Chloe mused with a smile.

“Oh no, you aren’t ropping me into this,” the seventeen-year-old spoke as the half-Lemurian inched closer, “If she finds out that I’m even letting you do this, she’ll kill me.”

“Then you better make sure she doesn’t find out!” sung Chloe as Tijarah’s eyes widened in horror.

“Chloe, you’re supposed to be the nice, innocent one!” cired the teen as the orchestra merely played on in the background.

Once the festivities had ended, Umi walked Rhamina back to her home as she was once again latched onto his arm with a smile on her face.

“Good night, Umi,” she said once they reached her front door, embracing him tightly.

“And to you as well, Rhamina,” the prince replied with a soft smile, making sure she was inside before making his way back to the castle.

‘I feel so happy,’ the ravenette thought with a large, love struck grin on her face as she prepared herself to go to sleep, ‘but then why does my heart feel so heavy?’

The next day, the ravenette got up bright and early to prepare her breakfast to start off the beginning of her long day.

In the morning, she had practice for the Ukaidian Royal Band and right after a shorter, but in some cases more tedious, rehearsal for a small jazz ensemble she was a part of.

In the afternoon, she had colorguard practice up until nightfall, so she needed to make sure that she had enough energy to last the entire day.

Soon after she finished her meal, Rhamina dressed in an outfit similar to the one she had worn while painting with her grey coat to go over it as she slung her bag onto her shoulder, filled with her water bottle and journal.

The sun was barely over the horizon when the teen left her house that morning and she smiled to herself upon seeing that the streets were completely empty except for a few stray animals.

She calmly walked towards her destination, humming a song she would sing with a dear friend of hers back when she lived in Lemuria.

As she got closer to the castle, the ravenette’s heart couldn’t help but beat faster when she remembered the events of the previous night.

‘I really have come a long way since I left home,’ she thought as she approached the castle gates, ‘I can only hope that everyone else is doing okay though. Its been a really long time since I’ve been back home.’

The teen’s chest tightened as a familiar pair of golden orbs flashed in her mind and a frown appeared on her face.

‘I never even got to properly say goodbye to them...’

Rhamina was brought back to reality as one of the guards at the gate spat in her direction, almost hitting her freshly cleaned boots.

“And good morning to you as well,” she snapped back, already in a terrible mood and her day had yet to officially start.

Passing through the castle grounds that had almost become a second home to her, the ravenette made her way to the target range where a specific male was already training.

Rhamina watched as he leased another arrow that glowed blue due to the enchanted weapon in his hands.

‘Mjolnir,’ she recalled, making her steps silent as she walked to sit under a nearby tree, taking out her journal and a pen, ‘a weapon that’s said to be thunder incarnate.’

As the male lowered his bow to wipe off the sweat forming on his forehead, the teen set her journal off to the side and began clapping.

Turning to the source of the sound, Umi relaxed upon seeing that ravenette’s smiling form sitting under a tree.

Rhamina picked her journal up and let her pen continue to glide across its cream colored pages as the prince sat next to her a little closer than her normally would.

“What are you writing about now?” he asked, trying to get a glimpse of the female’s writing only for her to angle the hardbound book closer to herself.

“Nothing that should concern you,” the girl said, stopping her writing to rest her head on the male’s shoulder, “But if this story ever comes to completion then maybe I’ll let you read it.”

“Then, can I have a description of this story of yours?” the mae asked as he was met with blissful brown irises, the glittering flecks of gold serving to animate the features even more.

“Well, its a story about a young girl who tries to find love far, far into the future,” Rhamina explained as she stretched out her arms and back, “In her world, there is nothing but the simplest of magic, and humanity can only rely on their advancements in technology.”

“What kinds of advancements do they have?” the silver-haired prince asked as he brought his arms to wrap around her form.

“They have large, metal carriages that rely on small combustions to move forward,” described the female with a smile as she continued to explain her story, “and they have tall glass buildings that reach into the heavens.”

“My, your mind thinks of the most creative things, doesn’t it?” Umi asked as he let out a fond chuckle.

‘You have no idea, Umi.’

~~~Fin. Chapter 1~~~

[agent-barnes40]

Parent!Thor Odinson and Uncle!Loki- Father?

I DONT DO FIGHT SCENES!

Also, I input the same name for a lot of these inserts because its easier to write a name instead of Y/N 

Caitlyn saw the depressed state Natasha was in and grabbed her hand. They had gotten word that her father and uncle were returning but something had drastically changed.

Thor looked down. "Loki, I need you to see Caitlyn first. I don't need her to see me like this before she sees her people."

Loki put his hand on her shoulder. "Brother, she'll want to see her father after the months of just seeing me in Heimdall's eyes."

The older brother sighed, his head lifting as they reached Earth. Hulk growled as he appeared, stood in the doorway of the room. "Princess of Asgard be like Death Queen?"

Loki growled back. "You do not bring up Caitlyn!"

Hulk growled back, rocking the ship. Caitlyn's grip tightened on Natasha's hand as the ship rocked. Fear had filled the Asgardian Princess, all the lives that would be lost if that ship fell if the driver couldn't handle the shaking.

Thor sighed. "Enough."

Hulk looked toward Thor. "Sorry."

Loki headed out of the room. "I'll go greet my beloved Niece."

The ship landed, Loki stepping off first, preparing himself for the hatred only to get toppled over and get the sound of crying. He rubbed Caitlyn's back. "It's okay, Darling. Uncle Loki's here now."

Caitlyn cried loudly. "You were dead! I was told you were dead! I thought you were something Heimdall was showing me to keep me calm!"

Hulk stepped out, making sure he didn't step on Loki nor Caitlyn. Tony instantly got into defense mode and put himself in front of Natasha, who pushed him out of the way. "Big guy, it's okay."

Hulk almost facepalmed. "I'm fine."

Caitlyn and Loki were pulled aside by Hulk as Heimdall and all of Asgard started walking onto the land of Norway. Thor and Valkary walked out last. Thor's eye patch looked like it glowed.

Caitlyn stood and backed up, shakily, tears still running down her cheeks. "You're not my father!" She didn't want to believe what she saw.

"My father isn't you!"

"Where is my father!?"

Loki ended up having to hold her as Caitlyn screamed for the Thor Odinson she knew.

"Where is Thor Odinson!? Where is my father?"

Caitlyn ended up passing out, her body forcing her to sleep. Loki held her, looking at Thor. "Brother, it'll be fine."

Thor escorted the Asgardians to a few tents that were set up to house them. Heimdall and Loki took care of Caitlyn.

Heimdall looked toward Loki. "I think Hela's trying to keep someone doing her legacy."

Caitlyn woke up, her dark hair framing her face. "Uncle Loki, what's going on?"

Loki ran his hand through her hair. "It's alright. It's okay."

"No, someone's trying to invade my mind." The young Asgardian Princess said.

Heimdall looked at Loki. "I'll go inform The Allfather"

Loki nodded and tried shushing the panicking Princess. Caitlyn's eyes changed from the hazel color to green. Loki scrambled back as Thor hurried into the tent. "Someone get me Valkyrie! Now!"

One of the younger Asgardian children ran for the ship, knowing that Valkyrie had gone to stay in the ship. Valkyrie was lying in her bed when the Asgardian child knocked. "The Allfather is asking for you."

Valkyrie hurried out of the room. "Go, we don't need your parents rushing around for you." The child ran back to their parents as Valkyrie hurried for Thor. "What is it, Your Highness?"

Caitlyn turned to look at her, forcing Valkyrie to step back. "Her eyes weren't always green."

Thor nodded. "Hela can't possibly possess people."

Loki looked at Thor. "She's our sister, she has the same magical ability as me, even worse."

Thor looked back. "Asgard is gone! Hela is dead! She can't possess people."

"Maybe she's stronger than we thought!"

Valkyrie growled. "Hela's magic came from the eternal flame! That eternal flame is now Surtur! He crushed her!"

Caitlyn took the chance to bolt, seeing as the three of them were arguing and wouldn't see her go. She ran as far as she could until she reached more civilization. The princess, using her own Aesir magic, made the small Norwegian town ignore that she was there as she took some items to keep her warm and survive. She could hear the thunderclouds gathering and she took off again, she wasn't scared, she just wasn't comfortable with the man who claims to be her father and the king of Asgard.

The storm clouds thundered and growled as Thor's anger worsened. Loki was backing away, in slight fear. Valkyrie was already feet away ready for the lightning strike.

Heimdall stood a bit closer. "Where's the Princess?"

Thor calmed down and looked around. "Where is she?" Fear filled his body, what if someone took the heir to the throne of Asgard? Heimdall had started to look around, suddenly seeing something, Caitlyn talking to a young Midguardian

"Valhalla? You worship Norse gods?" Caitlyn asked the young Midguardian.

"Yeah, some people do. I really like Thor and Loki, and The Warriors Three."

"What happens to Loki and Thor?"

"Well, Loki killed Thor's brother and shapeshifted to look like his brother. He has a few children, Hela, Fenrir, and another that I forget. Hela was half undead and Fenrir was a wolf and the one that I cant name is a horse." The Midguardian child said.

Caitlyn nodded and shook the child's hand. "Thank you."

The child smiled. "Your welcome."

Caitlyn smiled and left, heading for another town. Her eyes scanning the land, until jumping back as Loki appeared in front of her. "Uncle."

Loki grabbed her arm, only to faze through it.

"You're not even really here," Caitlyn smirked, her now green eyes glowing softly.

Loki stepped back, scared. "Your not yourself, Caitlyn. We need to see you in person."

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. "Never."

Caitlyn then put her hand through his illusion before walking away and going for the town she was heading for before he interrupted her walk. Her hand went up in the air as her hair was let down, sliding down to her lower back and her outfit changed to be her war armor, she fought in the minor wars with her grandfather and Father. Loki watched in fear as he started behind her, actually.

"You aren't getting this world, Hela!"

"Hela?"

"Come on, Caitlyn, you aren't going to play me like you would your father."

"I'm not. I'm going to do worse than play him."

Caitlyn continued walking away, a look on her face that would scare others. Loki hurried to get Thor and Valkyrie. Caitlyn's eyes started to turn back to hazel, then to brown. Her plan was working, it took faster for Hela's soul to come to Caitlyn than to Valhalla, where most spirits go. Caitlyn gained Hela's Aesir magic.

Loki, Thor, Valkyrie, and Heimdall were waiting at the town, already evacuated. Caitlyn growled as she walked in. "Why, Uncle?"

"We aren't going to let you murder innocent humans, Caitlyn," Thor said for his brother, his eyes glowing the electric blue to control his own Aesir magic.

Caitlyn growled, louder. "Father, you wouldn't kill me. The one and only heir to the throne, or truly be like Grandfather, banish me and then hide the fact that I'm even alive and have one of my siblings believe they hold the title of the throne until I come back."

Thor growled back. "Who told you?"

Caitlyn smirked. "All of my subjects, obviously. You'd really believe they wouldn't talk about Odin's crimes? To their future queen as well?"

Valkyrie raised an eyebrow. "Hold up. Loki, are you sure this isn't your daughter?"

Loki sighed. "She isn't mine because I'd wouldn't be like Odin and fill my child's head with lies."

Caitlyn chuckled, grabbing the hilt of her sword. "Can we please stop talking? If I'm to not rule, then I'll make sure that I will."

Suddenly, Hulk dropped in, growling. "Princess is like Death Lady."

Caitlyn sighed and rushed them, aiming directly for Thor, her own father. Thor growled and headed straight for her as well. Lightning and sword clashing together. Loki and everyone else held back just in case Thor could take her down on his own. Caitlyn pushed her sword closer to Thor, growling. Thor pushed closer to her with his lightning being his direct weapon, making the woman shield herself with her sword when she got an idea, smirking and pulled a move that only Loki could inspire, she suddenly pulled her sword downwards directing the lightning toward herself. The princess was shot back, landing feet away, the lightning burning her chest and her neck.

The burn mark on her chest bubbled slightly with her skin as she whimpered. The armor didn't protect the skin above her breasts. The princess' eyes started to close in the pain. Thor hurried over. "It's okay, I promise you'll be okay."

"I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to apologize for, it wasn't you.

"Y-yes it was."

Thor picked her up and headed back for the camp. Caitlyn whimpered each time something touched or even skimmed the burn. Eventually, she passed out from the pain.

When Thor reached the camp, he hurried for Tony and the rest of the team. Asgard standing in shock at the sight of their princess.  Natasha quickly grabbed Caitlyn and headed for the small medicine tent that had been set up for all of Asgard. The healers were living in there for the time being. They quickly got to work on Caitlyn making sure that the healing process wasn't going to be disturbed as Hulk was forced to wait outside just in case.  Caitlyn's healing took days, making Thor nervous that it wasn't working.

The day finally came when Caitlyn woke back up.

"Father?"

[xoleahbeanxo]

Sanctuary: Chapter Twenty-Four

What Goes Around…

           Annabelle lounged in her chair rubbing her thigh right below the old bullet wound there. It had been hurting more than usual of late. No doubt from the change in the weather. It was cooling down and winter was upon them. Soon it would be the shorter days and long nights of staying indoors and trying to fight off the winter malaise.

           “Death to tyrants who levee such evil conditions upon our people,” Mouse called out as she brought her wooden sword down upon Grace’s.

           The clacking of wood filled the meadow near the barn. Maximus appeared out of nowhere. His fast and agile twelve-year-old body had been conditioned for this type of play. He attacked his mother with a clever savagery that put Mouse on the defensive. She laughed and parried away in enough time to block a swipe from Grace, who cackled and was forced to fight off her own daughter who was just as ferocious as she was at her age.

           Maximus’s silver fur was splotched with orange and slick with sweat from the extensive play session. His hazel eyes were keen just like the other fox that bore his name. Annabelle could see so much of her father in him. Right down to his long hair that escaped his ponytail and now clung to his forehead sweaty forehead.

           Bernadette was much the same. She favored Max as well. Her muzzle was broader than most foxes but still narrower than a hyena’s. Her mother’s side showed more in her square shoulders and thick torso. Her peach colored fur grew thicker than her mother’s and was spotted with tan spots. She kept her brown hair trim in the same lazy Mohawk her mother did. Her bangs danced around her crystal blue eyes. It was uncanny how much of Max existed in them both. For that, Annabelle and Grace were grateful. The world needed another Max.

           “I shall have your guts for garters.” A gruffer female voice called out.

           Mariah was older than the both of them. Karish had sent her to visit the manor whenever there was government unrest in the hyena nation. Though Annabelle suspected there was more to it than that. Mariah spent more time living in the Manor than she did amongst her own people. Not that the vixen minded. Mariah may be more rough and tumble than the others but she was a good kid nonetheless.

The cream colored hyena pushed past Grace and brought her wooden axe down on Maximus’s sword but he wasn’t about to be put off. He quickly sent her on the defensive with a masterful parry and chased her. They giggled and she defended with a cheating tactic. She blocked and gripped his tunic collar before pulling him into a peck on the lips. Maximus immediately discarded his weapon to wipe his mouth.

           “No fair, you git.” Maximus spat on the grass.

           “Maxie!” Mouse snapped.

           “But, did you see what she did.”

Mouse simply shook her head, the scolding look in her eyes.

Maximus’s ears slipped back against his head. “Sorry mama.”

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.” Mouse fought the urge to smile.

Maximus turned to look at the taller hyena, who was just tickled by the incoming apology. But the young fox just stared down the snickering hyena before he kicked his sword up, catching the hilt and threw himself back into the fray. Mariah met him head on in battle, neither of them willing to yield.

Annabelle looked at Mouse and they both shared a giggle. Mouse joined in once again, facing off against the hyena-fox girl. Annabelle watched as the two clashed their wooden swords, amazed at how focused Bernadette was becoming with her martial skills. The vixen attention was immediately stolen by a soft tug at her shirt sleeve.

           “Eleonore, why are you up here? You should be playing with your others.” Annabelle lulled her head around to look at the shy eight-year-old girl.

           The white vixen with the platinum blond hair and green eyes was everything her father was, which wasn’t bad. Lyonel was an attractive specimen even by fox standards. Annabelle remembered the look on his face when he requested his favor from her and Annabelle fired back with a very similar request.

Lyonel wanted a child, one that he and Loky could raise together. Annabelle would serve as the mother and he, of course, would be the father. Much the same as the ritual she’d experienced in the Mother’s Den, except this time Mouse was the one to administer the treatment, which they both greatly enjoyed. When Lyonel’s child was born, Annabelle had requested another sample from him, one that would later grow to be Eleonore. Lyonel was honored to be the father of her child.

“They play too rough.” The little girl rested her chin on Annabelle’s arm.

“I know, sweetie. Eventually, you’ll have to get over this fear of rough housing. They’re only a little bit bigger than you.” Annabelle ran her fingers through the girl’s long straight hair.

“I know, mommy.”

           Annabelle was putty to those beautiful green eyes. “Very well, go into the kitchen and see if Auntie Charlotte and Auntie Lucie need any help.”

           “Aye aye, mommy.”

           Annabelle giggled at the little girl’s playful salute and watched as she ran back towards the house. Annabelle winced at the throbbing in her leg as she used her cane to get to her feet. Twenty-nine years old and she looked like an old woman leaning on her cane for support. It was only during the winter time, she reminded herself. During the warmer weather, she was as spry as they come.

           A flash appeared out of the corner of her eye and lingered for only a second. It was gone as soon as she looked to see what it was. The wisp still haunted her all these years later. All the other wisps in the manor had gone from this place long ago. But this one would never fade; never find its way home.

           “Persistent as always.” She chuckled as it swooped in to dance in her face.

There was something frantic about the way it danced. She’d never seen it act this way before. It was close enough that she could feel the unearthly chill against her nose. She almost stumbled back over her chair but managed to keep standing. It was the strangest sensation she’d felt in a long time. It just hovered in front of her frantically bobbing and throbbing brighter.

           “What has gotten into you?”

           Just like that, it flew away, and all that was left in the vixen’s field of vision was a cloaked figure walking up through the meadow. Its pace was slow and it used a walking stick to keep from falling over. The clacking of swords stopped as Grace and Mouse followed Annabelle’s gaze to the stranger.

           “Get the children back,” Annabelle ordered. A chill ran up her spine.

           Marybeth, who’d been lying quietly behind her in the grass, was up and moving towards the children. The old wolf would forever be their protector until the day she ceased to breathe. Annabelle walked out to meet this wanderer who was unknowingly trespassing on their land. When Mouse moved to join her, the vixen halted her with a wave of her hand.

           Mouse knew full well that she was the stronger of them now and the only one with the capability to defend the children in the case of anything happening. If this stranger meant ill will then it would be Mouse’s job to protect the family.

           Annabelle stopped a good few feet away from the stranger and leaned on her cane. She took solace in the fact that there was a blade hidden inside its hollow casing and she knew how to use it. The figure slowed its steps as well and fought to catch its ragged breath.

           “This land belongs to Duchess Thornehall. State your business.” Annabelle’s voice was as commanding and captivating as Max’s had been when he meant business.

           “This seems familiar, doesn’t it,” The figure pulled his hood back to reveal a very old and very grizzled looking cougar. “Little bird?”

           Annabelle hid her surprise well but not her disgust. “Bailey?”

           “It’s sweet you remember me after all these years.” He coughed into the rusted remains of his robotic hand. A gift Max had given him a long time ago.

           “You have no jurisdiction here. Leave now.” Annabelle hefted the cane in her hand, gripping the head of the cane in her other hand.

           “Jurisdiction,” Bailey cackled and reached up to grip the tin star on his chest. He pulled it off and dropped it to the grass at his feet before stepping on it. “I don’t dance to the fiddle anymore. I’ve only come here for one purpose.”

           Annabelle took a shallow breath and smiled. “It’s funny how things go back to the start.”

           “Yeah, except this time, it’s gonna end the right way.” Bailey flipped his battered trench coat out and drew his flint lock pistol.

           Annabelle didn’t flinch, even amidst the loud crack of the gun powder igniting. To whatever end came, Annabelle was ready to accept it -almost ready, anyway. The lead ball pieced and dug deep…

But not nearly as deep as the blade that followed after. Mouse’s small figure came out of nowhere. The blade struck true and sunk deeply into the Sheriff’s stomach all the way to the hilt. Mouse made sure to grip the man’s collar to keep his eyes level with hers. She wanted to make sure he was suffering. And he was.

“You,” Blood bubbled from the man’s lips as his eyes slowly started to drift close.

“You look at me.” Mouse hissed and shook him.

Bailey grunted and opened his eyes again. His breath caught in his throat and came out in a wheeze. She could see that his vision was fading; it was something she’d seen on the battlefield a million times before. Bailey wasn’t long for this world.

Mouse started talking; she kept the blade firmly embedded in him. “I-in my life, I’ve seen monsters take the flesh of the living. I’ve seen the dead return from the grave. I’ve seen another world, another plane of existence. I’ve seen all of these things but never have I seen something so disgusting and pathetic as you.”

Bailey smiled, a ribbon of blood slipping from the corner of his mouth. “I’m glad I made an impression on you,” He started cackling, blood spattering Mouse’s face.

Mouse flinched and pulled her sword out of him, letting him fall to the ground. He groaned and convulsed as few times before he settled back. He was dying, choking on his own blood and Mouse watched in wide-eyed horror. Not because he was dying, she’d seen that a hundred times before. No, she was horrified at how right he was. Bailey, in a sense, had started all of this. He’d been an enemy before they’d even known he was a villain.

He’d terrorized Annabelle, nearly raped her. He’d destroyed the manor, taking away their safe haven from the world. And now, the old man made one more attempt to steal Annabelle away from Mouse. The impression he left ran deep and now it ran deeper still. The impression had spread even to the next generation of Annabelle’s family.

“Shit! Annabelle, talk to me.” Grace said.

Mouse’s heart leaped to her throat. She turned to see Grace kneeling on the ground with Annabelle clutched in her arms. Maximus and Mariah were at her side. Marybeth stood a few feet away, tears running down her face.

Slowly Mouse knelt down on the ground next to Annabelle. There was blood all down the front of her and the vixen was holding her stomach. Blood pooled from between her fingers and her breathing was labored.

“Annabelle!” Mouse whimpered.

“Bastard, I wish he’d stop shooting me.” Annabelle tried to laugh but her breath was caught in her throat.

“He won’t be shooting anyone anymore, I made sure of it.” Mouse reassured her, trying to keep her fear in check.

“That’s the girl I know and love.” Annabelle swallowed hard.

“Is she gonna-” Maximus asked, tears running down his face.

“Die? Don’t be foolish, boy.” Grace snapped without thinking. “She’s tougher than she looks.”

“Not a hell of a lot tougher, this hurts.” Annabelle squirmed, immediately regretting doing it.

Just beyond the gates to the garden, Gilda came sprinting at a speed that would make Sarah proud. Just behind her, Rebecca was fighting to keep up. The pair dropped down in the grass next to the group. The antelope brought her medical satchel and wasted no time tearing it open.

Gilda was firm about getting the children away while she worked. Begrudgingly, Mouse gathered them up and told them to wait in the barn until further notice. Mouse didn’t want to be away from her wife but knew that it couldn’t be helped. Things were in the hands of the most capable person she knew. Annabelle was going to be alright.

Gilda brought out a compress and pressed it onto the wound at Annabelle’s side. “We have to get her in the house. Rebecca, there should be a sheet in my bag. Marybeth, Grace, I need you to lift her up.”

“Got it!” Marybeth didn’t wait for the sheet or the hyena’s help. Instead, she lifted the vixen like a baby and carried her back towards the manor.

Mouse watched from the barn do as they disappeared back into the garden. Her heart pounded in her chest as she watched them go. A pair of warm arms fell upon her and Mouse turned to see Maximus pushing his face against her chest, crying. The boy almost never cried, it was surprising and heartbreaking sight at the same time.

“Easy sweetie.” Mouse pressed a kiss against the side of his head and hugged back.

Mariah moved to join in the hug. The larger hyena was almost the same height at Mouse and easily twice her size. But she looked incredibly young now, with her sad sympathetic face. Mouse could see she’d been crying, though the hyena girl was more tactful about not showing it.

           “Is mama going to be alright?” Maximus asked.

           Mouse pushed another kiss to the top of his head, trying to stall long enough to clear the lump from her throat. She knew, right now, she needed to be strong for them. Worrying the children would only make matters worse.

           “She’ll be fine,” A small voice came from the door as it creaked open.

           Bernadette stepped inside with a shy look on her face. The redness in her eyes showed that she’d been crying as well but now there was a calm composure in her face. When Mouse saw her, she couldn’t believe that she hadn’t noticed she’d been missing from the other kids. It wasn’t like Bernadette was easy to miss either.

           “Where did you get off too?” Mouse’s voice trembled as she held out her hand to the small girl.

           The hyena-fox ran up and pushed her head into Mouse’s hand. “I was talking to my friend about Anna.”

           “Your friend?” Mouse mused.

           “Yeah, she has this weird floating ball friend that she talks too,” Mariah grunted, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

           “Its name is Max.” Little Maximus sniffled and looked at Bernadette admonishingly.

           “After you, Maxie?” Mouse giggled and playfully tossed the boy’s hair.

           “No, his name is Max and he was once lord of the manor. He said Auntie Anna’s going to be just fine.” Bernadette said with conviction in her voice.

           Mouse’s smile faded away. “What did you say?”

[fableweaver]

Arc of the Masked Queen

Travel through the Mark was hard even along the trade road. Lucia learned that the trade road was called the Dog Highway by those who traveled it, due to the long leagues it covered. She wasn’t sure when they had joined it; only that one day they had company along the road. There were many who traveled it, merchants, soldiers, even a few nobles. Lucia had expected to see Rhodin as well, but they seemed to avoid the main roads and the soldiers that patrolled them.

Villages lay along the road, inns and taverns in popularity. They even passed through a city, or what Lucia had called a city. She didn’t know the names of any of these places, and when asked Rath and Kord would not answer. She feared talking to strangers, a shyness she had all her life.

Rath and Kord only paid attention to her when she cooked, and that wasn’t nearly as often as it seemed. Mostly they stopped at inns for the night and got a meal there. Rath and Kord would stay up drinking and playing Bones, a dice game with four dice and a cup. Lucia would sleep with the inn keeper’s daughter or wife, safe from any men. Neither Rath nor Kord seemed interested in her that way, which made her relieved.

The Vera month gave way to Vora, as spring marched on. Farmers came out, spring calves were born, and the air grew warmer with the new energy and promise of spring. The hills grew green under the spring rains and crocus bloomed along the road side.

It was just after a spring shower that they arrived at Warren. The Walled City, now known as the Hollow City, Lucia could understand why it was called that. The living stone wall stretched around the city, but for a large gap to the north east. The gap looked like a wound, ruble still lying out from the shattered stone. Where the rubble lay the grass was dead, the ground even looked sick.

No one was around that opening, though a gate could have been made from it. They rode to the east gate, Lucia giving a sigh of relief when the hole was out of her line of vision. Inside the walls there was a wide avenue around the wall itself that Lucia guessed to be a defensive perimeter. Once past this they entered the buildings of the city. Every building was made of neat cut stone, thatched with wood shingles and the wood support beams still showing.

The streets were paved and swept clean, and laid out in an orderly manner. Horses and carriages used the wider avenues while those on foot used narrower streets or kept to the side. Lucia had never been in a city so large, even those they had passed through seemed more like towns compared to Warren. She could see why it was named Warren as well. Though the streets were orderly, the lesser streets seemed to wend and twist through the buildings under bridges and tunnels. It was a den of streets, tunnels, and bridges that made Lucia easily lost.

Rath and Kord seemed to know where they were going; Lucia had been lost as soon as they lost sight of the wall. They passed through a few more gates, the buildings becoming nicer and gardens more frequent. At each gate were soldiers wearing the livery of the king, green uniforms embroidered with gold thread. They were well armed and attentive, but their papers got them past the guards without questions.

At last they reached the palace. Made of grand stone with mighty domes, the palace of Lonna seemed majestic and imposing. Here the guards were more alert, and it took Rath quite a while to convince them to let them pass. They dismounted and walked into the courtyard of the palace, Lucia staring up at the domes in awe.

“Hoe there,” someone shouted. Lucia looked down to see a small bookish man approaching them, his black hair thinning. His robes were fine but had ink stains on the sleeves and dust on the shoulders. “I heard someone was here with a delivery?” he said looking from Rath to Kord.

“Ranger Taras Law charged us with seeing this young lady to the palace,” Kord answered.

“And who is she?” The little man asked.

“Not sure,” Rath said and handed the man the piece of paper Taras had given him. The little man read it and nodded.

“Right,” he said pleased. “Well gentlemen, thank you for your service. Here, go see the treasurer and give him this note.” Rath and Kord took the note and left the palace, no doubt to seek their pay at the court house. Once again Lucia was left alone in a strange place with no one she knew.

“My name is Graham,” the little man said to her. “I am the King’s Steward.”

“It’s nice to meet you milord,” Lucia said as she bowed. “My name is Lucia Holtz.”

“Come with me,” Graham said and turned away. Lucia followed him, leading her horse. “Leave the horse with the groom,” Graham said, pointing to a man standing in the courtyard. Lucia did as she was told, taking her satchel and hope chest, and hurried back to follow Graham. He led her into the palace itself and Lucia stared openly at the lavish palace. The walls were covered with amazing tapestries she wished she could examine, but Graham was walking too fast. The floors were all well-polished marble, tall pillars supporting the ceiling.

They went through many halls, long stairs and some doors. At last they stopped in front of a large set of doors. Lucia could hear shouts and grunts coming from the room, the sound of wood clacking together echoing through the door. Graham opened the door and motioned her in. Lucia entered, startled by the sight that greeted her. The room was wide, the floors hard wood and one wall dominated by mirrors.

Two people were in the middle of the room, sparing with wood swords. One was an elderly man with silver gray hair and one arm. The other was a beautiful young woman with flashing hazel eyes and raven black hair. She was winning it seemed and with a sudden lunge she disarmed her opponent.

“Proficient,” the old man said in a deep growl. “But don’t let your guard down after you’ve disarmed your opponent. He may be down, but there might be others.”

“Master Crumshaw,” Graham said, and the old man turned. His face looked like he had never smiled in his long life, a puckered scar making him more intimidating.

“What is it now Graham?” Crumshaw asked.

“This is Lucia,” Graham said. “She will be another one of Lady Jeanne’s doubles.”

The Lady Jeanne’s eyes flashed with challenge.

“I don’t know how many times I have to say it Graham, I don’t need a double,” the Lady Jeanne said, her voice a rich timber that resonated through Lucia.

“Milady…” Graham started to say, sounding exacerbated, but was interrupted by the door opening. An older woman entered, her black hair streaked with gray. Her age was becoming of her, unlike some that aged poorly. She wore a fine gown embroidered elaborately, with bell sleeves and a loose waist line. She looked at the Lady Jeanne and sighed heavily.

“As always, I find you here covered in sweat and steel,” the lady said. “You’ve skipped your dress fitting again Jeanne.”

“The dress maker has taken his measurements mother,” Jeanne answered, and Lucia gasped and dropped a clumsy curtsy. The queen herself, Lucia could hardly believe it.

“He needs to fit the dress dear,” Queen Crega said. She glanced over at Lucia who was still dropped to her curtsy. “Who is this Graham?”

“Another double for Jeanne milady,” Graham answered. “Taras sent her.”

“And where is Taras?” Crega asked.

“He didn’t say in his message, only that there was off on important business,” Graham answered.

“He always is,” Crega said with distain.

“Mother I don’t need…”

“Yes, you do Jeanne,” Crega said. “It is an old tradition that will protect you in the Court of Miracles. Unless you are saying you will not do your duty for your family?”

“Of course not!” Jeanne said shocked. “I know my place mother; I just don’t want anyone getting hurt on my behalf.”

“Dear you are a noble, if you were one of your brothers you would have to lead men to their deaths in battle,” Crega answered. “This is our battle field.”

“I-I am honored to serve you milady,” Lucia said softly, giving another curtsy. Jeanne looked at her and her eyes softened. She walked over and lifted Lucia out of her curtsy, holding her hands warmly.

“Thank you,” she said loudly before leaning in to whisper. “I will protect you, don’t worry.”

Lucia felt a fierce loyalty then, whatever Jeanne said she was going to make sure Jeanne was the one protected.

“Good,” Crega said. “It’s time for your fitting Jeanne. Lucia might as well come too; we need to get her fitted for gowns as well.”

“Yes mother,” Jeanne said rolling her eyes. The Queen led them away, leaving the steward and sword master behind. Once again, they went through the maze of halls and rooms of the palace. They passed open windows, or walkways that over looked lush gardens and beautiful fountains. They entered another room that was dominated by mirrors again. This room however was smaller, and the mirrors set into a curve instead. There were racks and chests of clothes along one wall, all of such rich material Lucia was afraid to touch them.

There were several people in the room. Two older women dressed as servants hurried over and flocked around Jeanne. They seemed to be the dress makers, chattering to each other as they stripped Jeanne to her under garments. Crega joined the dress makers as they started to get Jeanne into a fine green velvet gown.

“They are all rather chatty, aren’t they?” a warm voice said. Lucia turned to see a motherly looking woman standing in the corner. Five other women sat or stood near her. Three had the appearance of servants or peasants like her. The other two were obviously noble ladies, their hands soft and skin pale.

“No more than others,” Lucia answered. “My name is Lucia Holtz.”

“I am Bryony,” the motherly woman said. She was about as old as Lucia’s mother, buxom and heavyset. “Jeanne’s nurse, this is the Lady Cicely of the House Sinistra, and the Lady Viola of the House Wilderry, Jeanne’s handmaidens. And these are Tansy, Midda, and Egram, Jeanne’s other doubles.”

The Lady Cicely looked bright eyed and friendly while the Lady Viola looked bored and cynical. Cicely wore a pale blue gown, her dark brown hair pinned up under a net of pearls. Viola wore a more somber maroon gown, her black hair loose.

Tansy, Midda, and Egram looked like Lucia felt, trapped. They were dressed as servant girls, plain tunics and skirts under a blue apron. They had their hair tucked up in bonnets tied with blue ribbons. It was actually hard to tell them apart, an effect no doubt that was intentional.

“Sinistra?” Lucia said remembering the name as she looked to Viola.

“Yes, I am of that house,” Viola said tiredly, but she didn’t sound insulted. “Tarquin Abel Sinistra was my distant cousin. The Drasirs only killed those with blood ties to the throne.”

Lucia shivered at her bored tone. Tarquin Abel Sinistra had been but a child when the King’s Wars started, a pawn by the kings of the northern alliance of Daun, Nyrgard, and the Mark. When Warren had fallen in the war, King Cyril had tried to give enough time for Tarquin to escape. The boy and his family had been slaughtered as they tried to escape the city. A monument had been raised where they had fallen, somewhere in the city but Lucia had not seen it on her ride in.

Viola seemed to care little for her dead kin, Lucia wondering if all nobles were like this.

“Come here girl,” Crega said and Lucia turned. Jeanne was standing on a short stool before the mirror, one of the dress makers working on the hem of the gown. Lucia put her things down and came over so the other one could take her measurements. “Make her a dress like the others,” Crega ordered. “And make sure she’ll fit into Jeanne’s gowns.”

“She will once she gets some meat on her bones,” the dressmaker remarked, pinching Lucia’s side.

“Well we’ve a month still to fatten her up,” Crega said. “Girl, how far has your education gone?”

“Just the basic letters and numbers your grace,” Lucia answered.

“Any manors or etiquette?” Crega asked and Lucia shook her head. “That will be your most important lessons then.”

“I-If I may your grace,” Lucia said and Crega motioned her to speak. “Why must I learn manors? I am to be the Lady Jeanne’s double yes? Does that not mean I will only be her a little at a time?”

“Normally yes,” Crega said, sounding a bit impressed. “A double is only used in travel or public appearances, but we are sending Jeanne into the Court of Miracles. Nowhere is safe there from assassins, in the very court even.”

Lady Crega did not sound pleased, but she let the subject drop.

“There will be times when you will have to take Jeanne’s place, even at dinner or tea,” Crega continued. “As such you will have to act the part.”

“Yes, your grace,” Lucia answered.

The next month was spent in luxury and lessons. Lucia spent most of her time in the company of Jeanne and her ladies. She hardly ever saw Crega again, and only once did she get a glimpse of the king. One day they sat at tea, learning how each dish was eaten and in what order.

“Why does it matter which way I stir my tea?” Jeanne asked frustrated as she dropped her silver spoon into her cup. Lucia found it charming that even Jeanne was taking these lessons of Regarian etiquette with them. Even Cecily and Viola were, though they seemed more adept at it.

“I’m sure I don’t know,” Bryony said dryly. “But the Regarian ladies care very much.”

“How do you know all this Bryony?” Cecily asked, fluttering her eyes at Bryony winningly.

“My mother was a nurse for a few Regarian children,” Bryony answered. “And don’t flutter your eyes at me missy, eat the rest of that cake.”

“How on earth do they eat so much?” Voila said as Cecily returned to eating her tea cake.

“I expect like this,” Jeanne said and stuffed a whole tea cake in her mouth. They howled with laughter, but Bryony wasn’t amused. She rapped Jeanne’s knuckles smartly with a stout stick she carried just for that purpose.

“What have you learned Jeanne?” Bryony said tartly.

“Cake is good,” Jeanne answered her mouth full and crumbs falling from her lips. Again, there was laughter and Bryony rolled her eyes.

“It is strange I think,” Midda said once they had calmed. “All this food. I never had so much before.”

“I never asked where all of you are from?” Jeanne asked.

“I’m from Cartston,” Midda answered. “My father is a merchant. Though we never had a spread like this, even on Sol’s Day.”

“My father is a mason here in the city,” Egram said eagerly.

“That’s right, you get to go see him every Solsday,” Jeanne said with a kind smile and Egram glowed; she liked to please people. “And you Tansy?”

“Huh? Oh yes I’m from a farm,” Tansy said, drawing her attention away from a flower. She didn’t seem that bright and often her attention wandered.

“What kind of farm Tansy?” Jeanne asked patiently.

“A milk farm, we had cats that loved being fed cream and milk,” Tansy said. “I like milk.”

“That’s nice Tansy,” Viola said but she rolled her eyes and the others giggled. “What about you Lucia?”

“I’m from a dairy farm too,” she answered quietly. “In Milton.”

“That’s awfully far,” Cecily said surprised.  

“Yes,” Lucia said. “Where are you from Tansy?” She asked to change the attention away from her.

“Oh, um… Crooksville,” Tansy said having to think about it. “It’s named that because a creek runs through it.”

“Original,” Viola said dryly. “Well Jeanne, are you excited about your coming marriage?”

“No more than yesterday,” Jeanne said as she tried to elegantly sip her tea. She ended up slurping a bit and giggled again.

“What do you know about Elrik?” Cicely asked.

“About as much as you Cicely,” Jeanne answered.

“We don’t know anything,” Midda said leaning forward. “Please tell us.”

“Alright,” Jeanne said relenting. “He’s handsome supposedly.”

“Wait you’ve never met?” Midda said startled.

“It’s a common thing for the nobles dear,” Bryony said. “Arranged marriages are a contract, never about love.”

“I’ve heard tales though…” Midda said.

“A few made up grand tales for the romantic,” Bryony said.

“Every noble girl is prepared to marry a stranger,” Jeanne said. “I’m lucky mine is a young man around my age and handsome.”

“More than handsome Jeanne,” Cicely said. “He’s won several jousts and even beaten one of the best swordsmen in a duel.”

“I’d like to try my hand at him,” Jeanne said. “I don’t want to be with any man that can’t wield a sword as well as I can.”

“I doubt there are many men that can milady,” Lucia said, and Jeanne smiled at her. “What of your dowry? Have you embroidered everything?”

“Embroidered?” Jeanne said. “You mean that tradition is still alive? No, my dowry is going to be money I believe, or cattle. No one of the nobles still makes the linens and clothes for her dowry anymore.”

Lucia looked away disappointed, she loved embroidery and was sad that her hope chest was now useless. She would never get the chance to marry as Jeanne’s double. Still it was probably better this way; while she was proud of her embroidery skill she only had a few pieces.

“There are other concerns than Elrik milady,” Bryony said seriously. “I think it’s time I tell all of you those you need to be wary of in the Court of Miracles. The first and most dangerous is going to be Anton Myrddin.”

Cicely and Viola giggled, Jeanne blushing.

“Who is Anton Myrddin?” Midda asked puzzled.

“Son of Ileana Myrddin, who is daughter of King Nicias of Dridia,” Bryony answered. “He is the bastard son of the High King, everyone knows this, but no one says it aloud. He has slept with almost every woman in court, any female he could get his hands on.”

“There is one rumor he even slept with his own mother,” Cicely said, and the women gasped.

“Come now, gossip is beyond all of you,” Bryony scolded. “The Lady Ileana is another that you need to be wary of; she wants her son on the throne. But she is not the only one who does, Varas Lonelove. He is the head of the second most powerful house of mages in Dridia. And by power, I mean magic not political.”

“Can he kill one of us with magic?” Egram asked afraid.

“I doubt it,” Bryony said. “I don’t know how magic works but if the mages could kill someone that easily they wouldn’t bother with assassins.”

“Who else do we need to worry about?” Jeanne asked all business.

“Those three are the most cunning, and will be the ones who want you dead,” Bryony said. “There are other heirs of course, the Prince Nicodemus Rue for one. He is the king’s nephew by his sister, giving him the second claim to the throne. Little is known about him, he keeps out of the public eye as I understand.

“Be careful, anyone you insult may take it the wrong way. While they may not kill you, there are other ways to make you suffer. For those times, be careful of the Queen mother Cecilia, she is as smart as a wet blanket. She’ll take any slight, perceived or otherwise, personally and see to it that Jeanne’s reputation suffers. Her daughters are much the same, you’ll see soon enough.”

“What about the High King Arian Drasir?” Jeanne asked.

“Be careful of him most of all,” Bryony said, Lucia noticing her suppress a shiver. “I can tell you many gossip tales about him, but instead I’ll tell you something I saw myself.

“I was tending to one of my charges, this was long ago when I first started as a nurse and the king had just gained his throne. His father never recovered fully from his wounds in the King’s Wars, so no one was surprised when he died, and his son took the throne. I had seen Arian Drasir I; he was a man of iron. Well his son could be called and man of steel then, refined and deadly.

“One day while I was with some of the other servants we heard a strange sound. We looked out into the courtyard. The king stood by a strange contraption, a large wood frame with a hanging blade. They placed a melon under the blade and let it drop; the melon was cut in two with one strike.”

“The Iron Gibbet,” Jeanne said surprised.

“Yes, that is right,” Bryony said. “The king put it into use that very day after seeing the demonstration. He had commissioned it; he wanted a faster way to give executions. The Iron Gibbet is now used through all of Regis, and is spreading so I hear.”

“Have you ever seen someone actually…” Cicely trailed off as her hand went to her neck in horror.

“Yes, I think you’ve heard of him too,” Bryony said sadly. “Ryce Tira-Dora, brother to Reed Tira-Dora, the last claimant to the Aldan throne. He unlike his brother had survived the Battle of Seven Fields, only to be charged with treason. He had been in prison for some time after the war, his family was still noble. I don’t pretend to know the politics of it, but his execution was one Drasir made sure everyone saw and would remember.”

“I’m not so sure about marrying into a family that put that heinous machine into use,” Jeanne said fearfully.

“You may have your doubts milady,” Bryony said. “But keep them in your heart and never show them.”

“Yes ma’am,” Jeanne said, Lucia feeling sad for her.

The days continued to march by after that and soon it became time for them to test their little project. Midda went first, of which Lucia was relieved. She wore one of Jeanne’s gowns to dinner that night, and did her best to act the part. She managed to hold out the whole dinner before going back to Jeanne’s rooms and breaking out in a fit of giggles.

“I thought I was going to burst,” Midda said when she was finished laughing.

“Was it really alright?” Lucia asked and Midda giggled again.

“The only hard part is not laughing when someone calls you Jeanne,” Midda said. She straightened then, sticking her nose up in the air and putting on airs. “I thirst for more wine, server fetch me some.”

“I do not sound like that,” Jeanne said, sounding very much like Midda’s impression.

“No of course not,” Midda said with another giggle. “I’m just poking fun.”

“Just don’t make me look like some pampered brat,” Jeanne said hurt.

“Never,” Egram said and Jeanne nodded.

They all seemed to take it as a kind of game then, each taking their turn to play Jeanne. When Lucia’s turn came she was nervous beyond all reason. She had never been into the actual Court of Fates even through all her time in the palace. Bryony had forbidden it, mainly so their first test would be pure.

Lucia wore one of Jeanne’s gowns, a dark blue satin dress embroidered with silver threads. Her hair was let down, a small coronet resting on her brow, and cosmetics added to her face. Nervously she walked a head of Cecily and Voila towards the tall doors of the dining hall. Entering they came into the warm fire glow of the room.

Thousands of candles lit the room, hanging from chandeliers and candelabras. The walls were lined with tapestries, and banners hung from the rafters. A great table as long as the hall dominated the room. It was wide enough to seat three, and long enough to seat fifty. Lucia kept her face calm; she had to pretend like she saw this every day.

Walking like Jeanne was always tricky, especially because she hardly ever wore skirts, so she tended to walk with long strides. Lucia walked with a quick step, putting assurance in every step. She reached her place, four down from the king himself. Lucia sat and looked up at the head of the table.

King Cyril Lonna was a big man in the shoulders with a wide face. His hair was streaked with white, making him seem very much like his emblem the badger. The Prince Brang looked more like his mother, his face narrower and fairer. He sat to his father’s right while Lady Crega took the place to his left. Jeanne sat to the left of the king, next to Jeanne’s two elder brothers, Orus and Asher.

There were many others of the King’s household she needed to keep straight, uncles, aunts, and cousins. Most here were blood related to the king, but Lucia knew that further down were other lords who were important to the kingdom. She did her best to keep her head down and just eat, trying to appear bored rather than nervous.

“You’re awfully quiet Jeanne,” Asher remarked.

“It’s just dinner as usual,” Lucia said, glad to see Asher looked fooled.

“How are you?” Asher asked. “Your departure date is coming soon.”

“I am fine,” Lucia said with the best bravo she had.

“If anything happens, send word and I’ll ride in and save you,” Asher said, and Lucia was suddenly reminded of her brother. She looked down at her plate, putting all her will into keeping tears at bay. “Are you sure you’re alright?” Asher asked worried.

“I’m just trying not to laugh,” Lucia answered, covering her mouth, hoping the catch in her voice passed for mirth.

“Very funny,” Asher said but he sounded relieved. “See if I’ll save you then.”

“If you ever need me, I’ll ride in and save you,” Lucia said recovering and Asher laughed. They chatted a bit longer about unimportant things before Asher turned to talk to Orus. Relieved Lucia turned to Cecily who was grinning at her.

“A bit rough but you pass,” she whispered. Lucia sighed with relief, but dinner wasn’t over yet. Meals in court were lavish but she suspected not as lavish as those in Regis would be. There were soups and salads, but those were outnumbered by breads, cheeses, and meats she had hardly ever tasted. It seemed everyone here ate what was on their plate rather than eating every dish there was. Lucia could pick and choose what she wanted to eat and how much.

When she had first gotten here the rich diet had made her sick and she had to slowly acclimate herself to the rich foods. Now she had put on that weight Bryony had wanted, but it was hard for her to even eat as much as those around her. She just kept holding back, thinking she had enough. Jeanne had a robust appetite, but she worked out in the solar still.

Dinner finished, and everyone wandered off on their own business. Lucia hurried away before she could be grabbed by one of the other ladies. Sadly, she heard Jeanne’s name called and she turned to see Crega beckoning her over. Lucia sighed and followed the queen who led her to a private room, Cicely and Viola left out in the waiting room. The rooms were lavish yet simple, not overly opulent. Sitting before the fire was the king himself.

“Here she is darling,” Crega said standing behind her husband’s chair.

“One of my daughter’s doubles,” King Cyril said with a grin. Lucia felt her face drain of blood, and she looked at her feet.

“I am sorry your majesty for being so obvious,” Lucia said ashamed.

“Come now child you cannot expect to fool her own parents, do you?” Cyril said with a deep chuckle. “I knew when the others tried their hand as well, but I wanted to speak to you personally.”

“Me?” Lucia said shocked, afraid she had failed.

“Indeed,” Cyril said as he leaned forward. “Out of all of you, including Jeanne, only you showed the right kind of face for the Court of Miracles.”

“How so your majesty?” Lucia asked surprised.

“What is your name?” Cyril asked.

“Lucia Holtz your majesty.”

“Holtz?” Cyril asked and Lucia nodded. “Your father did he beat you?”

“He beat my mother,” Lucia answered startled. “And she beat me your majesty.”

“I am sorry for that I hope you understand,” Cyril said with such sympathy Lucia felt tears welling up. “I asked you that because I can tell, you put your best effort to get through dinner as if you were invisible. Not that you were actively pushing others away but that you kept your nose out of dangerous situations. You listened but didn’t actively participate. That is the best approach to dinner in the Court of Miracles.”

“I will tell the others your majesty,” Lucia said relieved.

“I’m sorry Lucia but that won’t work,” Cyril said shaking his head. “I have told my daughter a thousand times, and you may tell the others as much as you want. But they will return to their habits, it is the way we are. Jeanne will hear something she disagrees with and she will lash out. The others will as well.”

“What my husband is trying to say Lucia is that we’ve decided there will be certain roles each of you will fill. You will take care of dinners and other more intimate meetings we fear Jeanne may not be up to.”

“Me your grace?” Lucia asked shocked.

“Yes, Lucia you,” Crega said dryly. “Sometimes the best course of action is silence, and you know that. Tansy will take on public appearances; that is about all she is good for. Midda and Egram are best for transitory or decoys. You however know when to listen and when to keep your mouth shut.”

“Your grace is a double for such intimate gatherings such a good idea?” Lucia asked.

“Not intimate, just the public dinners,” Crega answered. “You will tell Jeanne everything she needs to know so there is no confusion later. I know it is not perfect, but I do not trust my daughter to hold her tongue when the time comes. And I think that she will prefer it this way.”

“Yes, your grace,” Lucia said numbly. How was it she had received the most dangerous assignment? Cyril stood and took her hand in his, his hand massive and calloused.

“I know none of this seems fair,” he said kindly. “But I thank you from the bottom of my heart for protecting my daughter.”

“Yes, your majesty,” Lucia said, tears falling endlessly. Thankfully Crega told the others about their individual assignments and it wasn’t long until they were to implement them.

They day of Jeanne’s departure arrived at last. It was mid spring now, the grass green and most of the spring showers past. The early morning was pale and tranquil; birds already singing their praises to the sun and sky. Lucia was glad she wasn’t Tansy, who had been assigned Jeanne’s place for the first day of the journey.

The king had assigned a contingent of guards for his daughter, and one ranger named Loris even accompanied them. Lucia was too nervous to pay much attention to the soldiers, wringing her hands as the men mounted up. There was little ceremony as the carriage was pulled up; Lucia knew the king would come to court when it was time for the wedding. Jeanne had already given her goodbyes in private, given she was dressed as one of her maids.

None of her family was coming; Lucia gathered it was because the Markians didn’t trust the Regarians entirely. Brang, Orus, and Asher were going to come for the wedding, but Cyrus had insisted they all leave separately for security. Jeanne’s parents wouldn’t attend the wedding; their trust didn’t go that far.

Tansy, dressed as Jeanne, let her mother and father bid her farewell, smiling as if all the ceremony was meant for her. There were two carriages for the eight of them, Jeanne, Tansy, Lucia, and Bryony rode in the first, while Cicely, Viola, Midda, and Egram rode in the second. Lucia was impressed by the luxury of the carriage, but as soon as it started off she wished she were riding a horse. The carriage jostled and bounced over every bump in the paving stones, and it rattled unbearably.

“Why couldn’t I ride?” Jeanne asked over the noise of the carriage.

“It would be unseemly milady,” Bryony answered. “And make too easy a target.”

Jeanne rolled her eyes and looked out the window. The carriage was going slowly through the city, a crowd of people cheering and throwing flowers. Lucia kept hidden behind one of the curtains, but Tansy laughed and waved out the window. Jeanne gazed out the window almost wistfully, her face looking suddenly lonely.

It was nearly an hour until they were out of the city and onto the road, yet traffic still hindered them. There were other wagons and many people stopped to gape at the royal carriage. It was nearly another hour until the road was clear enough for them to gain some speed and distance. Bryony worked on embroidery, Lucia copying her. Jeanne stared out the window looking bored while Tansy seemed to be staring off at nothing.

“What are you looking at Tansy?” Jeanne asked looking at the other girl. “You seem to stare at nothing far too much.”

“Nothing?” Tansy said puzzled. “You cannot see them?”

“Them?” Jeanne asked, and Lucia looked at Tansy startled.

“The fairies,” Tansy answered with a vapid smile.

“There is no such thing as fairies dear,” Bryony said not looking up from her stitching.

“There is too,” Tansy said pouting. “I’ve seen fairyland. There are many moons and suns of every color, and thousands of stars. The trees are as big as mountains and hold up the islands that float in the clouds. I’ve seen dragons, flying in the clouds, and the elder folk walking the tree bridges.”

Lucia gaped at Tansy; she had never heard her be so eloquent. Jeanne’s eyes grew wide with awe as well, her mouth open slightly in a look of enlightenment.

“That sounds like a lovely dream dear,” Bryony said her cool practicality like the slap of ice water. Tansy seemed for a moment to almost radiate a power like the presence of an ancient tree, before she was distracted again by whatever she saw in a sunbeam. Once again, she was the simpleminded fool, and easily dismissed. Lucia sighed and returned her attention to her embroidery. She still had her impossible husband’s wedding shirt, it seemed appropriate to be working on it now.

The solid thud of an arrow hitting the carriage startled Lucia out of her meditative state. Jeanne shouted, and Lucia felt an involuntary squeak come out. Bryony gave a deep scream, only Tansy seemed unsurprised. Two more arrows thudded into the side of the carriage; one even puncturing the wall by Bryony’s head.

Shouts rang from outside and Jeanne lunged for the carriage door. She was thrown off her feet as the carriage lurched suddenly into a full gallop. Lucia put all effort into holding onto the carriage as it bounded away down the road. The carriage tipped to one side for an alarming moment before crashing down again on four wheels. It tipped two more times before landing back again; the third time it did Lucia heard a terrible crash. Then the carriage was completely out of control, shaking and rattling terribly. There was another crack as they lost another wheel, and Lucia heard the horses scream. The carriage groaned as it finally broke away from the horses and it tipped over onto its side.

Groaning Lucia opened her eyes. They lay in a heap on the inside of the carriage, Tansy on top of them all. Lucia lay just under Tansy, glad she wasn’t trapped under Bryony’s girth. She looked up to the carriage door, the curtains hanging down and the sky blue above them. Then a face appeared in the window.

Lucia cringed away from that face. A filthy man grinned down at them, what little teeth he had were rotting. He looked just like the bandits that had attacked on the road when Lucia had traveled with Taras. He looked at Lucia dismissively before his eyes landed on Tansy, still dressed in Jeanne’s regalia.

“Praise Kale Ba’el,” the man growled before he reached in and pulled Tansy out by her arm. Lucia gave a weak cry and grabbed onto Tansy’s other arm. Tansy woke then and started to struggle, her eyes wild with fear. She screamed as the man pulled her out, and Lucia lost her grip. She tried to grab onto her trailing skirts but they ripped, and Tansy was dragged from the carriage screaming and struggling.

“Move,” Jeanne grunted, trying to get out from under Bryony.

“No milady,” Bryony whispered, holding Jeanne down. “She has served her purpose.”

Lucia saw the stricken look on Jeanne’s face, and she struggled harder. Lucia felt helpless, she could hear Tansy screaming. Her screams were joined by the harsh laughter of men, more than one. Lucia felt as if her hearing was suddenly sharpened. She could hear the tearing of cloth, the solid thump of blows falling, and the animal grunts of the men. Over all this were the horrible screams of Tansy.

Jeanne stopped struggling when the unmistakable sounds of the men taking their pleasure out on Tansy. They sat in horrified silence for what seemed like ages, but what was only a quarter hour. Then the sound of a horn blared and the pounding of hooves. Screams and shouts sounded, the fight was brutal but brief.

“Milady!” A man shouted and Bryony pulled herself up.

“We’re in here,” she said. Lucia felt numb as they were pulled out of the carriage by Jeanne’s guards. They stood between them and the slaughter, Lucia noting numbly that the carriage had crashed in a fallow field.

“Move aside,” Jeanne commanded the Ranger Loris who stood between her and the bodies.

“Milady you do not want to…”

“I said move aside,” Jeanne said as she gave the Ranger a powerful shove. He stumbled, and she barreled past him before stopping dead. Lucia followed, not sure why but she did. There lying in the dirt were three men, dead like pigs around their grizzly work. Tansy lay with her arms and legs spread out, covered in bruises and cuts. One breast had been sliced nearly off, and a dagger was still between her legs. Her throat had been slit, the gaping wound still pumping blood. Lucia turned and vomited, unable to see more.

“It’s amazing how far they got in such a short time,” the Ranger noted coolly.

“How dare you!” Jeanne said angrily. She was shaking, with horror and rage most likely. “She didn’t deserve this!”

“And neither did you milady,” Loris answered. “Look closely if you wish, that would be you right now if not her.”

Jeanne turned away, tears falling from her eyes.

“Take care of her Loris,” Jeanne said softly. “Please.”

“Yes milady,” Loris answered mildly. He issued orders calmly and they were led away from the grizzly scene. Horses were brought forward and Lucia had to be helped into the saddle.

“Who were they?” Jeanne asked Loris as they rode back towards the road.

“I do not know milady,” Loris answered.

“They can’t be bandits,” Jeanne said. “We’re still in the King’s lands, not even a day out of Warren!” She was outraged, Lucia couldn’t blame her.

“I understand milady, but these men bore no mark as to their alliance,” Loris answered. “They look to be simple Elmerians, bandits mostly. But you are right; we are not in any bandit territory.”

“When I find who planned this…”

“Milady I do not think any noble planned this,” Loris said. “A noble would have made it look like an accident; they would have chosen a more believable place for the bandits to strike. And no man in his right mind would take such an obvious risk with his life. These men made no effort to escape, none to at least try to even survive such an attack. This was a suicide mission.

“They fired arrows at the carriage and the horses just panicked. The larger portion stayed to distract the guards while three went off after the carriage. When it was far enough they forced it to crash, and took what they wanted.”

“So, they were mad?” Jeanne asked dissatisfied.

“No, not with the amount of planning this took,” Loris said shaking his head. “It was as if they wanted to cause as much damage as they could before they died. Truly though this makes little sense milady.”

“Indeed, it does but I will not rest until I have answers,” Jeanne said, fire in her voice. Lucia looked back forlornly, and in a sunbeam, she saw a small figure with wings dancing. She blinked in surprise and the vision was gone. Dread was with her now, for the path ahead and what she had left behind.