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Falconer was having a bad dream.

By his age and experience though, this was not an uncommon thing. Memories of past atrocities, conflicts where friends were lost, when lives were taken far too soon and when a thick layer of blood was your only protection against everything this world could and would throw at you.

It was a feeling he both missed and loathed.

"No..."

He wondered if happened to other soldiers too. The only time he had ever felt alive, so truly and amazingly alive was when he was in the battlefield, adrenaline pumping through his veins, activating a multitude of chemical reactions to powered his body to continue to push and push and push, battling well beyond his physical capabilities and into states where he was more monster than man.

"Its not...seven...am. No bowl, no bowl, no bowl. I'm seeing everything, the time is going..."

What was worse sometimes was the torture you had to endure when captured behind enemy lines. His body showed only a glimpse of the damages he had faced in his years of duty. Most damage had been mental, burning through his psyche and ravaging his very being. Falconer offered pondered to himself, when he was alone and his thoughts his only companion...what would his younger self think of him now? That young idealistic boy who dreamed of nothing more than defending his country. Now he was just tired, old and broken, despite barely being in his twenties, fighting for a b***h of a queen who by all rights could be dead. What kept him going? Faith? Stubbornness? Fear?

"Kickin...the front seat...why would you...the back seat, oh god the back seat, sit in the back seat. Which...which...which...can I take? Got...got to make my mind up"

Falconer twitched in his sleep.

"The execution...it's Friday...Friday. Gotta get...down on Friday. This tower is so high up...everyone's...looking forward to my return...to the weekend...the weekend. Friday...friday...got get down on Friday. There will be a party for me. Partying, partying...yeah."

His head drooped again and his grip around Serenice loosened slightly.

"Fun, fun, fun, fun..."

A low wail sounded from his throat.

"Looking forward to the WEEKEND MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKES TIK TOK TIK TOK WANNA SCREAM."

He jolted awake and damn nearly fell off the horse. Blinking at the sudden influx of light, he scanned the passing horizon.

"Where...am I?"

He blinked.

"Oh s**t, sorry about the noise...How long have we been riding? Felt like months of just...nothing passing by us. I kinda feel sorry for this horse...just being there waiting for something to happen...Such a difficult life."

A tilt of the head, a short pause.

"Bathe"

He gathered the clothes and left quietly, a thousand thoughts plaguing his mind and a thousand questions on the tip of his tongue.

Nicholas Falconer was confused.

The what was probably the easiest to decipher. He had many things to be confused about. Where were they, who was his companion, why had he been saved? The decided to focus instead on the last two of those predicaments as he stripped and waded into the pool.

Gingerly, showing a care uncharacteristic of his person he washed his wounds, taking care not to re-open them. His time in prison had not done him any favours, adding to the multitude of scars that already took to his body as though it were some sick canvas.

A hiss, a growl and a muttered curse and he left the lake, cleaner than he had been in months, before donning his new clothing. A simple shirt and a pair of pants. A luxury really, one that he wasn't quite sure he deserved.

He returned to his place at their make shift camp and took place opposite his traveling companion, hands playing with the grass he was sitting upon.

A slight hesitation, before he grounded out his first question.

"Why did you save me?"

--
"What do we know?" Hidoi queried, pacing the room as his personal guard stood at attention. "We know that our little whore accompanied one of the guards here to service our prisoner. The question thus then is where did this whore come from? Suffice to say, Falconer and her managed to escape. Who is she working for? Some kind of resistance? Obviously, but what is the extent of this resistance's power...

Hidoi clucked his tongue, much of his earlier fury having faded and being replaced with a colder and more logical approach at his problem. He knew the facts of course. Their reign was hardly popular, what with them being the invading force demonized for centuries by the local ruling class. For years, Hidoi's family and his very people were seen as evil by these simple people, and now that they had finally bested their Queen-to-be, the local populace was afraid.

Afraid of the change they would bring.

It was enough to make Hidoi laugh.

"Resistance's are often fueled by some kind of belief in a higher power. These people have no God, no real fundamental religion. All they have is their princess. Could this all be done in the name of that little b***h? Could she be responsible for all this?"

They knew better than to underestimate the Princess. She had proven time and time again her prowess for battle, that sharp and calculating mind of her's had granted her victory against the greatest strategists of Hidoi's country, and given him quite a few headaches as well. Such a plan wouldn't be below her...

"Who was the one who accompanied the whore tonight? I need to know where he picked her up from. A pimp, a brothel, a bar. I need names and I need them now. Bring all those involved in alive. I want to question them myself."

Predicament.

"Think Falconer think."

Temples are rubbed, a wail is sounded that shatters the small silence he had built. The author takes time to ponder his use of alliteration.

"So so screwed!". Again, more alliteration. The author queries his new found love for the letter s. Perhaps its symbolic.

To explain this story, lets jump back a few minutes.

--
"Would you have rather died?"

Open mouth, rapid blinking. Falconer was at a loss for words, a somewhat rare and joyous occasion no doubt. Somewhere in another realm, a strange and malevolent being ticked off another item on a list entitled "Signs of the Apocalypse" and gloated evilly.

"Eat". There was exhaustion in her voice, and had Falconer been in a more coherent state, he probably would have taken this as a sign to not push things. However...

"Now wait just a minute!" He cried out, jumping to his feet, a wild look on his face and a finger pointed outwards dramatically. One could here the up swell of strings in the background, the uplifting music causing adrenaline to course through his veins, the words "Objection" forming on his lips as he turned to face his offender.

Only to discover that he was all alone in the now empty field. Crickets chirped and were instantly murdered, out of fear that they were Valuk spies on a mission to track down the Princess or something. You could never be too careful with who stumbled upon her presence these days.

"That... inconceivable...little...flexible...no, focus...Gah. Words clearly need to be exchanged in a very manly way that in no way has any connection to how attractive I find this woman."

An awkward chirp. More crickets fell.

"I did not just say that. Dear Lord in the Sky Whose Existence I Question, I did not just say that."

He shook his head rapidly, rubbing at his eyes and giggling nervously.

"Clearly it is but prison torture and exhaustion playing upon me. The lack of filth upon my body is clearly messing with my mind, having become so use to the situation. Yes yes..."

Before he knew it, he was making his way in the direction of his unlikely companion, muttering as he did so.

"Strange angry and non-romantic words will be exchanged. This lady is scary and is more than capable of snapping you like a twig. Falconer, a twig. Lets be serious here, is that what you really want?"

A pause.

"Maybe. Still, strange sexual fetishisms aside we're here for a different matter. I'm being emo and broody here, don't most women find that attractive now a days? I mean it worked for Tw-"

He came to a stop by the river, peeking out through the trees, pressing his body up against the trunk and doing his best to blend in.

"Sorry" He apologised to the trunk. "Kinda have you in an awkward situation I know. But its for a good cause, I'm following this girl."

The Tree stared down, judgment in its eyes.

"Yes I know its creepy, but she started it. I was angsting."

More staring.

"Go get chopped into firewood. And another th-"

The sound of cloth hitting the floor shut him up.

"Oh. Questionable. God. She's totally naked. She's totally naked."

A second sound followed.

"Okay now she's naked."

Back against the tree, a flush on his face, Falconer considered his options: Confront the scary lady and suffer death, make a run for it and get hunted down, or stay here and wait for the scary lady to come by and then kill him.

"Brilliant."

His hand met his forehead in a collision of sheer disbelief, the smacking sound resounding throughout the forest.

Falconer stood there frozen, hand still stuck to his ******** media res over, we come to find Falconer still with his back to the tree, precious seconds before what seemed to be his inevitable death ticking away.

"Why did I wail" He hissed. "I sound like a dying deer."

A candle was lit and was then immediately snuffed out.

"Then she'd go looking for the deer and be all confused when she didn't find it. Damn it man, think it through."

Brow creased, his mind rapidly ran through each and every scenario he could think of, most of the culminating in one or more of his limbs flying, before the simply stood, turned and walked around the tree.

"If I will die, I will die like a man: Staring at the naked body of a seemingly defenseless woman. Oh, how the bards will sing of this tale."

Hands held up high in a meek "Please don't hurt me, I'm just an innocent pervert" stance, he said in a small voice.

"Hi. How are you. Fantastic. Don't mind me, I'm not looking at your naked naked body, all wet in the moon light an- No bad Falconer. I'm not looking! Not that I'm saying your form is unpleasant, in fact its quite...pleasing...if you're into that. Which I am! But um ********.

First it comes on quiet creeping slow
Clever words and phrases only stain
I remain so
Lost and buried under
Everything that I need
When all I want is you
Lilith drew a heavy breath in as she took in her advisor's news. "I see." In the background she heard the sound of faint splashing, the noise carried through the broad walls of the cave. She looked down at her dampened clothing and then to the fire. Erion's chilly weather would certainly set in the moment the flames were extinguished, but it was also one more way for their pursuers to possibly find them.

A small while later Pomme returned with the extra child in tow and made an announcement that the food was ready. "Come and eat with us, Master Samhailien." She spared the other a look over her shoulder before she walked back to the others and took a seat. "It's fortunate we were able to get dinner during a time like this." The princess remarked in a quiet tone as she drew as close to the fire as she could without risking a burn.

Despite the dangerous situation they were in, Lilith kept her subjects in the cave well into the next day. Even without her advisor she could tell there were soldiers outside searching for her. It was a heavy sensation in her bones, the feel of being hunted as prey. The only thing she could do was hide, and there were times when she wondered if it was a good move as a tactician or the decisions of a coward.

When the feeling dissipated, Lilith gathered them all and moved the party in her intended destination. It was a long period of traveling, a distance which could have been covered much faster if they had magic or horses at their disposal. Magic would be too risky, however, so they stuck to walking. Lilith filled up their spare time by working with Mira. The princess first began to teach her how to move silently, as it was the basic skill they needed most at the moment, and then moved onto hand to hand self defense. The peasant girl was best on her feet and excelled at moving quickly rather than using brute force. Once Lilith grasped an understanding of what her weaknesses and strengths were, she sought to bring more power to her strengths and how to patch up her weaknesses. Being good at only one thing may make someone a master in that field, but the people who lived were the ones who could do a pinch of everything.

Nearly a month had passed since they had left their hiding spot. Traveling by walking aside, the forces that had spread out to find her were also bringing their progress to a grinding halt. They passed through a few towns on their way, the first of which Lilith decided to change her persona from a farmer's daughter to a bard. The reason she gave to the others ( which wouldn't have been shared if Mira was not there ) was that she, Charlotte, was afraid of being mistaken as the princess again. They both shared the same red locks and black irises, so she would wear a mask that covered the upper half of her face, carry a harp and hide her hair under a wrap.

The disguise worked well enough, although she heavily disdained hiding the crimson curls she'd been gifted with, and the party proceeded as a group of lost girls torn from their families after the war. Bards were travelers who went where there was safety, so her presence amongst them went, for the most part, unquestioned.

The princess' role as a bard had more purpose than to simply hide, however. Her ability to sing and play brought forth both money and calm from those who heard her music. The high melancholy notes that projected from her lips mixed with the strings of her harp. The princess' voice had become very well known amongst her court and was praised by those who heard her sing, although such an event was very rare. In the month they traveled Lilith had sung more publicly than she had in a year.

Finally, the group reached a port city that would hopefully take them across one of the five giant lakes Erion sported. It was the fastest way to the eastern side of the country and also one of the most expensive. With so much of the land damaged during the war, prices on nearly everything had gone up. They had dipped down after Mei'q Valuk had proclaimed their victory but still remained remarkably high for those who had to work with the meager budget the princess-bard was staring at. Although she drew crowds in to listen to her and they paid well, she still had to buy food to feed Pomme, Mira, Samhailien, herself and those she came across that barely had enough coin to keep themselves from starving. That didn't include the cost of finding places to sleep or the supplies they needed. Altogether they managed to scrape by, but the left over change was nowhere near the amount needed to purchase tickets on a boat.

"The best course of action available, if it becomes impossible to purchase tickets, is to move farther up north and find a part of the river that leads into the lake that is thin enough to travel across." Lilith mentioned to Pomme in one instance where they were alone in the tiny, cramped room the group had rented when they had arrived. "Even then, the cost of traveling on foot again will be taxing. There is no way we can stop long enough to cultivate the land to sell things. At this rate of travel, we will not reach the Maskves Mountains until winter comes. That would be a fatal move. Unless fortune shows us more favor than already gifted, it would be best for you to prepare for a longer stay in this city until the next spring." Lilith paused to pluck at the strings of her harp, as she had been in the process of tuning them before she had spoken. "I will not give up my attempt to reclaim forces and my throne, but it would be suicidal to go when winter strikes. There is that rebel's force in the city, but those brats make themselves neigh impossible to find... Now, it is time for me to make my rounds playing in the city. I will be back at sundown."

With the harp tuned and her words finished, Lilith rose up from her seat and put on her costume. She headed out into the city and passed by homeless and beggars alike. Within the hour she reached the deeper parts that were filled with soldiers and citizens alike. The people meshed together, wary of one another's presence as they passed. The bard slipped through them and made her way to one of the locations with less guards.

She took a spot on a corner and checked her strings once more before she opened an empty bag and set it down. Then, her lips parted and her voice floated above and through the crowd, nails plucking her instrument.

"In this land of the black,
Cursed roses bloom
And the shadows of the fire burn the sweetest root
Whilst the children sigh'd, and the women cried
Men drowned in the marchin' sea"

Serenice reopened slightly her eyes as Falconer approched. Her full senses were in alert. Her mind was focusing on the man, as clear as if he had a target on his forehead. Even with closed eyes, she could almost 'feel' him for he was the only thing that her weakening body needed at the moment.

What did he want now? To make small talk? Why wasn't she surprised? Why did he have to choose now? She needed to rest.
Go away...
But her lips remained close. She wanted him to approach.
Closer...yes closer...
She did not move and let him come closer.
Too close...
the warning came from her mind but she did not act on it.

As he introduced himself, she raised an eyebrow. She had to control herself. The poor lad probably needed to speak to a soul. I have no soul... a dark grin came upon her mind.
She sighed.
After all she owed him her name. She could not even remember if she had told him. In the prison maybe? When would she have told him her name? When she was upon him, making those...noises?! She chased the memory of that upmost humiliating moment. Why couldn't she have thought of another way?

"Serenice." she said with a tired voice but the man spoke further, as if he had not heard her.

He spoke and slowly the vampire straightened up and an amused glow started shining in her eyes. As he finished speaking, the shadow of a smirk was upon her lips.
So he thinks he can help me? How sweet.... That man had no idea. Yet he was far from being stupid. Her mind was fogging up and she blinked once, then pounced, throwing herself at Falconer, sending them both in the dirt.

Her right hand clasped around the man's neck yet she did not squeeze, just maintain while her left fingers laid flat on his chest, pinning him to the floor, her legs preventing the man from moving his, she leaned over him.

"So I am weak?" she purred in a sarcastic laugh, fangs visible.

Her hand was icy against his skin. She could feel his heartbeat against her fingers. She could almost see the life running down his veins, the life she needed in order to gain strength again.

Blood...

His scent, now she could smell him. Nothing compared to how he stank when she freed him from jail and torture. Earth, sweat, leather, he was a prey, a very intoxicating prey. She could feel her entire body quivering of excitement at the anticipation of blood running down her throat. Her amber eyes were as wide as those of a feline ready to kill its prey.

----------------

The Fat Pig Tavern was closing. Guards poured into the inn, arresting everyone they found inside.
Bert tried to flee but she was not fast enough.

"Catch her!" barked the Captain. In seconds she was thrown to the ground, face against the dirty, beer smelling floor.

"Let me go!" she shouted, but nothing would do.


Mark was at the Tavern when the guards entered. He hesitated between escaping, fighting back or following. He did not have the time to think more that Bert was cast on the ground, he pounced to help her but was welcomed by a blow in the stomach which slowed his enthusiasm.
The man cast a powerless look at Bert who was terrified.

Bert and Mark, with five other guest from the Inn were driven to the torturing halls at the Castle. On route, the cortege was silently looked at by the citizens but no one was speaking up. The uproar months earlier which had followed Falconer's escape had died, being crashed by the oppressor with the deaths of many. Now the local population was once again submissive and could nothing by pray at the sight of those poor lads who would soon die in suffering.

Heavy chains were put on the door of the Inn and two guards remained in faction, spying on anyone trying to get too close to the place.

As they were locked in a common room, Mark tried to calm Bert down.
"It will be alright..." he hushed, trying to pat her shoulders.

But her answer came with her fists hitting his chest.
"It's your fault..." she hissed in a whisper and went to sit away from him, crying.