Part 1

"Long ago, and miles away, there was a young princess, orphaned in a time of war. She was called upon to lead the armies of her kingdom, for there was no other. She was the fiercest of warriors, beloved of her people, unstoppable on the field. She rode out day after day and saved her subjects in battle after battle.

But every night, when the fighting was done, she was alone. Until one day, a peasant boy came looking to join her army. Lonely and angry and fierce as she. For the first time, she found that when she strode out onto the field to save others, there was someone at her side...who had come to save her."

Chapter 1

RPOV

Song: Past Lives by BORNS, That Sea The Gambler by Gregory Alan Isakov

A storm was bubbling in the sunset, a mix of charcoals, pinks, and golds. The heavy rain tended to make others restless, but not me. It was a sign of new beginnings, the sins of yesterday washed away leaving a new path yet to be conquered. As I sat on my perch at the edge of the woods, I wondered what new adventures waited on the other side of that storm.

A cool gust of wind whipped through my loose hair and my legs dangled carelessly over the edge of the cliffside as I inhaled the watery scent in the air. I leaned my hands back against the sturdy rocks under me and tilted my head to admire the oncoming clouds. As the faint signs of thunder neared I let out a defiant howl, the clashing sounds of my cries and the beating drum of the storm echoing through the small ravine.

I waited for the last remnants of my shouts to dull down before finally standing up. The sun was quickly ending its descent and I knew it was time for me to head back. I normally dreaded this part of the night, when I would no longer see or feel the sun's warm rays, but the mischievous storm spurred me on that night and I leaped through the woods back to camp, feeling rejuvenated and alive.

I let my hands hang beside me as I ran, my fingertips brushing against the plush moss and slick vines that covered the passing trees. Loose soil and leaves clung to the bottom of my dress, but I didn't care. I wouldn't be in it much longer anyways—the nuisance. I only had to wear it when I wasn't down at the camp, and despite the churning weather, I was needed to welcome some new recruits tonight.

Most young ladies my age would be flabbergasted by the condition of my tattered hem and faded skirt. But I wasn't your typical girl. I was a warrior, a protector, a Guardian through and through. My attire wasn't something that I would put at the top of my list of worries. Not when there were creatures of the night lurking nearby, endless wars to wage, and loved ones to protect.

I finally slowed from my sprint when I made it to the edge of the lush forest line. I paused for a moment, taking in the sight of the enormous stone wall surrounding the castle at St. Vlad's Valley. It was built for protection from our enemies and was impenetrable. Many had tried to take it down and failed, but that didn't stop me from always being on high alert. There were some weak points that were only known to a select few of us for now, and I knew as long as our enemies grew and their methods advanced, it would only stand to protect us for so long.

As I walked through the valley I could feel the hairs on my arms start to stand up and sensed the closeness of the storm. An excited grin pulled at my cheeks and I quickened my pace, looking back at the tree line one last time to admire its emerald beauty.

"Rose!" A shrill voice at the front gate snapped my focus forward. I could see my sister's pale blonde hair blowing in the increasing wind, her arms wrapped protectively around her slim waist as she stood at the threshold of the gate's opening. "It's nearly dark! I was getting worried."

"Don't bother yourself, Liss, I stayed near the wards." Well, not the total truth. But there was no reason to get her more worked up than she already was.

"And look at your dress," she gasped. "Those stains will never come out."

My excited grin turned sly as I shook the skirt of my plain, wool dress to try and rid it of some of the filth. "There, good as new." Lissa rolled her eyes at me, seeing how the thick muck had refused to budge, but she gave up on the fleeting argument knowing that there was really no point. When I reached the gate she immediately looped her arm with mine and pulled me inside.

"So, where were you sneaking off to so early this time? To meet a boy perhaps," she wiggled her eyebrows at me suggestively. Now it was my turn to roll my eyes.

"Lissa, you know very well that there are no men here I'd even consider having a secret rendezvous in the woods with." A few passersby waved as we walked closer to the castle and Lissa politely smiled in return.

"Oh please! There are plenty of men here. Guardian Ashford is handsome and from what I hear, very into you," she leaned in with a singsong note to her voice.

"Seriously," I huffed back. "Mason and I haven't snuck off into the woods together since we were kids. And I'm pretty sure the last time was when we were nine years of age and he cried when I pushed him out of a tree." Probably a low blow, given Mason and I were still close friends, but I had to take drastic measures when distracting Lissa from her matchmaking ways.

"Well, not all men can be as strong and brave as you Sir Hathaway." Lissa batted her lashes and nudged my shoulder, causing us both to giggle at my official title. Since Guardian Alberta Petrov stepped down from the head of our cavalry I had been knighted and assigned the role of Field Marshall to our troops. I had been leading the men for a couple years already, after excelling in my training and proving myself in battle, but making it official felt damn good.

"But really Rose," Lissa continued. "When are you going to start having a little fun? You are so serious these days, and before you know it we'll be promised off to some foreign strangers. We need to enjoy our youth while it lasts!"

"I do have fun!" Lissa's brows rose to her forehead at my outburst as she looked down at me unconvinced. I tried to think about the last time I'd done something even slightly rebellious and amusing but quickly came up short. Growing up, Lissa and I would get into all sorts of trouble, mainly because of me. It was widely known that I was the reckless and she was the cautious; the true brains behind most of our rambunctious antics and the first to jump at any sign of adventure. But immediately after our parents and brother, Andre died, I threw myself into my training and was determined to protect my sister at all costs. She was the last true Dragomir and the next ruler of our kingdom, not to mention my best friend. I loved her with all my heart and would gladly throw myself into a thousand battles if that meant she was safe. But ever since our Uncle Victor had insinuated it would soon be time for us to marry and for Lissa to officially take the throne, our roles were on the verge of reversal and she was looking for any excuse to do something reckless.

"Ugh fine, so I've been a little busier than usual lately, but the raids have been more sporadic, we've got recruits coming in from all over, and...and now I'm rambling."

"Yes, yes you are," Lissa chuckled.

I squeezed her arm and pulled her closer to me. "I just want to make sure you're safe. That everyone's safe. And if that means having to work a little extra hard, then so be it."

Lissa opened her mouth to argue, but as we neared the entrance of the Dragomir castle I slipped my arm out of hers and stepped ahead as I pressed my back into the tall wooden doors. "Well, as much as I'd love to stay and chat I have not one, but several strong, brave men to go not-so-secretly meet with."

"But Rose—"

"Besides," I added as I pushed the doors open. "I wouldn't want to get my dress wet."

"What are you—" before she could finish, rain began to pour down from the sky and I slammed the doors shut to trap her outside. I sniggered to myself at her muffled pounding and shrieks on the other side of the door and scurried towards the stairs before someone could let her back in. "How's that for never having any fun," I muttered under my breath.

I slid down the smooth hall and was almost to my room when I heard, "Princess Hathaway!"

I knew before even turning around who the admonishing tone belonged to. No one who actually knew me referred to me by that title other than Lissa's handmaiden. Well, I guess she was technically mine too, but we had given up on that relationship long ago after she finally tired of my constant pranks on her, freeing me from her annoying pestering. The snapping turtle in her bathtub was ultimately the last straw. "Yes, Miss Kirova. And what is it I can do for you on this lovely night," I replied dryly.

"Were you out in public in that godforsaken excuse for a dress? It is appalling for a Princess to be seen in public in such a state!" Preceding my knighthood, I had been deemed with the title "Princess", a term I hated even more than Lissa did.

"Well, then you're really not going to like what I put on next," I goaded.

"Don't tell me you are still running out there with the Dhampir men playing soldier?" My many conquests in battle were anything but 'playing', as she so crassly put it, but I refused to take her bait and let my temper flare.

"Why Miss Kirova, haven't you heard? I've been made the new Field Marshall, therefore excusing me from whatever Princess duties you have cooked up in that little head of yours." A satisfied grin rested on my face as her cheeks burned with heat.

"That is preposterous," she squealed. "The battlefield is no place for a lady, even one as unruly as you! Why can't you be more like your sister?" I remained in place, casually leaning against my door, and seeing that she wasn't going to elicit any kind of reaction from me the old, pouty woman stormed off mumbling reproofs all the way down the hall.

I let out a sigh and pushed my way into my room. It wasn't the first, and certainly wouldn't be the last, time I'd heard someone compare me to Lissa. Understandably so. She was the epitome of a Dragomir Princess. Her signature pale blonde hair and striking jade green eyes pinned her as Dragomir blood, but she also held her own unprecedented beauty that drew you in like a warm spring day. However, it wasn't just her beauty that made her remarkable, she was also graceful, polite, and above all else—selfless.

Not to say that I was on the other end of the spectrum when it came to attractiveness. My dark, foreign eyes and beyond healthy curves were a deadly combination in the warfare of easily influenced men—something I discovered at a very young age. When violence wasn't appropriate or pragmatic, I had found my discernibly unique features to be quite useful in getting what I wanted. Yet, another thing that Lissa would never do.

My mother was especially fond of that familiar phrase. Although I had the official title and the kingdom considered me part of the Royal family, technically, I wasn't. My mother was a renowned Guardian over in the eastern front and had spent the majority of her life fighting against our enemy, the Strigoi. She started her training and career here, at St. Vladimir's Valley, and had been a personal Guardian to Eric Dragomir himself. Over the years she became very close with the royal family, so when she unexpectedly fell pregnant, the Moroi saints that they were lent their help. Apparently, my true father was someone dangerous that I needed to be kept from. She was worried that if he found out about his child, that it would bring war to our peaceful lands. Eric and Rhea agreed to take me in as their own and raised me as part of the family. I still had my mother's name, since my obvious Dhampir lineage would prevent me from being a true Dragomir, but Eric took up the role of my Moroi father and even gave me the official title of Princess, to show our kingdom that he had claimed his bastard instead of shamed it.

Eventually, my mother moved to a nearby country that hugged the shoreline to bring aid against Viking invaders. I would receive letters from her from time to time but hadn't actually seen her in ages. I would've thought that she of all people would understand why I wanted to fight alongside our troops and one day lead them, but she saw it as me giving up a ripe opportunity for a different life and was constantly condescending me.

The only ones who really supported me were the Dragomirs. I owed those Moroi everything, even though they never saw it that way. Eric and Rhea had consistently assured me that I genuinely was part of their family and shouldn't feel obligated to repay their kindness, but it was a hard thing to shake. I had witnessed firsthand what troubles life could bring a lowly Dhampir girl, and the Dragomirs had saved me from a truly disturbing fate. As I changed out of my heavy dress and into more practical clothing, I traced the sigil on my custom tunic, a gift from Rhea back when I was still training to be a Guardian. I had come home frustrated the day before because my skirt kept getting in the way during hand-to-hand combat. I had sulked in my room all night and didn't even bother coming out for dinner—a very rare occurrence for me. The next day that tunic and a slim pair of trousers were waiting at the foot of my bed with a note from Rhea that read: Show them what you are made of. And I did.

Not long after, we were all in a horrific accident while out on an excursion and we never saw them again. Lissa had taken it extremely hard. So much so, that I was worried she would never recover. During the sleepless nights at her bedside watching over her, I promised over and over, to myself—and to Rhea—that I would keep her safe. From that moment on she would always come first and I would do what it took to make sure no harm ever came to her.

After slipping into my training gear and securing the clasp of my silver necklace around my neck, a trinket I never went without, I slung my sheepskin cloak over my shoulders and headed down towards the camp. The rain was in full force now, but it didn't bother me in the least. I welcomed its roar.

I resisted the urge to howl at the sky again and dug my boots into the thick mud as I approached the other Guardians. They had set up a makeshift awning to keep their parchments dry as the recruits walked up one-by-one to give their name and position.

"Next," one of the Guardians shouted.

"Hey Rose! I mean Marshall," Eddie Castile greeted with a smile as he walked out from under the covering to join me in the rain. "I'm surprised to see you out here tonight. Now that you're officially in charge, this kind of stuff is below your rank." His golden hair quickly turned dark under the storm's heavy pour, but like me, he didn't seem to mind.

"Yeah, well I had to make sure the likes of you had things under control. Even something as simple as taking names has proven to be a bit of a challenge," I mock-scolded.

"Aw c'mon, Rose. That was one time," Eddie practically whined, causing my serious facade to crack. "And I'll have you know I've learned how to read and write since then."

I gave him a reassuring smile to let him know I was only codding him. "I know, I know. I just wanted to see what we were working with firsthand." Even though welcoming recruits wasn't technically within my job responsibilities, I was always interested in the new faces coming in. The look on a man's face could tell you more than any words that would ever seep out of his mouth. Some stood proudly, their chests puffed out and a self-assured look adorning their features—which usually told me they had close to no experience in the field whatsoever. Others looked worn from travel or slightly distrusting as they took in their new surroundings. Reasonably so, since the Dragomir Castle had a way of coming off as rather menacing to those who hadn't seen it before.

Our stones were darker than most, giving off an almost blackened, scorched look at night and at the top of the main tower sat two massive dragon-shaped gargoyles. They were intricately carved with tails winding down the sides of the stone structure and gaping mouths that seemed to roar into the night. They were meant to signify strength and power, but their threatening features were only accentuated by the flashes of lightning in the distance.

The heavy drops began tapering off, making my line of sight a little more clear and I moved towards the awning to get a closer look at our list. Next to some of the names were rankings and titles of knighthood, where others had generic names, signifying they were not sired or claimed by someone of noble relation. But no matter what class or skill-level they were at, we all shared one commonality. We were all Dhampir. Half human, half Moroi. Born and bred to wage wars against the Strigoi and protect our Moroi brethren. Without them, we wouldn't exist—and without us, they wouldn't survive.

Becoming a Guardian meant you had sacrificed your life to the cause and sealed it with a promise. It was considered an honor amongst our kind. Many of us spent the first sixteen years of our lives training to become one and some excelled even further to work their way up in the rankings, as I did. In the end, though, someone with the highest rank could be brought down just as easily as an inexperienced novice if they weren't careful. Strigoi were vicious, powerful, and had an immortal lust that could only be satiated by blood. We had to train for every possible scenario and be prepared to face the worst.

As I continued to look over the list I saw a few names I recognized. Dhampirs a couple years below me that had finally finished their training and were joining the ranks. I felt equally proud and saddened by this, knowing that many of them wouldn't survive their first year.

"Next," the Guardian seated below me bellowed.

My finger continued to skim across the parchment of names as I tried to dedicate them to memory. It was an old habit of Alberta's that had rubbed off on me somewhere down the line. She had told me how important it was to know every single member of the troops within our charge, whether they were with us for five years, or five weeks. These Dhampirs had vowed to give their lives to protecting the Moroi and were entrusting us to lead them. At the very least we owed them the honor of carrying their memory with us.

Alberta could hear a person's name once and never forget it again—a skill I had unfortunately yet to master. However, I had hoped that by getting a head start during registration, it would be easier for them to sink in as we began training over the next few days.

Just as I was nearing the end of the second column of names, a dark shadow crept up the parchment, shielding the remaining signatures from my line of sight. Slightly annoyed, I glanced over to my left to see that the nearby torches were still well protected under the awning, but something—or someone—was blocking their light.

Now, most Guardians are in impeccable shape. We are much stronger and a lot of the time more defined than the majority of humans, thanks to our hybrid genes. Not to mention, if Viking invaders weren't enough to keep you in shape, then Strigoi sure as hell were. But this guy...he was one of the largest men I had ever seen. His shoulders were covered by a hooded cloak made out of a material I had never seen before, but the shadowed outline from the flickering light gave away their broadness and impressive stature. His legs were the size of some of the tree trunks that I had run through mere hours before, and I would have half a mind to bet they were just as sturdy as well. I was instantly curious who this Dhampir was, and what skill level he would be bringing to our cause, but his hood was blocking his face from my covert method of discovery.

"Name here," the Guardian beside me reclined his neck to look up at the towering giant in front of him. I subtly studied their interaction, waiting for the moment when he would reveal himself to me. His hand extended out to the tattered quill and he folded his torso down to reach the wooden table, letting the light shine on us once again. It surprised me how graceful that small movement was for a man of his size and I wondered if it was coincidence or training. The quill scratched along the parchment as he wrote out his name, and despite my curiosity of it, I kept my eyes glued to the top of his damp hood, patiently waiting.

Sensing my sights on him, the quill stopped mid-stroke and his hidden face slowly rose up to mine. Now that his tall form was no longer blocking the lantern I could see his features a little more clearly, but was disappointed yet again. Despite the fact that his stare was pointedly glued to mine, where the others I had deciphered were fixed in various directions, he was impossible to read. Surely a man of that size would be at least a little bit cocky and self-assured, but he gave nothing away. It was as if there was a stone wall where his expression should be. Somehow, it was frustrating beyond belief yet undeniably intriguing at the same time. There was a heaviness in his eyes that made most people want to look away first, but I could hold my own.

Mimicking his stoniness, I hid all emotion from my demeanor and met his challenging stare. As I continued to search his face for any usual identifiers, I felt drawn to those eyes. Their color was also hidden from me due to the lack of light in front of him, but there was something about them. Something...dangerous.

His eyelids closed over them, snapping me out of my dazed state, and when they opened again his focus was back on the parchment. When he finished signing his name, the mysterious stranger handed the quill back to my fellow Guardian and turned to walk off.

"Welcome to the Dragomir troops, Guardian Belikov." The stranger craned his head back at the sound of his name and nodded to the seated Guardian who had spoken it. His eyes flicked to me one last time before he strode off into the rain, the dim light of the passing torches finally revealing their molten brown color.

Men continued to line up as the night continued, the signatures growing one by one, but my eyes kept finding their way back to the puzzling stranger's name scrawled on the left side of the page. It didn't matter how many times I looked at it because immediately after learning it, I knew—this was one name I wouldn't forget. Dimitri Belikov.

A/N: As you will soon find out, many of these characters will act OOC and will have a different fate than the original VA series. The story will be broken up into two parts and is inspired by the tale 'The Death of Love' which is what we started off with. You'll see more excerpts of this tale from time to time ;)