The ruler of the Twelve Kingdoms of Kobol sat at his writing desk in his private salon. It was his favorite room in the castle, mostly because of the way the light flooded through the wide windows. Even in the cooler months, it was one of the warmest places to be, and it had been an unseasonably cool spring.

"Zarek will simply have to meet with some unfortunate accident. Such things are not uncommon in prison." Richard fingered the crisp edges of the fresh parchment thoughtfully as he dipped his quill into the inkwell.

The elegant silk of Laura's gown rustled as she covered his free hand with her own. She pulled her thin wrap a bit more tightly around her shoulders - the darned thing was more decorative than it was useful. "And make him a martyr?" Laura repeated Richard's own words back to him; the effect was intentional. The king enjoyed hearing the echo of his own rhetoric. It never failed to flatter his ego. But the next words were her own. "The Cylons march from the south and the west. If the Saggittaron rebels truly organize, we'll have war in the north as well. So far, the rebellion has been contained. But tempers will continue to rise as the war effort calls for more labor, as supplies and rations run low. There is much unrest and it is only the beginning." Laura plucked a stray thread from her husband's shoulder, smoothing the fabric with a brush of her hand.

"Zarek has refused my pardon - not once but twice. He makes a mockery of the Crown."

Laura leaned closer so that her lips nearly skimmed his ear. "His refusals are not public knowledge, but we all know how difficult it is to contain courtly gossip. You're right. It won't be long before the rumors spread." Laura was quiet for the length of several heartbeats, tilting her head as if she were carefully considering. But she had known the course of her decision long before their conversation had begun.

"Perhaps," she said softly as if the idea had only just materialized, "what you need is a different negotiator." The small, deft hand that covered Richard's larger one massaged and caressed. Her voice was a soothing confection of molten sweetness. It was just the right amount of wifely deference. A shade more would have been too much - a shade less not enough. Richard released the quill into its holder and turned to face her head on, his curiosity piqued.

"Who?"

Laura smiled. "Your Queen."

Richard laughed. "I don't think that Tom Zarek has seen a woman for at least three years."

"I've negotiated for you before."

"Yes, and you don't always obey my orders," he said irritably. "I'm still not convinced sparing that village in Picon was wise."

"Burning that sorry lot of mismatched ruffians would not have been worth the tinder or the torch, I assure you. It would have only stirred public sympathies for more insurgence. I made an executive decision." Laura shrugged her shoulders.

"So you say."

"Kill him then if you think it best," said Laura, as if the matter were of no consequence to her. She made the slightest motion to turn away from him.

Richard slipped an arm around her waist, detaining her, and drew her nearer. "No. Perhaps you're correct. I think you should speak to him. Today, in fact." He fingered the ice blue bodice of her gown as he looked up at her. "How does the old saying go? The third time's the charm? I'll arrange it and I trust you'll work your magic."

Laura leaned down and planted a quick kiss against his mouth. "As you see fit, my Lord."

Tom had fully been expecting another royal visit. Word of the uprisings in Saggittaron had reached him and the fire of rebellion was spreading to other kingdoms as well. He slept even more vigilantly lately with one eye opened, not that it would do him much good. If the king wanted him dead it would be an easy enough feat. He only had to sign the warrant or whisper the word. The Cylons continued to ravage the land, a mechanical and magical wonder - the work of Adar's most skilled craftsmen and mages. They had surpassed the strength of their creators and now they threatened the life of everyone in Kobol. Tom had been imprisoned long before they had been unleashed, knowing them only as myth and rumor, but Laura had confirmed the extent of the danger that they posed in the few times she'd been able to communicate with him. Her messages had been few and far between, her visitations even rarer.

He had heard nothing from her for nearly eight months.

When one of the guards came to escort him to an upper room, he knew it was indeed another royal visit. The king and his henchmen did not descend into the dungeons. Only Laura had come a few precious times - cloaked in the illusion of magic, a dangerous errand, a most terrible risk. It was a risk that he wished she would not undertake, even as he thirsted for those visits like a man dehydrated and desperate for water.

So when he entered the small chamber and saw the queen standing behind the mahogany desk, her red hair shining like copper in the sunlight, he was stunned - so stunned that when the two guards moved toward him to ensure that his wrists were tightly shackled, he did not offer his usual look of casual defiance.

The guards finished their task and stationed themselves at the southernmost corners of the room like two stone sentinels, unmoving and watchful.

Laura turned to them, stretching her upper body in a way that elongated her neck, making her appear taller than she actually was.

"Gentlemen, you are dismissed," she informed them with an authoritative air.

"My Lady, the king said - "

"The king commanded that I follow his orders as I deem appropriate. Mr. Zarek is clearly not a threat and our negotiations are to be private. I will call for you when I am finished."

Laura had a reputation for ruthlessness, an appearance that she worked hard to maintain. The rumors that she was a seer and a mage were just enough to create a wary speculation among her husband's followers. She used the few advantages that she possessed to the best of her ability. Those advantages were certainly scant enough, and grew smaller every day.

"Well, this is a surprise," said Tom when the guards had left them alone. He felt something bitter and brittle rising up in his throat, seeing her like this, so immaculately dressed, so blatantly imperial. It reminded him to whom she belonged, although it was difficult imagining self-possessed Laura belonging to anyone. She played both sides with such adept ease that even he found himself wondering where her true loyalties lay. Distance and solitude had sown doubts. He suddenly wanted to hurt her as she had hurt him. It didn't seem to matter right then if her neglect had been by design or simply due to circumstances - the end result was the same. Eight months, eight interminably long months without a single word. He stiffened.

Laura rounded on him immediately. "Twice, Richard has offered you a pardon in exchange for you publicly renouncing your actions against the Crown. And twice you refused him. Do you know what it took to get him to make that offer?"

Tom surveyed her slowly from head to toe and then back up again. He swallowed. "I can well imagine what it took."

The words made her flinch but Tom took no satisfaction in it.

She recovered quickly. "You think I enjoy this arrangement? I am just as much a prisoner as you are. Have you forgotten that this farce is of your own making? I wanted to leave Caprica long ago."

"The people needed you. They needed something to hope for. I know you, Laura. You wouldn't have simply left."

Laura sighed. Her face was tilted away from him so that he could only see her profile. "It's done anyway. And we can't go back." She turned quickly to face him with a passionate kind of intensity that was so different from her usual control. Her words came rapidly. "You have to agree to Richard's bargain. And you have to agree now. He'll kill you - and this time I won't be able to stop it. I have almost no Tylium powder left." Tylium made spellwork possible. Adept mages could work spells without a reagent but Laura had never completed her training. She fingered the small orb-shaped silver pendant around her neck. "Richard outlawed the use of magic six months ago; Tylium was difficult to get before - now it's nigh impossible. He's bringing in Inquisitor Cain. It is his hope that she will help him exercise greater control over the kingdoms. They say that she has unnatural abilities of interrogation and travels with a companion who scents magic like a bloodhound. If it's true, then he'll know what I am. And it won't take long for her to discover my involvement with you and with the resistance. I've arranged for the Captain of the Guard to get you out of Caprica after your release is secured."

"Adama?"

"Yes."

"You trust him?"

She nodded. "I do."

Tom shook his head. "I don't like it."

Laura almost smiled and it made him ache. "You never did like my plans. You've always been so insufferably difficult."

"Someone has to challenge you, Your Highness." He wanted to touch her so badly that it felt almost like an ingrained reflex rather than a mere desire. He took a step back, fearing that he would do just that. All they needed was to have the guards open up the door to find a prisoner, and a rebel one at that, with his arms around the queen.

"How are you getting out?" asked Tom.

"I have a way. But there isn't time to explain." She wouldn't quite meet his eyes.

Tom made a movement toward her. "What aren't you telling me?"

Laura never had time to answer. The wide double oak doors opened with a loud clang and King Richard entered the room followed by the two guards that Laura had dismissed earlier, a man Tom had never seen before, and a woman with dark hair and flashing eyes.

The two guards went immediately for Laura, but before they could reach her, Richard ordered them to stop. "I never gave any orders for you to touch the queen."

"Your Highness," said the woman sharply, "you agreed to allow me to interrogate her."

"Ask your questions then, Inquisitor Cain. But my guards are under my command - as are you." He gestured to the guards. "Stand down."

"Your wife has bewitched you, my Lord," cried Inquisitor Cain. "My associate, Lieutenant Thorne, tells me that the lady reeks of magic."

Thorne made a step toward Laura, the glint of a dagger in his hand. It was all Tom needed to see. He reacted immediately, stepping forward to shield her. Two things then happened simultaneously. He felt a searing pain on his left side and Laura grabbed his arm.

There was a ripple of wind as the room tilted sickeningly into a kaleidoscopic blur of strident colors and whirring lights.

And then there was only blackness.