Drizzt and Company will be seen in later chapters:)

They are, without a doubt, not mine, and I make no profit from this story!

I should explain that this is AU. Drizzt and Cattibrie had kids. She died-of course-but the kids grew and had a few themselves. This is the future, in which a foreign empire is looking on adding Drizzt's stomping grounds into their empire. Did I pull out a map and all? no. Might I in the future? yep. But not right now.

The warrior princess Chara, eldest daughter of the Emperor of the Eastern World, held the spy glass up to view the merchant, Muric, and his rag-tag band of mercenaries as they attempted to breach the Moonwood's defenses. She could not help sneering in contempt. The portly merchant of Calimport sat far back from the battle with a heavy guard about him, even further back than his lieutenant sat with his own guards.

How either of those fools expected to direct their forces in such a way was obvious. They were depending on brute force.

It wasn't working.

The defenders of the Moonwood remained carefully hidden within the forested border, and the mercenaries were failing miserably to breach it. Chara wondered if she should even bother to engage her warriors today. She toyed with the idea of roasting that idiot, Muric, on a spit tonight as a lesson to the others from the Calimport guilds that had banded with her father. Perhaps the display would instill in them a desire to improve their performance.

Even fodder should be organized.

And Muric's and the other power-hungry merchants' men WERE fodder. Chara intended them to wear down the defenses before she sent in her own well-disciplined troops. However, a steady volley of arrows from the elves was easily picking off the attackers. The few that reached the wooded border was met by a dwarven defense, of all things.

The elves had allies. She suspected it was the prize jewel her father hoped to conquer in this region. Mithril Hall. The elves they hoped to round up as slaves, but Mithril Hall was the main gem they sought.

She focused her attention on the little she could discern of the shielded position. They worked with precision. A wall of shields met her gaze through the glass until a mercenary approached the wall. The shields then parted and Chara caught her breath at the sight.

An exotic elf stood in the gap and took the mercenary's head clean off with a pair of short swords. The sight of the decapitation wasn't what stole her breath.

The elf was beautiful.

He glowed in the glistening breastplate that encased him, but his ebony skin was a stunning contrast to the nearly white glow of the armor and his white hair. He had the hair bound, but wisps of curls had fallen to frame the sides of his handsome face. A brilliant circlet graced his brow.

She watched his lips move, the words lost to the distance, and then he was gone behind the wall once more. He was leading the dwarven defense of the wood.

The decision was made for her in that moment. She would engage them in battle this day. She had to.

She had every intention of taking that elf as a trophy.

She called to her second-in-command, "Initiate the first wave," she ordered, not even acknowledging his salute. Instead, her eye remained to her glass to catch another glimpse. She was rewarded for her patience as a handful of mercenaries made it to the shielded line. The wall divided and out stepped her elf.

His expression was fierce and defiant. She smiled to see it.

A few of these mercenaries bore some skill, which allowed her to observe the elf's talent with his blades as he danced between them, his bared, Mithril laced arms directing his strokes effortlessly.

She had to have him.

A flick of her wrist had her second-in-command, Jofat, back at her side. "Send word through our ranks. Capture the black-skinned elf. I want him unmarred," she said, her eyes meeting Jofat's with a burning intensity. "Is that clear?"

Jofat saluted, "It will be as you command, Exalted One."

She turned back to watch the dwarven line as her archers released a volley of flaming arrows into the forest. She didn't worry that the elf would be brought down by it. The shield formation altered to take the descent of the arrows, and he was safely behind it once more. No, the arrows were to set the forest ablaze. She cursed as most hit a magic barrier.

They had wizards.

She could not help but feel a measure of admiration for this group of defenders. So many of the cities and lands leading to this point fell too easily.

She thrilled at the challenge.

She allowed a measure of satisfaction to show for the sake of her soldiers when some of the flames lit the woods. However, it shifted to a frown as rain clouds gathered unnaturally over the forest and began to douse the fires. Wizards again. Let them wear down their magicians. They would regret it later.

Her eyes focused on her companies of cavalry and infantry as they began their approach from each flank, shields raised. Forced to precede them was more of the fodder. Some of the elven arrows still found a mark, but not nearly as easily as with Muric's motley crew. This merchant group had at least supplied their soldier's with wooden shields.

The merchants commanding this divided group were less removed from their troops, but still distant. They seemed to have a greater tactical skill than that fool, Muric. She intended to discover their names and make better use of them if they lived.

Muric's forces, what was left, had retreated. Chara doubted that Muric had commanded a retreat or anything at all. The fleeing mercenaries simply ran back toward the Empire's regiments. However, after her troops slew a few of the retreating mercenaries, the other fleeing cowards turned back to fight.

She allowed the fodder to continue to press in against the defenders, her own warriors forcing them forward. She itched to charge down and collect her elf, but not yet. She signaled for another volley into the trees as the elves released one of their own.

Fireballs began to rain down on her troops, causing her to cry out in fury. The merchants' men were fodder, not her soldiers. However, the wizard throwing the flames seemed to understand the importance her men held over those of the guilds.

The wizard was deliberately aiming for the disciplined ranks from the foreign empire set to overrun northern lands. She watched with pride as even the burning of those struck failed to cause her soldiers to break rank.

Horses fell with shrill death cries as arrows continued to rain down on them from the elves. Soldiers were thrown from faithful mounts, for shields could not protect the horse as well. She watched with a measure of triumph as the solid wall of dwarven shields shifted, readying for true battle.

The elf saw her force as a challenge then.

The dwarves were spread further, but patterned to provide solidity but mobility for each of the small warriors.

And in their midst, braced for the charge, was the exotic elven warrior.

The time for raining arrows was over. She watched as he called out to the dwarves, his words still lost to her over the din of battle and the distance as the first of the charge clashed with the dwarves. She watched through the glass with bated breath as the elf leapt over the dwarven defense to engage her warriors. She then leapt upon her warhorse and hefted her shield to lead her company down the center. She could see giant men as well, bleeding from the woods with war hammers and axes in sweeping waves to the sides of the dwarven defense, but she paid them little heed.

He was even more breathtaking the closer she came to him.

She itched to cross blades with him. But even more, she longed to hold him at the mercy of her every whim.

She admired his willingness to lead his force into battle, rather than send them. She saw the ferociousness it drew from the dwarven warriors to see their leader fighting so fiercely before them, leading them, rather than following in the bloody wake. However, she also knew the means of exploiting such courage. Motioning over one of her guards, she had him order the flag bearers to send a signal. Her men were to cut the elf off from retreat.

She pushed forward, fighting to enter the elf's sphere of battle, when she heard the whistle of arrows coming from behind. Turning, she cursed.

The fools!

The merchants had released a volley onto her men as well as the defenders engaged in close combat. "Shields up!" she called, hearing her order echoed through the ranks and watching as her flag bearers scrambled to send the warning. She lifted her own shield. Her eyes shifted to her elf.

She was closer to him than he was to his dwarves, especially since her warriors had worked their way between him and the defensive line.

He had no shield of his own.

She forced her warhorse to a gallop, trampling any in her way that failed to move at her order. The elf had glanced up to see the sky darken with the flight of countless arrows.

His green eyes widened as he realized his own exposure. She leapt from her horse, knocking him to the ground. He rolled with the assault and a blade was at her throat when they made it back to their knees in one fluid motion.

Her eyes met his as she held her shield above them both. The blade faltered in its death stroke as—stunned—he realized she meant to protect him.

The falling arrows began to find marks.

A look of shocked pain flickered in those expressive green eyes.

"No!" she growled, pulling the elf closer, trying not to jar the arrow that had fallen to pierce the elf just below his left collarbone and above his breastplate. She prayed to anything and everything that it hadn't pierced his heart. His eyes fluttered shut, and his forehead pressed firmly against her jaw as the elf went limp in her arms. She shifted him, his head fell back against her shoulder, and his breath brushed against her chin.

He lived.

"To me!" she called as the last of the piercing barrage had fallen. Her guards were there as if they had never been parted from her side. "Take the elf. Careful!" she snapped, as they grabbed him. "I want him alive, not dead! Take him to my tent and summon my healer," she said, lowering her shield and standing to her feet. "Signal the retreat and bring the fool who ordered that last volley to me," she growled out, cursing as she saw her horse was dead. "I want that fool skinned alive as entertainment to enjoy with my dinner," she added coldly, accepting the salutes and acknowledgements of her guard with indifference.

Their acquiescence was her due after all.

She followed after her elf.

She would let the defenders rest somewhat tonight. Waving over one of her captains, she ordered, "Employ the catapults through the night. Have a careful watch set and our warlocks to shield the camp," she ordered.

"As you command, Exalted One," he answered, quickly setting out to fulfill her orders. Her forces began a slow, careful retreat. The guilds' forces were less so.

She heard an outcry come from the defenders and allowed a smile. They must have noticed she had their elf.