A/N: All the usual disclaimers apply. I do not own Green Rider and am not making money off of this. I don't mean to upset anyone by writing. I mostly started this because I really like the characters in Green Rider and feel that they deserve a bit more happiness than they're getting in the books. So this will be definitely fluffier than KB's works but I will try to keep the characters as true as possible and have a plot as well.

Each chapter starts with a past scene in italics. Some of the scenes are simply character building since I enjoy that but others will come back in later stories. You can understand this story without reading them if you want, but you may miss a few subtle details. As I mentioned in the summary, this starts about the same time as First Rider's Call starts but completely ignores that book and all subsequent ones (I substitute my own long-term plot which really wouldn't work with KB's mythology as of FRC. Plus I didn't really want to kill Estora-at least not yet-and I don't see another way to get Zachary and Karigan together).

Though the people who met Zachary Hillander had many different ways of describing him, nearly everyone would comment on his ability to maintain a neutral façade, no matter the circumstances. Sure, other nobles were careful about controlling facial expressions, for the game of politics demanded such control. But everyone else had some tell—a tick in the corner of the mouth when nervous or a subtle shifting of the eyes when frightened. Even Queen Isen, Zachary's grandmother, widely known for her rather cold disposition, would clench her fists unconsciously when angry. However, no one had yet found Zachary's tell though many had tried, knowing it would benefit them in discussions with the powerful monarch. The quest fascinated the people of Sacordia though Zachary himself found it rather tiring.

What most did not know was that if Zachary did have a tell, a question even he himself could not answer, they would be highly unlikely to find it. Zachary had been working on masking his emotions since he was five-years-old, and he had dedicated himself to the practice as he dedicated himself to most everything he attempted. He had not done so because his position demanded it, however, though it was a nice fringe benefit. Rather, he had done it because of his brother.

Zachary was an avid reader, even from an early age. He snuck into his older brother, Amilton's, tutoring lessons every chance he could. The tutors, sensing a keen desire to learn, did not question his presence, and Amilton was often too focused on himself to notice it. Because of that, Zachary learned to read at four, write at five, and was doing basic arithmetic by six. When he first started reading, Zachary loved fairy tales. He had always longed for a glorious adventure, to find a way to leave the stifling walls of the castle, and the fairy tales provided that. He would read long into the night, sneaking books from the castle's library up to his room. His father did not know, for even as a boy, Zachary knew Amigast Hillander would never approve of fairy tales. Zachary's father was not a cruel man, but he was not a nurturing one either. For the most part, he left Zachary to himself which suited the small boy just fine.

One evening soon after Zachary had turned five, he was curled up in the family sitting room in front of a fire with a book of fairy tales in his lap. He knew that his father was in meetings for at least another two hours, so he felt safe bringing the book out of his bedroom. However, he had forgotten to account for his older brother. "What are you reading?" Amilton's voice questioned, causing Zachary to snap the book shut and try and stow it behind his back.

"Just a book," Zachary said, keeping his tone neutral.

"What kind of book?" Zachary shrugged. "Well, let me see it." Amilton started to reach behind Zachary, but Zachary tried to push his hand away. Determined now, Amilton simply grabbed Zachary's wrists and held them above his head as he used his second hand to recover the book. At ten, Amilton was nearly twice as large as Zachary, and their fights were never evenly matched. "The Blue Dragon," Amilton remarked, reading the cover.

"Just give it back!"

"I don't think so. Perhaps I should give it to Father. I know he would want to know that his son was reading a baby's book."

"It's not a baby's book!"

Amilton opened the book and began to read, his tone mocking. "Hundreds of years ago, a great species came to an end. Or so everyone thought. Man had hunted the great beasts to extinction, but there was one egg, lying deep in a cave, that had been missed." He shut the book and raised an eyebrow in Zachary's direction. "It sounds like a fairy tale to me." Zachary remained silent. He had learned in his five short years that talking to Amilton usually made things worse, so he fell back on silence. Silence was his friend in many circumstances, and he was good at silence. "I suppose I will it take it to Father then."

"Don't!" Zachary stood up, reaching for the book, but Amilton held the book above his head, laughing gleefully as Zachary hopped around trying to reach it.

"You really want this book?"

"Yes!"

"Well then." Amilton lowered the book suddenly, bringing it forcefully down on top of Zachary's head. Zachary stumbled slightly, his vision swimming. He tossed his arms out to keep his balance, and Amilton laughed gleefully as he swung the book forward again, this time slamming it into Zachary's unprotected stomach. Zachary doubled over in pain, wheezing, and the book came down across his spine.

"Just stop!" Zachary pleaded, turning to face Amilton. Amilton responded by slamming the book into Zachary's head, and he imagined his eye would be purpling soon. Bile rose in Zachary's throat, but he forced it down, refusing to give Amilton the satisfaction of seeing him get sick. He closed his eyes, allowing his breathing to even out. Though he was waiting for the next blow, it never came. After a minute or so, he tentatively opened his eyes again, blinking through the pain. When he looked in front of him, Amilton was gone, the book lying forgotten on the floor. Zachary remained seated for another few minutes, letting his head stop spinning, and then he slowly pushed himself to his feet. He was a bit dizzy still, but he managed to stand on his own two feet, pick up the book, and store it back under his mattress.

He stood in his room for a moment, considering his next move. Amilton had hit him in the past, but this was the worst beating he had received so far. His ears were still ringing. He wanted to make sure that Amilton never hurt him again, and Zachary knew there was only one way to do that, for there was only one person Amilton was afraid of. Straightening his spine, Zachary spun on his heel and turned to his father's study, knowing he would return there as soon as his meeting finished.

Zachary waited in the study for over an hour before he finally heard footsteps outside the door. He stood then, and pain shot down his back from the spot where Amilton had hit him. He cried out just as Amigast walked into the study, and the older man frowned at his son. "Zachary, what is going on?"

"Amilton beat me, Father. With a book!"

"I just passed Amilton in his room. How could he have beat you?"

"Not now. Before! He took my book and hit me with it!" Zachary could not stop the sobs from escaping his mouth. He was in so much pain, and he just wanted his father to stop it from happening again. However, he sensed, even as young as he was, that Amigast was not going to help.

"Come now, Zachary, don't start blubbering. Stand up straight! Be a man! All boys fight; your brother did not intend to harm you, I'm sure." Zachary tried to stand straighter; he truly did, but the straightening of his spine merely sent another jolt of pain down his bruised back. His breath came out in a gasp, and he doubled over, unable to fight the pain. Tears were flowing freely down his face, but he could not think of how to stop them. "For Aeryc's sake, Zachary, you're turning into a blubbering fool. Either stand up straight and stop this nonsense or leave this room." Without a word, Zachary turned to leave, his head hung low. "I expect better of you, Zachary," Amigast called after him. "You may not be destined to be king, but you are going to be a Lord Governor. You cannot afford to show weakness, and you certainly cannot afford to shed tears. What would your grandmother think?"

Zachary did not respond; instead, he trudged out of the room, his Weapon falling into step behind him. He made his way slowly back to his bedroom, thankful that Amilton was not in the common room they shared. Entering his room, he locked the door and lay back on the bed, wiping the tears from his face angrily with the back of his hand. It was stupid to go to his father. He should have known that from the beginning—Amigast had always favored Amilton. But Zachary had hoped that maybe, just once, his father would realize his older son was not as perfect as he seemed to believe.

Zachary's father's words echoed in his head. Amigast was right—he could not afford to show weakness. He had never seen his grandmother show any weakness, and many declared that she was one of the best rulers Sacordia had ever seen. Zachary needed to follow her example. Life would be much easier if he did. Maybe his father would even find something worthy in his younger son. At the very least, Amilton would leave him alone more often—Zachary remembered how his brother had stopped hitting him once he stopped reacting. Maybe Amigast was smarter than Zachary had first believed.

With a new resolve, Zachary woke up the next day determined to keep his face expressionless for the entire day. He broke down a few hours into the day when Amilton brought up the book of fairy tales, teasing him mercilessly. But the next day, he lasted a bit longer. And over time, he slowly improved until nothing—not Amilton's torture, not his father's distance, not even his grandmother's harsh words when he desperately sought her approval could make him react. People began to take notice, remarking that he was likely going to be even better than his grandmother at controlling his outward emotions one day. Inwardly, Zachary applauded himself though he refused to let the pride show outwardly. Of course, what others did not realize was that there was a fundamental difference between Zachary and Queen Isen. Queen Isen could often keep her mask because she distanced herself from the people and their problems. She was a fair and just ruler, but she simply did not feel an emotional connection to those around her. Zachary, however, felt everything—from the simplest slight from another noble to a widow mourning her husband. He was only able to control his outward reactions through great effort, and sometimes, he just felt too strongly. Those were the times when his mask broke. It was what had brought him to his knees, sobbing, in the field after his people were massacred in Amilton's attempted coup. It was also what had left him unable to control his laughter when a young woman had the temerity to criticize him in how he ran his kingdom after losing soundly to him in Intrigue.

Looking back later, Zachary would realize that mirth was not the only emotion which slipped through his mask that night. It was simply the most apparent. The other was more subtle but much more powerful.

Zachary stood in his study, staring out across the castle grounds. He was lost in thought, half his attention mulling over some of the proposals his advisers had presented earlier in the evening, half trying to determine if he had time for a moonlit ride. It was certainly a nice night for one—the moon was almost full, casting a good deal of light across the grounds. As if confirming his suspicions, he suddenly saw a rider pass through the gates and into the castle courtyard. The rider was moving fast, obviously in a hurry, and Zachary's sharp mind quickly guessed why. It must be a Green Rider, likely a Green Rider with news of some sort. Given the pace, the news was almost certainly not good. Few rode so fast to deliver positive news.

As the rider pulled up her horse by the stables, Zachary caught a flash of brown hair in the moonlight, and he knew immediately who the Rider was. His heart clenched, and he nearly ran out of the study to reach her. However, he paused. Over the past few months, he had slowly become aware of his feelings for her, but he knew that he had to be extremely careful. Though most approved of his rule, his position was still tenuous, for a few of the Lord Governors felt him too young to be a king. They had also commented quite often on his continued unmarried status. Zachary was pretty sure indicating interest in a commoner, even one as exceptional as Karigan, would lose him a good deal of support almost instantly. Not to mention that it would probably scare her away. As it was, he was glad she had been at the D'Yer wall for the past three months, for he was hoping the distance would lessen the ache in his heart.

Unlikely, his conscience chided. Indeed, he felt his heart rate increase upon simply seeing her even though she was still quite far. He took a deep breath, letting himself relax. When he exhaled, his face was once more impassive. He suspected Karigan would head immediately for his study, and he needed to be ready. Stepping away from the window, he took a seat at his desk and pulled out one of the proposals, making a few notes on the first sheet. As expected, he had just flipped to the second page when a knock interrupted him. "Enter," he called.

"Rider G'ladheon to see you, Sire," his Weapon, Donal, remarked.

"Send her in." She was through the door in a flash, and a thought flashed across Zachary's mind that perhaps it was not just supernatural powers which had expedited her entrance the first time she walked into his castle. However, he pushed that thought aside, focusing his attention on her as she bowed stiffly. When she straightened again, he saw dried blood on the side of her face. "You're hurt!" he exclaimed, a bit of his control slipping. He stood and walked to her side, automatically reaching to cup her chin in his palm so that he could turn her head and get a better view. Surprisingly, she did not pull away. A nasty gash stretched from just above her eyebrow almost to her ear. Looking closer, he saw smaller gashes on her neck as well.

"I'm fine."

He frowned at her. "You don't look fine." Turning to the still-open doorway, he called out, "Donal, go to the Mending Wing and send a mender immediately. Also, tell Clarita to send up a late supper for two."

"It was just a fall," Karigan protested. "I don't need a mender. I need to tell you what I learned."

"You need to sit down, let the mender see to you, and eat something. You're dead on your feet, Karigan. You're no good to me if you fall over from exhaustion or hunger before you tell your news."

"I'm not hungry."

"When was the last time you ate?" She was silent for a moment, and he knew that he had won that particular battle. "Sit, Karigan." He dropped her chin and forcefully pushed her to the sofa. She gave only a token resistance which worried him more than anything. Laren said the girl ran on spunk alone, and Zachary was pretty certain she was right.

"Master Destarion, sir," another weapon, Tomas, called from the doorway. Zachary turned, a bit surprised at how quickly the mender had come, but then he supposed that a mender summoned to the king's study would waste little time.

"Thank you. Master Destarion, Rider G'ladheon was injured on her most recent ride. I was hoping you could see to her injuries."

"I'm-"

"Consider it an order, Karigan." He stared at her, and she glared back defiantly for a moment before huffing and letting Master Destarion start to examine her injuries. Zachary felt a small smile play at his lips at her reaction. Very few would dare defy him in such a way, but then Karigan was special.

By the time Master Destarion left, clicking his tongue over how poor Green Riders were as patients, supper had arrived. A servant brought in two trays, and Zachary watched Karigan's eyes widen in surprise when she realized they were planning to eat so informally. "It seemed a waste to set a full table given the hour and the fact that it's only the two of us," Zachary remarked.

"Of course." As a servant placed food in front of her, Karigan's stomach suddenly rumbled loudly. Zachary bit the inside of his lip to stop himself from laughing as she flushed. "I'm sorry."

"No, I am sorry. I hate to think that my Riders feel they must proceed in such haste that they skip meals." Her eyes suddenly went wide, and the fork she had just picked up clattered to the plate.

"The message. You still haven't heard the message."

"Peace, Karigan. You can explain while we eat."

She did take a bite of food at that point, swallowing quickly before turning back to Zachary. "We were attacked," she said succinctly. He forced his face to remain neutral as he swallowed, but dozens of thoughts chased each other through his head. No wonder she was in such a hurry.

"Was anyone hurt?"

"A few of the soldiers. It was not a large force, just a few men. But the one leading them, he. . . there was something odd about him. He was wearing a long black coat, so you couldn't see his face unless you got close. But no one could get too close. When someone did, he. . . took them over."

"Took them over?"

"Compelled them, somehow. Made them turn on the rest of the force. He could do it with words, too, but only a few at a time—three or four. But it still meant we were fighting ourselves as much as them."

Zachary's mind raced with the possibility. He had heard of the influx of magic, but he thought it would have been limited to groundmite invasions and the like. What Karigan was describing was an enemy for which he had not prepared. "Did you stop him?"

"Yes."

"How?"

Karigan mused over the question for a moment as she finished another bite of food. "I honestly am not sure. I approached him, and-"

"You did what?" Zachary could not stop the exclamation. How was he supposed to protect her if she kept putting herself in danger?

"I did not see another choice. He talked to me, and. . . I don't know how to describe it exactly. It was as if I wanted to obey, but something told me I should not. And then I was standing in front of him and he just looked at me. His eyes were black—completely. Then, he turned and disappeared. We had already killed the rest of the men that he came with. I don't think they were expecting such a large force at the wall." Zachary nodded, still absorbing her words. He had suspected trouble from Blackveil, so he had posted a larger guard than usual there. Actually, he had expected trouble from numerous locations and had increased the size of his army accordingly, splitting them into strategic battalions at specific locations around the kingdom. None of that would prepare him for a mage who could control his own people however.

"Only you fought him off?" Karigan considered for a moment before nodding slowly.

"It's hard to say since he only took command of a dozen or so others before he retreated, but I don't recall anyone else being able to resist."

Zachary sighed, taking off his crown and running his fingers through his hair. He did not replace it on his head when he finished; instead, he sat turning it over in his hands as he considered his options. "Alas, I am not a great mage," he finally said, his voice soft. "I don't know enough about magic to know how to counteract this. Perhaps in a different age. . ."

They were quiet for a few minutes, the only sound the clinking of her fork as she finished her supper. Zachary did not eat much more, for his attention was focused elsewhere. As the servants cleared their plates, Karigan ventured, "Sire?"

"Hmm?"

"One thing I did note was that in order to control, the shadow figure either needed to speak or look into the eyes of those he took over." Zachary stared at her in confusion for a moment before realization dawned. Telling soldiers not to look into an enemy's eyes was one thing, but telling them not to hear his words would be a much more difficult command to carry out.

"Perhaps wax in their ears," he mused aloud. Karigan stared at him thoughtfully, and he could not help the grin that broke out over his face at the thought of his soldiers with wax sticking out of their ears despite the seriousness of the situation. "It would be an odd command, for certain, but perhaps if we had some of the men from the D'Yer wall testify to the danger, we could convince the soldiers to listen." Karigan nodded in agreement. He looked up at her, marveling at how she could make such an odd request seem perfectly sensible. He also could not help but think of how well they worked together, how easy it was to think of a solution to a seemingly impossible problem when she was sitting next to him. Admittedly, the solution was a far-fetched one, but its creativity made him think that it just might work. Their eyes met, and their gazes held. He knew he should put on his mask, prevent her from seeing the way he truly felt, but he simply could not muster up the energy to do so. Instead, he let his control slip, knowing even as he did that she surely saw how deep his feelings went, how far he had fallen in love with her. He heard a slight catch in her breath, and he opened his mouth though he was not yet sure what he was going to say. It seemed, however, that he would not have to say anything, for she suddenly stood, nearly tipping her tray over in the process, and ran out of the room. He sighed, his hands unconsciously clenching on the crown he still held. Glancing down, he gave it a dirty look and tossed it beside him on the couch, wishing, at least for the moment, that he would never need to pick it up again.