Disclaimer: I own nothing, nor am I making any money off this.

Author's note: The Princess is five years old at the start of this fic, it is a very long fic that spans from 5 years old to a year after the Crawler comes. She has black hair that is naturally wavy curling into large ringlets at her shoulders, her eyes are dark. She's smart, but emotionally fragile. Sparrow is the Queen. Pairings: Elliot/Princess much later on, and Logan/OC.

What is Mine.

Chapter 1.

"Come now Princess, it's time to get up."

She groaned and sat up, eyeing her butler with a disgruntled scowl on her face. "Time is it?" She mumbled stretching.

"Nearly ten my Princess." Jasper answered as he opened the curtains, letting the sun shine into her room as she hopped out of her large canopied bed. She raced over to her dresser and pulled out her Queen outfit, Elliot was supposed to be coming over that day and she wanted to play Queen and the Knight. It was her favorite game, they'd go on adventures dressed up, defeating many foes and at the end was always some sort of treasure. "Perhaps a more...demure outfit would be best today."

She looked up at Jasper, who had been here for as long as she could remember and frowned, "But Elliot is supposed to be here Jasper and you know that the dragons in the gardens need to be kept in line or they'll attack the castle!" she whined.

"Never fear Princess, I shall keep them at bay for the day. You should spend time with your Mother, her Majesty. She isn't doing well this morning." He spoke quietly, bending down on one knee in front of her.

She frowned as she shuffled her feet looking at the floor. Her heart beat fast with fear, her Mom had been sick for a while now, and no matter how many doctors' they brought in she never got any better. Lately though she had been more sick than usual, she had never seen her mother so frail and weak, completely bedridden. Though she never got to see her much, her father tried to keep her and Logan from pestering their mom as much as possible, which is what made her so scared. If she was being asked to spend time with her Mom something must be terribly wrong. "Is she gonna be okay?" She asked weakly.

The old butler just looked at her with sympathy in his eyes and grasped her shoulder, squeezing softly, "I am not certain, but I know your Mother will fight with all her power to stay with you." She nodded and threw her outfit and props to the ground. Instead she took out a navy blue dress with lace trim around the sleeves, collar, waist and hem, grabbing a pair of bloomers and white stockings she got dressed, placing her feet in black dress shoes with a bow on top of them. She sat quietly her hands clasped between her knees, looking at the floor as Jasper brushed her hair. She chewed on her bottom lip, all she could think about was the goldfish she used to have and how when it died it floated to the top of its tank. They had flushed it down the toilet, Mom had put together a small funeral for him, which even the servants attended in their best dresses. Father didn't attend though, but she hadn't been surprised, she was never close with him. He had always been very distant, aloof and cold with her, it was as if she was a bad smell under his nose and he wanted her out of his sight as often as possible. Logan on the other hand was his pride and joy, he lavished her brother with attention and affection, along with hundreds of gifts. The only thing she ever got from her father was a straw doll when she was three, that and a lot of spankings. She just wondered what happened when people died, was her Mom going to die? Besides Elliot, Mom was her best friend, she felt tears pool in her eyes but she blinked them back. She was a Princess, it was unbecoming of one to cry. That's what father said anyway.

Jasper gave her an encouraging smile and she ran down the stairs and into the kitchen, "Hi guys." She waved at the servants who curtsied and smiled at her before taking the stairs two at a time. She stopped short at the doors to her mother's room, her father standing out front of it, arms crossed.

"Took you long enough to get here. She wants to see you, make it quick." Her Father said coldly staring down his nose at her. She bowed her head and curtsied.

"Yes'sir." She mumbled, edging around him into the room. She spotted her mother lying in bed. She had grown thin and pale, she sat on the bed next to her and took her hand in her own. It was so light and cold, the bones standing out grotesquely. "Hi Mummy."

A faint smile graced her Mother's lips as she squeezed the girl's small hand, "Marcella, my beautiful daughter. I'm glad you came, I've missed you."

"I missed you too Mommy, but Father said I wasn't to bother you." Marcy spoke gently, she felt her mother's hand stroke her cheek and leaned into the touch.

"I know." Her Mother was quiet for a few minutes, "There is something I need to tell you Marcy. I don't know how much longer I have and it's important you know this." Marcy's eyes widened, filling with tears.

"Don't say that Mummy, Jasper said you'd be okay so long as you kept fighting!" She cried out, her Mother simply smiled at her.

"Oh honey, I wish I could stay longer with you, I love you so. Everyone dies Marcy, everything will be okay. Just listen to me okay?" She said weakly, breathing in as much as she could. "King Morgan isn't your father."

Marcy gaped and then fumbled for words, "Wh-what? What do you mean?!" She sputtered confused, "Of course he is, that's why I call him-" Her mother cut her off simply by a shake of her head.

"No...honey, he isn't. He and I kept it a secret from everyone, even you." Her mother struggled for air, fighting with every fiber of her being to get the words out, "Your father lives. You must find him. Morgan...don't trust him….I've protected you…" She watched her mother's eyes begin to dim and she clung to her.

"Mommy, no! Mom!" She cried out, tears falling down her cheeks.

"Father...hero of skill…" were the last words the Queen of Albion spoke before her entire body relaxed and her eyes glazed over.

"No!" She yelled, sobbing she began to shake her mother by her shoulders, "Mommy wake up!" the door burst open, she looked over to find Fat-no King Morgan looking at her Mother frozen, his eyes darkening when he saw her.

"Get out Marcella. Go." He said gruffly, she reluctantly obeyed, not willing to risk his temper at such a time. She ran through the palace, pushing past servants and noblemen as the tears fell down her face. She burst out of the castle doors only to collide with what felt like a solid wall. Looking up from the ground, her red puffy eyes met those of her Mother's adviser. She began crying again, great hiccups racking her small frame.

Walter kneeled in front of her, "What's the matter Princess? Did Logan hide your doll again?" He asked frowning. She shook her head.

"Mummy's dead!" She sobbed out, Walter paled and took in a shakey breath.

"I see. I'm so sorry Princess." He took her under the arms and lifted her to his chest. She wrapped her legs around his waist and arms around his neck, burying her face into his shoulder she just cried. She clung to him desperately, her only comfort in this tragedy, as he carried her through the castle and up the stairs to her room. He sat her on the bed and stroked her hair. "Okay Princess, I know this is hard, but you have to be brave. Your father will only have the throne so long as your brother is under age. You are a full-fledged royal now, you must be brave." He wiped her face with a piece of cloth and she nodded.

Mom had been everything to her, but she knew her Mother would want her to be a Lady, brave and strong, just like she had been. She wanted to so badly be like her Mother, a hero and Queen. The people loved her but not nearly as much as she had. She laid back in the bed, cuddling her teddy bear to her chest and stared at the wall. She heard Walter leave and tried to shove all the grief, all the sadness deep within her so no one could ever see or reach it, not even her.

One Year Later

"Ah, Princess, there you are!" Walter called out as she sat reading one of her Mother's books, she shut the cover tracing her fingers over the gilded title Hero of Skill. She had been trying to figure who her father was since the day her Mom had passed but so far she hadn't even come close to discovering it. There was barely any information on this man, and not one book mentioned his name, as if they were afraid of him. She frowned as the large pool of loneliness grew inside of her. Would she never have anyone of her own? Since her Mother's death Logan avoided her, when they were forced into the same room together he refused to look at her. Jasper pitied her, it was evident in his every action, down to the look in his eyes, and the King had grown even more cruel to her. Her Mother had been protecting her from his wrath, his vengeance for her mother cheating on him. She avoided him at all costs, or tried to. Walter was kind to her, in fact he was the only one who treated her the same as always, but unfortunately the King kept him awfully busy, and sent him away on missions quite often.

She smiled when she saw him walking towards her though and jumped up, "Walter!" She squealed running towards him and tackling him around the waist in a hug, he chuckled and patted her back.

"Missed me that much?" He smiled down at her and she nodded.

"Even more." She chirped, it was their routine whenever he came back. How she wished he was the Hero of Skill, but she had already asked. Not only wasn't he but he didn't know who was, only that the man had tried to kill her Mother and betrayed her a few times. "You missed my birthday!" She pouted, pulling away and crossing her arms.

"I know, I know. Your father sent me up to mistpeak to speak to the dwellers. But I didn't forget, I got you something." He said as he pulled out a wrapped package. She had kept her family's secret to herself, not sure if even Logan knew. She grabbed the gift and ripped through the paper covering it, inside was a beautifully hand-crafted, decorative pure silver sword, with a rose gold hilt, roses and tiny sparrows rested on the vines circling the handle and blade. Gold letters ran the length of the blade reading 'Young Warrior." the meaning of her name. It was a breath-taking piece and she beamed up at Walter, her eyes gleaming with happiness.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!" She said hopping up and down, she once more crashed into Walter's waist hugging him tightly as he laughed.

"Of course Princess, I am glad you like it, does this mean you wouldn't reject an old man's offer to train you?" Walter asked his eyebrow raised.

"Train me? You mean how to be a strong and noble warrior?" She asked excitedly. Walter nodded, "Yes yes yes, train me Walter, train me!"

He grinned, "Alright, but I warn you it's going to take some time and commitment on your part. And trust me there will be homework and very boring parts. In fact we aren't even going to start with a sword at all. Do you know how to dance?"

She looked confused, "Dance? Why would I need to dance?"

"Foot work is very important in battle, if one has the wrong footing, or is off balance it would be extremely easy for your enemy to either disarm you, put you on your back or kill you. Most of the time, all three." He said, she nodded, even though she didn't look happy about not starting with elegant sword moves.

"Um...I know some dancing but not much." She shrugged, she had never taken her dancing lessons seriously, she rarely paid attention, preferring to either play with Elliot or read.

Walter nodded, "Well I shall teach you how to tango first, but you must put your all into your dancing lessons from now on Princess." She nodded sighing. She took Walter's hands and slowly followed his moves. For the next couple hours she moved in time with Walter, the man she wished was her father, smiling the entire time. Perhaps dancing wasn't so bad after all. Soon however the sky began to darken and she was sweating, her dress sticking to her. "I think it's time you get cleaned up, your father should be calling you for dinner any second now. I'll see you again next week for another lesson, remember practice your dancing. Ballet would help you too not just ballroom dancing."

She nodded and gave him a quick wave before running through the garden, up the stairs and into her room. Lila was waiting for her, the large basin behind the partition was full of steaming water. She stripped down fast not wanting to be late for dinner, she knew the rules. If you were late for food you didn't get any. It had taken her a few months to get used to the King's new rules for her but she had them down now. She stepped into the basin and thoroughly scrubbed herself, allowing Lila to wash and dry her hair. As she dressed in a slightly formal gown Lila did up her hair. Soon enough she was sitting across from Logan at the large table in the dining hall.

They waited for the King to arrive and begin eating before they were allowed to, she piled the steak and potatoes onto her plate, glancing up surprised when Logan dumped a few spoonfuls of vegetables on her plate. It was the most affection he showed her in the last year, she gave him a slight smile that wasn't missed by the king, who coughed and puffed up his chest. "So Logan, did you enjoy your visit to Aurora?"

She seemed surprised, that's where they were the day of her birthday! She knew better than to interrupt their conversation but her curiosity won over her common sense, "You went to Aurora? That is so cool! What's it like? Is the food really as good as they say? Do they really wear see-through garments to ward off the heat? Did you bring back any of the rare flowers that grow there?" She blurted out. Logan's eyes shifted over to his Father's, noticing the scowl on the man's face Logan wisely kept his mouth closed.

"It was amazing Father, the people are very kind there, even with their odd religion. Is there no chance we might annex them into Albion? I do believe there are useful resources in the desert." Logan asked as he sipped his wine. She deflated, shrinking in her seat she hoped she wouldn't get screamed at for speaking out of turn.

"The people of Aurora are strong and proud my boy, they do not wish to be ruled over by any but their own. However I do believe we made progress with opening trade, and hopefully a stronger bond between our nations. By the time you are on the throne you might make that possible." The king said, a proud glint in his eyes as he looked at Logan. She relaxed a bit as it seemed the King wasn't going to punish her.

She just wished she had been able to go, but the king never brought her anywhere's, not even out into their own kingdom. She hadn't left the castle since before her mother got sick and as much as she loved the place she was beginning to resent it, developing a strong case of cabin fever. She knew better than to ask though, let alone complain or act up, so she just bit her lip and ate quietly, her eyes on the table. She felt an emptiness inside of her as the two talked amongst themselves as if she didn't exist. She ached for a father to talk to her like that, to be interested in her life like the King was Logan's. No one would ever be proud of her again, she felt a bubble of resentment and jealousy at Logan rear up at her. She merely had 5 measly years with the only person to love her and be proud of her, and not only did he get her mother as well but also the King while she was left alone.

"Is the food not good enough for you Marcella?" The king sneered, she looked up surprised. She had been playing with the food on her plate, she blushed.

"Sorry sir, I was just thinking." She answered quietly, hoping his attention would shift elsewhere.

"Perhaps you should endeavor to learn how to think and eat at the same time. Most people are capable of it, even the peasants who don't even know how to read." He said coldly, she just nodded, shifting in her seat uncomfortably, her cheeks burning with humiliation.

She felt Logan's eyes on her but did not dare to look up at him, "I found something in Aurora for you sister." Suddenly a book slid across the table and she slowly looked up. "It's about that person you've been reading about."

"What person is this?" the King's eyes narrowed, his cheeks flushing.

"Marcy's been reading all of Mother's books on the Hero of Skill." Logan supplied unknowingly revealing information that would surely upset the king.

As expected King Morgan's face turned a deep shade of purple, turning to me he hissed, "I told you to leave it be! Is it so hard for you to understand a simple command?!" He yelled his voice echoing in the large space. She bit her lip, peering at Logan as if he could protect her, his face turned pale and he sent an apologetic look her way. Before things could go any further however an ear-ringing crash sounded, the horrible sound of breaking glass drowned out anything else Morgan had to say. Her eyes widened as a breeze blew her hair back. All three stood up quickly as servants ran away and guards ran towards them.

However they weren't fast enough, she watched in horror as a small glass vial flew through the air towards Logan, "Logan!" She screamed, without thinking she drew the sword Walter gave her from her pants and threw it at the bottle. She watched with bated breath as she hit her target feet away from Logan. The strange green substance exploding over the stone floor, when it hit it sizzled and ate away at the cobblestone beneath them. Logan paled and turned back to her, he had a look of amazement on his face. The guards quickly escorted the three of them out of the room and to the King's study. It was the most reinforced room in the castle.

It was silent for a few minutes after they were escorted into the room. Two soldiers remained, guarding the doors but this didn't stop the King from rounding on her and hissing, "What was that?"

"I don't know!" She said, "It looked like some sort of potion!" Her heart thudded against her chest, she inched closer to Logan who seemed frozen to the ground.

"And just how did you manage to do that, hm? Are you training behind my back?!" He roared, she shook her head quickly.

"No! Of course not!" She answered pleadingly

"No? Then just where did you get that sword?" The king asked menacingly stepping towards her. She took a step back.

"It was a birthday present!"

The king gave a harsh laugh then hissed, "Don't lie to me girl, who'd want to celebrate your birthday? You're a curse to this family and this kingdom!"

Her lips trembled and she looked down, refusing to answer, too afraid of what the King would do to Walter if she answered. "Well?!" He yelled. She remained quiet, knowing her silence would only fuel his anger more, but she didn't know what else to do.

"And just how did you manage that little feat of yours?" He asked a few seconds later.

"I dunno, I just aimed and threw." She shrugged, taking another step back.

"Don't lie to me Marcella. Tell me who's been training you, right now!" He grabbed her arm and shook, she winced and struggled to get away.

"I don't know what you're talking about! Get off me!" She yelled, pulling at her arm but the king only gripped her harder, making her cry out with pain.

"Your brother nearly died!" He roared, giving her a harsh shake, her neck snapped back causing her to wince.

"And I saved him, unlike you who just stood there like a peasant!" She yelled out, Logan sucked a breath in sharply. The king's hand left her arm for only a second before it collided sharply with her face. The hard blow knocked her clean off her feet, pain exploded in her jaw, lights danced in her eyes as she hit the floor. She began to cry, her hand over cheek, she looked up at the furious king.

"You ungrateful, worthless little bastard, dare talk to me like that?!" He roared.

She shuffled back a few feet before standing and glaring up at the king, anger swelling in her chest, "I'm glad I'm not your daughter, I hate you! It's no wonder Mom loved my real father more than you!" She screamed, Logan's eyes bugged out of his face but the King grabbed her by the hair and dragged her over to the desk.

"You think your father wants you anymore than I do girl? Trust me, no one wants you. That's why I'm here and he isn't! You will be punished for your impertinence, perhaps you'll remember to mind your manners with me from now on!" The king spat as he threw her face first on the desk, quickly taking off his belt he wrapped it around his fist, letting the buckle dangle freely, he yanked up her dress baring her back. She gritted her teeth, tears already pooling in her eyes as her breathing became fast. It was times like these she dreamed and hoped her real father would barge in and save her, but of course that never happened. Perhaps the king was right, no one wanted her.

"Father stop!" Logan cried out, grabbing the king's wrist, "Please, don't! It's my fault, I got her the book and she saved my life-"

"She needs to learn her place Logan, she's lucky to even be allowed to remain in this castle. She should remember that." He turned back to the Princess and brought his arm over his head, bringing the buckle down hard on her back. She screamed out, her body convulsing with the excruciating and burning pain. The tears fell down her eyes, as the King brought the belt down again and again without relenting once. Her body jerked and she screamed with each blow, blood flowed down her back, dripping onto the floor as the metal tore at her tender skin. She lost count of the blows after twenty-five, the pain nearly unbearable, and her vision tunneling. Finally the doors opened and another guard stepped in, "It's safe, we apprehended the assassin your Highness, he is in the dungeon when you wish to deal with him."

She sobbed quietly as she felt him move away from her and she slid lifelessly to the floor, crying out when she hit it. She hugged her knees too scared to move, she listened as the king replied, "Very well, thank you Captain, I shall see to it immediately." And with that he left, leaving the two guards who had watched, Logan and her alone. She looked up into Logan's pale, nauseated and worried face, the guards were looking anywhere at her, tense and uncomfortable. She flung herself on Logan, ignoring the sharp and burning pain this elicited from her back and sobbed against his chest. For once she was truly a little girl as she cried against him wailing, "I want my daddy!"

Logan carefully patted her on the back of the head and gently picked her up, settling her little form on his hips. They were rather far apart in ages, he was sixteen and she only six. "It's okay, I have you, come on Marcy." He carried her to her room and yelled for her maid, Lila. He laid her face down on the bed, careful to not let her dress fall on her back, the maid came through the door and paled at the carnage that was her back. "Get some warm water, cloth and bandages." He ordered. A few minutes later they were placed in front of them.

"Hold on Marcy, this is going to hurt." He said stroking her hair gently, as he dipped the cloth into the warm water and brought it down on her back. She tensed and cried, "I'm sorry baby sister. It'll be over soon, I promise." He whispered as he cleaned her up, sitting her up to bandage her. Lila handed him a loose nightgown and carefully undressed her, slipping it over her head he wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they sat side by side on the bed. She sniffled, leaning her head against him.

"Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?" She croaked, peering up at him, for the last year he had been so aloof.

He flushed with shame, "I'm sorry I've neglected you sister. After Mom died I was angry that you were the one she wanted to see and not me. Father saw that anger and told me it was all your fault. He told me what happens if two hero's procreate together you know, it's too much for their bodies to handle and the woman gets sick. I was so angry with you, and so I took after Father. When I went to Aurora though there was this priest there, Eliam. He told me it wasn't your fault and told me that you were all alone and all this other stuff that he could not know, he told me we had different fathers. He put his hand over my heart and made me feel what you do, the sadness and hurt, the emptiness and loneliness. It was so much, and you're only six, too young to bare that. I promised when I got back I'd be a better big brother to you. I'm sorry I didn't stop Father. I didn't realize he was so far gone."

She nodded, "It's okay, you wouldn't've been able to stop him anyway. Thank you for coming back to me, I missed you y'know."

"I do know, it was one of the things the priest showed me." He smiled sadly at her, "But I am back and I promise I'm not going anywheres."

"Mmkay." she said, yawning, she was tired even through the pain.

"I think it's time for bed." He said pulling the covers on her bed down, he helped her lay on her side as carefully as possible before tucking her in. He went to walk away but she grabbed his hand.

"Stay and read to me please." She looked up at him giving him her best puppy dog eyes even as her back throbbed and twinged. She felt so needy and clingy for any sort of positive affectionate attention, and yet also so unworthy and undeserving of it at the same time. She had missed her brother though, he used to read to her every night before mom had passed away. She scowled, Mom dying had changed everything, why couldn't Mom had fought harder to stay and protect her? When she died everything fell apart for her, she went from loved and cherished to hated and neglected. She felt a seed of guilt take root in her chest at what her brother had said, if she hadn't been born perhaps Mum would still be alive, and Logan would be happy.

He smiled, "What do you want to hear from me tonight?"

She pulled her favorite book on the Hero of Skill out and pushed it toward him, "This!" her enthusiasm was not dampened by her extreme punishment, Logan frowned.

"Do you think this is wise Marcy?" He asked quietly, sitting next to her, she rested her head on his lap and snuggled in.

"I'm not going to let that man stop me from finding my dad." She said, crossing her arms.

"You mean the King of Albion?" Logan said amusement in his voice.

"Yeah that'd be the one." She stuck her tongue out at him and he looked down at her fondly.

"What if you find him, then what?" He asked curiously.

She chewed on her lip, she hadn't given too much thought to that, she knew what she wanted to happen but she also knew that not everything worked out the way you wanted it to either. "I dunno. Maybe he'll take me away and I can go live with him. I could get him to love me eventually. Otherwise I don't know…" She trailed off, thinking of what the King had said earlier, what if her father didn't want her? Then what? She couldn't stay here, not with how much the King detested her.

Logan looked at her with concern then offered her an encouraging smile, "Of course he'll want you." He said before cracking the book open. "Now lets see...Ah, this one looks interesting. Lets see what your father was up to…"

"Many people have acclaimed over his remarkable ability to aim a shot precisely from hundreds of yards away, the speed with which he draws and fires, his ability to somehow know precisely where a target is without looking, hitting them right where he wants. Both men and women have also boasted and raved about his prowess in the bedroom, saying he was the best and most considerate lover they had ever had. Not many though have ever seen how masterfully he can manipulate and scheme right under people's nose. The Hero of Skill is a cunning and quick man, both in movement of body as well as movement in mind. I am more than happy to share my one and only run-in with the legendary 'Best-Shot-in-Albion'.

I was a very happy teenage boy, with a pretty girlfriend and a well-paying job at the blacksmith's. My father was the Duke of Brightwall, always well-dressed with a monocle that he only wore for what he thought was good fashion. He was very book smart but easily misled and very gullible; which wasn't a very good thing for a man of politics as anyone who knows anything knows. However the city was prospering quite well under my father's leadership and the people adored him, he retained his title for fifty years, but it was his twentieth year that had given him the most trouble.

For five months people started going missing. At first it was just those who dared to step out of the safety of the city walls, for deliveries, a walk, any reason whatsoever. My father figured it was a band of mercenaries, they enjoyed killing and looting the bodies of those they could accost in the mountainous valleys. I would be at his side when he'd send out search and rescue teams, and would also witness them hauling in body after body. Then something changed, it wasn't a sudden shift that I can recall but things started going odd. People began to go missing inside of the town, one day I had been chatting up the best seamstress and tailor in town and the next I was asking her neighbors if they had noticed anyone or anything suspicious lurking around her house or business. It took a while to notice a pattern but it was always the most competent of individuals. The ones talented and gifted in some way. Then their children started going missing. All that was left behind were worried and bereaved spouses wailing at my father to do something.

His teams came back empty handed, looking confused and apologetic, they said everything was quiet and calm, as if the mercenaries had just disappeared. My father grew worried, he began to sleep and eat less, and the village became more and more tense as weeks passed on. Angry villagers would accost him in the streets, demanding something be done, orphaned children starved on the streets with no one to take them in. It was a mess, you could cut the tension in the air with a knife. Then one day a stranger on horseback rode into the city, he looked around and banged on the blacksmith's door. Father and I watched him become more and more demanding the longer he was ignored, we decided to inform him that there was no longer a blacksmith in town before he busted the door down.

"Sir! Excuse me!" My father rushed over to the man. He was tall with dark hair and dark eyes, and a slightly crooked nose. The man was very lean but very muscular at the same time, it didn't escape my notice that he looked me up and down with hungry eyes. "There is no blacksmith, not anymore. I'm sorry. You'll have to go to Bowerstone."

"No blacksmith? Bowerstone? Preposterous. Clearly there is a blacksmith if there is a shop. Now where are you hiding him? I must get what I need and be on my way, so chop chop, scurry off and find him." The man said arrogantly.

"I'm afraid it's true. We did have one, in fact this city used to be quite busy, unfortunately it's fallen on some hard times. Our people keep going missing you see, and we can't seem to stop it." My father told him.

"And this is my problem how?" the stranger raised his eyebrow, clearly not caring at all.

"It isn't of course…" I followed my father's eyes when he paused, there was a gun resting on the man's hip, but not just any gun, a dragonstomper .48! The rarest of rare guns. I was in awe. "You're one of those adventurers are you? You think you'd be able to find my people?"

"And why, pray tell, would I be bothered to do that?" the man asked loftily, a put upon frown gracing his features.

"I don't have much to offer I am afraid-" My father began.

"Ah, well my dear man, my services are quite expensive, so if you can't afford me then by all means I shall be heading to Bowerstone…"

"No!" My father quickly said, "There's some money left in the town's treasury, you can have it, 800,000 gold pieces!"

A light sparked in his eyes and he nodded, "Very well, pay me and I shall go find your people."

My father, as gullible as he was seemed to understand this was a terrible ordeal. "No. You get half now and half after you recover them."

The man frowned, "You must not want your villagers back that badly then, how am I supposed to know you won't stiff me upon my return?" he smiled then, "Oh I have a splendid idea. Give the money to the boy and I shall bring him along. Once the deed is done he can give me the money and lead your people back to you."

"My son does not know how to fight, I will not put him in the path of danger." My father said resolutely

"He won't be harmed, I assure you, I am quite capable of keeping my eye on one teenage boy." He grinned lewdly at me, I merely jutted my chin out.

"I'll go father, we need our people back, don't worry I shall be careful." My father and I argued for a bit but finally I won out. I was quite excited to be on the road towards an adventure with a hero! I couldn't wait to come back and tell my girlfriend all about it. My father didn't look pleased as I rode out of the gates of Brightwall behind the young and greedy hero, but I was ever so pleased.

Mistpeak was beautiful, as always, but I bid my steed go faster to walk alongside the hero's. When I caught up I looked over, studying his face, he was rather handsome even if I didn't swing that way. I caught him smiling and rolled my eyes, "So what's it like? Being an adventurer? Travelling the world?" I had always dreamed of doing just what he was.

He chuckled, "I am more than just an adventurer dear boy, but alas it's not all it's cracked up to be. Though the girls...and boys...how they seem to just fall into your bed, that part is very much true."

I gave him a half-smirk, "I have a girlfriend, I am thinking of proposing to her, how do you think I should do it?"

"Monogamy?" the hero said ghastly as if I had muttered some foul language, looking utterly traumatised and offended by the mere thought of it. "I daresay boy, aren't you a little young for that? Why anyone would want to tie themselves to one post when you could have thousands is beyond me. I get bored after I bed them the first time." I couldn't help but laugh and shake my head. I was enthralled by him.

We rode in silence for an hour before appearing before the wooded entrance of the mercenaries camp, the hero glanced my way, "Time for some fun!" with that he kicked his horse and just went galloping into the camp like a madman. I for sure thought he was a goner and considered turning back before they killed me next, however it was too late for that now. I delivered a swift kick to my own horse and followed him in, drawing my blade, though I found I needn't have bothered. In a matter of seconds this man, going as fast as possible on a horse managed to kill thirty mercenaries and counting. It boggled my mind, I caught up to him soon enough and watched in amazement, not only was he on a moving horse hitting moving targets also firing at him, oh no. The man was standing on his horse as it galloped around, he fired at the mercenaries never seeming to miss. My mouth dropped open as he shot ten mercenaries in back of him without even looking, then turned to the barrels of gunpowder blowing it up and taking down a bunch of them. The fact that he managed to hit every single target between their eyes or directly in their heart in such a predicament wasn't the most amazing thing. No it was how he dodged the incoming bullets aimed his way. Either gracefully twirling out of the way, flipping around, or even jumping, but most of the time he used his free hand to block the bullets with his metal cane.

I watched in stunned disbelief as he deflected bullet after bullet with it, but how was that possible? How could anyone see a bullet or even guess where it was going to hit when you didn't even see the person who fired it? It was then that it occurred to me that he was no simple adventurer, but a hero. It didn't take long for him to pick his way through the mercenaries, they were nothing to him, they might as well have been unarmed peasant children. The light was fading as we searched for the people of my village, it took us a while but finally we found them, it was terrible. They were kept in cages underground, apparently the mercenaries had been using them as slaves for their own gain. We let them out one by one and stole a bunch of the mercenaries horses, putting two adults and a child to one horse. I knew it would take days with all these people to cross the terrain of mistpeak.

On the second day I trotted up from the back to catch up with the hero and said, "You're a hero." The man seemed disgruntled with the title.

"I am merely a skilled man, anyone could do what I did with practice and time. Much, much time."

"Teach me." I demanded of him, "I don't want to be a blacksmith, nor do I want to live in a tiny village all my life. I want to be like you."

The hero chuckled, "My dear boy, you don't want to be like me trust me on that. But I shall at least teach you how to shoot once we make camp for the night. The rest is on you."

So I waited and waited and finally the sun had set, the people were curled up together and the horses tethered to trees drinking water. The hero led me far away from the group, "We don't want to wake them, they might panic." He explained airily. After half an hour of walking I was by the bank of the river. He put a gun in my hands, not his dragonstomper, by no means, but a usable gun nonetheless. He showed me how to position, how to aim. We spent a few hours together as I took in all his words, when finally he said, "You're not half bad, you have promise, it's too bad."

I looked at him curiously, "What's too bad?" but before I knew it he raised the butt of his gun and brought it down on my temple. I fell unconscious. I woke the next day, dried blood caking my face, I sat up groaning only for a piece of paper to flutter down my chest. I read it, humiliated and angry. He had taken the villagers with him, for god knows what purpose, all he said was the mercenaries had given him a splendid and most profitable idea, but that he'd leave the children with me since they were of no use to him. He then thanked me for my payment. I grabbed at my waist where the money pouches had been but all of them were gone. I ran to the camp to find children crying for their mums and dads, and all but a very few of the horses gone. My horse, with the chests of gold was among the missing. I led the children the rest of the way back home, shame and anger filled me. I couldn't look my father in the eyes. I returned only with more mouths to feed.

Never trust the Hero of Skill.

"It seems your father has quite the reputation." Logan commented dryly, she giggled.

"Yeah seems so, but he can kick ass." She said proudly, Logan looked horrified.

"Marcy! Don't you swear! Ladies never swear. Especially not in front of Father. Now go to sleep." Logan hissed.

"Okay." She yawned as he put the book beneath her bed and stood up, when he reached the door she opened her eyes again, "Logan?"

"Yes Marcy?" He asked turning back to her.

"Will you help me find my daddy?" She asked sleepily.

"Of course I will."

"Thanks brother. Love you."

"Love you too, goodnight."

"Night."