Sorry it took me so long to write this second chapter. Hope you enjoy!
Something dark is coming
She couldn't find any words right away. Her red lips parted for a long moment, as she was immobilized with surprise. The blond woman had a tired expression, yet her vivid green eyes were bright and present. A drip of blood streamed down her forehead, another one from the corner of her mouth. Her face had several bruises, surely caused by the battle and by the soldiers who had captured her after. And yet she had an arrogant and mocking smile, although so very exhausted. A deep, ancient scar, thin and straight, crossed her face from the forehead to under the eye. The old memory of a blade. Her stare was challenging and provoking. The queen could very well tell that she was enjoying the surprise she had provoked.
"Please, I want to hear more on how you're going to torture me, queen Regina." The Savior exhorted her derisively. Her was the hoarse voice of someone with a few cracked ribs and in excruciating pain; before finishing the sentence, a dry cough forced her to turn her head and spit something reddish. It was anger that eventually shook the queen from her still position, after hearing her own name coming from the lips of the enemy.
"Shut your mouth!" She yelled, and struck the Savior in the stomach with her boot. The blond groaned in pain and bended forward as far as her tied hands let her. A violent cough shook her entire body again. Her face was covered with long golden hair for some moments. Regina walked around her in a circle, towering haughtily over Emma's figure, all wrapped in her black, furred cloak. She was looking at the soldier in disgust, yet a strange curiosity was devouring her brain. That in front of her was one of the beings she hated most in the entire world. But never before had she managed to lay her hands on such an important leader as the Savior; it was as she had captured an exotic, rare animal.
Her nervousness had partially faded away: when she spoke, her voice was almost sugary.
"We have a lot to talk about, my dear... Savior." A sarcastic laugh arose from her low voice. Regina began again to walk around the Legionnaire in circles, as if she was chatting amiably with herself, sadistically satisfied by the new caged animal she had captured.
"I must admit, I didn't expect you to be a woman. Impressive." She chuckled without joy.
"And who did you expected me to be, your Majesty? A big muscly man as was your Captain?" Gasped the Savior, and a raucous, bloody giggle escaped her lips. She seemed eager to provoke the queen, to awake her rage. Regina turned around suddenly, the small smile disappearing from her mouth with impressive speed. For a moment it seemed like she was going to kick her again; or perhaps to kill her, this time. She stopped herself instead; no, she couldn't let that woman get on her nerves so easily. She was only trying to provoke her. She straightened her back and held her head high. The smile appeared again, now bleaker and much more dangerous.
"Have fun all you want, soldier. You're not going to enjoy yourself much longer." She growled. "You are my prisoner, now. And be certain: you will die my prisoner. I don't care if you're valuable to your king; I won't exchange hostages with him. I'm not interesting in negotiating. Here, you are worth nothing – you're worth less than a fly, you're not anyone's Savior." A wide cruel grin showed off her teeth.
The woman looked at her from under a cascade of blond hair, her brows furrowed. Her expression serious. "I've never been anyone's Savior anyway. My name is not the Savior. My name is Emma. Emma Swan. Write that on your commander's grave." She bit her cracked bottom lip in what could be either a twinge of pain or anger. The blood had dried on her face, and was now scab.
Regina, at that point, wanted to torture her there and immediately. She folded her hands and bent the corners of her mouth. But Emma could clearly see that her black eyes were furious, even behind the stillness of her expression. The queen eventually let out a deep sigh and rolled her eyes theatrically, then turned her back to her prisoner and pretended to be interested in the trembling shadows of the tent – looking here and there, without speaking.
"So... Emma." She pronounced her name as if it were an insult, breaking the silence. "Tell me one thing. What did your king Leopold hoped to achieve, exactly, by sending you to attack me?".
Now Emma could see her eyes again. Her tone was calm - cold, almost - yet the way she was staring now had something different than just a moment before; something intense.
The Savior then noticed for the first time in those dark irises that tremendous and dense thing that moved at the bottom of the other woman's gaze, as if it was alive, as if it was a fire burning deep down in the queen's mind. That thing that seemed so indescribably compact and purplish. That thing that throbbed with hate.
Emma suddenly felt chained by that gaze. A cold shiver raced down her spine. But that purple mist disappeared fro the queen's eyes just as suddenly as it had appeared, in a matter of seconds. Everything returned to black darkness. Emma recovered from what she just saw when Regina's lips disclosed in a wide smile.
"What's the matter? Don't you have some impertinent answer to give me?"
It was clear that the Legionnaire failed to completely hide the discomfort that had suddenly struck her.
"I don't owe you any answers." She said dryly. She raised now her bruised head a little more fiercely, feeling compelled to compensate with some sort of display of courage for that previous moment that had taken her completely off guard.
"Tsk." The queen hissed between her teeth, impatiently. "You won't gain anything by being so stubborn. I already told you that you won't leave my kingdom alive. Don't mistake me for an idiot, you know; I know you're trying to distract me from something."
She took a step closer to her prisoner. She bent her torso; her long black hair, now loose, fell forward over her shoulders. Regina was now speaking with that kind of deep, melodic voice, a little theatrical, the sound of it almost untruthfully gentle, that Emma already understood to mean she was trying to disguise her impatience. Maybe even some sort of nervousness.
"Tell me what is it. Where is the Legion planning to attack? They are most certainly already marching by now. Your lovely diversion plan was, how to put it... Well, not very spectacular or long lasting." She gave a hoarse chuckle. Her face was now closer to Emma's.
"If you have already decided to kill me anyway, I might as well die without uttering a word." Speaking was now a bit more difficult; something inside her chest was burning and scraping, and now that the adrenaline of the battle had dried out, she could feel the pain of all of her the wounds.
"Well... If you reveal your plan to me, I might decide to spare you".
"Please. I'm not an idiot either."
Regina smiled. "What I cannot explain, Savior, is why on earth has Leopold decided to sacrifice his best commander in such an absurd way." Her bust straightened and she looked at the soldier with an arrogant expression. "You see, there must really be a very, very important reason."
At every dragged word, her voice became increasingly hoarse, until it was but a snarl full of hatred.
"Or perhaps, you're worthless even to your beloved King."
She watched Emma raise herself from the ground with a huge effort. The soldier's back rubbed against the column until her knees were straightened. Her face frowned, the scar that crossed her eye seemed even deeper. But if she was feeling any sharp pain, the Queen thought, she was good at not showing it. Now that she was standing, she could see the Savior in all of her height; slightly larger shoulders, muscular arms, long blond hair. Their faces were now at the same level. Actually, Emma's was higher than hers; her emerald eyes were proud and firm. She was staring at her in silence, except for the rattling breath that came out of her throat. Regina was both annoyed and amused by such arrogance, by such challenge; no one among her subjects would have ever dared to look at her like that. And as much as she despised from the deepest of her heart the woman that was standing in front of her – for being devoted to her eternal rival, for attacking her kingdom and therefore its Queen, for believing with such passion, as was clear from her prowess and ferocity in combat, in such a wrong cause – she could not deny the pleasure of finally being able to associate, after many years of war, a face to the enemy. The face of the Savior. And to have her in her clutches.
She had spent so much time thirsty for revenge; she had waited so long for a justice that never came, that her spirit had gradually broken, crumbled, and her conscience had become but an empty shell. But not one time, not one, had she doubted of the righteousness of her demands. She never thought she might be on the wrong side. Having Emma – the brave and much feared Savior – there, chained and helpless, made her heart accelerate. It was as if her waiting had finally been rewarded, in some way. She knew, however, that she could not claim victory yet.
"So this is the Evil Queen everyone talks about."
Emma's dry voice broke the stream of her thoughts.
"What?" Regina looked at her in amazement. For the first time since she was there, a big joyless smile made its way upon Emma's lips. It sent a nervous feeling through the Queen's back.
"There are a lot of stories about you in my land, you know." The Savior began talking, pulling her gaze off of her face and looking elsewhere. "Stories about how the war begin. About how you decided to break the peace that our previous kings agreed on, after pouring the blood of countless men and women. And just because you couldn't stand the idea of not being the queen of every damn bit of land. You just couldn't take it, could you?"
Now she was looking at her right in the eyes. Her green gaze had become gloomy, her face darkened and her features seemed made of iron. A terrible anger shook her jaw. Every word was a spit of hate and venom.
"About how you have then massacred and burnt entire villages. And made prisoners, enslaved and executed innocent people, orphaned thousands of children, all for your horrible ambition, your fanaticism!" She couldn't stop herself from almost angrily screaming those last words. She paused, teeth clenched. Her martial composure and self control starting slowly to regain control over her brain.
"That's why they call you that. The Evil Queen."
Regina was as still as a statue.
But on her face – and Emma would never forget that – for a moment there was an indescribable expression. Her eyebrows were raised, the corner of her mouth had a slight tremor, Emma was sure it was caused by anger. But something had changed in those dark eyes; a tired and hopeless light, as if afflicted by a heavy memory, was fading, as does the bright fire of a lighthouse far away in a stormy night, when every chance is dead and all that is left is desolation. She seemed so different from the Regina that was there just a moment before - the furious, harsh Regina - that Emma did not dare to speak. What was that expression?
It lasted just a moment, and then it disappeared.
The queen shrugged her shoulders as if she was suddenly cold.
"You know nothing, soldier, so don't you dare talk to me about what I did or did not do." She said slowly, a low growl coming out of her scarlet lips. The inflexible iron queen was back. Yet, her voice sounded somewhat broken. "My mother never intended to make the peace last. Oh, believe me, my dear, naïve girl. She hated Leopold as much as I do. And Leopold hated her. It was doomed to end, it was all fake, and your king was well aware of that."
"I was there!" Emma shouted as much as her now husky voice allowed her to. She was still grinding her teeth, unleashing the river of resentment towards the woman who was the cause of it all. "I was just a young girl, when your black soldiers invaded our village."
She took a deep, long breath, her eyes fixed violently on the queen.
"You know what they did? They killed my father for refusing to give them all our food stashes. They took my mother and dragged her away. I never saw her again. This is what they did to us. This is what they did to everyone; they came into our lands, they stole, they murdered. And they were all following your orders. Yours. It was you, who ruined so many lives. You selfish woman. You heartless tyrant. You deserve whatever happens to you. I hope the Legion will finally invade your kingdom... I hope they'll destroy you."
Emma had lost her temper. She was spitting furiously at every sentence that came out of her mouth. The pronounced features of her face appeared to be an austere iron mask. Her big emerald eyes were sending sparks, seemingly wanting to wrap Regina and burn her, annihilate her. It was obvious that she was blaming the Queen for almost every terrible thing that had ever happened to her; a hatred that had been growing for years, years in which they never even met each other. She had been bred in that hate; it was very familiar, almost comforting – one sure rock in the chaotic life's sea of nonsense. She had been taught that there was one person she was supposed to detest, one person she was supposed to fight against. Always.
Regina couldn't suffer her any longer; her presumptuousness, her words were beyond irritating. All she could see before her eyes was a red veil. She couldn't stop throwing herself suddenly on Emma, and hitting her with a slap that made her head turn with a harsh sound.
She then turned her back on the Savior, standing straight, her shoulders shaking with rage underneath her cloak. That outburst of violence did not surprise Emma too much. She had already seen enough of that woman to know she wasn't able to hold her anger. A stormy temperament, indeed. Her cheek was burning red and she could hear a low ringing in her hear.
Emma took a deep breath. She herself had lost her control, but now she could feel it returning – the angry fog in her mind dissipating. She tried to remind herself she couldn't afford to lose her temper, even tough it wasn't an easy task, now that her "great enemy" was in front of her; the enemy she spent most of her adult life preparing to fight. The enemy everyone who surrounded her, during her youth, accused of the most unimaginable cruelty. And now, there she was, right in front of her eyes. Suddenly, all this seemed very surreal.
She looked at the queen as to make sure of the reality of things.
What she saw were two black, slender shoulders, a cascade of hair dark as the moonless night, a head staring down. Regina had taken her gloves off and was rubbing neurotically her hands together. She could hear her heavy breathing; she couldn't see her face, though, but she imagined her eyes were closed in an attempt to appease her own anger. In that moment, she seemed so human.
So mortal, almost fragile.
Suddenly, Emma's mind was troubled with absurd ideas; suddenly, she found this very sharp contrast between what she was witnessing and the stories she had heard all her life (and was certain were truthful). The thing was, she had always imagined to find a monster. She was expecting, even now, for it to come out from behind the mask that was Regina's face. Yet, it didn't.
But she was the Savior, she couldn't afford any doubt. She had a mission.
And yet she couldn't stop herself from talking.
"I don't understand." She said quietly, softly, almost. "I can't understand, I never could. How could one go so far? Is power really that wonderful and fulfilling?"
Regina ceased rubbing her hands, but didn't turn around. Instead, she sighed. "Oh, I wonder why I'm not surprised you don't understand. Maybe you're not as bright as you think you are. There are things that need to be done... And things that need to be sacrificed for a greater good. But you're just a soldier – a puppet in Leopold's hands. You do what he asks you to and stop when he orders you to, isn't that it? You are his faithful guard-dog. But have you ever questioned your master?"
She slowly half-turned towards Emma, looking at her over her shoulder. Her face was hardened by something, the corners of her mouth bent down. Two black eyes pierced the Savior.
"Tell me, how many people has the Legion killed?" The queen smiled bitterly. She turned completely to face Emma. Her figure was now intimating, so regal and determinate; a slim black shadow against the dying light inside the tent. "You are a warrior and a leader; you should know how war is. Have you not burnt villages as soon as you crossed the river? Have you not killed innocent peasants? And yet you dare accuse me of … You're a hypocrite. You're pathetic."
Regina seemed to enjoy this, somehow. The Savior was so blind, so stupid; she could read in her green eyes, in her hard words, in her accusing stare how she'd been manipulated into hating her. Or, better, trained. Leopold really did a remarkable job with his subjects. Oh, but so did she. And she was going to destroy his perfect soldier, dismantle her piece by piece.
"It 's a different thing."
"Really? And how's so?"
"Your army has tortured and slaughtered our kingdom for years. The Legion didn't come here to kill your people."
"No? What did you come here for?"
"Justice." Emma gritted her teeth, her scar remarked by her corrugated face. She coughed in a new wave of pain. But it seemed to get gradually better – or at least, it wasn't worsening – which meant her lungs were not perforated.
"Justice?" The queen repeated in a surprised, theatrically amused tone. She smiled venomously, a perfect row of white teeth showing between scarlet lips. Emma wondered where was the purple, strange cloud she thought she saw minutes earlier; and where was the human being who was hidden behind that black look. This person, the one she was seeing now, pushed her nerves on edge. The queen laughed loudly.
"Oh, this is amusing." Regina snarled, furious, as the laugh died in her chest. "You have no idea what you're talking about. If justice were to be done, I would be on the throne of both kingdoms!" She almost yelled, pointing firmly her finger on her own chest. "And your king would be buried deep underground by now. I did what had to be done. I stopped your barbarian people. I was the only one who dared get her hands dirty - and how does the reign thank me? By calling me tyrant. By calling me Evil Queen!" Her breathing was heavy and her face was painted in red.
Emma had managed to seriously infuriate her, now.
"Leopold is the tyrant, not me." She hissed. The anger seemed pulsating out of the queen's shrouded black figure, as if it were something tangible. Where was all that rage coming from? Could it be that she was obsessed to the point of being fully committed to this hatred? For it seemed to be a personal crusade for her – very personal.
She approached to her prisoner in a rushing movement, coming so close that Emma could feel her furious breath, hot as drafts from hell, a few inches from her face. Regina stared into her eyes, and a bright look stared back at her in exchange. The whisper that came out of the queen's mouth was barely audible.
"But you – you don't even know your king. You think he's such a generous and benign ruler … So naive of you. Life is not a fairy tale. You have no idea how he's come to power. You have no idea what he has done to be where he is now." She shook her head and distanced her face from Emma's. Her eyes were darked than ever.
"I know what you have done, though." The Savior said firmly, as if it were an accusation.
Regina clicked her tongue loudly. "You're a loyal pet, Emma. But that's all you are. A bloodhound. You sacrificed yourself for him, but you'll see, he will leave you to die here. I will execute you and he won't lift a finger to stop me."
"Shut up!" Hissed the Savior, looking grimly at Regina, her eyebrows narrowed. The queen chuckled.
"A cheeky hound, I might add." She seemed to be incredibly satisfied by the undeniable anger of her prisoner.
In that moment, one of the guards came into the tent. "Your Majesty … The carriage is ready."
Regina didn't even glanced at him, but dismissed him by waving a hand in his direction. He bowed and found his way out immediately. The queen gave Emma a cold smile. "A bit of time in the freshness of the castle prisons will clear your mind, my dear. And next time we meet, it's not going to be pleasant." An expression of pleasure flashed across her features.
She looked at the Savior one last time, then turned around, and followed by a billowing black cloak stepped out of the tent, her back straight and her hands crossed on her stomach. Emma was now alone.
She took a painful, long and deep breath. She leaned her head against the column and looked up.
So, that was the dreadful queen. She was, at the same time, exactly and completely different from what she expected. All that came out of the her mouth was a flood of lies, but she seemed sincerely convinced of all of them.
Emma tried to move her limbs. Her body worked just fine; she was beaten up and was dead tired from the battle, but, apart from the hurting ribs, everything was in order. Good. Beside, being taken prisoner was all part of the plan, anyway.
The plan to kill the queen.
Soundtrack: Perfume Movie Soundtrack - The Perfume.
The royal carriage arrived at the castle before nightfall.
Leaden clouds had piled up in the sky and a strong wind arose from north. A storm was coming. As soon as she stepped out of the carriage, Regina wasted no time and headed inside the fortress, towards it's pointy, tall towers and inside the Great Hall.
The place was dark and cold as always. The gray windows let the night inside; the candles' flames that lit the path were trembling under breaths of air. She looked over her shoulder. The door was shut and the guards were out. She approached the throne, with quick and decisive steps, the long dress dragged on the red carpet as if it was a pair of black wings. The queen stood right in front of the seat. There had to be an opening, somewhere, that was letting the wind enter the hall, because she could hear a sinister howl in the room; now a puff on the high ceiling, now a stifled sob along the walls. She took one glove off and put her hand between the jaws of a lion carved in the throne's armrest. She then pulled the small metal lever that was hidden inside of it, and activated the mechanism. A sharp click was heard; then, the sound of stone sliding against marble floor.
The throne moved heavily forward, leaving in its place a dark hole in the floor. Regina took a torch from one of the candles, and lit up the stairs that went down the opening. She couldn't see their bottom; the stairs climbed down, in a spiral, into the bowels of the earth. She glanced once more towards the door, back in the hall, with suspicion. She was alone. Only then, she began descending into the cold hole on the room's floor.
There was a heavy and damp stench that filled her lungs, the moment when the throne returned to its place, plugging the entrance above her head. The flame in her hand illuminated the steps as far as just a couple of meters. She walked cautiously, followed by her dress, as a trail of her steps. At each step the air was getting colder and the shadows increasingly dense; the endless stairs gradually got lost in the dark, it seemed that the walls were coming closer to each other and the tunnel narrowed more and more. It had been a long time since she visited the secret chambers. A very long time. A shiver ran down her back, making the hair on her arms stand up. She was far from loving that place; yet for many years it had been her lair, her safe and quiet spot, a room filled only with her ideas. Perhaps the only place in the world where she could stop being the queen, for there was no one watching her – and, also, the only place where she could be the monster that many accused her of being (and which, she thought, she ended up becoming), without having to face the look of horror in everyone else's eyes. And even a place where she could be a child again, if she wanted, without anyone there to crush her dreams.
She gave a sad smile to the dark. Is was pathetic. But it was how it was; sometimes, a heavy and sudden anxiety pressed on her chest, and some long-repressed demon began scratching its way out from inside her. This demon had different forms: however, it often came to her disguised as remorse. Not remorse for any action in particular, or because she was feeling guilty about something she had done. No. It was remorse for having chosen a path in her life, that, deep down, she didn't want to go through.
However, this time, she was headed to the secret chambers because she couldn't contain her anger.
She finally stepped on a landing, a massive double-door in front of her. When she opened it, she found herself in the familiar, huge room with a high ceiling. As she entered, the torches on the walls lit simultaneously and spontaneously with a miraculous white fire. In the exact center of the room was a large silver tub, its radius at least a couple of meters.
Regina looked around her for some moments. Piled up against the walls, there were all her books and flasks with strange colored liquids in them. Even some containers with little bodies of creatures of an unknown origin.
She took a lock of her long dark hair in her hand, and begin to nervously pass it through her fingers. Her eyes were light-less. Red lips stretched in an absorbed expression. She never thought she would go back, down there, because of a Legionnaire. She couldn't get out of her mind that first encounter on the battlefield. That arrogant, obnoxious face. Her Captain's humiliating defeat. But what was troubling her above everything else, was the fact that she had seen for the first time that certainty, that unfailing hope in the eyes of her enemy – that were the green eyes of Emma Swan. She had known then that the Legion was sure of her eventual defeat. The Legion was sure that her kingdom would soon come to an end. And everything she had worked for all those years ... She clenched her fists until her nails were stabbing her flesh. She was so furious, bitter tears blurred her view. That woman … That woman invaded her kingdom with such ease. She had defeated her best men, and had been captured merely because Regina had had a much large number of soldiers. She was sure of one thing, though: there was some other, hidden plan incubating and preparing to take her by surprise. All that had happened in the past day was just a diversion. And she became even more furious for the fact that she wasn't able to figure out what was that, that they were actually plotting. Oh, was she now going to be outsmarted too?
She put both her hands over her closed eyes. Her body was trembling with anger, completely out of her control. She kept seeing, in her mind, the Savior's confident grin. You heartless tyrant. I hope the Legion will destroy you. She suddenly flung herself towards one of the shelves and threw angrily on the ground the first bulb her hands could reach. It shattered on the floor into a thousand pieces. She screamed with all the air she had in her lungs. No one could hear her, down there. She took a second bulb in her hand and squeezed it until it broke, until she felt a piece of glass thrust into her palm. She opened her hand and let the fragments fall on the ground. A trickle of blood dripped on the marble floor. She just stared at it.
She kept telling herself she couldn't lose now. The Savior had no idea about what justice was. She was the one who knew. She was the one who had suffered the greatest wrongs. She was the one who had suffered most of all. Others had created the "tyrant" she now was, she had not created it by her own will. It was time everyone paid for their mistakes. For if she couldn't get this – if she couldn't restore the balance of things by inflicting a penalty equal in measure to those that had been forced to endure – then, indeed, what was the point of the world?
She approached the large tub, holding the bloody palm upwards. She sat on its edge and looked inside it. It was filled with mercury. Her own distorted reflection was staring at her from the liquid surface. She decided in that moment that Emma Swan was going to be the first to pay. The first of a long list.
She turned her palm down and poured her blood on the mercury. Suddenly, the white light in the room started flickering and everything went intermittently dark. It was as if the earth had a jolt. From silver, the contents of the tank began to turn into black, as if someone had poured ink in it, starting from the point where her red liquid was dropped. Then the black thing began to boil. A vortex formed in its center. Wrathful waves, ever higher, were slamming against the edges. The black liquid flow into one single point, becoming more and more dense; then it began floating, drop by drop, mid-air above the tub. The drops joined together to form the shape of a dark, huge human face, suspended above the surface. Regina was looking at it, her expression still and cold – but her eyes had in them a sad resignation.
"Mirror, mirror … " She whispered tiredly.
"Here I am." Replied a deep, metallic voice, that made the blood froze inside the queen's veins. The huge face moved its black lips.
She tried to inhale deeply. When she spoke, her voice was deprived of its usual confidence.
"The enemy invaded us, mirror. Their leader is a soldier named... Emma Swan."
She leaned over the edge of the tub, her long hair falling forward and covering her face as curtains. She dunked her cut hand completely into the black substance. It was so cold. She gazed back at the huge face; it was expressionless as always. Still, there was something terrible in that look, something soul-drilling.
"Tell me, mirror, what do you know about her?"
A long silence followed her question. Not a single feature of the face moved.
Then, the slow, abyssal voice delivered its verdict.
"Something dark is coming."
The army started marching after the royal carriage's departure.
When they arrived at the castle, it was already the middle of the night. Emma had been thrown in a vehicle, bound and gagged, closed in a sort of metal cage; it had been a long journey through the mud. It started raining and the wheels of the carriage, passing through puddles, splashed water on her face and on her hair. Once they arrived, she was placed in a cell inside a building just outside the walls of the palace.
All she had to do now, was to wait. She had no idea how much time had passed; she could hear some soldiers talking, some occasional footsteps, some occasional wheels. The moon was getting higher and brighter.
Until she heard steps entering the short hallway that led to her room.
"Psst! Emma! " She heard someone whisper.
Emma jumped on her feet, her hands tied behind her back and chained to the wall. "Here!" She replied in the same tone.
She heard footsteps approaching quickly; from behind bars, a familiar face made its appearance.
He was wearing the black armor of the queen's soldiers, but under the light of the torches and under his helmet, she could recognize the face of her fellow Legionnaire. She smiled, relieved, and he returned her smile. "Finally. I was starting to worry you were going to leave me here, Graham."
"Could I ever leave my captain?"
It was time to go.