"What!" Valerie's eyes widened, her hand shooting out to grab Ben's sleeve as he went to stand. "No! You can't stop it there." He stood to his full height and looked at her with an arched, expectant brow. "Where are you going? You have to tell me what was wrong."

The general grinned, lifting a hand to hers to unwrap her fingers from his jacket. "I'm thirsty. I've been talking for a while, you know. It happens."

"But –" He took a step away from her, and she shot onto her feet, following behind him like a pup. "But you can still talk, can't you? You can still tell the story?" She sniffed at her own eagerness – a habit she got from her mother; Sabrina often did such when she didn't know what to say – before lengthening her strides to catch up with him. "I'm interested in hearing what's happened."

"Oh?" Ben asked, coming to stand in front of the table lined with both food and drink. He lifted up one of the hors d'œuvres and popped it into his mouth, making a quiet, impressed sound before grabbing another. Once he could speak again, he looked at her, grabbing a glass of wine with his other hand. Lifting it to his mouth, he took a long drink from it. "And why would that be, then? Are you finally willing to admit my supreme prowess as a storyteller?"

Val snorted and reached for a glass herself only to have Ben stuff his mouth with the deviled egg and smack her on the back of the hand. Pulling it back, she glared openly at him. "No," she replied. "Relying on a cliffhanger is a sign of shoddy storytelling. It's a hapless trick for those who can't keep a reader – or, in your case, a listener – ensnared without withholding information."

"You know how I told you that you were mean?" Leaning his hip against the table, he looked at her, goblet in hand. She stared right back with an unimpressed expression on her face. "I was wrong." Taking a sip, he looked at her over the pewter rim. "You're just plain evil."

"And now you're going to finish telling me the story, right? Before I lose interest altogether?"

"I won't be able to finish the story tonight, Val," he muttered, turning around to sit down on the bench a second time. "I can't compress five years of your mother's life into an afternoon. It wouldn't do her justice."

Val sat down next to him, this time toeing off her slippers and pulling her feet up onto the bench. Sitting cross-legged was much more comfortable. "How long will it take? You're supposed to be marching to Bloodstone in a few weeks. Will you be finished by then?"

A thoughtful look overcame the man's face. "Hm. I'm not sure. I hope that is the case. If not, you'll be forced to wait. Or find someone else to bridge the gap until I've returned. I shouldn't be gone for very long."

"But... who else would know?"

"You could always try to ask Reaver..." The corner of his mouth sloped downward in a frown, but he laughed all the same – a rough, grating sound unlike his usual laughter. "Maybe that's not the best of ideas. Do you think you'll be able to wait for me to return? Or should I break out the pen and paper again?"

Val held up a hand. "Wait, why shouldn't I ask Reaver?" She tilted her head to the side, letting her hand drop back onto her lap. "I realize he doesn't have the most spotless reputation, but he's eloquent and seems to be a competent storyteller."

"Yeah, he is," Ben agreed, taking a moment to contemplate his next words. "If you want to hear about his life story. He'll tell you about his, ah, conquests without a moment's hesitation. Which is why I'd rather you not ask him about your mother. She doesn't... interest him. You'd end up hearing about orgies and murder for hours on end."

When Val's face brightened a little, his fingers twitched, fighting the urge to smash himself in the face. Bloody tongue, wagging off like that.

"Just... forget I said that. Let's continue with this story, hm?"

"Sabrina! Walter! Come quickly!"

Walter started forward, his hand instinctively falling to the sword sheathed at his hip. "What is it, boy?"

Elliot's chest heaved, cheeks puffing as he attempted to catch his breath. This was a feat in itself for the flushed boy, and when next he spoke, it was still not in his grasp. "There's a demonstration, and it's just inside the castle grounds!"

Sabrina's eyes flicked to her mentor. She could see him listening; concentrating. She followed suit, straining to hear whatever she could. Even above the background noise of the castle, she could hear the faint sounds of shouting through the walls. The voices were so many they merged into a single, wordless rumble. It was the sound of an approaching storm – a metaphor she would not understand to be true until much later.

"They looked like laborers. I think it was the same group that was waiting for an audience with Logan." Elliot straightened himself, gulping back one final breath before he was able to calm. "We have to do something!"

Walter pushed past him, face skewed in determination. Elliot looked to Sabrina, who scurried across the room to grab her shoes and put them back on. "What exactly were you two doing in here?" he asked, motioning with a sad attempt at a smile towards her petticoats. They were still tucked into the waist of her skirt, and she flushed, pulling them out and smoothing them downward.

"Sparring," she murmured, hurrying across the room to grab onto Elliot's extended hand. "He keeps talking about my mother. About Heroes. I don't understand what he's getting at."

Elliot began near-pulling her down the hallway in Walter's wake, just far enough behind the man's impressive strides to not be overheard. "Maybe you're a Hero like your mother," he said as he threaded his fingers through hers, giving her arm a little tug. "And don't give me that look. It's possible."

"No, it's not," Sabrina huffed in response. "If anyone would have inherited that from my mother, it would be Logan. He's the king, after all. I'm not even Hero material." She sighed, pulling her hand out of his and hurrying to catch up on her own. "Why are we even talking about this?"

"You're the one who mentioned it."

Sabrina hefted her shoulders up a little. "Well, let's... figure out what's going on. That's important."

Elliot accepted her motion and kept his lips sealed, leaving them in silence for no longer than a moment as they reached the assembly room shortly after. They saw Walter standing at one of the room's tall windows, brow furrowed. "Looks like you were right, Elliot. They're laborers, and there's quite a lot of them."

The princess rushed over to the window, coming to a stop just beside Walter. He was correct. There was quite a lot of them. She recognized the brunette man from earlier – Mister Laszlo – standing near the very front of the crowd. He was being jostled bodily by one of the royal guards before being thrust back onto the ground out of frustration. Sabrina looked to him, her brows pinching upwards in concern. "You... y-you don't think this is because I signed the petition, do you?"

"It's feasible," Walter breathed, his eyes still glued on the happenings outside the window. "They might see your agreement as a jumping point for something far larger... but they don't have the numbers to prove anything." The turned his face to look down at her. "I have to speak to Logan. Maybe I can talk some sense into him." He reached out to rest a large hand on Sabrina's shoulder. "I have something we need to talk about, but that'll be later. Until then."

With a nod, he turned and made his way up the stairs. Elliot eyed him as he ascended, turning to Sabrina with an eyebrow cocked despite the worry on his face.

She waved him off with a flick of her wrist, and he nodded. He was content with his curiosity. There were larger problems at hand anyway. "We need to do something," he began, stepping up beside her at the window. His fists rested on the sill, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. "Walter may be able to talk to Logan, but who knows? He might be in trouble. Logan's dangerous when it comes to these sorts of things."

That was all it took to pull Sabrina away from the window, her hand gripping at his jacket's sleeve to pull him after her. "You don't think he's actually in danger, do you?" she asked, twisting her waist just enough to look at him as she began her climb.

"Maybe... I hope not, but it's possible." He watched as Sabrina sniffed and tilted her chin to look up the stairs. He absolutely hated it when she did that. It either meant she didn't think his comment was worthy of a response or she just didn't know what to say. In this case, it was most certainly the former. Elliot hefted his shoulders a little, quickening his ascent to catch up with her. "They must be in the War Room."

"Then hurry. Let's get there before anyone sees us." As she mounted the top of the staircase, she poked her head around the corner. Logan's guards were nowhere to be found; most of them were forced outside to deal with the protesters. "We should be able to-"

Elliot hurried out in front of her, going to a knee in front of the doors leading into the War Room. It was the one room in the castle he'd only ever seen from a distance. He'd never been inside of the walls, and, to his knowledge, neither had Sabrina. He shut one eye and squinted the other, trying to see as much as he possibly could through the tiny keyhole.

"Over here," he whispered, waving to Sabrina. "You can see them."

Sabrina moved over to him, though she eyed the keyhole suspiciously. For all of her life, she'd learn through her own slip-ups not to tread upon her brother's toes. And as king, she quickly learned that she needn't mind only his toes, but every word that left her mouth. Loose talk only led to her inciting someone else to step on his toes. She also became quickly aware of his need for privacy. Spying on him would not endear her to him any more than accidentally inciting a demonstration did.

Finally, she swallowed back the hint of bile that rose in her throat and knelt down. She could see Logan and Walter, a few guards, but very little else. The first thing she noticed was that Logan stood to the side while the royal guards clustered around her mentor, a sight that twisted her stomach. Her hand instinctively went for the doorknob, but she felt Elliot's hand clutch at her wrist, guiding her away.

Walter stepped forward only to receive a nudge in his stomach from the butt of a guard's rifle. "Logan, think of what you're doing." There was a hint of pleading in his voice – a sound she only very rarely heard out of his mouth.

"What I'm doing?" Logan snapped back, his eyes narrowing. "I'm protecting the peoples' interests. Do not question me again." He turned his sights to the guards. "Shoot to kill. You will start with the ringleaders, and if necessary..." Taking a breath, he released it slowly. "Continue with the crowd."

"This is wrong!" A single step forward for Sir Walter, and the guard in front of him jammed the butt of his rifle beneath his ribs. Elliot could feel Sabrina go rigid beside him. "You can't do this!"

The guard behind him forced his gun into the back of Walter's knee, sending him falling to the ground. No sooner had Logan begun to spit out a threat, Sabrina gripped the door handle and rose to her feet, thrusting it open and staggering forward.

Walter stared at her, eyes wide, as Logan turned his attention seamlessly toward her. "What are you doing here, sister? The War Room is no place for a child." His gaze left Sabrina to fall upon Walter, realization dawning over his features. She suppressed a shudder when her brother's eyes turned on her again. "Leave. Now."

"I—" Sabrina pulled her shoulders back, chin tilting upwards in a show of forced pride. "I'm here to stop you! You can't kill those people!"

Just out of the corner of her eye, she could see Walter reach out to her as if he could stop the words from leaving her throat. "No. Wait."

Logan's hand cut the air downwards in an emphatic gesture. "Enough." Stepping to stand between the princess and Sir Walter, his voice turned quiet. Even the change in volume wasn't able to soften the hardened edge of his words. "I can scarcely believe it. My timid little sister – my own blood – dares turn against me." His constantly furrowed brow arched farther. "Perhaps you believe you should be the one making these decisions."

She looked away from him, desperate to find Walter's face for some guidance, but Logan was standing in the way. All her sights caught was the face of the guard who'd been standing outside of the kitchens earlier. A single thought formed in her mind: oh gods...

"If you really wish to defend those traitors," Logan continued, "then so be it."

Lifting his gloved hand into the air, he clenched it into a fist, a sign for the two guards who'd come up behind them to step up and grab both her and Elliot. "Let's see how well you do." Cold blue eyes snapped to the guards over their shoulders. "Take my sister and her friend to the throne room. We shall settle this matter officially."

"If you really wish to defend those traitors, then so be it."

His hand lifts into the air, clenching into a fist, a sign for two guards to step up behind her and Elliot, grabbing them. "Let us see how you do." Looks to the guards. "Take my sister and her friend to the throne room. We shall settle this matter officially."

On the way to the throne room, Elliot found that he couldn't be bothered to be quiet. His heart was racing, and his arms were already aching where the guard was clutching him far too hard. And this had all come to past because Sabrina couldn't stand to watch while anything happened to Walter. He shuffled his feet, earning him a nudge between the shoulders from the guard's armored elbow. "Did you really have to do that, Sab?"

"He was going to –" She struggled in the guard's grasp. He was holding her even tighter than the man was holding him; it was obvious in her skewed expression. "You're hurting me!" The guard remained unphased. If anything, he tightened his hand around her upper arm. Realizing she would get nowhere with him, she looked to Elliot. Her eyes were sad. "He was going to have innocent people killed! I had to stop him!"

Elliot huffed. "You didn't do that for those people, and you know it," he muttered, jerking a little in the guard's clutches. "I only hope that if my well-being is ever threatened, you'll do something heroic like that and save me. Though I should be so lucky."

Every part of him ignored the way her eyes welled up at that, but he couldn't help but watch as she tore her arm away from the guard. "Keep your hands off me! I don't care if you were given instructions by my brother!" Her voice lowered to a near-growl as she rubbed at her arm. It would bruise. "He may be the king, but I'm the princess, unless you've forgotten. And unhand him, as well! We can walk find on our own." For the first time in ages, she openly glared at Elliot. "I did do it for them. I won't stand by to see people killed just for speaking their mind."

Looking towards the guards, they appeared to be more surprised than afraid, as if taken aback by the princess' show. Anyone who knew her knew that she didn't have the stomach for giving orders, and she never used her being the princess to get what she wanted.

"You only intervened because those guards were manhandling Walter."

Sabrina shook her head. "I would've said something no matter what."

"Do you honestly believe that?"

She looked at him, her eyes narrowed. Before she was able to respond, the door opened, and they were thrust into the throne room. While the man standing behind Sabrina merely nudged her forward, Elliot is propelled a few feet in front of her. "Get on with it!"

"I'm going," he spat, glaring at the guard over his shoulder.

But that wasn't good enough. When he didn't move from that spot, he was pushed onto the ground. A strangled gasp left him as the guard lowered his rifle to the back of his head. "Wh-what are you—?"

The princess fell to her knees beside him, her hands clutching at his upper arms in an attempt to get him to stand. "Leave him alone!"

"Don't worry," Elliot murmured, lifting himself up with her help. "I'm alright. I'm fine."

Once he was on his feet, her hand smoothed over the fabric of his shirt. "Don't worry." That same hand slid downward, fingers curling around his wrist. "Whatever happens, we'll get through this together. That's the point, right?"

Another nudge from the guards moved them both forward almost mechanically. "Keep walking!"

At the end of the long room, Logan sat on his throne, his posture slouched. A single clump of black hair fell away from the rest, resting across his forehead, and as he shifted forward, he ran his gloved hand over his head. It was as if the strands had never fallen out of place. "Ah, and here come the saviors of the people." Sabrina and Elliot were forced to stop in the middle of the room. "Come closer, sister." A slight motion of his hand drew her a few steps forward. Her shoulder was pulled backwards as Elliot grabbed onto her hand. Logan watched curiously as she gave her head a shake, and he let go.

"Today I have been disappointed beyond measure," he began again, his elbow resting on the arm of his throne. For someone so cold, her brother had a flair for the dramatic. It was no surprise that everyone hung upon his words, no matter how much they hated both the speaker and his speech. "My own blood has betrayed me. Along with her boy, who is no more than a filthy spy."

Elliot stepped forward only to be jerked back two steps by the guard behind him. He frowned and knitted his brows. "We did nothing wrong."

It was clear in the way Logan refused to take his eyes off of his sister that he was able to ignore Elliot in stride. Truly, the only reason he ever bothered with being hospitable to the boy was due to his sister's attachment to her mentor. No matter how innocuous, it had to be stopped, and he believed for some time that Elliot would be the one to do it. He'd proven himself to be less than useless in the matter.

"Punishment..." Logan stood in one, smooth movement, "must be apportioned where it belongs."

"Then punish me instead!" Sabrina worked her jaw, hurrying forward a few steps to stand closer to him. Her movements were awkward, as was her speech, as if she'd never had to wrap her lips around such words in her entire life. Standing up for others was certainly a new trick for her. Some part of Logan was even the slightest bit impressed. Or he would have been if her graceless delivery didn't serve only to highlight her ineptitude.

Logan stepped down from the throne, shaking his head. "It is time I stopped treating you as a child, Sabrina, as you have made it clear to me that you no longer believe yourself to be one." When he descended the last step, he continued walking towards her. "This morning, traitors gathered outside of the castle, and you wish to save them. You now have your chance."

She eyed him, unsure of what he meant. Beside the throne stood Walter, looking crestfallen in a way she'd never seen before. His eyes remained glued to Logan's back, but his expression was one of clear distress. Her attention then turned to the men and women gathered at her right. A woman is held in the arms of another, her quiet sniffling meshing into their murmurs of fear and confusion. The dark-skinned man squeezed her tighter, and she clutched at his vest.

"The leaders of the violent mob stand before you." He sniffed, rolling his neck in her and Elliot's direction. "I will give you a choice." Sabrina's face betrayed her own puzzlement; Logan was quick to express himself in a more concise manner. "Who will be punished? These strangers, or this boy?"

Sabrina's eyes flew open, snapping to Elliot only to see him struggling in the grasp of the guard. His face was pale, but the skin turned ashen when Logan continued. "The sentence will be death."

"What!" She rushed forward until she was a mere foot in front of him. She wasn't much shorter than he was, but the way he looked at her made her feel no more than a foot off of the ground. He was very skilled at condescension, even in the smallest of glances.

"No," she heard behind her. Elliot begged silently for her to turn and look at him, but he remained staring at her back. "This can't be."

One of Logan's slender brows arched higher. "You are the princess. Decide."

Sabrina was unable to keep her chin from quivering noticeably as her head shook. She could barely see Walter lurch forward behind Logan, her sight gone blurry. "Your Majesty! Logan! Please."

Again, the opposition stood ignored. Logan's focus remained entirely on Sabrina. Watching her stand before him, the future monarch of Albion, wringing her hands before her with her blue eyes gone all glassy – it was almost humorous. How could anyone be so foolish as to willingly follow her anywhere? "I am giving you power over life and death," he murmured, arms folding behind his back. "It is a common responsibility for any monarch."

She turned, her hand extending for Elliot's only to watch his be smacked down to his side by the guard next to him. When she looked back to Logan, there was an edge to her glare, a sharpness he hadn't expected. "No! I won't do this! Logan, you can't make me choose."

"If you can't choose, I will." Logan motioned towards the demonstrators. "They will all be executed." His hand swished in Elliot's direction. "This boy included. So tell me, sister. What are you willing to sacrifice to do the right thing?"

The moment Sabrina's eyes closed, a tear broke free and dribbled down her flushed cheek. Behind her, she could hear Elliot nearly shouting at Logan, and before her, Walter was doing the very same. Their voices were raised louder than she'd heard from either of them in her entire life. Or was it her concentration doing this? Were they shouting, or was she pitching the volume even higher in her imagination?

"This is madness! We –"

"Logan! Don't make her choose! Not the boy!"

"- we just can't."

"I'll take his place. Let me."

Sabrina's shoulders shook with a sob the moment she heard Walter's voice above the din. He couldn't. Logan wouldn't let him. But the mere thought of having to choose... She could hear Elliot's comments from earlier ringing in her ears, about how she didn't care about those other people, all she cared about was their mistreatment of Walter. She fought it in the hallway, but it was true. Gods, it was so true.

Sometime between her turning away from Elliot and that moment, he struggled out of the guard's grasp and hurried over to her. She could feel his hand on her arm, his fingers gripping at her bicep. "Choose me." She looked at him then, her eyes red and still glassy, and shook her head. "You can't let them be executed. I'm one person. And you know they don't deserve this."

"You don't-" She choked on her tears, her face stricken. "You don't deserve it, either."

Elliot grabbed her face. His fingers slipped into her hair, and when he spoke, his voice shook. "Choose me."

She wasn't given the luxury of a reply before he's jerked away from her, the violet-clad guards pulling him forward to stand next to the demonstrators. Standing next to them, he looked so solitary, like a reminder of all that was hers and only hers in the world. The demonstrators were her people, the oppressed, citizen's of her brother's country. Elliot was hers. And Logan was daring her to rid herself of him. She could see it in his face.

"There's only one choice, Sab!" Elliot's voice rose sharply. He knew what she was considering. He knew that she wanted to hold on to all that she had left besides Walter and Jasper. "You have to choose me."

Even as the men and women beside him sobbed and pleaded for the princess' mercy, she couldn't take her eyes off of her dearest friend. They'd known each other so long. Even though most might consider her spineless, she'd have never accomplished half of the things she had if not for him. If not for his being by her side, she would have never been able to stand up for Walter. She'd have been secluded. Solitary, like he was now.

"Are you listening to me? Pick me."

Sabrina's face twisted as she lifted her hands to cover the bottom half of it. "No!" She shook her head, orange strands tangling. "Elliot, stop. I can't."

He took a step forward, brows pinching together. "You must! If you don't decide, Logan will kill us all."

No confidence could be born from Sabrina's constantly wringing hands. Even as she failed to see anyone but Elliot, Walter glared at Logan. The king remained either ignorant or uncaring to the man's silent display. When she finally tore her eyes away from the spectacle, she looked to her brother. "Please don't make me do this! I didn't ask to be given this r-responsibility." Her eyes filled again just as her cheeks dried. "I don't want it."

"It appears you don't have a choice," Logan murmured, his nostrils flared.

"But – but it's Elliot."

"Indeed."

From behind him, she could just barely hear Walter's voice. "Logan, this is –"

"I will not tolerate your intrusions, Walter." All it took was a sharp word and a glare from the king to silence her mentor. "The princess is making a decision."

Sabrina couldn't believe this. She knew that her brother was prone to cruelty. She'd heard nightmarish stories about how he'd left Aurora behind, about promises broken not only to the Auroran people but to his own. Still, she'd always felt she was immune to this madness. She was his sister, his own flesh and blood, and this was no more than an unconventional sort of torture.

"Why are you doing this to me? Elliot is my –"

"Is this your answer, sister?" he asked. His voice was crisp and surprisingly casual. Sabrina's stomach churned at the sound. "Are you going to spare your childhood friend as opposed to the lives of three supposedly innocent people?"

She could see the men and women shift nervously out of the corner of her eye. What sort of princess would she be to allow her brother to do this to his people? What sort of person would she be? The thoughts spun in her head, turning around and around, winding so tight that she nearly shattered at the sound of a tremulous, watery, "Please! Please, no!"

Her feet carried her without a thought, bringing her to Elliot, and she buried her face into the soft fabric of his vest. In one fell swoop, she was able to show her people what sort of princess – what sort of person – she was.

She was a coward.

"The boy lives. Kill the rest now."

Every muscle in her body went stiff. She didn't know what to do. Had she even heard him correctly? Lifting her face from Elliot's vest, entirely unaware of his stolid expression, she turned to look at Logan. "I didn't – this wasn't – my decision wasn't made! I didn't make my choice!"

The guards reached for the ringleaders without another word. Logan turned on his heel and began to make his way back to the throne, though he stopped no more than a step later. All she could see was his profile, and the thin line of a tiny smile in the corner of his mouth. "You were clear enough."

"Please, ma'am!" One of the demonstrators caught her attention – a woman with blonde pigtails and a tear-streaked face. "Don't let them do this! I have a – a ch-child! A little boy! You can't let them –"

The end of a rifle knocked her between the shoulders, both shutting her up and pushing her forward.

Elliot stepped back without a word, his shaking hands removing hers from his clothes. When she looked at him, she could see the corners of his mouth turned downward. She moved to grip at his vest again, a pleading expression on her face, but he pulled away. The stinging slap of rejection sent her moving towards her brother, a quivering index finger pointing in his direction. "You... I can't believe you." She sniffed back her tears, her eyes flaming in a way he'd never seen. "I will never forgive you for this."

"Good. Then you will never forget it." The king's icy stare flicked to the remaining guards. "Escort my sister to her chambers."

The princess was nearly lifted from her feet, though she settled back on them soon after. She cast one more look around the room before she was hauled out of the door. Elliot stood by himself, one arm bent and rubbing the other, brown hair shadowing most of his face. Walter stood beside the throne, staring after her, his hand moving to rest on the sword at his hip.

And Logan sat on his throne, his scholar's slouch returning the moment he was at rest. He looked bored.