A/N: Hey all! Back with another chapter for ya. It's shorter than what I've been averaging, but I hope you like it all the same :) Enjoy!

Lucas guided the horse along the narrow dirt path, weaving through several different trees of the forest. He desperately wanted to find the others, but he had no clue what to do to find them! Lucas had hoped they would turn up eventually… and he was hoping it would be sooner rather than later. After a few minutes of quiet, the only noise being the hoof beats coming from his ride, the sound of someone's desperate pleas and some other men's laughter reached his ears. Lucas brought the horse to a stop, and he saw a band of gypsies ransacking a small carriage with an old man begging them to stop; the man insisting that he had nothing of interest to them, just pots and pans.

A sharp whistle pierced through the air, causing Lucas' ears to ring despite him being a few dozen yards away. "It's the royal guard!" a gruff voice called out, sending all of the gypsies scurrying off with whatever they could carry.

Lucas looked over his shoulder as he heard the old man start to yell again. He couldn't decipher what the old man was saying because his main focus was on the group of guards riding towards his position. "Oh, I can't believe it," Lucas said under his breath. He pressed his heels into the horse's side and moved forward. He had hoped to continue on by the carriage without any incident, but the old man, who had a long snow white beard and hair, approached him, forcing Lucas to stop.

"The painting, please!" the old man cried. "That man is getting away with it," he finished as he pointed down the path, showing Lucas the gypsy that was riding away with a case hanging from the saddle.

As much as Lucas wanted to help the man, he found himself being forced to say, "The guard will assist you; I cannot!"

"Please!" the old man repeated. "It is… my life."

Lucas' body groaned slightly, and then let out a sudden cry as he took off towards the thief. In his heart, Lucas was happy to be helping the old man, but he felt that he could not control his actions or his words at certain points. It was as if he was being dictated to accomplish certain tasks, and he did not like that at all.

Within moments, Lucas was fairly close to the gypsy and tried to reach out and grab the metal container that the painting was in, but he was just out of reach. The gypsy saw Lucas' actions, and urged his horse to move faster. Lucas saw this, and did the only thing he could think of to prevent the other man from getting away. He jumped from his ride onto the other horse, and tried to wrestle the painting out of the gypsy's grasp. Despite his efforts, his plan was not working at all. No matter what Lucas did, the other man did not loosen his iron grip on the case.

Suddenly, the horse they were riding reared onto its hind legs, knocking both men off and sent them tumbling to the ground. Lucas got to his feet first, and took advantage of this. Just as the gypsy got his feet underneath himself, Lucas tackled him back to the ground, causing the gypsy to drop the case. The only flaw with Lucas' plan was that they were both near the drop off to a steep hill that led down to the river, and Lucas' jump sent them both sliding down the hill, just after Lucas picked up the painting.

There was nothing they could do to stop themselves, so they just let gravity take them down. Rocks, twigs, and tree roots grabbed at the two men, succeeding in giving them bruises, lacerations, and quite possibly a twisted joint or two.

The trip down the steep hill didn't last long before the drop went straight down. As the two men flew through the air, terrified shouts escaped their lips as the surface of the river came closer and closer.

Lucas gritted his teeth as his body hit the water, causing some of his muscles to scream in pain. Once his head returned to the surface, Lucas spit out the water that made its way into his mouth, and proceeded to swim over to the shore, with the painting in tow. He stepped onto the pebble shoreline and began to wring out his clothes to the best of his abilities. As the sun began to peak through the clouds and sent a welcoming warmth through the prince's body, something caught Lucas' eye. His reflection. He appeared much older; his face being more toned, along with his hair being a bit longer than he cared for. Lucas noticed he also appeared to be much taller than he last remembered. Funny how he didn't notice it last night, but then again, Lucas had other things on his mind.

After he came out of his fog of realization, Lucas picked up the painting and proceeded to limp back up to where the old man, and presumably the guard, were waiting for him.

OoOoO

The old man looked up and saw Lucas hobbling towards him, with the case in his hand. "Oh thank goodness," he cried as the prince drew nearer.

"Lucas, you promised!" the head of the guard, Captain Laurent, scolded.

"I know," Lucas replied as he handed the painting back to the old man. "I lied. I thought I'd see the world before I gave up my life for God and country," he explained, the words sounding somewhat forced as he spoke, but apparently no one else thought the same thing, for the conversation continued.

"Then why on earth did you stop?" the old man chimed in.

"Because I lack conviction," Lucas said through gritted teeth as he moved, the pain shooting through his body. "Which you seem to have in spades. You claimed it was of life and death."

The old man smiled as he removed the painting from the case and unrolled it. "A woman always is, sire."

Lucas looked over the man's shoulder to get a better look at the painting. It was of a woman, and Lucas thought it appeared familiar to him.

"Signore Da Vinci has been invited to the palace to be the artist in residence," the captain explained.

"Leonardo Da Vinci?" Lucas asked as his eyes followed the painter eagerly.

"Michelangelo was stuck under a ceiling in Rome. I'm merely a second choice," Da Vinci said as he put the painting away.

"What luck!" Lucas exclaimed as he felt the forced feeling come over him once again. Whatever it was, he hoped to rid of it soon. "Here I am on my way to Genoa and find my salvation on the highways!" He placed his hands on the painter's shoulders. "Sir, you are the very founder of forward thinking, and my father is the king of backward. Perhaps you could talk him into the sixteenth century?"

Da Vinci eyed the prince carefully. "Captain Laurent, do translate?" he asked, trying not to let his fear and confusion show in his voice.

"The prince suffers from an arranged marriage… amongst other things."

Lucas felt himself turn and glare at the captain of the guard, but found himself thinking, you have no idea…

A/N #2: So, what did you think? Let me know by leaving a review! It only takes a moment :) The next chapter will make up for how short this one was, I promise. Until then!