Chapter 3

A month later

"Look at that minger!" Anthony, a questionably stupid boy I've known since young, gasped, doubling over from laughing too hard on the curtain wall a little off to the side from me. Next to him was Ryan, an equally thick minded warrior who believed he owned the dark power of seduction.

Yet even our cook threw her biggest pot at his face when he tried putting the moves on her.

It was a shame that he only received a black eye from it.

"That goon couldn't be any more of a halfwit," Ryan contributed, and then paused for a moment before cackling to himself, as if he reckoned he was funny.

I was sitting on a ledge, a small wooden extension built on the outer side of the curtain wall surrounding Eilean Donan. I was unsure of its purpose, however it was formerly known as my spot. I went there because after watching the surrounding lock and mountains and wild birds flying freely above for a time, all my troubles seemed to slowly fade in the background. The scene was so peaceful. Until you get the occasional rats, well wall rats was what I'd named them, ruining the peacefulness of clanging wooden swords against each other below and the scenery in front.

I turned my gaze away from the lock to see what they were talking about.

In the courtyard, Hans Croft, our other Commander, second in charge to Stan, was training the new recruits. As always, they lacked basic fighting skills and were laughed upon by wankers such as Ryan and Anthony. The tremendously amusing thing was that Ryan took twice as long as the rest of us to learn how to properly wield a sword. A wooden practice sword at that.

The recruits were divided into pairs and were sparring. They watched Hans with both interest and fear as he demonstrated the stances, attacks and blocks that were essential when in a sword fight. For now, they used wooden carved swords as practice.

"He's more of a fanny than a man," Ryan barked, followed by his snorting laughter, while pointing at the one of the recruits. I looked down at him, and noticed he was injured. His hair was as red as the flowers blooming in the nearby fields, but he had a nasty gash to the side of his head. The way he moved to avoid his partner was unbelievably stiff, as if he didn't want to hurt his opponent.

I grimaced. Even from afar I could detect that he was a kind hearted boy.

He was kind hearted for now, but not for much longer. The thought twisted my own heart.

When Ryan and Anthony burst out laughing because the red head was knocked to his bottom, in a sudden explosive rage, I leaped off from the ledge to the wall and when I swiftly moved in close enough, I kicked Ryan, being the closest, into the courtyard. Granted, the drop wasn't enough to severely damage him, but it was enough to get my point across. He fell face first into a pile of hay, with only his feet dangling out. The recruits paused in their sparring to gaze upon me. By now I had straightened up, and was glaring at the pathetic site of a shrieking Ryan.

The fact that Anthony scrambled away from me assured me my point was taken.

"Rosemarie!" Hans shouted, not impressed.

I jumped off the wall and was just able to mask my grimace before facing my commander. Although my injuries have only just properly healed, attempting to gracefully jump off a wall will need a little more practice.

Hans motioned a novice close to him to help a screeching Ryan out from where he remained stuck.

As always, Hans, who was always exasperated by my antics, shook his head whenever he saw me. He motioned me closer and after I made my way towards him, he gestured to Ryan still head first in the hay.

"Was that necessary?" he said, crossing his arms across his chest, which is something the commanders did when wanting to intimidate us, and they were damn good at it, especially when their stern facial expressions were on point.

Hans was brutal when he can to punishments; solely believing that misbehavior was not accepted nor is back chatting.

Nevertheless, I stood my ground and nodded fiercely. "They were giggling like little girls because one of the novices was smacked to his arse," I said defensively, gesturing at the red head who now was watching me closely. In fact, all of the novices did – which was expected. They were always fascinated by us, being fully trained warriors of the night. This round of novices were older than the usual that were adopted into our organization. Ages ranging from infants to ten were easily trained and therefore grew up in our organization having learnt respect.

This round looked no older than me which meant one simple thing – they were going to be harder to break. Because that was what essentially it meant to be part of the Resistance: you were broken into the soldiers they wanted you to be. And as cruel as it sounded, I knew that it not only made me tougher as a person, but also made me see that the world is not so black and white.

I turned away from the novices as Hans ordered them to continue sparring. He then turned to me. "Stan won't be pleased," he said, but stopped my protest by saying, "however, I will vouch for you this time if you assist with training today."

Training novices wasn't as bad as it sounded. All it took was patience, something I still had yet to learn.

I nodded. "Which ones, sir?"

"Him," he nodded towards the red head and shrugged. "Good luck."

I turned towards the boy, who was still staring at me and gestured to my right so he'd follow. Considering he wasn't so good in his stances, it was better to teach him away from the other novices. After he made it towards me, he looked up and his bright blue eyes caught me off guard. I never really had the chance to get a proper look at him and was startled to find him quite…attractive. The splash of freckles across his cheeks and his eyes alone made him look young, but his height said another time. He had a man's build yet underneath his plain peasant clothing, it was obvious he was on the lanky side. Which would not do.

We were trained to best Strigoi; there was no such thing as being a lanky warrior.

I cleared my throat and nodded down at his wooden long sword. "Drop it."

He looked momentarily surprised before complying. His eyes never left mine, and watched my every move.

"You have a poor stance," I said, slightly turning my head to the side. "What was your field of work before being rescued?"

"I'm starting to believe I was never rescued, simply transported from one hell to the next," he said, with a hint of attitude laced in his words.

I almost smiled. Almost.

"I asked you a question," I said, starting again firmly.

His eyes left mine when he answer. "I was a farm boy."

I frowned. "Your build says otherwise."

His frame tensed, clearly offended. "Excuse me?"

"You say you were a farm boy yet your build is lankier than it is bulky. Isn't it part of your job to lift heavy crates and the like?" I enquired, then my tone darkened. "Or is my temporary student a liar?"

He visibly gulped and looked uncomfortable whilst briefly looking away. "I was a servant," he muttered.

Which, now, made a lot more sense. And considering his tone darkened, it made me think that his master was not kind to him, which, inside, made me soften a touch.

I nodded, starting again. I laced my fingers together behind my back and paced slowly in front of him.

"You will undergo various fitness exercises daily to boost your endurance so you can be one of us," I said, stopping right in front of him. "For your sake, I dearly hope that you will not show the same disrespect to my commanders as you've just showed me."

"It was just a simply lie-"

"Liars are deceivers and therefore classed as disrespectful. Respect is earned and learned here. If you fail to comply, the consequence will be your head," I said sternly, and although he took in what I said, I still saw this mischief side to him. Personally, I saw myself as warning him. I learned the hard way so warning others of their inappropriate behaviour is all I could've done in my position.

Wanting to change the soured mood, I nodded to his feet.

"Stance is the most important factor in any technique of fighting, whether it be fencing or the occasional brawl or on the battlefield. In many ways, stances are the very foundation of great swordsmanship," I said, then pointed to my foot. "Your foot position is the upmost important factor when determining your balance. The better you control your feet, the easier and more effective your expressed intensions will be," I said, watching as he took it all in.

"Now your feet should be spread shoulder width apart," I said, my feet mirroring what I said. He automatically copied my movement.

I nodded. "Good. Now, your weight is distributed equally on both feet in this position. See how your feet are facing me straight on? No good. Angle your feet slightly to the side and let your knees follow. It is essential that your feet and knees are aligned. It makes your stance a significant amount more stable-"

"And never stand flatfooted on both feet," Hans said, coming up from behind. The red head's eyes met Hans, and I noticed that his stance began to weaken in front of the commander. Superiority had that effect if one did not own confidence in oneself.

Hans pointed at the red head's foot with his wooden practice sword. "Your rear heel should be raised so that your weight can be distributed to the ball of your foot. That acts as your trigger for the most of your striking arsenal and it allows your foot to be alert and be able to move quicker and smoother than to stumble back."

The red head nodded and lifted his rear right heel. His leg was slightly trembling.

"Balance comes with practice," Hans said, aware of the unbalanced newcomer. He then turned to me and gestured to the castle. "Stan requests your presence. Best not keep him waiting," was all he said before motioning to the red head to pick up his practice sword and follow him. The red head did as instructed but as he trailed behind Hans, he turned back and our eyes met.

Mine gave nothing away but my heart missed a beat as he turned away. I inwardly cursed. Now was not a time to fantasize about stupid possibilities.

I turned away and left the courtyard promptly and walked up a flight of stairs that led to and from the courtyard to the castle. I slipped in through a side entrance that only the cook was meant to use as convenience when empting wastes and whatnot into the lock from the curtain wall. She and I had similar mannerisms which allowed us to get along far more than she would with the rest, and therefore allowed me to enter through her door whenever I had liked.

Finding Stan was easy, however I wasn't pleased to see him as I entered the great hall where he sat at the long wooden table that was facing the other rows of tables where the rest of us sat.

He sat in the middle, as being the first commander, and was staring at the enlarged portrait of his father hanging on the wall to his left. When I entered, his eyes cut into my own as I made my way passed the rows of tables and around the commanders' table to him. He turned to face me and I felt my bravado falter somewhat. I walked up to him and bent down on one knee before him and kissed his outstretched hand, trying my best not to flinch away.

"You wanted to see me, Commander?" I kept my tone professional as I straightened back up to my feet and looked down into his hellish eyes.

"Are you well?" was all he asked, with no compassion.

I nodded. "Yes, Commander." Three quarters of the truth. My reaction timing was on point, as always, however I was still stiff. I didn't dare tell him that.

Turned out my wound wasn't as deep as I had originally thought, and therefore my recovery was quicker than I had thought it to be.

He nodded and looked away, staring straight ahead.

"Good. You will leave tomorrow at sunset."

I blinked. After being informed of my assignment, I was left to my quarters for a week, barely touching my food because I was unable to stomach anything or any liquids. Meredith was the only reason I had eaten anything, because of her threatening constantly that she'd go for me and murder the queen. The mission was dangerous enough and I wouldn't ever let her or anyone else go for me, and not only because it was dangerous – but because I needed her to stay her to continue on planning our escape. My known plan making was always a touch more…reckless.

But after a week had passed, Stan let himself in and ordered me to leave. I remembered being mixed with outrage and shock. I wasn't in the position to run, let alone ride a horse!

Hans had followed him and called Stan a madman for suggesting for me to leave without properly healing. After a wave of commotion and arguments between the two, Stan had later agreed to give me three more weeks to recover before sending me off, which I was grateful for.

But now this was it – I was really going forth on the mission and there was no backing out now.

"You won't need your belongings," Stan continued. "Only your hidden weapons. You aren't to wear your armour for it will give you away."

I nodded, although I wasn't comfortable with travelling without armour. I'd be killed immediately and on spot without it…as did Arthur.

My thoughts darkened. Perhaps that was Stan wanted, to be rid of me earlier rather than later.

I gritted my teeth from the possibility of losing it in front of Stan and simply nodded.

"Understood, Commander."

"Go," was all he said. I bowed my head slightly before striding away from him. After stepping out from the great hall, my jaw slackened and I briefly paused to compose myself. I flexed my hands before tensing them into fists and lent down slightly as I brought them both up to my firm mouth. It was a something I had done since a child to calm my inner rage from exploding in front of everyone.

I dropped my fists to look upon them. They were my weapons, and after years of training I could clearly see that even though my hands were smooth, they'd been through a lot. I opened my hands and flipped them so I was looking down at my palms. My right palm had a fine but noticeable perfect line that ran across. It happened during the first actual training I had with a proper sword and my opponent was Stan's father, our former first commander. I remembered Stan watching, along with the others as I faced my commander. I was so confident when stepping up onto the platform. So unbelievably confident, filled with pride and was running off a high only a battle could give, and I didn't understand how this confidence, which now I understood was myself being naive, could actually cost me.

I was brutally defeated. Stan's father had literally kicked the flat side of my sword away from me, and all I could do was throw my hands up in surrender. I was stunned, terrified and embarrassed by how quickly I was defeated. Outraged, he twisted his body effortlessly in front of me, his sword swinging with elegance as did its master and sliced my right palm.

I was lucky to have kept my hand that day.

At the time I was in shock, staring dumbfound at my bleeding palm, completely confused as to why my commander would do that, and, more importantly, why I couldn't feel any pain.

I had fallen to my knees, the shorter strands of my hair that fallen loose from the tight braid an older girl had effortlessly tied fell down and was clouding my vision from my commander.

All I had heard was his boots as he slowly approached me and knelt down, and then brushing away my hair before grasping my chin in his rough hand and lifting my head so I looked up into his eyes.

"What did you do wrong, Rosemarie?" he had asked, his voice quiet but strong.

I didn't reply. All I did was stare at him, still unbelievably confused and still numb. His eyes pierced mine, daring me to look away.

"You gave up," he said, his tone was normal now. "Does a fight end when your weapon drops?" he asked, and I had known that this time he wanted an answer.

"Yes," I said, naively. Tears threatened to surface.

He shook his head. "No. You get back up and fight on. You find another weapon."

He stood and promptly threw his sword to the ground. He took a step back and leaned into a basic fighting stance and lifted up his fists.

"These," he said, nodding to his raised fists, "are your ultimate weapons. They aren't steel until you learn how to fight as if they are made of steel."

By that time I felt a surge in me. I was beyond outraged and couldn't pay attention to whatever he had said after that. I looked down at my palm again, fainting thinking that it'd be the last time I'd have my hand attached to my body.

I was naïve, but that was because I was young. I was young and he had hurt me.

And I was pissed.

Commander had moved forward, obviously about to say something else when Stan, his son, stood from the crowd and stepped forward.

"Father, she's losing a lot of blood-"

Commander had turned his head at the sound of his son's voice and I saw my chance.

My bloody palm clutched to my chest, I had lunged forward and stopped midway and I lifted my leg to kick him in the crouch –

Someone pulled me back and a frustrated yell escaped me.

"Enough," the owner to the pair of arms that grabbed me and held me back said. I stopped struggling, realizing who it was. I looked back and saw Arthur Schoenberg staring down at me, his eyes softened when he saw that I was clutching my injured hand against my chest which made my blouse bloody as well.

"Calm yourself," he had whispered. A shadow fell upon his face and I turned as Commander crouched down next to us. I closed my eyes.

Immediately I awaited my punishment. My intentions had been clear – I wanted to hurt my commander, for he had hurt me. But our ranking was far apart, and I was simply a pawn in his army, and he was the leader.

I braced myself for my punishment, but when he made no move to strike me, I opened my and was surprised with what had been in front of me.

Commander's eyes weren't filled with hate or disappointment, they were filled with something else. Pride?

His hand moved towards me and on instinct I stiffened. He lifted his hand to the side of my head and kept it there as he maintained eye contact.

He then nodded. "I expected as much," he said to himself, then turned to his son who now stood behind him whom looked as equally confused as I was. He then turned back to me.

"We have here a warrior in the making," was all he said before dropping his hand from my head and standing up. He ordered someone to fetch the nurse to clean and bandage my wound. All the while I stood there, still numb from any form of pain, still zoning in and out. I turned back to Arthur, who was a middle age man back then, and he wore a soft smile.

"You will make a fine maiden warrior, Rose."

It was then when my tears started to flow.

Coming back to the present, I realized a single tear had fallen at the memory of Arthur.

I hadn't understood back then how important it was to have failed in the way that I had. The lesson it taught me proved to be a reasonably clever one that reformed and bettered my fighting style and attitude from then onwards.

I gently wiped the tear away before carrying on. I walked down the hall and instead of going back down the stairs leading to the kitchen, I turned left, walked down another passage and proceeded down the staircase. I exited the main part of the castle to an outdoor area that led me to the front of the castle. I then bypassed the front and made my way towards the west wing of the castle where I hoped to have found Meredith.

I inwardly grimaced when I saw that Emil, along with a few others from our organization, were leaning against the west wing castle.

One of them whispered something which made the rest, excluding Emil, doubling over in laughter. Emil didn't laugh or even paid attention; his eyes were on me.

I dropped my eyes, never faltering in my pace as I walked passed them and into the west wing. I made it five paces in when I heard him behind me.

"Rosemarie."

I stopped midstride. I sighed before turning around and looking up at him. Emil moved forward, letting the door close behind him. The others were still laughing outside.

The lamps were the only form of light now.

He moved forward until he stood before me and gave me a lazy grin.

"Haven't been graced by your presence lately."

"You've been busy," I said, giving a knowing gaze towards the door. "Sneaking off to get a little excitement elsewhere."

His grin dropped. "Sneaking off?"

I nodded slowly. "I thought it was no secret you couldn't get any here."

His eyes flashed and he took a step forward, all the while I waited for him to come closer to be able to slide my hands up his chest. The action baffled him and when he looked down at my hands, I pulled on his loose shirt to make him step forward and follow me.

He looked up at me and let out a sigh when I untucked his shirt and racked my hands against his bare skin.

He felt so warm under my touch and when I felt over his heart, I could hear it miss a beat. Looking away from my covered hands, I looked up at him and saw his lips were within kissing range.

Still, his eyes took in my every move and watched me like a hawk. I bit my lip, realizing where I went wrong, and leaned in and whispered into his ear, "I've had enough of you wasting energy on others. It's my turn."

His hands flew forward and gripped my hips, bringing me forward so that our bodies were now touching. Now his lips were definitely within kissing range.

A sigh slipped out from me as my hands slipped down his hard abdomen and grabbed his hands and promptly dropped them from my hips, then walked back lazily, swinging my hips, grinning like a fool.

His eyes took everything in; his breath coming out quicker now as he watched me walk back.

He then started to follow me as I led him further down the hall where the new recruits sleeping quarters will be. But as I knew, off to the left was a closet big enough to do what I wanted so badly to do to him.

I opened the door to the closest but that wasn't fast enough for him. He grabbed me around the waist and pulled me to the side and swung open the door. He walked into the closest with me in tow and closed the door.

In the darkness, he pulled tried to pull me close but I stepped back in time, twisted my waist and brought my open hand hard but accurately against his neck. He fell sideward against the wall before falling to the ground in a heap, unconscious.

"That's for dropping me," I growled then spat on him.

I opened the door so the light would flood in and allow me to see where I was going. I looked down at him and appraised myself.

Well done, Rose. He's going to be pissed when he wakes up.

"But I won't be here," I sang softly to myself.

The closet had no purpose so no one would notice the iron bar I barred the door with so he'd have a fun time trying to escape when he awoke. I walked out of the west wing with a spring to my step.

The sun had started to bask the world with its glow, which meant I was due for sleep. I noticed as I strolled out of the wing that Emil's fellow warriors had also abandoned him.

Giving up on trying to find where Meredith was, I quickly hiked back to my dorm. Upon entering, I was bombarded by Meredith herself. She flew from her bed and threw her arms around me. I managed to embrace her back and kick the door closed.

She sniffed softly before releasing me. I looked at her and immediately my good mood dropped.

Her eyes were puffy from crying and her hair was a mess.

"Don't cry," I whispered, gently brushing away her tears.

She sniffed again, looking miserable. "I can't believe you're going."

"How did you know of this? Only I was in the there…"

She looked down, shrugging. "I went looking for you after I heard what happened with Ryan, and I figured you'd only leave training if Stan requests your presence. I stood outside when he spoke to you….I'm sorry, forgive me. I should have stayed to comfort you but…," she broke off, crying softly again. I wrapped my arm around her and led her to her bed where I let her sit. I soon followed after and wrapped her blanket around us.

"I tried to find silk," she whispered, looking away after.

I frowned, adjusting a pillow against the wall before leaning back.

"Why would you look for silk?"

Her eyes flashed. "He's making you trek all the way to France without armour! What if something happens? I wanted to find silk so I could layer it under your day clothes so that at least you have somewhat protection."

I smiled, and rubbed her back, trying to comfort her. "I'll be fine. It'll be good to leave this place for a little bit but it won't be forever."

"It'll be long enough. What if you decide to stay there and live normally and-"

I twisted around and pulled her face towards mine to make sure I had her attention.

"I will come back for you," I said firmly, my eyes flashing. "I will never become a guardian. I'd die first. But if I am able to take refuge there-"

She suddenly reached up and grasped my hands in hers, tears still streaming down her face. "Do you not see? Do you know what the alternative profession is apart from being a guardian?"

"Come now," I said, brushing her off and scoffing at the idea.

"A blood whore," she said, her voice darkening. "Moroi men would line up for you, using your body for their satisfaction. You don't think there's not a whorehouse there? Do not be naïve, Rose."

"I will find another job. A contract, even-"

"The Moroi don't hire assassins, they have guardians for that," Meredith whispered harshly.

"I didn't say I'd work for the Moroi."

She paused, before it daunted on her and her eyes widened with shock. She pushed my hands away, frowning at me.

"You'd side with the Strigoi king?"

"Better than being a guardian."

"I actually don't believe so."

Now it was my time to frown at her. "So what you're telling me is that you'd rather escape here, not work for the Strigoi but become a guardian?"

She looked away. "They killed our parents, Rose."

It was a nightmare we shared – our villages had been desecrated by Strigoi and we had run side by side from the village. Our parents were presumed dead, as our first commander gently informed us back then and that this was our family now – the Resistance.

But it was never my family. There wasn't many in our organization that I trusted or that could lead us to peace because we were not peaceful people. We may be the caretakers of peace, but we ourselves would never find peace in our role. We were warriors. We were commanded to do our jobs as by our commander and the price for failure was death. It was that simple.

Now, throw in my case where I had failed and now to redeem myself, I must kill a powerful Moroi figure.

A queen.

Ever since I was informed of my new mission, I'd spent many nights wide awake, thinking of how my actions would shape our future.

Killing the queen will turn the whole Moroi capital into turmoil. They're be no leader, no king or queen to lead her former people to peace and harmony. Vasilisa can't possibly do anything while dead, and therefore in the period of deciding who would rule next, there would be chaos.

Now, with that being said, how would the people react to one another? There'd be no queen, so there would be no punishments to those who'd commit crime. The guardians could do their best to keep the people in line but would they really be able to maintain control?

No.

Rulers maintain that control and even though there'd be the odd murder of another, the laws she'd enforce were there to keep everything under control.

And with no one to control the people, they'd eventually be no people, would there? They'd be wiped out, by themselves for their differences, or by the Strigoi themselves.

So, would my actions then lead to a massacre? I had the power to possibly eliminate the guardians. Or better yet, all the Moroi royalty.

Coming back to the present, a thought occurred to me.

"What if they were ordered to do so?"

Meredith stiffened. "By whom?"

"The Moroi."

She scoffed, but before she could say anything I stood up. The blanket fell from my shoulders and landed in a heap next to Meredith. I walked to the center of the room before turning around to face her, my expression clouded.

"We were a peaceful village, and suddenly a group of Strigoi come through our safe haven? How did they know of our village's whereabouts?"

Meredith shook her head. "It was a random attack-"

"I don't believe that," I said, pacing. "I believe that that attack happened for one specific reason – to wipe us out for not being part of the capital…for not being raised to be guardians."

"Rose, we were so young. How do you know that our parents weren't in fact guardians?"

"I don't ever recall hearing the word 'guardian'."

"We were so young, Rose. We suffered afterwards, remember?"

I remembered. I remembered the weeks where eating wasn't appetizing or where sleep without nightmares hadn't occurred often. Or when I couldn't be left alone, for the fear of being slaughtered.

"I remember," I whispered, turning away. "But I still don't believe it just happened for no reason. I never did."

"So you're blaming the Moroi?"

I crossed my arms over my chest, narrowing my eyes in thought.

"It's a coincidence that I can't ignore. It makes sense for them to do so," I whispered, turning back around and looked down at Meredith. "I'll kill the queen, but before doing so I plan on finding out the truth."

A light wind swept my loose strands out from my vision as I stepped away from Eilean Donan. The night was clear, not a cloud in site. It was peaceful, aside from the comforting wooden swords clanging against each other coming from the courtyard. The recruits were continuing on with their training, as per normal. The only thing that struck me as off when I awoke was the lack of Meredith's presence. I had just assumed that saying our goodbyes was too much for her to bare. I understood, but the sick feeling in my stomach didn't help. I wanted to say that I'll be coming back and that she couldn't get rid of me so easily to make her feel a bit better, but after I dressed in my normal attire, I left, no time to write her a note.

My blouse ruffled in the wind from the light breeze as I walked, weaponless, from the castle. My boots crunched against the dirt as I made my way towards the bridge separating the castle from land. I paused before moving through the open gates of the surrounding curtain wall. I turned back, looking at Eilean Donan, fearing it'd be for the last time. I only owned fear for Meredith and no other reason. She wouldn't survive without me here, and it'd worry me sick while being gone more than my leaving to her.

"Wait!" a woman cried. Looking from the castle, I frowned, and turned back towards the west wing to where I saw someone run towards me. Meredith.

Her hair flew in the wind as she bolted to where I was standing and threw her arms around me, clutching me close. My arms wound around her and the sickening feeling was gone, replaced by butterflies as I hid my face in her shoulder.

"I couldn't let you leave without saying goodbye," she said, her voice thick.

"Don't think of it as goodbye," I mumbled, hugging her tighter before letting her go. I grasped her by the shoulder, and looked into her watery eyes.

"Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone. Wait for me," I said sternly, my eyes widened and my eyebrows shot up slightly to challenge her to do anything stupid while gone.

She chuckled, then sniffed before nodding. "I'll try to keep in line. As will you, I hope."

"Can't promise anything," I said, winking. I gave her one last quick hug before stepping backwards, smiling at her.

"Will you tell anyone of my story?" I said, grinning now, still walking backwards.

"About the great warrior maiden who's getting cocky about her mission?" Meredith said, rolling her eyes, but grinning all the same.

"I'm off to kill a queen, that's quite a story in itself!" I protested.

Meredith gave in, nodding. "Ok. How about the warrior maiden that'll make the world spin accordingly again?"

"Ooh, I'm interested now. Tell me more," I said, quite a few paces from her now and was well and truly through the open gates. I still managed to walk backwards though, mind you.

"Hear the tale of Rosemarie the Great! Off on an adventure to fulfil her destiny and avenge her family!" she had to shout this time as the wind started to pick up.

I stopped suddenly, and looked at her, knowing all too well that we'd shared the same empty feeling: loneliness. Without a proper family, I had adopted her into being my sister and the same went for her.

Tears threatened as I grinned at her again, fearing it'd be the last time I'd see her.

"To avenge our families!" I shouted back.

I heard her laugh which was cut short and even though I wasn't in front of her, I knew without a doubt that those tears in her eyes had spilled.

I nodded to her one last time before turning around. My smile dropped, as did my temporary happy shared mood with Meredith, as now it was time to do what was asked of me.

I felt a great burden on my shoulders as I made my way passed the bridge and unto the dirt pathway. I saw three figures waiting up ahead; two men and a woman, all with their back to me.

My jaw tightened when I glanced at the two left figures, a man and a woman, realizing what they were.

Strigoi.

Stan stood to the right, arms stretched behind his back and his hands were clasped. I knew this pose. I was late, and I was about to be lectured.

I sighed, coming up short behind them, knowing too well that Stan knew of my arrival, yet still wouldn't turn around. The Strigoi were in deep conversation when I broke the silence.

"Commander."

The Strigoi immediately stopped their chatter and turned to me. I looked sideways at them, noting every feature, every possible weakness, every hesitation before the man made a move.

He turned completely towards me and it was then when I realized just how tall he was. I grimaced inwardly. He had been a Moroi.

His flowing black hair stood contrast against his death white complexion. His eyes watched me, possibly trying to determine whether or not I had it in me to kill the queen.

I maintained eye contact, giving nothing away.

"You must be Rosemarie," he said, throwing me a grin, not bothering to hide his fangs.

"Rosemarie," the woman spoke my name as if she was a snake, drawing out the last part of my name as she slowly turned and moved towards me, exaggerating her every move and grinning at me with her fangs in full view. Her red rimmed eyes pinned mine, daring me to look away.

She was trying to intimidate me.

I clicked my tongue, turning my head to the side, looked her up and down before moving forward. Her grin dropped and she narrowed her eyes at me when I started to circle around her.

My eyes flickered up and down when I stood behind her. All the while the male Strigoi watched me in curious silence. Stan knew exactly what I was doing but said nothing.

She wore a leather tunic and underneath was a white blouse that flew in the wind. Her brown hair wasn't as long as mine but still sat beautifully down her back. It was a shame she was Strigoi, they weren't beautiful creatures.

My eyes suddenly narrowed at her. The way she was acting: the constant shift between her feet, the looks she'd throw over her shoulder at me, unsure of what I was doing but remained silent. She had her first mistake then: not turning around.

I stepped back, dropping all emotion from my face when it dawned on me.

I then took a small step to the left with my left leg, still behind her, and as I anticipated, she had started to turn her head towards her left. In that same motion, with my right leg, I kicked a nearby rock to the left so it'd catch her attention for a split second and in the following second my right leg stepped back swiftly for balance. My hands flew forward and when she turned her head forward slightly, realizing too late that I had turned right instead of left, I reached the rest of the way around her neck and snapped it.

She fell limp in front of me. My hands fell to my sides as I turned towards the male Strigoi, who now stared at his fellow partner, eyebrows raised.

I narrowed my eyes at him when he straightened and stared at me.

"I'm disappointed," I said, then looked back at Stan. "Does the Strigoi king seem fit to escort me with a foolish newly turned Strigoi?" I demanded.

"She will do," was all Stan said, then turned on his foot and walked a few paces away from us.

The male Strigoi snickered, before giving me a sideward glance. "She'll be even more foolish when awoken," he said, then his tone turned serious. "I am equipped to protect you myself, she's just extra."

"Extra what?"

"Disposable baggage," he said with a sweet smile.

I promptly walked away.

Sometimes after conversing with Strigoi, it's entirely probable to forget that they're emotionless killing machines when they seem so…normal. Aside from the deathlike pale skin and the red trimmed eyes, they looked completely the same. They're selfish, compulsive beings and it's of no surprise to see that they share no love for one another. I had no doubt that the woman would be 'disposed' of if she got on his nerve enough.

Still, they're repulsive and it'd take a lot of time, effort and patience to deal with them on such a long voyage.

I came up beside Stan, and crossed my arms across my chest.

"Commander, I-"

"Look forward, Rose," he said, his tone was neutral.

I frowned at him before complying. Before us was Eilean Donan…home. The curtain wall that protected our sanctuary stood bold and strong and Eilean Donan looked almost majestic within…had it not looked so black.

"Eilean Donan," Commander said, before brushing his hand across his face, as if he was drained from exhaustion. Unlike before, I accessed him and realized he was tired. No longer was he the young man and the sort of reckless nature he used to own. Now he was simply older but a younger version of what his father had been, and yet so much worse.

"What worries you, Commander?" I asked.

He momentarily bit the inside of his lip before turning to me. "You do, Rose."

His revelation would have caught me off guard if I hadn't known him any better.

"This mission," Stan started, then sighed softly as if he regretted saying anything more. Stan was a man of few words, all of which were of seriousness and of no playful matter attached, ever. He was troubled, as always.

Near the curtain wall was a moving light and after turning towards the mysterious light I noticed a lone warrior moving across the bridge with a flickering lantern leading three stallions towards Stan and I.

I noticed with a pang in my heart that Banter was one of them. The day of Arthur's murder, the horses were ridden back before they bothered taking Arthur's and Serena's bodies, along with the others, back to Eilean Donan for a proper burial. I was beaten up in the process so sometime later I assumed that those who came back for the horses and bodies were a long way ahead of myself and those who stayed for the beating.

The warrior dismounted from the middle stallion and I realized then who he was.

Ryan.

After bowing his respects to Stan, he didn't so much as look in my direction as he quickly made his way back to the castle.

On cue, Banter moved forward towards me. I smiled, and brushed the strands of his perfect knot-free hair from his eyes before patting his cheek. It was one of the only times I've been able to see him since that day. He breathed out softly as I moved around him and swiftly jumped into the saddle and grabbed the reins.

"This mission," Stan started again. He briefly regarded my stallion before locking eyes with me. "It is not exactly a simple golden hit to the heart and the queen suddenly drops where she stands." He then held his hand out and I briefly hesitated before giving him the reins. He moved forward and Banter followed. Stan walked until we were facing the loch surrounding Eilean Donan.

"You'll be committing treason and, of course, I have no doubt you'll be able to escape without much hassle. But," he paused. "If you are caught and tortured, you are on your own, Rose. This must not come back to us, although the Moroi will likely suspect it. For this reason, I suggest a plan to you before you depart."

"Commander Stan," the Strigoi interrupted, coming up short to my left on one of the stallions with the woman draped across his lap. "We were scheduled to have left by now-"

"Then, by all means, Isaiah, start upon your journey. Rose will follow."

And just like that, Stan dismissed the Strigoi. Isaiah gave Stan a tightly thinned smile before motioned his stallion to the right, with the reins of the remaining horse, and trotted away from us.

After watching him go, Stan turned back to me. "I propose you plant a suspect in the Moroi's heads, differ them from the killer, being you, and instead towards another figure – someone who they wouldn't suspect. One thing to learn about the Moroi is their love for gossip, the never-ending dull chatter they all seem to engage in."

"Understood, Commander."

"Be warned, Rosemarie. The Moroi were put in power, as they are thought to be superior to dhampirs. But mull over this. Has there ever been a truly successful king or queen that remained hidden behind his or her protectors throughout their rein?"

"No," I said sternly. "They'd be the first ones to run towards the enemy, to be in the frontline and protect their people, not be protected by their people."

"The Moroi are useless beings and don't deserve the right to rule and sit behind lines of their people. They must be stopped. The Moroi have never been courageous people…now their queen is attempting to awaken this courage within her people, but all it is really doing is quickening her murder. Her head is on the line, and my guess is another Moroi will be behind the murder, because why should they have to risk their necks when they've never had to?"

The queen…the only Moroi royal in history to ever speak of the Moroi engaging in battle. How many Moroi cowards would be after her head? Surely they'd band together, forming a plan to remove her from the throne.

If the entire Moroi race owned the same courage as their queen did and not enslave dhampirs into guardianship, then perhaps the Moroi wouldn't be as much of nuisance as current, or in the past.

Which meant killing her was an essential piece to the puzzle. The ultimate puzzle of destruction. First the queen, then her people, leaving the Strigoi as the final piece. The Resistance would rein supreme and we'd have no further enemies and then possibly lead normal lives, as Meredith and I had hoped.

"My mission isn't just to assassinate her," I said, pausing. "It's to get there first to deal the final blow."

"We'll have another edge on the Strigoi if we're the ones to kill her, but that will be invalid if someone else that wasn't from the Resistance were to do it first. First her, then the Strigoi king. I'm counting on you to bring back home our prize – her head."

The breeze picked up and the strands that escaped my braid flew across my face, however my eyes never left Stan.

"You have my word that she'll be coming back with me, Commander. Dead or alive."

A/N: Hello readers! Please review and let me know what you think!