Author's Note: Special thanks to Take Your Bow for all the reviews ! Glad you're enjoying it.

This one's turning into an epic, and the conclusion is so far over the horizon I think I will make two separate stories, the second of which will cover a different faerytale. I may also be changing the rating on this soon....we'll see.

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She remained rooted to the spot, her eyes suddenly wild.

"But…I guessed right," she stammered, "that is your name ! I guessed right !"

"You did. But I still require the child. We will leave after dark tomorrow, but I will take the child from the city first, and come back for you."

"How will I know you will come back ?" her voice was panicked, hysterical.

"Trust me." His voice was calm, and though she fought against it, she believed him.

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She rested as well as she was able all the next day, though her nerves were stretched to snapping point and the fretful whimperings of the baby every time the slave picked her up kept her from entering a deep sleep. She felt haggard and weary when Teku's guards came for her. She was surprised not to see the Prince himself, since he made a habit of escorting her to and from the little spinning room himself.

"He is unwell, mistress," one guard said, and bowed low. She flicked a glance at her slave, but his face betrayed nothing. She wondered how unwell the Prince was.

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Three hours after the guards had locked her in, her slave finally came through. She had been wondering if he was false after all, and had abandoned her. He shut the door carefully behind him, then crouched down in the straw beside her. He wore a hooded cloak, and carried one for her, a plain black priest's robe that would hide her form and her face. She put it on with shaking hands.

"You doubted me." It was a simple statement, spoken with gravity. She looked at him, blushing.

"You have no real reason to take me too," she said. He tied the neck cords of the hood for her, his eyes distant.

"You'd rather stay here ?"

"No, but why….?"

"We have to go quickly, princess," he interrupted her. He opened the door, slowly and quietly, then checked the corridor. The Prince never posted guards, being convinced that he had the only key and that she couldn't escape, but it was always wise to be cautious.

Sanna followed him along the cold corridors, not to her chambers, but further out to the back of the castle where a small door just past the kitchens opened out into one of the gardens. He lifted her over the slumped bodies of two guards who lay dead in the path, his earlier work, then took her through the gardens to the palace walls. Here, he removed several stones from the wall, concealed by a profusion of ivy, and pushed her through, following as soon as she was clear.

She stood on the plain, the night wind chill and strong. She felt his strong hands on her shoulders, reassuring her, then he placed her child in her arms. She wept for joy at the sight of the baby sleeping peacefully, then rounded on him.

"Black arum here, too ?" she hissed. He flinched at her tone.

"Don't think me a fool," he snarled, "the smallest amount would kill an infant ! I used valerian, princess."

"Stop calling me that," she said, "I have guessed your name, so you can use mine."

He bowed.

"Sanna," he said, and it was as if her name took the form of a small bird, fluttering about his lips and tongue on a light breeze. Her heart beat a little faster, and she turned her attention to her baby. Her slave beckoned her to follow him, setting off across the plain at a fair pace, towards a small copse of withered hawthorns that bent low in the wind. He had mounts concealed there, two sturdy ponies, and they mounted, Sanna still clutching her daughter close. She didn't ask where, or how, he'd gotten the ponies. She realised that she would probably not like the answer.

"How long have we got ?" she asked him as they rode. He turned, his hair streaming in the wind. Somewhere, he'd unbound it from the slave plait, and it hung loose to his waist, making him look even stranger, no longer a man she could command, but a creature of strength and freedom.

"The prince will die today," he said, as she drew alongside him, "I gave him enough black arum to ensure it would take a while, but too much for him to recover. Unless his physicians know something I don't."

"I hope they don't," she said in a small voice. She hated the prince, but murder ? She looked at her slave, and shuddered.

"Páron," she said. He turned back again.

"Yes ?"

"You're no longer my slave. I give you your freedom."

His eyes were unreadable, and she realised that he'd already taken his freedom for granted. He merely bowed, however, acknowledging her offer.

"Thank you, Sanna," he said.

"So how long have we got ?"

"Until they look for us, and discover us gone," he said, "I cannot tell if that will be before the prince dies, or after. Either way, we need to ride fast."

They flew over the grasslands, trying to put as much distance as possible between them and the city before the alarm was sounded and the hounds set upon their trail. Páron rode alongside her, taking his turn at carrying Sanna's baby to let Sanna rest. He rode with a long knife in his hand when he wasn't carrying the baby, and she found herself staring at his hands, hands that held her baby so gently, but had killed with a nonchalance that made her shiver.

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The sun was reaching its zenith when they reached a river, wide and shallow. Páron drew rein. His ice-green eyes scanned the horizon from whence they'd come, searching for signs of a pursuit. He was confident that the alarm would not have been raised until sun-up, so that the hunters would be several hours behind them.

"Rest," he said, and Sanna slid gratefully off her pony. She took her child from him, and turned away to nurse. After a few moments, she became aware of Páron's eyes on her, and turned to glare at him.

"She is a quiet child," he remarked softly. His lips curved upwards in a smile, and he pulled off his boots and leapt down the low bank into the clear waters of the river. She watched him drink, and splash the water over his head, feeling suddenly thirsty. He filled a skin and took it to her, along with a hunk of good white bread he'd filched from the kitchens, then sat beside her on the bank. A buzzard shrieked overhead, and Páron's head snapped back to look for it. He rose to his feet and followed the bird with his eyes as it swooped and cruised the wind, circling above them three times before flying off to the West. Without a word, he pulled his boots back on and went to gather up the ponies.

"Come," he said, standing by her stirrup. She sighed, and tucked herself away, and allowed him to help her up onto her pony.

"So soon ? That was hardly resting !"

"Long enough," he replied curtly, mounting his own pony. He gathered up the reins in one hand, and leaned over for the baby, cradling her in the crook of his arm as he rode. She gurgled happily at him, and he grinned.

"A little farther, and you can rest," he told Sanna, urging her to keep up with him, "not far now. Can you manage ?"

"I think so," she said, but she could feel the heaviness in her body that spoke of the need to sleep. She wondered, several hours later, how far his idea of "not far" actually was. Certainly it was further than she'd hoped. She struggled to keep her eyes open, and swayed dangerously in her saddle. He noticed, but said nothing, did nothing, and kept up the punishing pace, though he kept glancing at her, his face worried. Just as she was about to demand he stop, or fall from her saddle, he halted, a little ahead of her, and waited for her to catch up.

"Look," he said, pointing across the horizon. She looked, and saw only a grey line on the horizon at first, but then the sun flashed on steel, and she gasped.

"Who is it ?"

"Oberon," he grinned, showing even white teeth in his tanned face.