AN: A short one today - maybe a longer one tomorrow :) Enjoy and thank you all SO MUCH for your support! As always, critique and suggestions are welcome!

~Voi


Theme 09: Reflection

It had been three days since their argument, three days since Logan had heard her voice or seen her face. Walking through the castle Logan had hoped to find her, to apologize for the words he had said, to beg her forgiveness if he had to. But like a ghost, she seemed to have simply disappeared.

"Rose?"

Muffled voices drew him towards the study door. There was an argument going on though he couldn't tell between whom through the thick oak door. Turning the knob, Logan was surprised to find both Benn Finn and Jasper poised over something that lay on the table between them.

"I'm telling you, if she was trying to run away she wouldn't have left this letter for him!" Jasper seemed exasperated, "We know the Queen, she is not one for cloak and dagger, at least not the way you are Benjamin Finn."

"And I'm telling you that she wrote the letter so that we could find out how much of a bastardher 'dear' brother is, as if we needed to be reminded!"

Stepping further into the room, Logan scowled at the blond ex-soldier before turning to Jasper, "What is this about Rose?"

There was a sense of unease within the room, a tension that reminded all three men of Albion before Rose had taken the throne. Uncomfortable though it was Logan repeated his question a second time, desperate for some kind of information.

Instead of words, a thin sheaf of paper was thrust into his hands, the writing delicate and clearly that of his sister. Moving towards the window so as to see the words more clearly, the more he read the more his stomach twisted into a cold knot.

"When did you find this?"

Looking up, dark eyes penetrating in their stare, Logan directed the question of Jasper once more, "I need to know."

"We found the letter about twenty minutes ago," Ben cut in, eyes frosty as he stared at the darker haired man, "Jasper found me an hour before that, said that Rose had been acting strangely these last couple of days. We were concerned, not that you would know anything about that."

Ignoring the snide remark, Logan folded the letter, pocketing it as he left the two men behind. Guilt weighed heavily upon him, it was only when he arrived at the stables, and saw the empty stall of his sister's favorite horse that he seemed to come back to himself.

Touching the letter one last time, the fallen King found himself in Millfield several hours later, sweat streaked but undaunted as he began searching the opulent village for some sign of Albion's beloved lady.

Rumors abounded, some farfetched, others more reasonable. And though he was sure the people meant to be helpful, it was only after much impatient questioning that he arrived at the site of an old cottage, long since defunct. Standing at the small walled gateway that defended the overgrown garden, Logan found himself thinking about all that had transpired to bring him here.

All his accusations, his words, all of her pain.

From where he stood he could see blood on wrought iron ornamentation and further down on the path the blood splatters grew larger, more numerous.

Don't let those be hers. Please, don't let those be hers.

The though repeated over and over in his head, an incessant mantra to keep the terrible twisting sensation in his stomach at bay.

"I wouldn't go in there if I was you."

Behind him a buxom serving woman had stopped on her way back from her master's home, "The monsters may be gone now, but that cottage is cursed, no two ways about it."

"I was told a female Hero was spotted around here." Logan gave her only a cursory glance before turning back to the home, "Do you know anything about that?"

"The lady Hero, you mean?"

The woman sounded surprised, "She arrived early this morning, said she would clean this place up, that she wouldn't stand for any more citizens being terrorized by Balverines or Bandits."

"You know… look just like her," the servant remarked after a long moment of examining him. "Well, maybe not exactly like her, but your coloring is close enough. She smiled more than you did though, well…before the fighting started, then she didn't smile so much. Balverines take a lot of concentration to kill, even for someone with magic."

As if the thought had just occurred to her the plucky woman turned large brown eyes up at him, "Do you cast magic too?"

At Logan's penetratingly icy silence, the woman returned to her story, "In any case, she cleaned Millfield right up; all by herself she took care of those beasts. But mind you, it wasn't without cost. The blood out here isn't the worst of it; it was everywhere inside that cottage and rumor has it that not all of it was Balverine."

"She was hurt?" The cold in Logan's stomach intensified, until he was sure he was going to be sick, "Did you see what happened?"

"Oh no, of course not." Smiling cheerfully the curvy woman shrugged, "I just heard it from Lucy who saw it from across the way. Poor Hero, Lucy said that she was facing off with this white one, Balverine that is, and just as she ran it though the thing sank its claws right through her."

Logan felt as if claws were sinking right into him, "Did she die?"

"Die?" The servant sounded incredulous, "Of course not! Hurt of course, I wouldn't worry about it too much though."

"And why not?"

Logan felt close to panic as his eyes flickered up to where the rundown cottage sat upon the hill, feeling ill at the thought that the blood on those walls belonged to his sister.

"I've heard it on good word that Master Reaver, you've heard of him I'm sure, found her and took her home with him."

"Reaver?"

Distantly Logan heard himself repeat the man's name. Blind to all but the monstrous mansion that dominated the Millfield waterfront, Logan felt a wave of nausea threaten to overtake him. If Rose was indeed still alive and if Reaver had 'rescued' her then it was only for one purpose. And as he urged his horse into action it was with a rising sense of panic that Logan acknowledged that that purpose was surely not a noble one.