.:Giving In:.

Igorance was a fine country: my uncle had always made sure of that. The land was prosperous, economically strong, more so than my father's land. Igorance was also the perfect place for me to recuperate after my long, frightening experience at the hands of the Dark Knights. Where once I would have laid on sofas, eating fruit and reading, daydreaming, and wishing myself a better life, with the safety and kindness of King Rychard's household, I refused to let myself be idle. As soon as the healers gave in to my constant pestering, I was out of my bed and wandering around the castle, looking for something to do. I'd never been to Igorance, though my stepmother/aunt, Queen Catheryn, had told me many stories about the place. As soon as my muscles felt stronger, I began the tiring job of convincing Uncle Rychard that even women needed to know how to wield a blade. Soon, my days were filled with sword and archery practice, and I even managed to get one of my uncle's sorcerers to teach me a little more about magic. Even if my magic didn't improve much, my self defence lessons were coming along in leaps and bounds. My tutors said I was a natural with the blade, that I would have been a ideal candidate for the royal guard, but a member of the family did not join the ranks of the commoners unless they were not legally recognised as a member. I took the compliments with a smile and another swing of the blade, relishing in the freedom I got from my new-found hobbies.

But, deep down, I knew I was just trying to keep Myron from my mind.

Five weeks into my activities, my uncle called me to his study. I was fresh out of training, my legs and arms still padded, my face red with effort. Uncle Rychard rose to greet me and smiled as I bowed as my brother would have done so, ignoring the sweat that poured down my face and soaked my clothes. The King of Igorance pinched my cheek fondly, as though I were a little child again, then asked, "What have you done with my sweet little niece? I barely recognise the fearsome young warrior before me!"

"Harte says I'm getting to old to be playing knights," I replied, quoting from the letter I had received from my brother not four days before. "He says Bacall is rethinking the marriage proposal: a woman who would rather swing a sword than leap into bed with him causes his ringed fingers to tremble with fear."

My uncle pretended not be amused, though I could see from the way his eyes danced that he was laughing inwardly. "Your fighting skills are not the only thing growing, Eloryn, my dear. Your courage is a far greater thing than what it was when you were just a child; you are even more like your mother now." The King turned to face the window that offered him a breathtaking view of his bustling capital. "But we have serious matters to discus, you and I, both of which you have just spoken of. Bacall is pressing for new marriage arrangements between he and yourself, and your father...your father wishes for you to return home."

I stepped back, alarmed. "What?"

"I have told him you are hardly ready for such a tiring journey, but Oren is being persistent." Uncle Rychard hung his head. "I can't keep you from Bacall forever, my dear, as much as I wish I could. You return home in two weeks time – it was the best I could do without provoking your father into declaring war on me!" he said quickly, as I opened my mouth to complain. "Eloryn, I hate Bacall as much as the next man, but I can't help it! You aren't my daughter, so I have no say in the matter!"

"What is your other piece of news?" I asked quietly, resigning myself to my fate. "I shan't say a word on the last, I promise."

"The Dark Knights have been spotted in the outskirts of Ordania. The renegade Knight who you claimed helped you escape had been cornered in a remote part of the moorlands there, pitted against four others, but my men broke their fight up. Two of the five demons present were killed; eighteen of my men were lost."

I moved to the wall, bracing myself against it as my knees grew weak. I started at my uncle, heart burning with worry. "And...the renegade?"

"He made it out safely," the King answered, and suddenly I could hold back my feelings no longer. I slumped to the ground as my knees gave way, weeping with relief. Rychard was at my side in seconds, kneeling besides me as he pulled my face up to him. When I tried to pull away, he hushed me, staring into my eyes intently. "You weren't brainwashed, were you?" he asked quietly, then frowned. "You really have feelings for that renegade. Do you realise how---"

"That I have a love for a man that I can never be with? That I'm a fool? That I'm some little whore?" I spat that last two words out, shocking my uncle. "Please, Majesty. I've heard it before, both from...the Dark Knight leader and from my own conscience."

I tried to shake my head in answer to his first question, but my muscles betrayed me: I nodded, biting my lip to stop my tears. "Please, Uncle, you can't tell my father, or Bacall. Not even Harte! Uncle, please, I am begging you!"

Rychard sighed and kissed my forehead gently. "What did my brother-in-law do to deserve a daughter like you? Eloryn, you must forget that other man – it cannot be."

He helped me stand, hugging me briefly before he said, "Go now. Enjoy yourself here as much as you can. Gods know, this may be the last time you can be yourself for a while. Neither your father nor Bacall will allow you to continue training as you have been." I bowed and turned to leave, brushing the tears away from my eyes. "Eloryn?" I turned. "I have...have arranged a masked ball in your honour, before you go. My sister Catheryn tells me you have never attended one before."

"I have not." My heart lifted a little: I'd always wanted to go to a masked ball, but my father said assassins and other monsters took advantage of those situations, and that he would not have one hosted in our palace. "That sounds lovely, Uncle."

"I'm sure you'll enjoy it very much," Rychard said cheerfully, then sighed. "Your mother loved masked balls, especially the ball when our father introduced her to the young King of Tirrius." I started, staring at him in surprise. "Four months later, the two were wed. You are dismissed, Eloryn."

Fancy Father ever having an interest in a social life! I thought as I wandered out of the room. I paused to think it over, but found it incredibly hard to picture my father dancing or smiling. What's the use? The less I think of that old goat, the better!

My dream. Myron was standing on the dirt track, looking about himself tiredly. I ran at him, saw his face light up with joy, and suddenly I was in his arms, being swung round in the air as Myron laughed. "Eloryn! I've been searching for you, but you haven't been here!" He lowered me to the ground and pressed his lips up against mine, his hands on my back and my face all too real a sensation for me not to cry.

"They said you were in a fight!" I gasped, when we came up for air. "Myron, tell me the Dark Knights aren't ---"

"They're trying to kill me," Myron said bluntly, then sighed. For the first time that night, I looked at him. There were a few grey streaks in his hair, testimony to where the battles with the Dark Knights were draining him. "I won't let them, though. I'm going to Queen Heldrida."

I couldn't believe his words. "The witch-queen? Myron, won't she back the Dark Knights?"

"No," Myron replied quietly, the hesitated. "She is an ex-lover of mine, Eloryn. She said she owes me, and this is as fitting a time to pay her a visit. Elan would never dare to cross her." My suddenly flare of jealousy must have shown in my eyes, for Myron suddenly chuckled and kissed me again. "Heldrida isn't a threat to you, my love. She tires of her lovers after a while, and never gives an invitation more than five times. I like fighting for you."

"Just don't die trying," I whispered, pressing my nose to the open V of his shirt so I could inhale his scent. "Myron, my father is sending for me. He wants me to marry King Bacall as soon as possible, I fear. But I don't want to go! I want to be with you!"

My dream was shattered as a maid pulled back the curtains, allowing the morning light to come spilling into my room. I lay very still, keeping my eyes closed as though waitingfor Myron to appear back in my mind. But he never did, and it was time to face another day.

The masquerade ball was more beautiful than I had ever imagined possible. Women in breathtaking gowns and stunning masks were whisked about the floor by men in equally elaborate masks. My uncle and his queen joined the couples on the floor, leaving me alone with my cousins, who were eyeing up anything in trousers.

"Damn these masks!" my cousin, Princess Amylan, muttered bitterly. "It's all right we can speak to them, but I want to see their faces!"

"I prefer eyes," I replied, observing the dancers with an ache. No one had yet been able to muster the courage to asked Bacall's would-be fiancé to dance. "Eyes don't lie like a face does."

"Oh, I never knew you were a romantic, Ellie!" Princess Tanmar giggled, pinching my shoulder. "Father says you spend more time playing with swords than reading poetry!"

I jumped as Amylan began to tap my shoulder furiously, nodding towards a group of men. "Ellie, he's looking at you! The man over there!"

"Which mask is he wearing?" Tanmar asked excitedly, squinting over towards the group. "I can't see him!"

"The one with the black fathers," Amylan hissed, then faltered. "Oh my goodness! Ellie, he's coming over! He's definitely coming for you!"

I smiled as the man bowed lowly to us, but saw immediately his eyes were on Tanmar rather than Amylan or I. The girl jumped, obviously surprised, then allowed herself to be lead away to the dance floor, while purposefully ignoring Uncle Rychard as he paused from his own dancing to view the man holding his daughter's arm. "I honestly thought he was going to ask you," Amylan said sadly, then shrugged. "I fancy some more punch! Eloryn, will you accompany me?"

"I'd...I'd like a dance," someone said behind me, making me nearly drop my glass. "If you wouldn't mind." Amylan gaped in surprise as I turned to the masked man behind me, trembling violently. His crystal blue eyes danced humorously behind a simple grey mask as I stared at him, his black hair looking neatly brushed and cleaned. "Hello."

"What are you doing here?" I hissed, horrified. Myron grinned and offered me his arm, and I took it quickly, afraid he would vanish into thin air if I didn't have a hold of him. "Myron, has your brother scrambled your brain? I thought you were going to...her!"

"I am," Myron answered, leading me, unresisting, toward the floor. "I was on my way, heard there was a party, and thought I'd gatecrash." He turned and took hold of me, his touch devastatingly strong yet gentle at the same time. "This was the best I could do to see you in short notice."

I was suddenly being whisked around the floor with the other couples, dancing along in time to the fast, lively music of the orchestra. Myron was a surprisingly good dancer, and I suddenly found myself laughing as I held on to him. "You are either very brave or incredibly stupid!"

"A little of both, I think," he confessed, and then lowered his mouth to my ear, his lips tickling my skin, teasing. "This mask is much nicer than my old one, don't you think?"

"Come back with me," I begged suddenly, before I knew what I was saying. We both started, surprised by my abrupt invitation. "Back to my rooms. No one will notice I'm gone."

Myron stared at me for a moment, eyes filled with a mixture of shock and excitement. Then, to my relief, he nodded.

"You have to have death wish, coming here!" I gasped, as I felt Myron's hands pulled at the lace of my bodice. "Myron, please!" I pulled his head closer to mine, sighing as he eagerly returned my kiss. The lace came undone, and I helped him pull the gown away from my body. My mind was screaming no; my body was screaming yes. I was confused, unsure of what to do. The skin of his cool hands felt tough over my back and up my neck, betraying his years of unfair toiling and labour. "Myron!"

He stepped forwards, moving me back towards the bed. He nearly tripped on the abandoned gown, only just managing to regain his balance by grabbing my shoulders in order to steady himself. We met each other's eyes and laughed foolishly, almost crazily, until both of us had tears in our eyes. Then Myron pulled his tunic up over his head, revealing the taught muscles of his chest beneath. I immediately stopped laughing, amazed by the sight once more – I'd almost forgotten who good his torso had looked before. I placed a hand against his naval, moving my fingers upwards over his chest to his neck.

Then he literally picked me up off the floor, slamming my smaller body against the wall but not so that he winded me. He kissed me again, hard, hands roaming up my body. My heart pounded madly, adrenaline rushing through my veins as Myron turned his attention to my breasts. I let him touch, let him kiss, let him suck, feeling like my heart would surely explode, breath short gasps, body shaking violently. Myron moaned as he felt himself rouse and he lowered his head to my neck, teeth biting firmly into my pale flesh. I could do nothing more but gasp and grit my teeth.

"Eloryn," I heard him rasp against my ear, voice ragged with emotion. "Eloryn, I--"

"Don't," I begged, making Myron start and look at me once more. I shook my head. "Don't tell me that you love me, Myron. Not unless you truly mean it."

He pressed his nose against mine, then kissed my forehead lightly. "I love you. I mean it with all my heart!"

To my humiliation, I started to cry. Myron gently lowered me to the ground, pulling my face back up to meet his, concern clear in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but I merely pressed a finger up against his mouth and smiled. "I love you too, Myron! Gods help me, I do love you!"

Myron's smile nearly touched his ears. "Really? Do you...do you really mean that?"

"Yes!"

He stroked my cheek, then glanced towards my bed. "But you are right, Eloryn," he mumbled quietly. "We shouldn't allow ourselves to grow foolish. For all I love you, if we truly expressed that love, I could hurt you in more ways than one." He grinned as I tried to protest. "What would Bacall say?"

I pouted. "Bacall? I don't care about him, Myron! I don't want to marry him – I want to be with you!"

"I'm still on the run from the Dark Knights, Eloryn," Myron pointed out bitterly. "It would be too dangerous." He sighed and backed away, reaching for his tunic. I stepped forwards and grabbed his arm, making him pause and look at me. "Eloryn, I have to go. I can't stay here."

"Don't leave me like this!" I begged quietly, then blushed. "I don't want to have to marry Bacall and never experience what real love is! I want to know what it feels like to lie with the man I really do love, Myron. Please? Make love to me?"

He fought back a grin. Myron coughed to try and hide his smile, dropping his tunic to the ground as he turned to face me once more. He held out his hand, and I took it obediently. Again I was lifted into his powerful arms. "I suppose one night can't hurt. And I'll be gentle with you," he promised quickly, as he lay me down on the bed. "I promise I will be."

I smiled up at him as he fumbled to undo his trousers. Already his hardness was painfully apparent through the black material. "Thank you, Myron."

"I love you," Myron whispered again, finally lying down atop of me. I gasped as he pushed himself up against me, alarmed by how much bigger he felt than I. "I'm sorry for being... I'm sorry!"

Then he surged forwards, pushing himself into me with such force that my back arched in his arms. I whimpered with pain as he began to pull slowly out of me again, only to push back into me until he could go no further just seconds before we could be separated. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he began to kiss at my neck once more, wanting only to cling to him for dear life. What followed still remains clear in my mind: pain, sadness, joy, fear, and comfort was just some of the things I found in his arms. Other feelings I had no name for, but they were blissfully wonderful. I knew for the first time in my life what it felt like to be of one body with another person, being so close to Myron that I felt as though we could never be parted. I never wanted to be parted from him!

Life had other ideas.

I woke slowly, feeling dazed. Then I remembered Myron, what we had shared, all that we had done during those moonlight hours. I smiled as I remembered, and reached out for him. My hand closed over the soft material of my covers, and I immediately shot upright in bed. I glanced desperately around the room, eyes frantically searching for Myron.

He wasn't there!

I scanned the room desperately, searching for the tiniest sign of Myron. My gown lay draped modestly across the back of the screen. My bed looked neat and undisturbed, save for where I slept. Even Myron's decorative mask had vanished. There was nothing left at all in the room to show any sign that the wanted Dark Knight had been in there last night. With me. In me.

"He didn't even say goodbye," I whispered, then lay back down and gazed numbly up at the ceiling. The passion of the previous night filled my head, and I clamped my eyes shut against the memories, which were now too bitter and painful to bear thinking about. "Myron? Please don't leave me. Please."

But he didn't hear my quiet pleas, for he had long since fled the castle walls.

I was back home, facing Papa, my brother and King Bacall after weeks of trying constantly to avoid my unwanted fate. My face was a blank mask, eyes cast down to the floor at my feet. Papa took one look at my face, sucked his teeth, then clapped his hands. "Speak, girl! Be quick about it!"

I lifted my eyes from the floor, clasping my trembling hands behind my back so that neither of the men could see. "I will marry King Bacall, if it pleases Your Majesties," I whispered. Bacall leaned forwards in his seat, a superior look on his smooth face. Harte did not look so pleased and, as he rose to his feet, his eyes burned with the concern and fear only a devoted brother could feel for his baby sister.

He wasn't even the slightest careful in forming his next words, and the insult showed on Bacall's face. "But does the marriage please my sister?"

Don't cry! I curtsied lowly. "It does."

"Then it shall be!" our father shouted, clapping his hands again. He turned and embraced my future husband, saying, "Bacall, my boy, I said she'd come round!"

Harte stared at me. He stared so long and so hard, I feared he knew what I had done with Myron, and that I had missed three of my monthly bleeds. I was terrified: I was carrying the illegitmate child of one of the land's most hunted men! If anyone found out... I couldn't bear to think of what would lie in store for me or my child. Sometimes, late at night, I'd place my hands over my stomach and wish the baby would go away, that it had never happened, but secretly I knew I it wasn't the baby's fault - I'd been the one who'd given in to my desire for Myron. I didn't know whether to hate myself, hate Myron, hate the child, or be pathetically overjoyed. I hadn't dreamed of Myron for many weeks now, so I was dreading having to tell him my news. What would I say? How would he react? I needed to marry Bacall quickly, consumate a marriage, and claim that this repulsive womaniser was my child's father. I knew it would kill me to lie like that, but I risked my own execution if I did not. What could I do?

Finally Harte walked towards me and embraced me gently, before leaving the room without so much as a word to his fellow men. Father ignored his obvious insult, hauling Bacall out of his seat and down the stairs towards me.

"Daughter, today you make me the happiest man in the world!" my father said, and for the first and only time in my life, he smiled at me. He really smiled at me! Just as any proud parent would do at his darling daughter. But I knew why he was so happy, and my responding smile was void of all feeling.

Father was only happy about the marriage because it meant he could finally see the back of the daughter he'd wanted to disappear since the day of her birth.

Pirate - Thank you for your support again! Hope this chapter wasn't too disturbing!

Jon – You are asking for trouble: Pay Back is in MY hands & you know it! Thanks though! XD

Everyone else, hope you enjoyed too! Llamas, Ginger-Bizkit!