"Annnnd that's all I have time for today, princess."

Rocking up onto his feet, Ben turned and grinned at her. She'd been sitting there for nearly an hour and a half, completely silent save the little gasp she uttered when he got to the point where her mother shot Saker right between the eyes. That in itself was enough for him to question if the girl at his side was even the same one from the night before. Valerie very rarely sat still, and her silence was even more of an oddity.

"Another cliffhanger, Ben?" she asked, looking up at him with the single most unamused expression he'd ever seen. Which was surprising, considering how intimately he knew Page. "Can't you just get to a logical stopping point?"

Ben lifted his index into the air. The smile on his mouth only widened. Oh, but he knew very well how to deal with women in this situation. "Ah, but that wasn't a cliffhanger. A true cliffhanger would've been stopping just before she chose to kill or spare Saker. Now you don't have to sit and fret about that for a few days until I can get back to the castle and continue on."

Val popped up at that. "A few days? What do you mean a few days!"

"Exactly what I said, princess," he replied, pulling at his coat until his epaulets were poised perfectly on his shoulders. "I have important General business to be done in on the coast."

"Kalin's arriving from Aurora for her yearly visit," Val said, crossing her arms. Her poker face was almost as impressive as the one belonging to his darling dear. How a girl of seventeen could match her, he'd never know. Not that he'd ever tell her; no matter how lucrative his position, no amount of coin could make a couch more comfortable than a bed. "I'd hardly call that important General business."

Ben pursed his lips. What exactly did one say to something like that? 'Oh, you're right, of course. I'm hurrying down to the coast to personally deliver one of the Queen's friends to her doorstep because I'm about to go bloody insane from seeing nothing but Bowerstone for months on end' didn't seem like the most diplomatic of answers. "And just what would you consider it then? I'm the General. This is my business. I consider it important. Therefore it's important General business, ain't it?"

"In the loosest sense of the word," she muttered, sitting back down with a huff and a puff of her skirts. "Next thing you'll tell me is that my mother considers bringing a letter from Bowerstone to Brightwall a quest of some importance for the crown."

"Well..."

Val scoffed, her eyes rolling upwards as she crossed her arms again. She paused, though, the moment thoughts began to turn in her head. Rolling her neck back in his direction, she gave him a little smile. "If that's true, I believe you should expound upon it. For the sake of making good on your word. I am truly curious."

"You're a snake is what you are," Ben laughed. "Stop trying to get stories out of me. We will continue this at a leisurely pace or we won't continue it at all. What I'm doing is important, whether if you see the importance of it or not."

"Oh, come on!" Val whined. "Tell me more! I want to know what Sir Walter thought of what happened to Saker. I want to know why my mother killed him. I want to know what happened! I want –"

Ben stopped her. "And I want a golden gilded pony who passes pearls after every meal, but it's not going to happen."

"Beeeeen –"

"Oi! None of that. You're a princess, remember? Didn't your mother ever teach you how to act like one?" A thick blonde brow boosted high on his forehead. His amusement wove deep into his words, and she wanted to huff enough louder because of it. He was mocking her. "When I first met your mother, she was nothing but polite. Quiet, too..." He trailed off, noting the slightly brighter look on her face. "No! You won't get any more out of me. I have to go and speak to Sabrina. Don't you have lessons to attend anyway?"

Val looked utterly crestfallen at the mention of her studies. "Hobson's supposed to be teaching me about the economy today. Teach me how to count the sodding gold and nothing more. Except for maybe how to steal it off people who need it."

Reaching out, Ben gave her shoulder a conciliatory pat. "I'm sure Page is around here somewhere," he said softly, his previous smirk turning into a warm curve of a smile. "She's been wanting to help you with your aim. You've been focusing too much on your swordplay anyway. Using a pistol's just as important, yanno."

"Hobson claims I get gunpowder all over my clothes when I go to the range," she said, her hands stroking over the white fabric of her skirts. "He said swordplay is more graceful and befitting of a princess if she must learn to fight."

"Your brothers don't seem to have any trouble finding time to do both."

The princess' jaw twitched. "Yes, well, my brothers can get up and leave when it's their turn for their other studies." When she next spoke, it was in a slightly deeper, grumbling tone, clearly not befitting either of her brothers, but meant to poke fun at them. "What good'll etiquette do me? I'm a big boy. I don't need that toss to find me a lady." Clearing her throat, she laced her fingers together in her lap. "The only worthwhile ladies in court would rather have me shoot them in the foot due to poor aim than marry either of them. Being next in line for the throne is the only thing going for Sam."

"Your gossiping is keeping me from talking to your mother, Val," Ben said plainly, "If I lose my head just because I lingered to listen to your rather poor impression of your brothers, I'll be very upset."

"Fine, fine," she waved a hand at him. "I'll just ask Page to finish up for you."

Ben had been halfway turned in the direction of the path leading up to the castle when he stopped cold. Turning on his heel, he looked at her, an expression torn between surprise and offense crossing his features. "And why would you do that, huh?"

Lifting a hand, Valerie began admiring her nails. Hook, line, and sinker – if anyone even began to think that Valerie made a horrible princess due to her not being of Queen Sabrina's blood, they'd be dead wrong. All it took was living in the castle to learn the ins and outs of nobility; blood didn't have anything to do with it. "Page is concise. She'd tell me all the important parts and let me fill in all the blanks."

"Well that's because she's a rubbish storyteller." He paled a little, taking a quick step forward. "Don't tell her I said that."

"I won't tell her if you continue the story," Val said with a grin.

Ben's brows knitted inwards. "You're doing this on purpose. You know what Page'll do to me if she finds out I said something like that. She prides herself on her stories, but they're all bloody terrible. It's like listening to a dying cat." His blue eyes went wide for a moment before he gave himself a hearty smack to the forehead. "I can't believe I just said that."

He could hear Valerie's quiet giggling, and he looked at her over his hand, eyes narrowed. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" When she nodded, he let his hand fall to his side. "You know what? Fine. If I'm going to be blackmailed, I might as well go along with it. But I have to go tell your mum that I'll be somewhat late. And by somewhat, I mean very."

"Sounds like an excellent plan to me," Val said with an even bigger smile, like a cat who'd swallowed an entire roost of canaries. "I think I'll go sit in the library instead. It's getting warm out here, and I forgot my bonnet this morning."

"Of course it sounds like an excellent plan to you," he replied, shoulders bouncing in a shrug. "You're getting exactly what you want." Turning around, he began his trek up the pathway, mumbling to himself. She caught a few words here and there. Spoiled. Princess. Too damned wily for her own good. The latter far outshone the two former comments, enough to make her forget about them entirely.

Valerie rose from the bench a moment later, far more gracefully than she had before. Her hands went to the skirt of her dress, shifting it around her legs until everything was smoothed out as they were meant to be. Before she began making her way up to the castle, however, she paused, her eyes moving towards the statue of Sir Walter a few yards away.

For most of her life, she'd known him only as a statue – a tall, imposing memory that truly had no life in her mind. He was a name and a list of deeds and her mother's esteem. Nothing more. Things were different now. It was as if Ben had breathed life into the worn and weathered stone. Only now did she realize that the mouth that had always seemed so set had a hint of a smile in the very corner of it. How could she have never noticed it before? While she'd never taken the time to really look at the statue, she didn't think she was so absent-minded as to completely skip over something like that.

Narrowing her eyes up at the statue – though there was no annoyance in her gaze, only curiosity – she twisted on her feet and hurried up the path towards the castle.

Her steps were short, but swift, and she nearly knocked over someone as she rushed through the back door. Before she could topple over, she felt herself being both caught, lifted, and set right on her feet. Blinking in surprise, she looked towards the fellow she'd bumped into only to find herself staring directly into Daniel's freckled face.

"Uhm... your Highness?" another voice came from her side. This one was higher pitched, nothing like Daniel's warm tones. "I-I'm sorry for bumping into you like that."

Her attention flicked to the man who'd snatched her up from falling. He was head and shoulders shorter than his friend with a thatch of black hair and eyes that could be best described as tiny green beads. Nothing like the honey hues of – "Ah, yes, well, that's fine," she said, stepping back and dusting at her sleeves. When her gaze moved back to Daniel, she refused to take her eyes off him, just as he was having a very, very difficult time looking away from her. "Just watch where you're going next time, hm?"

When the smaller man rushed off, cheeks flaming, Daniel stayed behind. "Hello, your Highness." Biting back a small smile, he bowed at his waist. "You're looking well this morning."

"As are you," she replied, not even bothering to stem her own grin.

"Did you...?" He cleared his throat as politely as he could manage. "Did you get the flowers I picked for you this morning?" The question itself was meaningless; he knew she'd picked the dress she did to tell him that she had. The similarities between the blooms and what she wore couldn't have been coincidence.

Valerie nodded, her hands clasping together in front of her. "They were very beautiful, though... I imagine your father wouldn't be too happy if he knew you'd snipped some of his flowers."

"Maybe not," Daniel said, finally allowing himself a full smile. A dimple carved into his cheek as he lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck. "But I'm sure he wouldn't mind too much when he found out who they were for. He knows you like them."

"He knows I like flowers, but he doesn't know which ones." Rocking onto the balls of her feet, she bit down on her bottom lip, suddenly ten shades of shy. "Only you pay enough attention to know that."

It was Daniel's turn to blush, a bright red blooming across his cheeks as he shifted on his feet. She couldn't help but stare at him, her eyes going wide in adoration unable to be hinged. "I only know that you like them, your Highness; I don't mean anything by it. Nothing untoward or anything."

"Of course," she said, nodding. "I... I'll go now. I'll talk to you some other time?"

The statement sounded more like a question, propelling him forward a step in the direction he'd been going anyway. "I'd like that," he murmured, flashing a little smile at her before hurrying off after his friend, who'd long since disappeared into the connecting hallway.

Val found herself standing in the hallway for a long time after he left. Her hand pressed to the very bottom of her corseted middle, chest rising and falling as she strove to catch whatever breath he'd taken away after he walked past. She shouldn't let anyone effect her like that, especially not someone working in her mother's employ. It wasn't what was expected of her; there were so many other... opportunities. Why did she have to stumble directly into the one she shouldn't have?

As she made her way in the direction of the library, casually nodding to everyone who said good morning, she wondered if her mother had ever felt this way about her feelings for Sir Walter. She had no doubt in her mind that her grandmother had a plan for her daughter, just as her mother no doubt had plans for her. Had she wondered if her feelings were wrong? If she'd be better off with someone her age or her rank, at the very least?

Sucking her bottom lip into her mouth, Val pushed into the library to find it completely empty save for the dark, polished furniture and the loads of books. It was certainly something to consider once she let herself collapse onto one of the cushioned seats scattered around the room.

Ben found her there not fifteen minutes later, her head tilted back, eyes focused on both the ceiling and nothing in particular, ankles crossed as she'd been taught long ago. "The Queen said I've got two hours, and then I have to go," he said, crossing the long room to sit onto the chair next to hers. His posture had never improved, shoulders slouching slightly despite the stiffness of his coat. "That should be enough to get us to Mourningwood." He grinned when she turned her attention from her thoughts to what he was saying. "And the infinitely more interesting part of the story, if I say so myself."

"And do you?" she asked, her cheek pressed against the high back of the chair. When he cocked a brow at her, she chuckled. "Do you say so yourself?"

"Huh, I believe I do, yes."

Val laughed then, toeing off her shoes and pulling her feet up onto the couch. "If memory serves, that's where she first met you, Ben," she began, her hands smoothing over the fabric of her skirt. "And the rest of the men stationed at Mourningwood fort. So it's either your ego speaking or your esteem for Major Swift that forms your opinion."

"Cheeky," Ben grinned, shifting a little on the chair to remove his jacket, placing it carefully over the arm. "You know a lot more about this than I thought you did."

"So what's next, hm?" she asked, shuffling a little until she was comfortable. "Do I get to hear about what happened after the mercenary camp, or are you going to skip right towards you making the story a brighter, more handsome, and 'infinitely more interesting' place?"

He couldn't help but continue smiling at her. "I'm not skipping anything," he said, leaning against the arm of his chair. "I already told you that I was going to tell a story, and I'm not going to tell just half of it."

"But you've only got two hours!"

"Then you'll get two hours of story," he continued. "And when the two hours are up, you'll have to be patient. And stop making that face at me. It's not impossible to wait. I'll only been gone for a week and a half at the very most."

Val bit down on the inside of her bottom lip. "When you get back, you'll only have a little while until you have to go to Bloodstone."

"Then you'll wait again." Resting his chin on his fist, he smiled. "Patience, Val. S'not that hard."

Sabrina sat with her legs crossed on the bed Jasper had procured for himself while they were out 'adventuring.' He sat across from her on one of the chairs he'd discovered in one of the rooms branching off from the main Sanctuary, a tray resting on his lap. The cup of tea had long since stopped steaming, but part of her knew that if she grabbed it now, it would still be warm enough to heat her hands.

Running her fingers over the fur of her boots, her shoulders caved inwards. "You did nothing that your mother wouldn't have done, madam," Jasper said. Taking note of the look in her eyes, he lifted two cubes of sugar and let them fall into the creamy liquid. He began to stir as he explained himself. "The mercenaries were making life for the Dwellers very difficult. You did not have any other choice, as far as I'm concerned. He was very dangerous and even more unpredictable."

"But he'd surrendered, Jasper." She looked up at him, her eyes wide. "He told me that he'd leave the Dwellers alone. And I still killed him. In cold blood."

"I hardly think that is the case," he continued, lifting the spoon with a quiet clink against the porcelain. "There was no way for you to know that he would keep his word. He was a mercenary and a brute, your Highness. He might have turned right around and killed you. You had no way of knowing that he was being genuine." Grasping the cup with one hand and the tray with his other, he offered it to her.

She took it after a moment's consideration. "You say that it's what my mother would've done?"

Jasper nodded. "I believe so."

"From what I've heard of her early adventuring, becoming exactly like her is... not something I aspire to." Her brows twitched inward as she brought her tea up to her lips. It was still warm, and the lingering heat seeped into her palms. Swallowing a large portion of it, she looked to him again. "My mother was ruthless. I... I've heard the stories. She told me most of them herself. She said that there was a time when she realized how horrible she was and had to force herself to not be that person."

If there was any one person left in Albion who readily remembered Lionheart before she'd taken on the name, when she was still Sparrow, it was him. He remembered her husband Alex's mysterious disappearance. He remembered the obscenely high taxes, the disgust their future Queen once inspired from merely passing by them in the street. He'd spent most of his young life helping his parents in tending to an empty castle. Lord Fairfax hadn't lived there for many years, and even after his murder, before Lionheart purchased it for her homestead, they'd kept it in the very best of shape. Still, when his mother heard that the Hero was going to be moving in within the end of the year, he didn't hear of her grand accomplishments. He heard stories of her cruelty. It took many, many years of kindness for Lionheart to prove to her people that she had their well-being at heart.

He didn't want that to happen to Sabrina, but there were things she must do in order to keep herself safe and the revolution on-going that might not be the most helpful to her image. "Your mother did what she had to do," Jasper said, "She told me once that she changed many, many times in her life. She began living on the streets of Bowerstone to living in a gypsy encampment, from accepting her sister's death to feeling vengeful, from taxing the people mercilessly in order to do what she must to giving money to the destitute. She was an incredible woman, but she – as is everyone – was flawed in various different ways. You cannot simply choose not to be flawed, Sabrina, but you can enhance your greater qualities, which is what you are doing now."

Sabrina's chin quavered. "Am I?" She rested the tea cup down onto her lap, her arms pressing into the warm fabric of the now-tattered Dweller skirt. "Do you really think so?"

"Of course," he replied with a small smile. "The princess who left the castle could not have made a scary face at those mercenaries, much less send them to their maker. I am very proud of you." Pausing for a moment, he nodded. "As is Walter, I'm sure."

"You didn't have to travel with him from the mercenary camp back to the Dwellers," she huffed. Taking another long sip of her tea, she shook her head. "He is definitely not proud of me."

The walk had been a very quiet one. Instead of using the cullis gate, they'd gone back by foot, the distance far less intimidating this time. She wasn't used to not talking to Walter. She was accustomed to asking him questions, asking for his help to do small things like start a fire or put up her tent. They'd only spent two nights on their trip back to the Dweller camp, and he'd put their tents up without her asking while she was washing up. He wasn't intimidating; she knew him far too well to be intimidated by him. But his discomfort with the situation was enough to keep her lips firmly sealed.

Jasper rested his hand on her wrist, clutching it. "You took him by surprise, Sabrina. He was only trying to understand your motivation, no doubt, and how you conjured up the gall to do such a thing. Necessary though it was, it was still something that he would not have expected of you, I am certain."

When she didn't reply, he reached up, tilting her chin so he could look her in the eye. She looked directly at him for a long moment before looking to her cup, though her chin was still tilted back. "Did you explain yourself to him?"

"I can't talk to him," she said, moving her face away from his hand and shaking her head again. "I don't know what to say. This never happens with Walter. I always know what to say when he's around. And he's never quiet. Not with anyone, but especially not with me. He's always talking about something, telling me some story or whatnot. That's just how he is, but it's not like that anymore."

He could hear her voice grow watery, see the lowering of her lids and the subsequent filling of her eyes. "You have to talk to him, madam. If you don't explain yourself, he will never understand, will he? And if he never understands, this silence will only grow between you." His hand fell to his lap, setting gently on the empty platter there. "That is the very last thing I want, for your sake. While I do a very good job of ignoring what's very plainly exhibited before me, I do now how you..." He cleared his throat. "I do know how you feel about him."

When her head snapped up to look at him, the tears broke free, rolling down her cheeks only to be swiped away by the eager hand of a suddenly very flustered young woman. "What do you mean? How do you – how do you know?"

"Your Highness," Jasper replied quickly, subtle amusement threaded through his words, "you're hardly covert about it."

"Do – do you think he knows?" she asked in a hurried whisper.

She watched him as he attempted to formulate a diplomatic response. It took quite a long time, and every second that ticked past had her heart beating faster. "If he does, he does a very good job of hiding it, but..."

Sabrina shifted forward, pulled by the word 'but.'

"But I do think it is a possibility."

"Think what is a possibility!"

Jasper's hand flew out to rest comfortingly on her shoulder. "Do not get ahead of yourself, madam," he said, all humor gone from his voice. "I meant that it is a possibility that he is aware of your feelings, not that your... ahem, union has any potential whatsoever."

He immediately figured his attempt at tact was a failure when he saw her chin quaver. "No... No, I get it. He wouldn't want anything to do with me anyway." She shrugged off Jasper's hand, pulling her legs up to hug them to her chest, chin resting on her knee. He truly hadn't meant for her to take it this way. She'd always known that it wasn't possible for them to be together, hadn't she? "Especially not now. Thank you, though. For your honesty."

"Sabrina, I didn't..."

"It's okay, Jasper," she murmured. "It's all silly anyway. I don't have time for this, do I? Revolution and all that. And if I'm going to be Queen, I can't have my intentions set on someone old enough to be my father." Before he could protest, she'd begun to stand. She'd been set to travel to Brightwall to meet with Samuel and Walter at the tavern for hours; neither of the men would be very bothered by her tardiness. As she left the room and made her way towards the central chamber, he could hear her murmuring to herself. "Bloody nobility and their ideals. I shouldn't give a toss what they think. They're all idiots anyhow. What do they know about romance besides what they read in stories?"

The moment she stepped into Ye Quill and Quandary, she could hear Walter's voice. Of course he was on the second floor. Why would anyone want to save themselves the trouble and take one of the tables on the bottom? Sighing, she looked up towards the railing to see that his chair was pressed up against it, one arm resting on the roughly hewn barrier between him and making a very squishy mess on the floor. Not only was he leaning rather precariously, but he was nearly shouting at volumes she wasn't really used to hearing from him.

"And then she killed him!" Sabrina crossed her arms over her chest, eyes narrowing up at his back. "With Will! Just like her mum!"

"Oh, that is quite remarkable, Sir Walter!"

What in all that was holy and good were they doing? Wasn't the fact that they were staging a revolution supposed to be discreet in order to keep their heads firmly attached to their necks as well as keeping the villagers safe? This all seemed rather stupid, especially for something Sir Walter was doing. It took a lion's share of ale to get him drunk. She hadn't been that late.

Not until she heard the barkeep muttering something to one of the serving ladies did she understand exactly what was going on.

"She looks like the late Queen, she does," the man whispered to the woman at his side, hands wringing in the apron at his waist. "D'you suppose that's her? She's wearin' a sword. And a pistol. I think that might very well be the princess they're talkin' about up there."

The barmaid shook her head, placing two large mugs of ale onto a tray. "She looks a mite small, she does. Dunno if a girl so tiny could take Saker. I've seen 'im before."

"Yeah, but that old soldier up there claims she took 'im down with Will." Leaning on the bar, his hand went to his mouth in an attempt to shield his words from getting to Sabrina's ears, though it did little to help. "S'not likely, but ya don't need to be big to set somebody on fire."

Sabrina managed to give them a wide, toothy smile before scurrying out of the tavern to head up the stairs that hugged the side of the building. Those people were talking about her. This was becoming a more common happening, as well. She'd heard people whispering in the Dweller camp about things like faith and the belief that she'd be able to amass an army enough to bring down her brother. In Brightwall, she'd become a popular face. They knew she was here to help, and while the tasks were menial to say the least, she'd lent a hand to many of the townspeople.

When she mounted the final stair and hurried into the room, she saw Walter brighten noticeably. His already ruddy cheeks were flushed from whatever ale he'd consumed, and even Samuel looked pleasantly drunk. "Ah! Here she is!" the former said, lifting his pint into the air with a smile. "We were just talking about you."

"Yeah, I... heard," she replied with a small smile.

"Indeed," Samuel grinned to himself, lifting his mug with both hands to take a long drink from it. "We were just making a toast to your stupendous feat of ridding Mistpeak of Saker and his men!" The scholar set the pewter mug down onto the table with a flourish and a bit of frothy liquid spilling over the side. "They have been a source of great distress for some time."

Walter shifted on his seat, leaning heavily against the table. "Samuel here's given me some food for thought."

"Very nutritious, mind," the man giggled, making a disgusted face and smacking his lips. "Nothing like those horrendous meat pies he's been serving you, your Highness."

Her mentor pointed a thick index at him, mouth opening as if a threat was poised on the tip of his tongue. It went nowhere, ending when Walter's mouth snapped shut and he shook his head. "Look, we don't have much to work with here, okay? She works all of it off anyway. You should see her with that sword!" Flapping his hand a little, he turned back to the matter at hand. "But as I was going to say, he's given me some food for thought, and I've decided that you did the right thing with Saker."

For a long moment, all of them stared into silence. Walter stared at Sabrina, and she stared back at him. All the while, Samuel's eyes shifted from one to the other. He was close to making a comment about Sabrina being able to catch flies if she kept her mouth open for much longer when she snapped it shut. "What?"

"Did you see the faces on the Dwellers when you told them you'd killed Saker? It was like they'd just been visited by Avo himself! You didn't just smack the bastard on the wrist for all the wrong he'd done. You bloody ended him." Shaking his head, he took a long sip from his mug before setting it back down with a clunk. "I've only been so quiet because I didn't know what to say. I knew we'd lost an ally, which could've been important, but does anybody want help from someone like that?"

"But I thought you were upset. I thought you were disappointed –"

Walter held up a hand to make her pause, effectively cutting off her speech. "Oh, I was. I was disappointed. Surprised. Upset. Whatever word you can think of. But that was a knee-jerk reaction. I... well, I felt bad that I wasn't down there to help you, you know? That you had to kill him."

Walking over to the table, Sabrina pulled out a chair and sat down, her expression oddly passive. "So you mean to say we traveled for two days in almost complete silence to get to the Dwellers. Told Sabine about Saker. You went off to Brightwall. I tended to finding more followers. And the whole time I was doing this, worried you didn't like my decision, you were chewing over the fact that you think it might've been the right thing to do? And you didn't tell me?"

"I didn't assume you were so torn up about it," Walter replied, shifting a little closer to her seat and pulling his with him. "Sabine was pleased. The Dwellers might find some peace now. That's what matters, isn't it?"

She couldn't believe it. All the worry that'd been curdling in her stomach for the past few days had been for nothing. And she'd still gotten the wake-up call of Jasper's opinion when it came to her feelings. She'd gone through that and gotten that wrenching news, and for what? To have Walter agree with her? Couldn't things just go wrong for once and stay wrong?

Sighing, she lifted her hand to her face, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. "Yes," she murmured, "Yes, of course that's what matters."

"I've been speaking to Samuel," he began again, "And he believes that he may be able to help the Dwellers."

"Oh, yes," the scholar interrupted them both. "We have become increasingly aware of the plight the Dwellers have been through due to both Saker's mercenaries and our grievous ignorance towards their condition. But – but – as I was just explaining to Walter, Brightwall has no overabundance of resources as it is."

Walter chimed in just as Sabrina's heart began to sink. "With all the help you've spread around Brightwall, the people are becoming more... charitable than before."

Samuel nodded swiftly, the thinning layer of hair brushed over the top of his shiny head flopping forward. "Both charitable and grateful." He continued nodding, his attention slipping from Sabrina to his mug as he took another sip. "I am sure they will find it in their hearts to send aid to those poor people."

"You've gained quite a following here in Brightwall," Walter said with a wide smile. Reaching forward, he gave the hand she set on the table a pat. The pat turned into his resting it on top, too bothered with draining the rest of his ale to move it. Her blue gaze flicked to Samuel to see a single, bushy brow slide upwards on his forehead. But he didn't look offended or even taken aback. No, when he looked across the table to Walter, he looked impressed.

Walter rubbed at his mouth with a swipe of his forearm. "Samuel's going to be putting together boxes of food we're to help bring to the Dwellers. The caravan should be ready by tomorrow afternoon, so you should get some sleep."

Slipping her hand from beneath his, Sabrina gave Samuel a toothy grin. "Thank you," she said, unable to keep herself from gushing in the slightest. "I'm so glad the people of Brightwall are willing to share what little they have with the Dwellers. I can't say I was expecting such charity, though I suppose such an assumption might seem a little offensive. I didn't mean it like that. I only meant that I –"

"I understand, your Highness," Samuel replied, smiling without bearing teeth. His flushed cheeks rose up so high on his face his eyes very nearly disappeared. "If I recall correctly, Sir Walter has rented the room just across there for tonight."

They both watched as the princess stood. She'd changed into the outfit she'd escaped from the castle in, all except for the large, fuzzy boots she'd gotten from the Dwellers. They didn't make a sound as she moved over to stand beside Walter. "Will you two be okay out here?" she asked with a bit of a nudge on his shoulder. "Any more ale and Samuel might not be able to get things ready tomorrow."

Walter tilted his head a little to look up at her, a lopsided smile tilting at his lips. "Aye, we'll be alright," he said, his hand still curled around the handle of his pint. "Don't you worry. I'll carry him home if he has too much."

"Alright, then," Sabrina laughed, biting down on her bottom lip as she looked towards Samuel. "Thank you again! I can't tell you that enough. The Dwellers will be so happy." The man nodded, and she rocked on her feet. "Goodnight!" Turning a little, she looked down at Walter, hesitating for a moment before leaning down and giving him a kiss just over his brow. She popped back up not a moment later and began hurrying away. "Goodnight, Walter!"

The door nearly slammed shut behind her, and the men sat in companionable silence for a long while. Glancing away from the door and to Samuel, Walter saw him staring at him. The line of sight remained unbroken until his eye snapped closed in a wink.

"... What?"

Letting out a low whistle, Samuel tilted back in his chair. "Oh, nothing, Sir Walter. Nothing at all."

"Why the bloody hell does everyone keep saying that?"

A/N: Really sorry for the delay, everyone! The Thanksgiving holidays were a real mess when it came to writing; I just couldn't find the time. And then I started getting worried about not finishing NaNoWriMo after staying on top of the word count for so long. That said, I really hope it was worth the wait! Things are progressing... rather slowly. Definitely more slowly than I'd like. But I really don't want to miss out on anything really juicy plot-wise or anything that could be potentially great to spring off of. Plus, getting to Aurora scares me. It scares me. Ahem.

That said, thank you for your reviews, as always. They mean so much to me!