Someone complained about there being no fluff. So I am making my stand against unnecessary Fluff. I love it, don't get me wrong, but it has it's time and place. Now is not the time or place, but because I love you all…I decided to give you a little somethin' somethin' Here is a little lamenting loving Dom. Please Review!

Dom shot up in his bedroll. His heart was beating and his chest was covered in sweat. His dreams had been haunting visions of blood and death, but what had disturbed him the most, was the image of Kel dancing in the midst of it all. Her feet painted red in lifeblood, a thin razor sharp dagger that dripped blood down on to the already coated title floor clutched in her hand, Her red skirts swishing carelessly above the murderous mess. His stomach turned. Leaping from his bedroll, he ran to the edge of the Vassa River. He dropped to his knees on the muddy shore, cupped water in his trembling hands, and washed the night's sweat from his face. He took a deep bracing breath, drew water up from the river, and rinsed his face again. The water had numbed his burning skin and cleared his nauseous and clouded mind. He slid forward, closer to the water, and set about rinsing his sweat saturated skin. The sun had broken the dense morning mist, when his solace was disrupted.

"Boy!" Dom turned to see the old smuggler woman coming toward him. He nodded to her , but did not leave his position on the riverbed.

"Your fear will kill you." The woman's voice was soft and close. Dom looked up from his intent study of the river to find the woman sitting calmly beside him.

"How do you know I'm afraid, Grandmother?" Dom's voice was light and teasing.

"You hide it well, child, but I have been around longer than dirt, I know when someone is afraid." Her voice was filled with good humor and a twinge of sadness.

"You are afraid that she will be so different when she sees you again that she won't love you anymore, you fear that love as well. Your afraid of what your parents will say, of the relationship being so serious that you consider marrying her, of giving up the Own, of being unable to love her, of forever being in her shadow… You fear many things." The woman's voice was that of a wizened grandparent, chastening and loving at the same time. Dom looked away from her dark wrinkle framed eyes, because they seemed to pierce his soul with their depth of understanding.

"Don't be ashamed of your fear. We are all bedfellows of fear." The woman's voice trailed of as she shifted her head to gaze down into the murky churning depth of the Vassa.

"What do you fear, Grandmother?" Dom's voice was soft, barely audible over the din of the river.

"I fear…the days to come. I am not as young as I once was. My family is getting old and they are fine without me around. I fear that I will someday be without use, a tired old tool discarded in favor of a new one. My son already seeks to replace me; he'd have me in bed resting all the time if he could. He doesn't mean to be disrespectful, I suppose I raised him to be willful, so it's my fault." She laughed lightly. "Mostly I fear Death." She paused as her eyes shifted back and caught Dom's.

"When I was younger I hoped that the Black God would claim me in my sleep. A peaceful passing, but as my wrinkles get deeper and my life grows shorter I want to find my own way to the Black God's realm. I want to die with a cause in my heart and a sword in my hand." She looked away from Dom. Her eyes dancing toward the heavens.

"I hope someday to have your conviction." Dom said softly.

"You don't have it now child?"

"No. You were right to say that I fear many things, but my greatest fear is that I will not love her enough."

"How much is enough?" the old woman enquired.

"Kel has a heart so big that encompasses the world. She loved without fear; she loved without restrictions, hesitation, greed, selfishness, or class. She is truly the greatest person I have ever known. How can any love I give her compare to that unconditional all encompassing love?" The woman sighed and placed a gnarled hand on Dom's shoulder.

"Love is not measured in depth or width, nor height, nor how encompassing it is. It is not grounded in works or words, it is in the heart. If you give her everything that you have, then what more can you give. She loves you. All that you have to do is let her love you and love her back." The woman stood and walked away leaving Dom to ponder her words.

The wagon's rolled out the camp before the sun had even risen completely. The gray half-dark morning was cold and moist, but Kel walked beside her wagon regardless. One of the guards had given her a thick black cloak with a deep hood. Kel wrapped it around herself and hid her face in the pitch colored fabric of the hood. Her face was a hideous multi-colored bruise. Her lip was swollen and split, and she found that she could barely open her left eye. Her ribs ached something fierce, but she trudged on. Her good eye constantly darted from person to person, looking for those she could trust. The blonde Scanran, whose name she had learned was Trevon, led the group from the top of a tall black stallion. His men were very loyal to him. She had spent part of the morning asking around about him, but no one would talk and she'd earned quit a few bruises this morning from them when she said anything remotely mean about him. It was respect he reminded her of Lord Raoul. A skinnier, blonder, foreign, ill-tempered Lord Raoul. One man however bothered her greatly. He constantly watched her and the others, he was constantly in the back of the group, he rode alone, and every time she looked at him her was scribbling things down in a small note pad. She though at first that if he was really a spy he would have been more discreet, but Trevon's words from last night were still fresh in her head. 'He doesn't trust me.' Maybe the King didn't feel the need to hide his spies, but Kel now had to confirm or disprove her suspicions and figure out how to keep going with her plans. Other things had developed from last night as well. She'd learned that the man who was of the Rogue and was the King's servant was very new to the position, so Kel could hardly trust him to get the other's out of the country. It would be up to her to find the Rogue before she killed the king, which meant putting him off. The best way to do that…get the crap beat out of her. No one wanted a bruised stiff and irritable whore.

Kel smiled as she sifted through her thoughts.

"Kel." A small dark haired man snuck up behind her. His wrists were free of shackles, which make Kel smirk, these Slavers had no idea who they'd stolen. She nodded to the man.

"My Lord Poet is coming." Kel looked around confused.

"Was there a sign I missed." He man smiled and handed Kel a small curled slip of paper on it said simply. I'll be there soon. In long sloppy letters, Kel handed it back to the man.

"Where did it come from?" The man shook his head as if she were the dumbest broad to walk the earth.

"Messenger birds." He turned and walked back to his wagon. Leaving Kel intensely confused about what was so funny. Maybe to long on the road had destroyed the player's mind. Kel turned back to face the road ahead of them. It stretched out in to the forest, mostly straight, but meandering slightly at points. One of the men pointed to a mountain in the distance, then to a small white blight of the mountain's majestic side, the royal palace; it was only four days ahead of them.

"God's in the heaven's this prayer I lift to all. Guard your servants well, we are but clay pieces and we need guidance and help." Kali's voice came to Kel's ears as soft as a whisper of silk. Kali was praying. Not out of fear of her death or dread, but in the hope that the next couple of days would be for the best. Kel uttered a prayer to the heavens silently.

'I hope your right about me.' The only response she heard was a gust of howling wind that carried cackling laughter to her cold ears.

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