Chapter Fourteen

I Can Save Myself

So, its been awhile. Sorry, life and things got in the way. But I'm back and determined to finish this story. The time of the ball has arrived. Will Izzy be forced to marry a crazy king or will someone save her? Or can she save herself because troupes, troupes everywhere.

The day of the summer ball had arrived, the hours eaten away in the blink of an eye. Last minute preparations were being made to make sure everything ran perfectly. Flocks of nobles were eagerly waiting outside, craning their wigged heads to see what the ball looked like this year. Servants were rushing in and out of the castle, carrying and fetching all the finishing touches.

Izzy sat at her window, watching everything going on down below, wishing she could knock a few stupid hats off. A tutor had come in a few hours ago to check if she was ready to be presented to society. This warranted going through cutlery, dancing and voice. She missed the days when it was sword fighting, shooting and will use. The gaudlet had remained on her arm through the entire ordeal but glowed faintly as if depressed about not being used.

A dress hung up in the corner, a midnight blue one which seemed to shimmer when moved. The sleeves where a see through silk of light blue that became to part at the elbow, leaving the arms some freedom. It was indeed a beautiful dress, the tailor spend quite a lot of time with Izzy in order to get it just right. There was even some padding around the chest and hip area to make it appear as if she wasn't as flat as a board. At least in this world they truly knew how to make unique clothes to make one stand out from the crowd. She wanted to blend into the background, become an unseen. But this dress… no doubt it was designed to pull in everyone's attention.

"If there's a time to escape, tonight is the night," whispered Izzy, staring out the window at the guards preparing.

There would be more in the ball than outside which means she would only have to take out a few. There was no way in hell she was going to wait any longer. After the last dance lesson, Izzy was ready to tear out Logan's eyes. This was not the time to wait for someone to come save her. She needed to prove that she was a hero worth following.

"And if I die trying, I'll become a martyr," she commented out loud "wow, when did I get all 'die for the cause'?"

After a week locked up with barely human interaction, she had been talking herself frequently, trying to find something to do. If there was no thing she missed doing for a mindless couple of hours, it was the internet. In Albion apparently ladies sewed or gossiped in their free time. Since she couldn't stitch to save her life and all the noble women were air headed fools, Izzy spend her free time practising her hero skill.

Well, to the best of her abilities anyway, there were only so many things you could do with a hairbrush. And the guards were under strict orders to shot if they saw any Will use. So, she had been extremely bored for the past week, either by annoying Logan or talking to the maids. But Izzy even grew bored of that after a while, the King was such an easy target.

Logan usually summoned for her to do dance practise which tended to end with them arguing. In typical tyrant manner he had struck her across the face to assert authority. The last time he did it, Izzy punched back and with hero strength on her side, it didn't end well. This resulted in the king getting a black eye and Izzy not being fed for two days. Luckily, Angie the maid was one her side, sneaking in stale bread when she could.

Totally worth it though, she thought, fondly remembering how her fist connected with his face. Izzy wished she had a camera phone to take a picture at the man's stunned expression. Of course, in typical Logan fashion, he exploded and started shouting a lot. The whole castle felt this one, the servants being mistreated more than usual by the King and his purple guards.

A soft knock came at Izzy's door, pulling her out of violent memories. She sighed, wishing to stay in the room. Society seemed dull and stuff full of idiots wearing ridiculous clothes.

"Come in," she said, standing up.

Angie peeked through nervously, slipping through the barely open door with ease. Like the rest of the servants, she was in a green and gold uniform with a strange sun mask over her face. Logan was taking faceless drones to a new literal level. The maid took it off, placing it on a nearby table. Izzy could see that the young woman was very worried about something by the way she chewed her lip.

"Angie, are you alright?" she asked, stepping forward.

The maid burst into tears at the question causing Izzy to jump. She wasn't expecting this kind of emotion from Angie. When the hero tried to things on her own with Angie present, the servant turned on the waterworks. But never like this before. Sure, sometimes the young maid could be a little ditzy but her heart was in the right place.

"Hey," said Izzy, taking the other woman's hand, "if anyone should be crying, it's me. I have to marry Logan."

Angie managed to laugh through the fat droplets, taking out a handkerchief and loudly blowing her nose.

"I'm sorry," the maid said, thickly. "It's just, I remembered what you went through and what will happen to you and-and-"

For such a small woman, she sure could produce a lot of tears. Izzy wondered where it was all coming from. She awkwardly leaned forward, hugging the shaking woman.

"It's alright," said Izzy, rubbing the maid's back. "You don't have to cry for me. I'm fine, I can handle this."

It was nice that people wanted to cry for her in a strange twisted sort of way. Growing up in the foster system meant she had to fight to be noticed, for someone to care. When Thomas came along, she thought that would change. It did for a brief while, until he turned into a drastic shitlord. This world, Darius, Walter, Ben, Major Swift… they all made her realise that she doesn't need to be pushed around anymore.

Izzy wasn't planning on listening to the King anymore. Technically, she was still a British subject and Queen Elizabeth was the monarch. Sticking it to Logan in front of high society would also be hilarious. She wondered what the world beyond Albion was like. Probably reported missing by her ex. Thomas no longer had any ties to her, no obligation. They were both free.

"Angie, I will be fine," promised Izzy, "just help me into the torture device and we can go celebrate summer."

Angie sniffed. "Yes, my lady."

"And don't start with that 'my lady' bollocks either."

The tub was brought in with steaming hot water that almost scalded Izzy's skin. As usual, Angie was an expert at smoothing the hero's tense muscles. Ointments, shampoos and soaps were used by the bottle, enough to drown a small child in them. They were plastered all over her pale skin. She smelt like a soap shop, sickly-sweet scents wafting around the room. When they were done, Izzy towel dried herself, ready for the next attack. Make up.

Once the maid had gotten over her sadness, Angie took charge of the situation. She grabbed hold of Izzy, placing her in a dress slip before seating her on a nearby chair. The maid wielded the brush like an artist, lightly applying dark make-up to the heroes face. Izzy patiently waited as brushes were pulled through her tangled short hair, poked and prodded whilst Angie did her best. When the make-up was done, the maid attached a few fake curls to the back of her head. They were a few shades lighter than her natural hair colour but no one would care.

Soon, they were putting on the corset which was an experience that could be ignored. It felt weird to miss the torture. Gathering up the dress, Izzy placed the final piece on before turning to the full length mirror. The woman in the mirror stared back, a stunned expression on her face. She was fairly beautiful, light make-up lightly enhancing her features but not hiding them. Dark eye-shadow complimenting the midnight blue dress and hair.

Izzy twirled around, skirts whispering against the floor. The dress stood out against the light colours of the summer ball. It wasn't meant to blend in with anyone else. Logan wanted her to stand out among the crowds of simpering upper class fools. Tonight, she would have to wear heels, already they were awkwardly rubbing against her toes.

"Well, I look fairly dashing," said Izzy, smiling at the nearby woman.

"It's time to go to the King," whispered Angie, wiping away silent tears.

"There's always something to spoil the moment," sighed the hero, following the maid out the room.

They stalked down the corridor, silent as the rest of the guards were out patrolling the party. Logan probably thought she wouldn't dare run off now. The castle appeared rather beautiful with the decorations on the drape walls. Whoever Logan employed to be the designer needed to be punched in the eyes because clearly, they weren't using them.

Angie stopped outside the Kings door, hand lifted to knock on it. She paused staring at the hero, unsure whether to continue or not. The tyrant king would use and the abuse the hero, the peoples hope. Everyone seemed to ask to much and the young woman got so little in return. Izzy lightly smiled.

"It's alright, I can take it from here," she said, hugging the woman, "thank you for being my friend."

"I can't just-" protested Angie.

"No. There is nothing you can do," interrupted Izzy, "be safe. Until the new king is here. Now go."

The maid hesitated, biting her bottom lip for a moment. Its best not argue with a hero, even one being forced into marriage. Although they supposed to be the hope of Albion but heroes were still dangerous. As much as the people wanted to forget the bad heroes, their deeds were still burnt into history. Izzy didn't seem the type but after Rake… the potential was there. Quickly kissing the hero on the cheek, Angie scurried down the corridor.

Izzy sighed, feeling overwhelmed by the amount of emotions coursing through her. Fear, joy, anger clashed together in a disjointed symphony. Escaping this castle would be her top priority. By any means necessary. She reached forward and knocked on the door, plans forming in her head. There were shuffling sounds from behind it and then it clicked open. Logan's manservant, Hobson, appeared behind it, smiling at Izzy's new look. She wanted to kick the little shit on principle, disliking how the greasy man leered at her. Entering the room, she found Logan bend over papers yet again.

He would almost look handsome if the monarch didn't scowl all the time. Izzy that he was carrying some stupid burden Logan refused to talk to anyone about. She had almost felt sorry for him at one point but quickly squashed those feelings in the fear of developing Stockholm syndrome. He was the one that ordered her friends to Mourningwood and almost killed them all. He had her tortured and maimed. But despite it all, she could see a man drowning in despair and handling it poorly.

Logan's outfit was the opposite of hers but drew in peoples gazes. Where hers reflected the night, his represented the day. Golden silk that appeared as if it had been spun from the sun rays rested on his shoulders. Usually she disliked the colour yellow and gold together. But whoever did Logan's outfit sure knew what they were doing. He scribbled down a few notes before gazing up at her.

Izzy was surprised to find that her appearance made him blink a couple of times before a smile crept over the corners of his mouth. They quickly vanished, replaced by the frown once again.

"Nice to see you can look ladylike," he said, shuffling the papers.

"Funny," she replied, "I was about to the say the same thing about you."

Logan pursed his lips to together but said nothing. He stood up, nodding over at Hobson who promptly opened the door. The monarch extended his arm to Izzy, which she took without complaint.

"I hope that wit of yours remains hidden tonight," he said, as they walked down the corridor.

"Where's the fun it that?" replied Izzy, trying to balance in her high heels.

"Many of these nobles donate money to me," he said, "insult them and I'll find ways to hurt you."

"Remember I'm a hero," warned Izzy, glaring up at the king. "If you're so desperate for this union, I can equally make your life hell. Everything you do to me, I will tear down your efforts of whatever you're planning out of spite."

The monarch raised an eyebrow. "Do you really want to start this?"

"You started this a long time ago."

They fell quiet as the ballroom drew closer. Voices of excitement buzzed through the walls. The faint sounds of orchestra floated out from the room. It was beautiful but sad sounding. But no one in there seemed to pay attention, discussing the hero and the king. Izzy wanted to run, punch Logan in the face and sprint away. This wasn't the right time or place.

The footman moved the side, opening the doors to the duo. Izzy's hard began to thump at an excelled rate as the sound flooded out from the ballroom. Each of the nobles looked like colourful birds, clucking noises and feathered hats galore. The area was adorned with rich yellow and green colours, beautifully brightening up the castle. The designers had really gone out of the way to bring the outdoors into the indoors. Some of the floor had been decorated in grass rolls, trees sat in the corners of the ballroom overshadowing over the nobles.

The announcer glanced to the side, bowing at the king and giving Izzy the skank eye. She didn't know what she had done to offend the man. It could be that he was a Logan loyalist or she accidently set him on fire. After the past few weeks, fire had been used a lot. Some servants might been caught in the crossfire and Logan might have been highly pissed.

"His majesty King Logan, protector and defender of Albion and his fiancée, the Lady Isabella," announced the footman, banging his staff against the floor.

Everyone went quiet all at once, a sea of eyes all zeroing on Izzy. She jolted a little, trying not to feel the weight of their gaze. Logan stood up straight, his cold gaze resting on all of them.

"People of Albion," he began, "I am honoured you have chosen to attend this glorious evening. In such troubling times it is good to see those faithfully standing by my side. I am also proud to introduce you to my beautiful bride-to-be, a hero and saviour of this realm, Isabella. I hope you will enjoy this evening as much as I will."

They all clapped but their eyes still rested on Izzy. She tried to smile and wave. It all felt fake, she hated those nobles burying their heads in the sand. They wanted to believe that Logan could save them all. That the lower classes were staying in the gutter. People weren't dying and everything was happy. Izzy felt sick to her stomach at these lies. The entire country was built on them. Darius needed to be on the throne.

"Let the first dance begin," said Logan, leading her down the stairs.

Oh, fuck, she thought, heart racing, people, tons of people are watching.

It was one thing to dance in front of Hobson or a few servants. In front of tons of nobles who were born into this. She was just a pretender trying to make it in a world faker than her life. Logan led her onto the centre of dance floor, completely calm whilst she was sweating bullets. The music started a haunting tune that wormed its way along the dance floor.

Izzy dug her hands into his shoulders, trying to concentrate on keeping her rhythm and not stepping on his toes. They both smiled like a couple in love that would fool anyone else but the duo knew better. Their eyes lied to one another, pretending that that they cared. The nobles surrounding the royal couple gushed and swooned, talking of handsome children. She felt sick again, watching the spin round as others joined the dance floor.

The song soon ended, leaving her relieved. Logan bowed at her, sending warning signals not to misbehave.

"May I have the next dance with this belle chose?" asked Reaver, appearing beside the king.

Reaver was dressed to impress as always. His top hat was deep green this time, wearing a three piece suit and coat that appeared as though it was made from moss. Give him red hair and Izzy was sure he would look like a leprechaun. Beside him stood Barry the Manservant, albeit a few claw marks on his face.

"I'm not a thing. I'm a femme," she replied, glaring at the hero.

Izzy's eyes moved over to Barry. "And I thought you died?"

The manservant shrugged. "I got better."

"Although he now sheds everywhere during a full moon," grumbled Reaver, handing over his cane, "let me dance with you, mon belle fille."

Izzy actually found herself looking to Logan for help. But the monarch shrugged, giving the businessman a false smile.

"One dance, Reaver," he warned, disappearing into a thong of nobles.

Izzy glared at him but complied with the dance. "Je vais vous botter."

The hero of skill swept the young woman into his arms, lightly smiling as they became to dance.

"You'll kick me, will you?" he mocked, face inches away from hers, "in front of all these people?"

"Especially in front of all these people," said Izzy, gaudlet glowing slightly.

"My, my, you're just full of spunk aren't you," said Reaver, words dripping with seduction, "no wonder the king wants you."

"He wants me to gain support and have a lot of hero brats," she said, smiling at nearby people as they twirled.

"Not the maternal type?" asked Reaver, lifting her into the air.

"Try being raised in an orphanage and see if you like kids after that," she said, noticing they were dancing near a shadowy area of the ballroom.

"Better not mention you're from a poor background," said Reaver, smiling lightly, "sobs stories don't go far with the rich."

"Intelligence apparently didn't make that list either," she commented.

Izzy noticed that they were backed into a corner, a pillar obscuring them from the rest of the ballroom. She was going to panic but then remembered the gaudlet if Reaver tried anything. The hero of skill smiled down, looming over her petite frame. Everyone else was too busy concerning themselves with air headed thoughts than pay the duo any attention.

"Your that little resistance soldier who fought and lived through my party, aren't you?" he asked, lightly brushing her face.

"I am," she replied, slapping his hand away.

"How far you've come. I thought you were a boy when we first met," said Reaver, dark eyes gleaming, "I didn't know such beauty lay beneath all that mud and blood."

"Some of us can survive without the finer things in life," she said, preparing her gaudlet.

"Sounds boring to me," he grumbled, leaning an inch away from her face.

Izzy closed in on him, letting her lips brush his. The disgraced hero seemed shocked at first but let her lead. Sometimes he liked women who knew what they want. She stared at him from under half lidded eyes, hands running down his sides. He shivered, wishing to devour the young hero there and then. But then, Izzy ruined it all by speaking.

"Was it boring in Oakvale?" she asked, "is that why you destroyed everyone there to get what you want?"

"What?" he said, freezing up.

"The village you grew up in. The one that became Wraithmarsh because of your fear of death. Don't tell me you've forgotten it already."

"You shouldn't know this."

"And yet I do," she whispered, lightly kissing his ear, "the man who traded his family for immortality and to be someone else's bitch. Tell me, were you always a sociopath or did it grow over time? Do you drink and indulge for fun or to stop the screams haunting you at night?"

For the first time in his very long life, Reaver pushed the young woman away. He had gone paler than usual, disturbed by the words slipping out from her lips. No one should know this. He made sure to burn anything to do with that night. Yet, here the hero stood, gloating at her knowledge, watching him shiver. Reaver shook it off quickly but his smile didn't return.

"You think you're so clever," he sneered, signalling Barry, "but once you've bedded his majesty, you will be begging for me to use you."

And with that, the businessman turned on his heel. Reaver didn't even look back once at the young woman. She sighed, hoping that this plan would go well. A servant scurried forward, asking her to follow him to rejoin the king. Another address had to be made. Izzy disliked being so open in front of people but Logan had a duty even if he was failing.

The hero passed Reaver who had already found himself a new playmate, not even glancing her way. Logan stood at the front of the ballroom, looking slightly annoyed. It was an expression that Izzy suspected was a result of the wind changing and it staying that way. The king said nothing to her, merely holding out his arm, she took it. The footman banged his staff against the floor again, signalling for all to fall silent.

The nobles shut up again, ready to lap up more lies. Izzy was about ready to explode, tell them all to stop being such foolish twats. But, alas, she remained quiet waiting for Logan to speak.

"This occasion," began Logan, "marks the fortieth year my family has ruled over Albion."

The crowd clapped and cheered, either lying or just being airheads. Izzy knew it was probably a mixture of both.

"My father promised to lead this land into greatness. And he did. Although we mourn his passing each day, do not forget Sparrow the Hero before he was king. I hope to one day reach this level to prove myself as great as he. A-"

"Oh, shut the fuck up!" said Izzy in an annoyed tone, wrenching arm out of Logan's.

A gasp ran through the crowd, staring up at the woman with a commoners tongue. She finally had enough of the bullshit spilling out of Logan's mouth. Izzy had planned to escape after the speech but she really didn't want to listen to it anymore. Reaver stood in the crowd slightly amused, wondering what the fiery brunette would do next. The soft music in the background even stopped, the entire ballroom watching in terror.

"I grew up in an orphanage," said Izzy, beginning to strip off her fancy gloves throwing them to the ground "I had to fight tooth and nail for a shitty toy to play with" she took out her earrings, dropping them onto the purple carpet "I have been used and abused more times than I can remember" she could took off the headband, messing up her hair "but now I'm a hero and I refuse to be bullied by a tyrant who leeches his country for everything its got!"

In a final act of defiance, Izzy kicked off the heeled shoes, releasing her aching feet. Reaching down to the skirts, she tore it upwards, another gasp of shock going through the crowd. This time it was probably for the ruined dress, the upper classes weeping over fashion. If she had to fight her way out, legs needed to be free in order to kick someone in the face. Going to her bustle, Izzy pulled out Reaver's gun from the folds and pressed it against Logan's head.

Within the crowd, Reaver let out a shout of annoyance, realising the gun had been stolen.

"Did you really think I was interested in you?" she asked, drawing back the safety, "I was hoping for a less dramatic exit but decided where was the fun in that?"

Izzy placed herself between Logan and the guards within the room. There weren't many of them, mostly patrolling the outside. She managed to find a spot between her and the king where no one would get a clear shot of her. The only person who would get in the way was Reaver. She had the Dragonstopper but Izzy didn't doubt the hero's skill.

"Oh, Reaver dear," said Izzy, looking into the crowd.

The crowd parted quickly, leaving the businessman standing alone. Even Barry stepped away from his master. The gaudlet on her arm began to glow, lightning crackling in her palm.

"I wouldn't beg you to save me even if I was on fire," she said, sending a bolt towards Reaver.

It landed between the hero of skills eyes. His head jerked back, landing on the on the ballroom floor. Reaver twitched for a few seconds before going limp, completely going still. The crowd gasped, someone even screamed and a few ladies swooned.

"Oh, he's not dead," said Izzy, leading a furious Logan down the stairs, "just knocked out."

"You will pay for this!" snapped Logan, as they passed Reaver's prone form.

"What you gonna do?" asked Izzy, "torture me?"

Logan growled but didn't say anything. They moved through the crowd. No one dared challenge the woman. Even though she had been held captive in the castle for almost month, those gathered at the ball knew she would do anything to escape. Being a hero met Izzy was stronger, faster and quicker. The tortured girl in disguise was gone now. The person holding the king hostage had fully embraced their destiny.

"Would you be so kind to open the door?" Izzy asked a nearby woman wearing a ridiculous hat. "And close it very securely behind me."

The woman nodded, quickly fumbling with the door locks. Pushing them upon, Izzy prodded Logan forward, entering into the dark night. The door slammed shut behind them, a chair being placed in front of extra measure. It had been awhile that she had been allowed to be outside. Izzy smiled lightly at the fell of the cool night air, the smell of flowers. She appeared over the balcony and almost exploded with laughter.

All the guards were knocked out, lying on the ground like brightly coloured decorations. Someone else had come to spoil the evening too. That would make an easy escape and she wouldn't have to drag Logan with her.

"You know," she said, searching the area, "I think under different circumstances, we could have been friends.

"What are babbling about?" snapped Logan, eyes searching for guards.

A flurry of blonde hair in the night caught Izzy's eye. She laughed again, slowly moving away from the king. The gun was still aimed at his temple.

"You turned into a tyrant. But before that, you were kind and loving, benevolent and wise," said Izzy.

"How do you know this?" asked Logan, fists clenched.

Izzy shrugged. "Why do people think I'm stupid? I've had a lot of time to read. It's amazing what you can find in books."

The hero clambered on the marble balcony. Izzy torn off some of her bustle, letting the fabric fall to the ground. Her bare legs and feet were exposed, making Logan look away for a second. They were one floor above the ground. Logan remembered his own father dropping from the second floor when he couldn't be bothered to walk down the stairs. It used to shock the servants and make the nobles become all flustered. Heroes could perform amazing feats.

The former king stopped doing it after Logan tried to do the same at the age of eight. The young prince broke his arm trying to mimic his great father. Logan recalled how his father kept apologising over and over, saying he shouldn't have doing it in the first place. But the prince just wanted to be Hero. Izzy could probably drop from a great height too and not even get a scratch.

"Anyway," said Izzy, inching closer to the edge, "I know something happened when you went on a voyage three years ago. That wasn't actually in a book, more like castle gossip. You're not willing to deal anyone what you saw. This means you're either trying to prove you can handle this on your own or you want to protect everyone from the truth."

Logan glared at the woman, noting how much taller she stood, a sense of power that rested on her shoulders.

"I hope that one day I get to meet the man you used to be," said Izzy, shaking her head sadly at the king.

And with that, she stepped off the edge. Logan gaped, rushing over to the balcony and peering into the dark. Izzy's pale form glowed in the dim light; she was being carried by someone. He could see a few figures running off into the night, the sounds of laughter and the beats of hoof prints. A few of the guards rushed out of the ballroom as soon as hero was gone.

Logan held up his hand. "Let them go," he ordered, "they are gone."

So, the guys did the legwork helping by knocking out the guards. But Izzy saved herself! Yay! She needed to push herself into it and not become be all damsel. I know Logan is the second antagonist but I wanted to explore someone who didn't seem him as truly evil, just lost. Anyway, thanks for reading.