ARGH! I'm SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO sorry I haven't updated sooner!!! I've got exams in like three weeks and I am absolutely kaking myself! Revision and coursework has kept me from updating this one... PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!!! All your reviews have been fantastic!!! XD

Do Me A Favour

Three years later

Torrigan swallowed nervously, hand braced on the door handle. His mother was on the other side of that door, he knew; he could hear her talking to Logan. Even from outside the room, Torrigan could hear his mother's voice was full of energy and barely-contained excitement. Barely four days before, Logan and Elsie had expressed their wish to be married and, as far as Torrigan could tell, his mother was more than happy to give her blessing. Elsie had visited Torrigan the previous night, waking him from his sleep.

"Torri, I'm sorry, but...but I need to talk to you."

He had grumbled and struggled up into a sitting position. There he had glared at her. "I've got morning watch, you realise?"

"I know, and I said I'm sorry." She'd hesitated, unable to meet his eye. "Could you do me the biggest favour in the world?" Torrigan had grunted. "Would you...would you give Logan and me your blessing?"

"Of course. I thought I already had."

"In front of Mother."

Torrigan had yawned widely. "I already did."

"Torri, our father is dead. I don't want to ask Rogir, so...so would you be the one who leads me to the alter, if mother lets Logan and I wed?"

"Don't you mean our fathers are dead," Torrigan had asked, then grinned as Elsie opened her mouth to say something. "I'm jesting. Elsie, I'd be honoured."

She had smiled gently, hugging her brother tightly. "I don't care who are fathers were, Torri: you're still my brother and I love you to pieces; craziness and all!"

"Thanks."

"And this will give you practice for when you have to walk your own daughter to the alter," Elsie had whispered.

"Why didn't you ask Rogir?"

Elsie was silent for a moment. Then she had whispered, "I don't know. Since he came home...he frightens me now."

"He's always been flamboyant. It's in his nature."

"Yes, but he's never been this..." She had hesitated again. "I don't know. He's never been this watchful."

"He's been away for years," Torrigan had tried to soothe. "He's grown up. We all have."

But his sisters words still made an impression on him. His sister was frightened, and yet Torrigan saw no reason to panic. Rogir hadn't really changed. He was lively, excitable, and all-in-all cocky, but hadn't he always been like that? Besides, Torrigan loved having his older brother back home. When Elsie had woken him, Torrigan had been trying to sleep off too much drink from one of the various parties Rogir had dragged him to. He hadn't been too happy at being woken.

Now it was time to go give his blessing to his sister's desire to be married.

"You should have wrote me when Mother said," Rogir told him, slowing his chestnut horse down to a walk besides Torrigan's grey. "A Clayr's Sight turned onto you?"

"It's not much," Torrigan murmured, shrugging. "It could have been an alternate future. Besides, how many women do I know. Well, women who could save the Kingdom, anyway."

His brother frowned slightly, worrying his lower lip. His eyes grew distant for a moment as the young men rode their horses calmly through the palace grounds. "What was the exact prophecy again?"

Torrigan sighed and cursed Meredith inwardly. His sister had told Rogir at breakfast that morning about the Clayr's words, and the Crown Prince had not let the matter slide the whole day.

"'She shall come from across the Wall, taken and raised by those that do not believe. She shall be the woman who shall save the Old Kingdom; the one to make a king out of the past. Together they shall restart the fading Bloodline. Together they shall destroy the enemies that seek to destroy us all'."

Rogir smiled wickedly. "The only thing it could point to is the Dead uprising. And the only person who could defeat them is the Abhorsen. And the new one's a man."

Torrigan nodded his head and then laughed. "So you think this woman could be an Abhorsen?"

"Meh, I don't know." Rogir slapped a hand over Torrigan's shoulder, grinning slightly. "Well, whoever she is, we shall be looking out for her. I especially."

Torrigan turned his horse back to face the palace, glancing up at the sky overhead. The sun was setting; it was almost time for him to get ready. Rogir saw the concern that flashed over Torrigan's face, and his forehead creased with a frown. "What's wrong?"

"I have guard duty soon."

"Where?"

The young man shrugged. "I don't know. I'm looking after Mother, so I guess this duty shan't be too taxing."

Rogir sniggered. "I hear you're the envy of the Guard. The Queen doesn't bother to sneak sweets into the pockets of her other guards."

"I asked her to stop, but she keeps treating me like a little," Torrigan sighed, then laughed. "'Sneaking sweets into my pockets' being another way of saying 'ordering me to eat'. I suppose it could be worse."

"Yes. You could be asked to guard the Reservoir."

Torrigan gave his brother a dark look. "Don't jest! That place gives me the creeps. Thank the Charter no one has to guard there."

"I know that," Rogir replied with a shrug, then turned his eyes towards the entrance to the home of the Charter Stones. "I think it's a damned shame, though. When I'm King, I'll make sure there's a guard on each door."

"You'll be popular."

Torrigan was silenced with a serious stare. "Anything could happen down there. I'd rather be safe than sorry." Rogir's handsome face was so grave, Torrigan could do nothing more than hang his head, feeling humiliated. "Don't look like that, Torri. Look, have you got any duty tomorrow?"

"Afternoon, up top of the palace. Why?"

His brother rubbed his hands gleefully. "Let's go for a drink. In the evening, of course. I'm sure we could sneak out into the city and find a party or lively tavern. I'm sick of all these meetings and polite dances."

Torrigan laughed again. "I don't think you can complain when you invite half the young women back to your rooms afterwards. Oh, and please stop trying to make me talk to girls. It's so embarrassing."

"What?" Rogir looked shocked. "How is it embarrassing?"

The young man blushed. "I don't...I don't know what to say."

"Then don't talk. There are plenty of other options, little brother. How old are you now, nineteen?"

"Twenty."

"Oh."

Torrigan glared at the confused Rogir. "And I take it one of those other 'options' is...is love."

Never one for modesty, Rogir pulled a face. "It's called 'sex', Torrigan. The word isn't going to kill you. There's nothing wrong with it. You don't have to wait until you're married – few do!"

"I don't want to be the cause of another accident," Torrigan replied heatedly, feeling his neck and cheeks reddening. "I hated the truth when I found out about me. I won't have any child of mine humiliated like I was."

"You're too sensitive, Torrigan." Rogir scolded. He reigned his horse up, casting eyes up the palace before them. "I don't want to head in too soon. You go ahead; I'm going to carry on riding for a while."

"On your own?"

Rogir rolled his eyes. "I'm a grown man, little brother. I can take care of myself."

Torrigan nodded. As Rogir rode off through the grounds away from him, Torrigan dismounted and patted his horse's neck in way of thanks. He looked towards the way his brother had gone and sighed. He loved Rogir. He had been one of his best friends since he could remember. But sometimes – just sometimes – he was too nosy for his own good.

"C'mon," he muttered to the horse, starting to lead the beast back towards the stables. "I've got work to do."