I'm so sorry for the atrocious wait! I really am, but I had a horrific struggle with writer's block and a shitload of schoolwork, along with a loss of inspiration following The Breakup, so there...

Anyway, here's the update, and I'd love you forever if you review and share your thoughts on the chapter. Enjoy!

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

"Britt," Santana said, gently shaking Brittany awake. The blonde just mumbled something and pressed herself harder against Santana's back, her breath tickling the tiny hairs on her neck. The feel of her breasts sent heat pooling low in Santana's stomach.

Why must Brittany make this so hard every time? She thought, but she felt a smile tug up the corners of her lips nevertheless. She pried Brittany's hands loose which were locked together around her left hand and is pressing against her chest, but Brittany fought against it. Even in sleep, she never wanted to let Santana go. But with a quick glance out of the window and the faint lightening in the eastern horizon, Santana knew that they would both get in trouble if Brittany kept this up.

"Britt, I know you're awake. You have to get up now and return to the castle," she murmured and Brittany groaned. It sounded adorable and Santana tugged at their locked hands and pressed a gentle kiss to Brittany's knuckles.

"Turn 'round San, and kiss me."

"I would if you'd get up," she said cheekily.

With a huff and a rustle in the sheets, she felt Brittany get up beside her and then she pulled on Santana's shoulder so that she was lying on her back. She had that predatory look on her face and Santana smirked up at her.

"Oh, hey there."

"Hi," Brittany whispered, her breath ghosting across Santana's face as her curtain of blonde hair fell over them. She was just so absolutely beautiful, and Santana almost couldn't believe that Brittany was hers. "It's really rude to stare you know, but since it's you, I—"

Santana pulled her down and crashed their lips against each other. Brittany was caught off-guard at first, but she eagerly reciprocated after a few heated moments and pretty soon, she began tugging insistently on Santana's clothes with an urgent whimper and a barely-stifled moan. Santana would have entertained her advances if not for her alarm at the fading darkness.

"Britt," she started saying in the sternest voice she could muster but Brittany's wandering hands were quickly shutting down her thought processes. "You have to... uhh. Britt!" She gasped as Brittany slid her hand down her pants, the blonde giggling at her evident arousal. She took a deep breath and mustered enough willpower to stop Brittany in her ministrations. She managed to snag at her lover's wrist and Brittany looked up at her, pouting in disappointment.

"You have to go." Santana jerked her head towards the window where the faint dawn light streamed in, soaking everything in a bluish hue.

She turned to Brittany again and her eyes were like chips of ice which held fire. Yes, Santana was aware that her metaphors weren't making much sense, but Brittany's eyes were even more gorgeous in this light.

With reluctance, Brittany rolled off of her and sat up in bed. Santana quickly followed and pressed her lips against Brittany's bare shoulder.

"I don't understand you. You want me to go but you're making it extremely hard for me to do so," Brittany sighed out sadly looking out the window. In the distance, the Palace is already waking up and slaves and servants were ambling across the grass, carrying things in preparation for another day.

"I'm sorry," Santana mumbled, chastised. Brittany stood up and gave Santana a chaste kiss, pulling away quickly before all her self-control left her. She grinned at Santana and patted her on the shoulder.

"I'll see you tonight. Take care, San." She bundled her cloak around herself and Santana dolefully watched her go. She was left sitting there, quickly missing Brittany. After a while she stood up and got dressed.

The darkness was still sufficient to cloak her movements, and Brittany cautiously climbed up the ivy-covered wall leading up to her bedchamber. After doing this countless of times before, she had every foothold and handhold memorized, and after a few moments, she was pulling herself up her window.

However, as soon as she had swung her leg over the sill and was safely inside, she froze.

"P-papa?" Her father was sitting on the edge of her bed, his expression unreadable as he turned his slate-grey eyes towards her.

Brittany shrank at his cold stare and she backed away towards the window. Lord Tubbington jumped off the bed and perched himself on the windowsill. She turned to glare at him. Really, Tubbs?

"Do not force my hand, Brittany," he said, straightening up. There was a dangerous edge in his voice and Brittany shivered, but not from the chill of the morning air. "I want you to stop seeing that woman."

"You can't do that," she said automatically.

Her father smiled coldly at her. "Oh I could." He stepped towards her, but Brittany would not allow herself to be intimidated so she brought herself up to full height and tried to appear stubborn and unyielding but still, her father was a full head taller than her. "You know that bandit raids are a perennial problem in the West, and technically, that woman is a soldier of the Realm. I could easily send her there."

"You can't do that," she said again, but it came out weak. Of course, he is King, he can do what he wanted, a voice echoed in the back of her head, and her heart sank at the thought. But she knew she couldn't show weakness in front of her father when he's being like this, and she looked fiercely up at him. She took a deep breath. "You can't do that. You can't make me stop seeing her!"

He looked away from her intense gaze, considering. When he turned to her again, his face had softened but his eyes did not lose their edge. Brittany didn't know what to believe about him anymore. Lowering her gaze, she tried to step past him in order to curl up on the covers in an effort to get a few hours of sleep before she had to get up again, but he grabbed her arm.

"Brittany. All I ask is you don't embarrass me in front of the Prince. I don't want word of you cavorting with your guard to reach his ears."

"Santana isn't my guard," she snapped, then winced as her father glowered at her. "Yet."

"Trust me, speculation is running amuck after that stunt during the joust. Most of the nobles are wondering why your concern for your knight is so utter... a knight who turned out to be a woman," he said through gritted teeth. He sighed, deflating. "Just, please... be in your best behaviour while the Prince is here. Stop sneaking out at night. Not only is it unbecoming of a lady of your stature, but it's also dangerous."

He went past her and peered over the window, his eyebrows knitting together as he eyed the sheer drop into the grass below.

"Feline behaviour must be rubbing off on you, huh," he said, chuckling. Brittany was surprised at the change in his mood and she could only gape. "No, seriously, Brittany, stop doing this."

"I just wanted to see Santana," she mumbled in a small voice.

Her father sighed again. "Regarding, that—uh, Santana, I admit I was too harsh. Probably from a combination of being up all night and..." he trailed off, looking away. "Alright, fine. You can see her. You can do whatever you want with her, but—"

Brittany couldn't believe what she was hearing, until he held up a finger and waved it in front of her face.

"But only after the Prince had gone back to Fidelian. For now, you have to keep him happy."

There was finality in his words and Brittany frowned. She wondered how long he would be here or whatever 'keeping him happy' entailed. Maybe she would dance for him like she used to do so for Will, but those tasks were for slaves, right?

But instead of voicing out her questions, she just nodded and her father looked pleased.

Brittany stepped out of the Palace doors and she was the most beautiful thing Santana had ever seen. She had on a dress the colour of sunshine, and with her fair hair, Santana had to make sure that the sun did not make its way down from the sky and wrapped itself around the Princess.

However, her chest tightened and she felt the white-hot surge of anger when she saw the greasy-haired scumbag step out of the Palace doors as well.

Brittany's description failed to do him justice. He looked even worse in person, even from this distance, and Santana couldn't help but curl her lip in disgust. Indeed, Brittany had every reason to think that he might be a young man who is only trying to dupe her father.

He immediately offered his hand to Brittany, and she was taken aback at this gesture, but she quickly recovered and smiled (though, it looked to Santana that her smile was strained), then promptly took it. She fixed the Prince a glare, as if the sheer force of her look would keep his hands off of Brittany.

Her gaze followed them as they took off in the direction of the gardens, and she had half a mind to follow them, all the while craning her neck at the pair.

But the next thing she knew, all the wind was knocked out of her as the things she was carrying (she had been assigned to get five sets of padded armour from the armoury) exploded all around her and she was sprawled on the ground.

"You watch where you're going, fucking dog," the soldier spat on the ground near her head and Santana shot up to her feet so fast and swung her arm at his jaw. Caught off-guard, her fist connected, and damn it felt good to have a target for her anger. The soldier howled in fury and in pain and blindly swung his fist, and Santana was momentarily disoriented when he caught her on the temple.

She swayed on the spot, but still had enough presence of mind to dart away, but she hadn't gotten very far when she tripped over her boots and landed on her behind.

He charged after her, and only then did Santana realize how much bigger he was—how his muscles bulged against the sweaty shirt he wore and how his corded arms ended in huge fists that could easily bash her face in. But never the one to back down from a fight (and yes, she couldn't help the feeling of exhilaration from the rush of adrenaline), she determinedly faced him. She ducked when he tried to catch her again with a right hook to the jaw. Her survival instincts kicked in, along with the murky mixture of rage and jealousy at seeing the Prince with her beloved, and her fist came flying with surprising strength.

She felt his nose give a satisfying crack and he bellowed in pain.

Soldiers rushed to separate them, and it took three men to stop Santana from leaping back into action and finishing the job—Lima Heights style. The man's nose was bent and bleeding profusely as he thickly muttered curses under his breath, but he shrugged off the men holding him and stalked off. Santana allowed her anger to deflate and when she looked up, she saw Sue Sylvester shaking her head at her.

"Your uncontrollable temper will get you into some very real trouble someday," she said. And when Santana passed her by, she hissed, "And I doubt even the Princess could get you out of that mess."

Santana ignored her and shuffled away.

Joe reminded her of a dog.

Brittany couldn't place it, but every time she saw him, she kind of half-expected him to bark in greeting. She had no idea where that came from, but maybe, she isn't entirely far-off in her assumption, since when Lord Tubbington first saw him, he shrank away and hid under her skirt. He curled himself around her ankle and she could feel him trembling all over as he gave one of his rare pathetic mewls.

It didn't help that he always followed her around like a lost puppy. Even during her lessons, he dutifully sat in the room with her, watching her with his dog-like eyes that sometimes, she couldn't help a shiver run down her spine.

Mistress Hagberg wrapped up her lessons early today with a despairing sigh. She had a hard time understanding everything and sometimes she couldn't help but be angry at her father for forcing her into a position she knew she isn't capable of handling. She had mentioned this to Santana.

"Britt, stop saying that about yourself, alright?" she had said, tucking strands of fair hair behind her ear. Her brown eyes were so soft even in the pale shafts of moonlight which served as their illumination, and Brittany couldn't help but smile.

"It's not true. You're not stupid. You just aren't used to everything. Trust me, even if I were to suddenly take lessons from Hagberg, I don't think I'd be able to learn everything right away. Not to mention everything must be so boring. Learning takes time, Britt. Just be patient." Santana had punctuated this with a smile and a kiss, and Brittany was glad because with Santana, nothing else mattered. She allowed herself to get lost in the kiss.

But that was ages ago.

She wanted to ask Santana how long she thought it would take for her to learn anything, but the lessons so far, just goes inside one ear and out the other, and she was losing hope in herself. Maybe she was stupid after all.

She wanted to see her so badly, but after her father caught her sneaking back to her room, she was forbidden. He had posted a guard below her window, in addition to the ones posted at her door. Brittany tried not to feel like a prisoner and she was only willing to put up with this arrangement until the Prince left for home. She wished it was soon though.

When she stood up to leave the room, with Mistress Hagberg shaking her old wrinkly head at her and scowling, Joe slammed the book shut he was reading as he waited for herb and stood up also.

"Must you always do that?" she said, trying not to jump as he started walking beside her.

"Do what?"

"That. Follow me around. You're worse than Lord Tubbington." She stopped herself from adding, "At least Tubbs totally gives me quality time with Santana."

"Well, I—" he stammered, taken aback. "Who's Lord Tubbington?"

"My cat," she answered curtly. Said cat emerged behind a vase with strips of what looked like fabric caught in his claws and Brittany shook her head at him. "I hope whatever you destroyed this time wasn't totally irreparable. You know how Quinn had thrown a fit last time." When he saw Joe, Lord Tubbington slunk away, looking fearful. Brittany scooped him up and he was quick to hide his face on her chest.

"You talk to your cat?"

"Well, cats have feelings too. And they could totally understand me. It's the same thing when my father talks to my mother's flowers."

Joe frowned and Brittany stared up at him and at her cat then tilted her head as a thought occurred to her. "He's afraid of you. Are you, like, going to cook him or something?" she asked suspiciously. Cavemen wouldn't pass up a fat feline like Lord Tubbington right?

"Of course not, Brittany, why would I do that?" He looked disgusted at the prospect and Brittany raised her eyebrows.

"Fair enough. But are you a dog?"

"Am I a what?"

Brittany had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. Joe should get his ears checked or something. Or probably, his hair was preventing sounds from properly reaching his ears.

"Well, you know about the inherent enmity between dogs and cats. Tubbs looks really scared of you."

"I—I don't know," he said slowly and then his eyes widened at what he said, so he hastily amended, "Of course, I'm not a dog, Brittany."

She shrugged. "Just checking."

She strode past him, Lord Tubbington in her arms and Joe had to redouble his pace to catch up to her. He still looked perplexed though.

In order to boast of the Realm's lush greeneries and rich wildlife, the King will be taking the Prince of Fidelian on a hunting trip in the forests of Rhineston, about fifty leagues northwest of Kingsvale.

That was the reason why the Kingsguards were standing in attention in the courtyard, shivering in the frigid early morning air. This, despite being in their thick and resplendent mantles (well, Santana's was a generic cloak the colour of cobwebs), as they waited for the royals. Soon the sunlight drove the mists away as the sun steadily climbed into the magnificent autumn sky.

Sam had told her that it had been the King's tradition every year before winter set in, until illness and old age set in. But now, he seemed determined on impressing the Prince—a fact that set Santana's teeth on edge. It didn't help that seeing Brittany was a rare treat nowadays, since she seemed to always be hanging in the arm of that royal scumbag.

When they did see each other though, Brittany was quick to drag her into whatever secluded nook she was able to find during her endless strolls with that git who could certainly use multiple baths, and kiss her senseless. Santana wasn't complaining but Brittany still kept on assuring her that this sneaking off would only be until the Prince leaves for Fidelian.

She doubted it, but Brittany's enthusiasm was contagious, and she did not have it in her to dampen that. She was still torn whether she wanted to detach herself from Brittany so it would hurt a lot less when the time comes that she'd be married off to somebody that her father deemed 'worthy' in his eyes. But every time they see each other, it just makes her fall in love with Brittany even more.

It did not stop Santana from wishing that their furtive meetings should last longer, but she'd take what she could get.

From where she stood with the Kingsguards and their squires, she could make out Brittany all bundled up and no doubt looking disoriented.

Santana had to resist the urge to run towards her and help her mount the steps up the carriage, and even though she had her maid for that now, the Prince immediately took her hand and helped her up. Santana's chest tightened again, and her only relief was the flash of annoyance on Brittany's face. Or was she just seeing what she wished to see?

Sam sympathetically squeezed her arm as Brittany disappeared inside, closely followed by Quinn and her betrothed, the Duke of Ricafort. The Prince climbed in after them and now Santana had clenched her fists in order to calm herself.

Santana was awakened by a yell.

"Bandits!"

She took a moment to gather her bearings and shake off the last vestiges of sleep, grateful that she remembered to cut the ropes which she had used to strap herself into the tree before jumping into action. She leapt off the tree and rushed into the sounds of battle, sword drawn.

In the shadows, she spotted the King's enormous mountain of a guard, Spencer the Highlander, usher him off to safety, and instead of rushing into the fight, she hastened towards the tent that Brittany shared with Quinn.

"Britt," she called out, peering inside. Her stomach dropped when she did not find anyone, but reasoned with herself that other Kingsguards had probably taken her to safety first, just as they had done with the King. "That's it," she muttered to herself to calm her frantically beating heart.

She backed out of the tent slowly and was immediately dragged into action.

The savage outlaws bore upon them like fierce black flies, and though the Kingsguards were massively outnumbered by at least three to one, their foes lacked skill. However, about ten paces in front of her, she saw Sam fall and two outlaws rushing towards him. She quickly dispatched her engagement and sprinted to his aid to meet the outlaws going in for the kill.

She swung her sword and one of the bandits was caught off-guard. Santana got him in the neck and blood geysered out and the man fell dead. The other, enraged at what she had done, raised his sword and quickly brought it down. Santana expected the blade to cut into her flesh, but she heard the ring of steel against steel.

She looked up and saw that Sam parried the attack meant for her, and acting on instinct, she thrust her sword into the outlaw's belly. However, the latter was undeterred, and the injury only served to make him angrier, but Sam quickly elbowed him in the face. He was about to give him the final blow, but the man was quicker, and Santana screamed when she saw his dagger pierce his side.

With a cry, Sam fell. The thug, instead of finishing his job, ran off into the darkness. Santana was torn between staying behind for Sam and running after him, but after a split-second decision, she chose to drag Sam away from the fighting.

"I'm alright, Santana," he said through clenched teeth. He was literally lying through his teeth as his blood-spattered face was crumpled up in agony.

"No, you're not," Santana said as she patiently stemmed the flow with pieces of cloth from the packet on her waist.

"Thank you," Sam said, managing a strained smile even though the bleeding still hadn't stopped.

Fighting eventually died down, as the rest of the outlaws fled after they had detached themselves from their separate engagements. Several of the Kingsguards gave chase while the rest guarded the perimeter and dragged the bodies away-except for the Kingsguard Menger, whom she observed, had no intention of letting his captive go because he had pinned him against a tree with his horse lying dead nearby.

Santana squinted into the misty darkness for the royals but couldn't find any of them. She reassured herself that wherever the King may be as of this moment, Brittany was safe with him,

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to stop him in time, sir," she murmured, cringing at the extent of the damage done to him.

"'S alright. Part of the job. I don't know how you managed it in the joust. The other guards told me you were able to walk it off for a while."

She did not say anything, and Sam gasped and shut his eyes as a pang of pain seized him.

"It's deeper than I thought." Sam peered down into his wound using what little illumination the crescent moon offered. "But it's nothing fatal."

Santana frowned, trying not to look incredulous.

"Trust me, I'd make an easy recovery."

Just then, Menger had wrestled his captive to the ground, and he was snarling at the Kingsguard in a language Santana could not understand as he clawed at Menger's powerful hand on his throat.

"Stop it! You're killing him!" Santana bellowed, running towards them when she started seeing the whites of the bandit's eyes as he struggled to get air into his lungs. The ridiculousness of her outburst wasn't lost on her since not a few moments ago, she had killed a man and had watched in fascination as his spray of blood arched off into the darkness.

At once, Menger let go of him, chuckling as he did so, and he wriggled free, massaging his throat. Menger shot her a glare and quickly tied him up instead and spat on his face, but the captive did not say anything understandable to them. Just mutterings in that strange tongue.

Other Kingsguards had returned, their faces grim and sombre after their grisly task, their weapons and armour sticky with blood. Santana fixed Sam up as best as she could and he shot her a grateful smile as he staggered to his feet and insisted that she guide him back to his post before all hell broke loose.

"But, you must rest, sir."

"I'm fine, I assure you, it's just a mere scratch." He winced. "Either way, I won't be able to sleep. Hurts a bit."

The entire camp was on edge and all the Kingsguards paired off and stood on the edge of the clearing, swords drawn and weapons ready as they peered through the gaps in the trees. The Hunt was no more and by daybreak, they'd all soon be on their way back to Kingsvale.

Eventually, all the excitement died down.

The King was escorted back into the camp, along with Quinn and the Duke of Ricafort. Santana's heart started racing wildly in her chest as she looked around for Brittany but was unable to find her. She hadn't seen Brittany after she had retired to her tent, and had completely missed him in the chaos of the attack. She just assumed that she was with her father.

Quinn came out of her tent again, the Duke hot on her heels as fast as his wooden leg would carry him, and went to her father's. Santana watched with trepidation as they conferred with each other and through the firelight that blazed in the camp, she saw the King stiffen in apprehension. He quickly beckoned Spencer, who hurried off and broke whatever it was to the Kingsguards nearest him.

Santana hurried over to them, ignoring Sam's questions.

"Brittany," Quinn said, grabbing her arm. "She's gone. Along with the Prince."

This was only the first half of chapter since it ended up being longer than what I had initially planned, and thus it was taking a bit longer to write. So I decided to update now rather than wait for the whole thing to finish. Just so you know, I'm currently on a semestral break (for 2 weeks) so I have all the time to write now. I just need the motivation as I'm kinda running low on that front. So please review.

If all goes well, and I feel motivated enough I might be able to put up the second part tomorrow.

Thanks for reading!