Brittany was dreaming she was five again and that she was woken up by her father. He immediately took her in his arms and the coolness of his breastplate sent a stinging ache to her bare legs.
She flinched when she heard a blast outside and it seemed to shake the whole Palace to its foundations. She could hear unintelligible shouts as knights shouted marching orders and she shut her eyes and quickly buried her face into her father's neck. He whispered reassurances onto her hair—and they were tired, tired words that did nothing but curl her insides in resentment whenever she remembered the words he had uttered,
She wanted to say, "Please don't leave me with Mama," in order to stave off the inevitable, but instead, what came out of her mouth was a feeble, "Papa, what's happening?"
No. Not again.
Please wake up.
She didn't want to live through this anymore.
"Nothing's happening, my sweet. Everything will be alright when Papa sorts this out," he whispered, and only now did she realize how much he lacked confidence when he said those things, as if he was also desperately trying to convince himself.
Her surroundings swam in her vision, and a haze fell over everything as her father carried her in the direction of his bedchamber.
Brittany wrenched herself from this nightmare and woke up in cold sweat, blinking rapidly as she tried to calm her frantically-beating heart.
However, the unintelligible shouts were very real. And they were coming from outside.
She threw the blankets off her and carefully stepped over Quinn and Artie, still soundly sleeping, their figures entwined underneath Artie's heavy cloak. She felt a stab of jealousy because the two of them could be as open about their relationship as they were.
She peered out of the tent and squinted into the darkness. Their serene camp had erupted into a pandemonium of fighting and slaughter. She shrank back, not knowing what to do, fear already seizing her heart because Santana was out there. Looking around for something she could use as a weapon, she spotted Artie's sword that was leaning against the canvas beside his wooden leg. She averted her eyes from the weird-looking appendage and instead focused on the sword. It looked decorative more than anything, what with the ornate carving on the pommel of the wire-wrapped hilt, but still better than nothing. She swung the baldric over her shoulder and shoved her feet into boots then set out.
She jumped when she heard the thud of a body following an inhuman shriek, and this was more frightening than she realized. This was decidedly different than the time she had rescued Santana from the clutches of the City Watch. Everything was confusing and she just wanted to find Santana and run away from this chaos. She kept low, but kept an eye out for Santana's small figure, Artie's sword held in front of her, but the thin blade hardly looked threatening.
She felt a hand on her shoulder and whirled around in a panic, a scream caught in her throat.
In her shock, she nearly ran him through with her sword.
"Brittany! It's me!" It was Joe. He grabbed her hand and she flinched. "Let's go!"
"Go where?"
"Somewhere safe! It's a massacre out here!" He pulled her to him as something swished past her. A scream quickly followed and she turned, horrified, at the man whose head was impaled by the spear. She felt bile creep up her throat at the gruesome spectacle and was morbidly transfixed as the man twitched a few times before laying still. She felt weak and she dropped Artie's sword as she put a hand up her mouth.
Joe mumbled something unintelligible under his breath and dragged her away. She concentrated on not spilling the contents of her stomach as they moved away from the camp. She wanted to turn back and stay because she knew Santana would come for her and it was probably more dangerous out here, but Joe had a firm grip on her arm that her fingers were starting to go numb.
"Let's go back!"
"Brittany, it isn't safe there," he said forcefully.
But it's not safe out here either, wherever this was.
Rhineston, she recalled. But it lay in the western reaches of the Kingdom which has always been plagued by bandit raids, she also recalled Mistress Hagberg telling her, so this was kind of expected. She wondered why of all times could she now remember her lessons.
"But we have guards, they'd protect us—"
"No, they can't! There are lots of them! We must escape while we still can—"
"But... Santana," she tried to pull away but Joe would not let her go.
Santana was no doubt caught up in the fighting as the rest of the Kingsguards and their squires—not that there were many of them—and for all she knew, Santana
"I promise we'll come back once things—"
"You're a coward! Let me go!" She dug her nails into Joe's forearm but his grip tightened even more and she unwillingly followed him as he waded deeper into the wood. She half-wished she hadn't dropped Artie's sword. But it was stupid of her not to have remembered to pick it back up.
The sounds of the commotion at the camp faded as they went farther. She tried not to think about something bad happening to Santana but the image of the impaled soldier and how he twitched in his death throes kept coming back. She suppressed a shudder.
She had to go back. She had to find Santana. Hell, Santana should have been looking for her now. She glanced at the direction where they came from but could only see the very faint outlines of their tents.
She struggled against Joe's hold, and with a snarl of irritation (he did sound like a dog), he forcibly carried her and hitched her over his shoulder. She pummelled his back with her fists, but Joe was undeterred. Now, Brittany was afraid.
"Santana!" she called out helplessly, tears burning her eyes. "Put me down, you coward!" She punctuated each word with a blow, but Joe's muscles were hard as rocks and she was even more afraid. Maybe he wasn't fully human, she thought with an absurd combination of fear and astonishment.
"Don't do that! You'll give us away! I swear we're going back once things calm down a bit!"
"Santana! Help me!"
With reluctance he put her down and Brittany was about to dash away, but Joe's fingers were locked on her arm. Brittany tried to bite down his fingers when he clamped a hand to her mouth—to no avail.
"Brittany, listen," he said, panting slightly at the exertion. "I promise I won't hurt you. We're going to hide out for a while, and then we'll come back once things are alright again. Understand—"
A shaft of moonlight fell over his eyes and she saw the sincerity in them before they widened in alarm. He swiftly took something out of his belt and lunged. She heard a cry behind her, impossibly near, and felt a something warm splatter her neck. She was terrified to find out what it was and she just stood stiffly facing Joe, whose mouth was hanging open.
There was the unmistakable sound of a body dropping to the ground with a heavy thud. She turned her head slowly and had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from screaming when she saw a man, dressed in what could only be described as rags, a dagger stuck to his neck. In the moonlight, she could still see blood spurting from the wound.
They heard a faint rustling nearby and Joe grabbed her again and they dove under the brush.
"Damien!" an unfamiliar voice called out. And then, "Shit!"
He had found the body. She could see his hulking form illuminated by the moonlight slipping through the canopy.
More rustling. This one really close to where they were hiding, with Joe's clammy hand still covering her mouth. She could feel him shaking against her, and Brittany tried to suppress a whimper but it slipped out anyway. And before Joe whisked her away, she saw more figures appear, threatening to hem them in.
They ran. Away from the camp and much, much deeper into the woods as the man called out to the others. She closely followed Joe, mimicking his footsteps as best as she could to avoid tripping over gnarled tree roots and getting her feet tangled in the undergrowth.
Before long, the undergrowth was thinning and the ground beneath their feet had gone from being padded with leaves into being loose and covered with rocks. She could feel their jagged edges cutting into the thin soles of her boots, and she stopped, doubled over as she tried to catch her breath.
"Joe! They're g—"
Her words were cut off with a scream as an arrow whizzed by her ear and planted itself on a nearby tree. She was rooted to the spot, and if not for Joe's forceful tug on her arm, the second arrow would have surely found her back.
They came upon some sort of a gorge, and though Brittany could not see how deep it was in the moonlight, she swiftly scrambled down the gorge without hesitation, maintaining her precarious balance by sheer speed.
"Brittany! Wait!" Joe whispered loudly, and he showered her with small rocks as he started to climb down after her.
She groped around frantically for handholds, and she felt the sharp rocks slicing into her palm. She bit her lip hard and tried to endure the pain, but soon, her hands were slippery with blood. She tried to reach for a hardy plant growing in a small chasm in order to steady herself, and she felt her weight shift forward. She leant back, but she overcompensated, and she started to slide down out of control.
She swallowed back a scream as her ankle was caught between two rocks jutting out of the earth, but her body continued falling forward, and her ankle started to twist painfully. With a last-minute manoeuvring, it came free and it sent her flying into the air.
"Brittany!" was all she heard before she hit the bottom of the gorge, and everything went black.
The King cried out in anguish, but to Santana everything was so silent, and her world bled away at the edges. She saw Spencer talking with the King again, who looked furious, but his features softened in understanding after a beat.
Santana stared uncomprehendingly at Quinn. She looked distressed, and she was shaking her.
Brittany... she's gone. Along with the Prince.
Quinn's nasally voice was playing in a loop in her mind and she could hear nothing else.
Brittany... she's gone. Along with the Prince.
Quinn opened her mouth again, but Santana couldn't hear anything. An image appeared in her mind: she remembered how the man she had slashed with her sword had bled out at her feet and suddenly, she felt nauseous. She blinked rapidly as stars danced in her vision. Quinn was frowning now, and she took to slapping her lightly.
It took forever before the tapping sensation of Quinn's fingers reached her brain and she sucked in a breath.
"Santana."
"What—"
Brittany... she's gone. Along with the Prince.
It started to sink in, and Santana immediately sprang into action as Spencer the Highlander's spoke up, his voice booming.
"We're searching for them come morning," he said with finality. "We could do naught at the moment and it would be perilous if we don't stick together. Nobody knows how many of them are still out there, and we'd all be prime target for an ambush."
"Fuck, no!" she snapped heatedly, stomping towards where she knew Sam's charger was tethered. Her horse was a slow palfrey, whereupon most of Sam's belongings were loaded. The Kingsguards all turned their eyes towards her, some of them chuckling maliciously.
"Lopez," the Duke of Ricafort's knight called Rutherford grabbed her by the shoulder. "I could assure you that those brigands didn't take them. Went after 'em myself," he gestured to his bloody armour and the nasty-looking gash on his right arm. "They're probably out there somewhere by themselves. Hiding."
"But what if those thugs found her first?" She didn't care for the Prince. He could die a slow death by exposure and bear-mauling for all she cared. She grabbed a torch from another squire and he gaped at her but did nothing to stop her.
Rutherford frowned but shook his head, denying the possibility. "Besides, you won't be able to do anything in this darkness. Like the Highlander said, we'd all be riding off into slaughter especially if we separate."
She scowled but prepared to mount the horse. Sam limped towards her, shaking his head. He wordlessly conferred with Rutherford, who just shrugged and left.
"Lopez, listen alright? There's no use sticking your neck out there. It'll only be a few hours before daybreak. It would be useless to search for them in this darkness. There are still bandits out there and if anything, this lull had given them the perfect opportunity to set up an ambush. And if the Kingsguards leave, they might attack again. Let's just pray to the Person above that wherever they are, they are safe."
But Santana wasn't listening to him anymore. She could hear Spencer's deep voice as he talked with the King.
"...came to get Their Highnesses but Her Highness wasn't there anymore. I thought Evans got to her first and had taken her somewhere safe."
Sam turned to the King, "Your Majesty, I had every intention of getting the Princesses to safety but three outlaws engaged me in combat—"
The King held up a hand to stop him. "Enough," he mumbled tiredly, visibly deflating. Sam was apologizing but the King brushed him off.
Seeing that Sam's attention was engaged elsewhere, Santana jumped into the saddle and rode away into the darkness, ignoring everyone's protests.
Brittany awoke to find herself lying on something soft and warm. Her head pulsated with a dull pain, like it had a heart instead of her brain, which would probably make sense since she always had a hard time understanding things as she usually went with how she felt. She brought up a hand to her forehead and was surprised to find it swathed in what seemed like Joe's torn shirt. It felt warm and sticky and she tentatively pressed a finger to it, wincing at the sudden jolt of pain.
She tried to remember what happened but all she had were fragmented memories of dreaming she was five again... and then the man who was impaled... and running. And then the fall.
She tried to sit up and cried out as her muscles protested. She bent her knee and tried to push against the ground but screamed as a very sharp pain lanced from her ankle. She was horrified to see that it had swollen into the size of a grapefruit, and was an angry-looking purple.
She heard the crunch of someone's boots against the rocks and she gasped when she saw Joe's head peek into the entrance of the... she looked around. She was inside what looked like a cave.
"Brittany! Are you alright?" he asked breathlessly, crawling inside. He looked like a caveman with streaks of grime and dirt on his cheeks and Brittany had to stop herself from laughing. He hardly looked like the Prince that he was.
"I... I am. I was just. Where are we? What happened?"
He sighed and shuffled beside her. He held her chin between his thumb and forefinger then tilted her head to the side.
"Does this hurt?"
She shook her head, but the motion sent everything spinning and she had to bite back the nausea that suddenly rose in her stomach.
He checked her bandages and sighed again.
"I'm sorry Brittany. It's my fault. I couldn't remember the way. I tried to go back the way we came but it was so dark last night... not to mention the walls of the gorge are inclined very steeply and it was impossible to climb back up."
"I led us down here," she said timidly.
He shrugged and grinned. "Guess we'll have to wait to be found, eh?"
If there's anyone who is capable of finding them, it's Santana. She's sure of it. She wished it was soon though. Her headache is growing worse.
She found him staring at her with a small smile on his face, and she suddenly felt self-conscious.
She closed her eyes and allowed sleep to claim her again.
Dawn had broken but it did little to ease the gloom in the woods.
A few hours prior, three bandits jumped her. But all her years hunting had sharpened her instincts, and she quickly dispatched them, but not without injury. Her shoulder had been torn open when she accidentally lowered her guard. It throbbed painfully but it was dull compared to the raging worry in her chest.
The spectre of death cast a heavy pall over everything and Santana tried to banish morbid thoughts about Brittany's fate. She hoped against hope that Brittany was just hiding out and had decided to wait it out until morning before returning to their camp.
She came upon a clearing and called out for Brittany but there was no reply. She jumped at the sudden screech and the flapping of wings as a startled bird flew by. She squinted into the gap in the leafy canopy overhead, trying to identify what kind of bird it was, and fear gripped her heart when she realized it was a crow.
"No, God, no, please," she whimpered, tugging on the reins of Sam's charger as she set off in the direction of the crow.
Brittany woke up with her throat burning. She tried to swallow, but there was nothing to swallow. There was barely any spit in her mouth. She opened her eyes and tried to raise her head, but the slight movement caused her vision to swim.
With the light pouring into their cave, she deduced that it must be noon. The light was expounding her headache, and she shut her eyes against the pain. But her head still felt like it was going to split in half, the pounding increasing in volume until she couldn't take it anymore, and a groan escaped her lips.
She nearly sat up when she felt something called being brought to her lips, and then, life-giving water was trickling down her throat. She opened her eyes a bit and saw Joe's worried face as he slowly tipped his waterskin to her lips. It was a welcome relief, and her headache lessened somewhat.
"Thank you," she croaked after the pain had subsided enough and she was able to speak again.
Joe just smiled.
"My father wanted me to marry you, you know," he said, after a while. Brittany said nothing. She had no intention of marrying him of course, and she knew he probably had some noblewoman awaiting his return in Fidelian. "And staying here?" He gently took her hand and brought it to his lips. Brittany flinched at the foreign touch. "It made me realize that I wanted to marry you too."
He had that look in his eyes that Santana occasionally had—that half-lidded gaze which seemed to take her all in—but he isn't Santana. And seeing that look on someone else's face was all kinds of wrong.
She felt afraid, and helpless.
She wished Santana would find them soon.
She kept going westward and the crow disappeared as it descended upon what seemed to be a gorge.
She jumped off her steed and looked around for something to tether her to. She spotted a sapling and swiftly picketed the beast and warily peered down into the ravine.
Sure enough, she found a murder of crows gathered upon something at the bottom. She was almost scared to see what or who it might be, but a small part of her was sickly hoping it was the body of the Prince.
She carefully climbed down and one of the crows turned to look at her as she inadvertently rained pebbles upon them, tilting its head to the side before calling out with a shrill "Kowww!" She instinctively braced herself should it choose to attack, but it was busy devouring whatever it is on the rocks, its beak stained red.
She cautiously searched for handholds, not daring to move until she was sure that everything was steady as she still had about fifty yards to go. She noted some of the rocks had blood on them and she automatically avoided them. She slid down the scree at the foot of the gorge and narrowed her eyes at the crows, her sword out.
One of them called out again and flapped its wings then flew away. A hairy arm with fair skin came into view, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
Probably an unfortunate traveller, she thought, but upon closer inspection of her surroundings, she saw something dark on some rocks a few yards away from the body. It looked like a piece of leather.
Her heart jumped to her throat when she saw that it was a boot. A boot belonging to a woman.
Brittany.
She nearly threw up when she saw some blood on the rocks.
He grabbed her chin again, a little more forcefully this time, and looked straight into her with that look. Brittany's heart was racing and she felt absolutely helpless. She desperately groped around for something—a rock, a pebble, a twig, anything—as he moved closer.
"What? We'll be married anyway, so better start learning now," he said huskily, and the fine hairs on the back of her head stood up on end. "I'm not going to hurt you, Britt. I promise."
Even her name on his lips felt so, so wrong. She whimpered and shrank away.
She heard whimpers coming from somewhere to her left, and Santana frantically looked around in the fading daylight for the source of the sound.
In despair, she called out, "Brittany!"
"Santana!" was the terrified answer.
Like an arrow zoning in on the centre of a target no matter how far away, her eyes found a small recess tucked behind several huge boulders. She broke into a run and nearly bashed her forehead on the cave's low entrance.
She found the greasy-haired animal kissing Brittany forcefully as his arms held her own still and stopped her from fighting back.
Rage leapt into her, and swinging her sword with the strength she knew not where it came from, she ran towards him and swung. Joe screamed, and rolled off Brittany, gasping for breath. There was blood everywhere and Santana dropped her sword and took Brittany in her arms.
However, Joe tackled her with surprising strength, and they rolled away from Brittany, struggling in the dirt. Joe swiftly gained the upper hand with his newfound superhuman strength.
She twisted against Joe's deadly embrace, struggling to free herself as he held a dagger against her neck, and she could feel his blood soaking her. She briefly caught Brittany's eyes. The blonde was full-on crying now, and Santana was so angry.
How dare he—
She felt his dagger slip as it cut across her palm and nick her neck, and with a superhuman burst of effort, she managed to throw him off her and gain the upper hand in their struggle. She grabbed a fistful of dirt and threw it in his face. He howled and frantically rubbed at his eyes. Trying to regain her breath, she scampered away and caught a glimpse of Brittany staggering to her feet with a rock in her hand advancing warily towards Joe who had gotten to his feet and coming after her. Joe wasn't aware of Brittany, and her mind flashed back to the time when Karofsky was pinning her to the ground when all of a sudden he went limp—
"No!" she yelled. "Britt, don't!"
But it was too late. Brittany slammed the rock into Joe's skull with all the force she could muster and it made a sickening sound, similar to crushing an overripe fruit, and Joe's eyes rolled to the back of his head. His knees crumpled beneath him and he dropped to the ground.
Santana took the bloodied boulder from Brittany and cast it into the ground at their feet, whereupon Brittany ran into her arms, sobbing. She grabbed fistfuls of Santana's shirt and buried her face into her chest.
"It's alright," was all she could say. Brittany was shaking—every inch of her quaking uncontrollably, depending on Santana to keep her together. "I got you. I'm here. It's alright."
She cautiously peered at Joe's prone and immobile form, her heart racing in her chest as her eyes frantically sought signs that he was still alive—signs like the gentle rise and fall of his stomach or even a flutter of movement.
But there was none.
Adios, Joe!
Thanks for reading! Please review! :)