Hey everyone here is the next chapter...but first I am going to reply to a certain comment that was left for this story (I apolagize to all of my lovely unpredjudiced reviewers-you guys are awesome and do not deserve my anger: this is in no way directed at you). I am choosing to respond to the comment both privately and publically simply because they did not have the curtsey to keep their hate filled rhetoric private so I am returning the favor.

To the reviewer under the name: Missionary (and honestly how uncreative can you get?) please do everyone a favor and get a life that does not include searching out stories labelled as slash so that you can tell me how wrong it is to be gay. For future reference-in case your IQ is not high enough to have realize this, the comment section on this site is there for people who have actually read the story and have comments or constructive critism on THE STORY. It is NOT, and I repete NOT for idiots like yourself who simply cannot accept that their beliefs and ideas belong back when humans still thought the world was flat (just so you know...it is not). That is all.

Once again thanks to everyone who actaully commented on THE story and not on one's right to consensually screw whoever they want to.

Ok I am done ranting now. please enjoy!

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Chap 37: All actions have consequences

"There is no avoidance in delay."
― Aeschylus, Agamemnon

Surprisingly enough, she had not been expecting it when it happened. For someone one who had lived the majority of the last few centuries as a lie, constantly guarding the truth from those who might purposefully or mistakenly discover it…she had been caught completely off guard. For a brief moment she had wondered what enemy of the immortal realms had grown powerful enough to pose as a threat to the royal couple—for that was the only reason she could think of that would cause a troop (not just a pair—but a whole troop) of guards to approach her and bring that serious blank mask to her husband's face.

Even as they brought out the shackles, she hadn't allowed herself to truly believe that her game was up; that Kiran somehow knew the truth. It wasn't until she spotted Caymn's face in the quickly growing crowd of onlookers that she realized the full depth of her situation. As the court official read out the charges against her she searched Kiran's face desperately, looking for even an ounce of remorse or sorrow in the stony features that were so unfamiliar to her husband's normally warm features. There was nothing….nothing but disgust and anger.

It was only now that she felt the sharp dagger like pain pierce her chest, that she really understood how much her affair and actions had cost her. For, while her actions might make it appear as though she did not truly love her husband; that was not the case. She did love Kiran….most of the time she told herself it was only because of his power that she did but now feeling the sorrow that engulfed her at the sight of her husband's cold expression, she realized what a fool she had been. She realized she had lost more than her titles and most likely freedom in that moment…she had lost his love.

It was a startling revelation. It even brought her a few moments of regret….well, before that regret was replaced with anger and vengeance that is. The tipping point for this was what she saw right before she was dragged away in chains and tossed into one of the most secure prison cells to await her trial.

What she saw made her very blood boil with hatred and loathing. She couldn't help but seek out her brother's face in the crowd. She knew that she didn't really want to see what he thought of her now… now, that he knew what she had done—that it was she, his sister who was responsible for the death of the woman he loved and the unborn heir that he would have had. But she needed to see his face, maybe she was a touch masochistic or perhaps she was simply far more optimistic than she had believed. Whatever the reason some small part of her hoped that perhaps he would forgive her for her actions…that he would still stand by his only blood relation. Hell, she could have even dealt with seeing hatred or disgust in his eyes.

She saw none of these things…instead she what she saw was a confused broken man, something that she could have lived with—what she could not live with was the fact that Leonor had not even looked at her, rather her brother; her one link to family, turned into the embrace of that-that mongrel! The boy who her brother dared to call his son! The worthless human turned immortal, Harry. Never before had she known such all encompassing hatred for someone.

While she had accidently played a part in Leonor's wife's death and it was true that she had in no way liked the woman… she had never actively sought to destroy her. The fact that she got destroyed anyway was simply bad luck. But that annoying little upstart that her brother showed far more affection and love to then he had ever given her…well, he was another case entirely. What was worse was the fact that the disgusting being had managed to slowly win over nearly every other immortal in the realm, causing them to—if not adore him, then at least respect him…and he had done it without being in a powerful position or using fear and intimidation. Hell, half the time it was as though even her own husband liked the midget better than her. It was intolerable.

It caused what little was left of her heart to wither and die. So, her dear husband and brother thought they could cast her aside without a second glance did they? Kiran thought that stripping her of her titles and assigning a few measly guards to her cell door would be enough to stop her from getting her revenge? Well, he—no, they would find out how sorely mistaken that assumption was.

Deep down she might know that what was happening to her now was the result of her own actions and not caused by Harry Diaz (formerly Harry Potter), but she had never been one for taking responsibility for her own actions before, and she certainly wasn't about to start doing so now.

As she was lead away from the sight of her brother leaning into the comfort that his 'son' was offering her, she made a vow. She would make them all pay. Every. Single. Last. One. Of Them. She would strike where it would cause them the most pain.

She smiled to herself, despite having just lost everything that she held dear, for soon she would not be the only one to lose.

For she had found a new target.

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Ettore could not shake the discomforting feeling that was currently plaguing him. He normally was not one of those fools who disregarded superstition and such forewarnings, but at the moment he was not sure what he could really do about the feeling.

Like his name's meaning (defender) he prided himself in being one of the Prince's most valuable guards. He was not the type to over strive or reach for some unattainable goal (not like his older brother Theron; who had always sought out a higher station then he was given—not that he had actually ever achieved said station). He knew his position inside the realm and he was proud to do the job that he was given. This was part of the reason that he chose to ignore the warning niggling in his gut as he took over the post outside the former princess's cell.

His prince had trusted him with guarding the prisoner for the night…and he would damn well earn that trust.

The situation itself was almost unbelievable; while he had not been one of the fools who had bought into the princess's innocent façade, he had also never believed the rumors of her cruel manipulations. He had always tossed such rumors aside, thinking that they were simply the jealous whisperings of society climbing harbingers. However, now with the charges laid against Selene…he had to wonder if there was more stock to those rumors then he had previously thought.

Still, he was not the judge nor the juror so he would not let his suspicions color his actions or behavior towards the fallen princess…well, not until she was proven guilty at least.

For the first couple of hours, guard duty turned out to be just as dull and monotonous as any other shift of guarding a prisoner was and Ettore could not help but start to feel the drowsiness that was associated with such early hours start to seep in. But still, he was a good, faithful, trustworthy man and he fought the overwhelming urge to rest against the cell bars and nod off into sleep.

Unfortunately for him, the drowsiness caused him to be a tad more incautious then he normally would have been and he found himself passing closer and closer to the cell bars. Somewhere in the back of his mind there was a voice warning him that this was not the natural weariness that came with guarding someone for hours on end….it practically shouted at him that this tiredness and inattention had far more sinister origins.

Of course this warning voice was muffled by the increasing amounts of chemical that was now coursing through his undead body. Maybe if he had noticed the tiny nick to the skin on his forearm he would have realized he wasn't quite in his right mind….he might have recalled just when he had received such a normally innocuous wound.

But he didn't. No, the only thought he had before sleep took over was that it probably wasn't his best decision to fall asleep so close to the prisoner's cell.

Especially when he had the keys to said cell on him.

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Harry watched in amusement as Zyren tackled Draco to the ground yet again. Of course both of his mates would deny his phrasing of the action...Zyren because when he took someone down it was not a mere tackle, and Draco because the blond would never admit to being the one sent careening towards the ground. Harry had to admit he found it infinitely more amusing to be the observer in this situation then the trainee. He suddenly had a better understanding just why Chavi, Severus and Leonor had come by to watch his own training with Zyren as regularly as they had.

The daemon was ruthless.

Harry himself was just thankful for the opportunity to feel some levity after the horrific revelations this past week. Harry had been told to come with Leonor for the meeting between him and the prince, and while he had been confused at the time (when Leonor and the prince normally met to exchange information aka: play bloreage— basically the immortal version of poker) he had been quick to obey. Not only because it was his sovereign giving the order, but because he had actually really missed the warm immortal.

It was safe to say he had been a little unsettled at how nervous and upset Kiran was when they had first entered the room. Half an hour later he understood just why the prince was acting that way. Harry had suffered a lot of loss in his life (most of it while he was mortal) but there was nothing that could have prepared him for how shattered his father looked after learning the truth. While Harry himself had never known Leonor's former wife, the amount of grief in Leonor's eyes was enough to make him feel like he had lost a mother rather than an unknown woman.

He knew right then and there why Kiran had wanted him present, it was all he could do to just barely hold Leonor together…and the immortal's grief hadn't lessened in the days since. Even after watching the traitorous princess arrested and stripped of her titles Leonor had seemed lost and unsure. Harry had sat throughout the night with his father figure, simply holding his hand….to be honest he was not even sure if Leonor registered his presence.

But he hoped that it helped…even if only a little, he just couldn't bare the thought of leaving Leonor alone in his renewed grief (a summer at the Dursley's after Sirius death was enough to tell him that solitude was the last thing that would likely help the immortal). He could not imagine what Leonor was going through right now but he prayed with every fiber of his being that the ancient immortal would make it through this. It was only after Kiran himself had shown up and asked—no ordered Harry to take a break that Harry had left Leonor in the Prince and Chavi's capable hands. He had initially tried to sleep but his mind would not stop firing so he had suggested a training session to his two mates…something that Draco had jumped on immediately.

Given the chaos of the last few days, Harry had not had the time to ask Zyren what he had spoken to Draco about but he figured that he didn't really need to know because whatever he had said seemed to have helped the blond. Before the daemon's conversation with Draco, Harry had been beyond worried. He couldn't quite figure out what was going through the teen's head as he had been slowly but steadily reverting to the Malfoy that Harry had known back before their truce.

He had tried to talk to the blond about it, but had been irrefutably rebutted. So it was with no small amount of relief that he saw the Draco he had grown to know and well…he shook his head at this thought because it was far too early on for such sentiments—regardless, he was happy that whatever that had been bothering Draco had seemed to resolve itself.

He shook himself from his thoughts and decided that it was time to take pity on the disheveled looking blond.

"Zee perhaps Draco should practice with me for a bit…my skill level is closer to his than yours is, plus I don't get perverse enjoyment out of slaughtering my opponents" Harry called sending Zyren an amused smirk.

The daemon sent his own back in answer, "hnnn…suit yourself, he is even more pathetic then you were…I didn't think it was possible"

Draco sent the daemon his version of a death glare, "that is because I am a Pureblood…I am not meant to partake in such barbaric things as muggle fighting"

Harry and Zyren both snorted and rolled their eyes at the wizard's pompous words, "Well, as most of your Pureblood magic is completely ineffective against just about every occupant in this realm…it would be wise for you to lower yourself to learning such barbaric tactics such as dodging and evading" Harry stated taking up a fighting stance and was pleased to see Draco do the same (even if he was still muttering under his breath about cocky assholes or something to the like).

The next twenty or so minutes flew past with Draco getting his arse handed to him, although if one was observant enough they could see small improvements in his technique. After the latest time of Draco trying to rush forward and attack Harry and Harry skillfully moving at the last moment; resulting in the wizard ending up once again on his ass, Zyren interrupted.

"Alright, I think that is probably enough for today…I would be most upset if you killed him"

Draco responded by trying to throw a rather large pebble at the daemon's smirking face, which of course Zyren dodged easily.

Harry offered the sprawled blond a hand, "Ignore the prat. You are actually doing really well Draco… you should have seen how badly I wanted to curse the idiot after my first training session. He was definitely channeling his inner Severus—I believe he called me a useless sac of bones, said I was to skeletal and weak to be a sac of lard"

Draco snorted but took the proffered hand and allowing himself to be hauled up, "well you were pathetically scrawny back then"

"Oi!" Harry cried in mock offense, "you wound me!"

Zyren rolled his eyes at his mates antics, "alright you morons move it….we should get back"

Immediately Harry's carefree air fell, replaced by a much more somber one. "I wonder how he…" he started to say. Unfortunately he didn't get a chance to finish his sentence as he was interrupted by a glint of silver and shadow that caught his eye.

He was not the only one who saw it as Draco let out a startled yelp and jumped literally in front of where Harry was standing. There was not time for Harry to react to what happened next.

The shadow and sliver glint collided with Draco causing the blond to stumble back at the impact, a splatter of red sprayed back to hit Harry's cheek. He watched frozen as Draco's silver eyes widened and the blond's body crumpled to the ground.

"Draco!"

Out of the corner of his eye Harry could see Zyren racing towards them, but he didn't pay the daemon any heed.

His entire attention was focused on the malevolent features of the former Princess and the archaic blade aloft held in her hand.