Hello everyone, sorry for the wait. Life is getting between me and my computer but we are trying to work things out.

here is the awaited next chapter!

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Bleach or any of its character but the storyline of this story is mine.

Lets get back into it—

True to his word, Ichigo delivered Bonnie with a few minutes to spare. Though, she did not look pleased as she hauled herself over the high balcony railing with a barely there grace.

Her red hair was wild, her cheeks flushed, as if she'd run all the way from the slums.

I stood to greet her, Sam following close behind. And I didn't feel the need for formalities, "You mentioned a potion that bonds a Whisperer and human together. That will allow her to see into their mind from great distances." Bronze nodded, trying not to let the irritation show. "Can you get me a vial?"

She lifted a lip, her shoulders tensing slightly, "I could scrape something together. But you shouldn't be gone long enough for us to need that connection," Ichigo must have filled her in on the run over, "and with the lady in black sniffing at your tails-"

Cutting her off, I scoffed, "It won't be for me." They all waited for me to continue, and I sighed as if it were obvious. I looked over a shoulder to Sam, "Can you get me the Southerners schedule,"

It took him a moment, but I watched as realization bloomed in his eyes, they squinted before he threw his head back and laughed.

"Anyone care to fill us in?" Bonnie growled.

I gave her a lazy sideways glance, "Grimmjow has been a thorn in my side since before the Gathering. I sense a scheme brewing inside him, and it makes me uneasy to leave him in the hands of others not as skilled in truth telling." I threw Sam a look. He shrugged, not taking offense. "Though, if I knew the plans he had, if I could attempt to predict them before they were fully formed…"

"You want to bond him to one of our Whisperers?" Ichigo breathed, a muscle tensing in his jaw.

I didn't acknowledge him. Bronze rubbed her chin thoughtfully, her eyes shifting as if reading words from a page. Ichigo continued anyway, this time to his leader, "We only have Rukia's bonding potion. And I don't want her mind anywhere near that pigs."

The tone set something fluttering in my stomach. It was a possessive, almost jealous twinge that swam through the words, that settled over his body like a frigid frost.

Rukia. I had never heard him mention her, but it went without saying that she was the witch he'd been bonded to. That had taken his consciousness away within the time it took me to blink.

"It wouldn't work anyway," Ichigo said, almost in relief, "The potion must be ingested willingly. With consent."

He crossed his arms, thinking he'd put an end to it. But I'd been trained to plot ten, twenty, thirty alternate routes into a single plan. And while he had slammed a door to one possible strategy, I simply took a step back and walked onto the next waiting path.

"Then I will have him drink it willingly." Bronze finally looked up, "Can this potion be diluted? With wine or ale?"

"No," she clarified, "it must be pure, with no source of mankind's interference."

I moved onto the next path, "What about saliva? Is that considered an interference?"

Bonnie considered it, "I suppose not."

I cringed slightly, "Then get me the vial and I'll take care of the rest."

"What is it you plan to do?" Sam asked, his first words since Bonnie's arrival. I took a deep breath through my nose, an attempt to keep the bile down.

"I'll carry a small capsule of the potion, get Grimmjow to accept it, and transfer it to him."

Bonnie spoke out, "Transfer how?"

I simply stared at her in silence. Waiting.

"Oh gross." Her entire body shuttered with disgust. I wasn't too thrilled about it either.

"This all seems very unnecessary," Ichigo said, "We don't need to be in his mind."

Perhaps not. But with me gone, Grimmjow will slither his way into my father's favor unrestricted. And with Clark's obvious desire for a male heir, he will no doubt accept the southern general with an ease I could never obtain. I couldn't take the risk.

I said as much, and Ichigo only sneered, "I don't like it."

An image of a faceless woman, with feather like skin and blood red lips had me snapping: "You don't have to like it." He only glared. "Get me the witches potion, I'll make the transfer before I leave."

And that was the end of it.

I tossed and turned that night. Every step outside my door had me jolting, the wind whistling in the trees down below sounded like screaming wails.

I had felt Ichigo's eyes slip away hours ago. He hadn't come out of his shadows since Bronze left, Sam escorting her back to the safety of the lower rim. I didn't much want his company anyway; I knew he was sulking.

His precious witch would have to slunk through the mud swamp that was Grimmjow's mind. What a heroic sacrifice.

I rolled to my back, sighing deeply. My eyes sore, my body exhausted. It was my mind that cursed me. My mind that told me danger was looming. It whispered at me, scolding me that I wasn't ready.

It reminded me of Hisagi. Of his gentle temperament and his own beconing dangers. It questioned my ability to do anything about it.

It forced me to remember my engagement, which I had nearly let myself forget. It asked me what I planned to do, demanded to know if I had a plan for it at all.

It brought up my encounter with the woman in black. Her chilling words that spoke of prophecy. It screamed at me to run. To get far away before her words could reach out and touch me.

And on and on it went.

Now to ride north, to bring down a threat I knew wouldn't be there. Though, perhaps it would. In the form of a brave, selfless Heir, coming to protect them all. All the while willing to watch the city burn. Who knows, I could be the one to ignite the flames.

I just prayed my father would stay still while I was away. And that Ichigo and Bronze had the sense to keep their heads down and eyes open.

It had seemed like a wise plan at the time; To leave. It would surely appear as if I was ready and willing to die for my father and his crusade. It would secure my position. Yet what would be the cost.

Hisagi's trials could come and go before my return. His body could turn cold and be buried while I'm thousands of miles away.

Bronze and Ichigo could be discovered. Tortured and brutalized in unspeakable ways. Their words able to mark me for a similar death.

These were the thoughts that kept me up at night. And I knew I would never get back to sleep, so I dressed. In the pitch black leathers that reeked of horrors. Grabbed a blank piece of parchment, and made my waking hours useful.

The sun had already settled high in the sky when I returned to the steps of the High Court's. There was a rising hussle coming from the peak and I quickened my pace. In my still weakened state it took me nearly five minutes to clear the stairs, my heart pounding heavily in my chest.

There was a huddle of people to the far right of the entrance, and I observed from afar, listening carefully for any sounds of conflict.

Laughter broke out among the crowd, and, unable to shove down my curiosity, I moved closer. It seemed to be a man telling stories. I could see the motion of his arms flailing as he explained his tales in detail.

"- the maiden didn't take kindly to the words, you see. And, royal blood be damned, she sent a fairly earned kick up into his groin." I halted at the voice, the obvious accent. "Poor bastard had to wait two days for his manhood to retract from him inside his body." The people around him burst into fits of laughter.

It was nearly difficult to watch. I hated seeing them laugh at the Northern heirs story, hated watching the women attempt a step forward to gain his attention if only for a moment.

For if they could enjoy Cuyler's presence while they avoided mine, if they could wish for his attention while forsaking my own… then it meant it was not the title of heir, or the blood of a ruler that kept them from accepting me.

And I was too tired.

I turned my back, moving only a few feet away before rushing feet approached.

"You look like hell," Cuyler joked, keeping a pleasant distance. I paused, looking down on myself. The black of my suit now looking like a grimmy gray. My hair knotted and reeking of- I didn't want to know what. Then I took in his crisp clothing. He, of course, wore a tunic of deep purple, his lapel matching the sharp black of his pants.

His dark hair, looking almost auburn in the unforgiving sun, was neat and clean. And I could smell the manly scent drifting to me in the wind.

No wonder they had accepted him with such ease.

"Oh, this old thing?" I mocked, brushing an imaginary fleck of dust from my leg. "I only break it out for special occasions. So it seems we were fated for this encounter." I kept on walking.

He pursued, "I heard you are to accompany us North, to fight with us if trouble comes to us in the mountains. I seem to find myself once again owing you."

"I'm not going for the sake of having you in debt to me."

Cuyler scoffed, "I suppose not." He thought for a moment, "Perhaps, it is for my brothers benefit then?"

I didn't let myself pause, "What good is an army, if I can't even protect my lovers home."

"Then he is your lover?" Cuyler had no shame in asking. I must have chuckled, because he barked, "Is it a funny notion?"

"Perhaps, not."

The silence between us grew thick in the pace of a few steps. And I could feel words rising inside of me, but I snuffed them out. They had no right to be uttered.

"I worry for your safety in my territory. You have not been an accepted thought among the people."

Would I ever be?" I wanted to ask. Instead I allowed the annoyance to overtake the pity. "I've never cared much for men who worry."

I saw Cuyler shake his head in his own annoyance. I had never seen him get more than slightly bothered and I reveled in his rarely seen humanness.

"Yes, It is stupid to worry for you." He said, in a tone meant to get my temper rising. "What is there to fear for the one who fears nothing?"

The words struck something within me. It was a feeling of cold and anger. It was old and new and everything in between and it stopped me dead in my tracks. My mind flashed back to pitch black and ancient stone.

I turned to Cuyler, as he halted beside me. I stared into his face, and wondered how a person could ever be so wrong.

"I fear a great many things, Cuyler. I fear the sound of echoing footsteps in an empty hall. The dark shadows that loom over my bedroom walls. I fear men like you. With their hungry eyes and hushed whispers." Because I knew, perhaps best of all, that what men could do- death would be welcomed in the wake of such horrors. "Though, perhaps, they are small fears. Yes, I suppose the only thing I've ever truly feared is my father. His reach is farther than you'd like to believe, comrade." I threw a look past his shoulder, where the eyes of his crowd of listeners had stopped in their tracks. There smiles turned to blank looks, there mouths now speaking in hushed tones. I met his eyes once more, "and you should be mindful of the words you speak in the presence of his followers. You are not in the North."

The world was different elsewhere. It had to be. For people like Cuyler and Aiden to ever have become such open people. There had to be places where words were not twisted. And looks between friends meant nothing more.

But not here.

Cuyler had sought me out now, not once but twice. And the eyes of the people had not been kind the first time. I feared what this could bring.

Yet another fear to add to the list.

I should leave, but I couldn't stop myself from enlonging our encounter, "Do not fear for my trip North, Cuyler. I will be safer amongst enemies than I have ever been among my family."

"I am your family now too. Where does that leave me?"

I smiled softly, wishing my answer could be different. Wishing I could be different. "I have never been safe with you."

Ichigo left me another note that night. It sat, looking nearly forgotten between the pages of the book on my nightstand. It's corners were worn out, the paper wrinkled and smeared. It left me wondering how long he had held it in his hand before deciding to leave it for me to find.

It was much longer than his first one, and the words this time were written in neat little lines, he had taken his time.

They could have painted you as flowers

Like the beauty of your name

Left you out among the roses

To wallow in no pain

But they heard the drums beating

In the hollow of your chest

It thumped like soldiers marching

Under the banner of your crest

They could have stuck you in light dresses

And told you to sit still

To spend out your days quietly

Not a drop of blood to spill

But then they read the master plans

Forming behind your eyes

Truth taken softly

And twisted into lies

They'll tell you, you were born this way

That it's how your meant to be

That there is no escaping it

Even if you flee

But damned things do no wonder

They do not look for hope

They do not cry for innocents necks

Left hanging by a rope

They'll scream your name in earnest

Yet whisper it in fear

They'll look to you for safety

And shrink when you are near

They do not understand you

And probably never will

Still they'll all come closer

And stare to get their fill

Come look and see the princess

Who smells of soap and rot

Royalty by blood and shame

Her title smeared by plot

An Heir of shiny gold

Half her filled with greed

Yet somewhere deep inside her

Are shriveled flower seeds

You were inevitable

A force beyond any and all control

You were the sword brought down

Leaving a severed head to roll

You were the beginning

And you will be the end

I wonder what will be left of you

The day you break, instead of bend

I stared at the words, the quiet deafening- overpowering.

I didn't sleep that night.

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