Quickie but a shortie. Best kind right? No? Fair enough.

Anyway, this chapter has some darker themes so please proceed with caution.

Some of you have questioned why I havent had many Bleach character appear in the story yet, and the answer is simple enough. Maybe a few have noticed that all/most of the Bleach character that HAVE appeared have all been from Bellator (Or the South if they are villians) that is very much intentional and I planned this story out to the last detail so please bear with me and just enjoy it while it unfolds. And as always, thank you for reading it to begin with.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Bleach or any of its characters.

Enjoy-

I tried to think through the blood rush.

Eight men, four women. I could feel the blade at my handlers waist as he held me against him, the pummel scrapped against my elbow. A quick shove back and a swipe up and the blade would be mine. But Cuyler was still on the ground six feet away. Too far. His head would be severed before I could even hope to reach him.

And Ryley hadn't moved. I tried steadying my breathing enough to focus on his. His chest, it was short and slow but it was moving. Not dead yet.

The mans breath at my ear was hot as he said to his friends, "Looks like we have the King by the balls. His pretty daughter and her prissy bride." They all laughed and Cuyler thrashed under his captors boot, straining to see his brother. "So sorry, Northern Heir. I don't mean to exclude you, we are more than happy to have you as well, my girls here have been lonely this past winter and they've never had a royal between their legs," The females eyed Cuyler and smirked, and I wasn't sure if it was the vile sheen in their eyes or the man's next words, hissed into my ear, that sent a shudder through me. "Tell me, is he as impressive as we've heard, Princess of Bellator?"

I said nothing, felt nothing but disgust and his laugh rumbled against my back, "Yes, of course. A lady never tells." He flicked the blade at my throat towards Cuyler, "Let's have a look for ourselves."

Cuyler huffed against the snow as tall woman, who looked to be twice my age stepped forward, pulling the gloves from her fingers, smirking.

I didn't dare struggle with the knife back at my throat, but I pushed roughly into the mans chest and growled, "What do you want?"

The woman halted her approach, the white of her eyes glowing with fire as she waited for her leader to speak. I memorized the lines of her face. If she so much as touched him, her death would be painful and bloody.

"Ah, the Golden Heir a bit fickle with the copperhead?" He used the tip of his dagger to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, and I could now feel the stubble on his chin against my throat, "What's his modesty worth to you?"

I locked gazes with Cuyler, and he gave me as little a glare as he could. Meant to convey his disapproval. And his acceptance of the woman's prouding, if necessary. And he roared as I ignored him and said, "Name your price, and be done with it."

"Well, it's quite simple really; I want the same as Glinda there. Bedding a royal is a scarce thing where we come from. And I hear your skin tastes of wine and roses." His nose skimmed my jaw, but I didn't allow myself to shift away. "But you see, I've also heard you eat men such as me for breakfast, and I have no interest in putting my favorite appendage near those pearly teeth if there's a chance they'll bite it off."

Cuyler was thrashing again, and blood trickled over his jaw and into the snow as the blade cut into the back of his neck. "You touch her and I'll cut it off myself and shove it right back down your throat."

The man continued, unfaltered, "Walk into that tent with me, Orihime Inoue, and we leave the men alone," The women hissed. "And if I leave that tent a satisfied man, we will walk into the night and you will never see us again, I give you my word."

As if his word meant anything. As if his life meant anything.

I'm sure a better person would have taken a moment to consider it. If they had considered it at all. But I was not a better person, and I was passed such pretenses. The last time a man had been over me, it had been for nothing. It had been nothing but tears and blood and a soul going black. Now, it would be to save Cuyler, and Ryley and all the others in this camp.

It was not a difficult choice to make.

I nodded, the blade nearly cutting into me as I did so.

Cuyler was screaming as that dagger lowered, as I turned towards my tent, the man just a step behind. It was my name that echoed off the mountains around us, my name that was yelled in such a voice I'd only heard from him once before, on a battlefield far away from this bitter cold. And in those echoes was a promise of war, of anger and death.

I took in the dark camp, seeing all of the soldiers slumped on the ground around us. Looking to have fallen quickly and harshly. All motionless. I forced my attention away.

I paused before the flap of the tent, and I wanted to look back. I wanted to see the look Cuyler held on that face, but I knew if I did, the moment would no doubt haunt him forever. And so I lifted my chin and walked alone into the tent, ready to emerge irreparable.

Cuylers yelling continued, drowning out even the howling wind.

I tried to drown it out as I turned to watch the man enter, and I took in his face for the first time. He was old enough to be my father. Old enough to have long been a man when I was born. Old enough to make my stomach churn. His age was conveyed in the lines around his eyes and mouth, and in the grey of his stubble that flecked over his chin and cheeks. His height was staggering, but that I had guessed while he'd been behind me.

He also stopped to observe me, eyes flickering from head to toe, my disgust was clear in my staggering voice, "You should savor what you witness today, for it just might be the last thing you ever see."

There was no humor on his face, "They told me you were a beautiful thing. Beautiful, but terrifying as well. I couldn't picture it until now."

Fire rose so far up my throat I could nearly taste the smoke. I left the fur drop from my shoulders, "Let us get it over with."

The man shook his head, his hands waving before him, "Worry not, young one. I have no plans to touch you."

Glaring, I followed the man as he moved about the space. The tent large enough to sleep at least ten men, still felt too small. He pauses to observe Vladimir, laid carefully over my cot. He stoked a hand down the blade before saying, "My name is Wilibau Frinn, and you and I are to be allies in the times ahead." I said nothing, and he must have sensed my doubt. "Believe it, or don't, it makes little difference."

I unclenched my teeth enough to say, "I find it hard to believe the words of butchers and rapists."

Wilibau looked about the tent, before shrugging "I see no one of the sort here." Cuyler began bellowing again, followed by a mans aggravated grunt and a thudding of rushing feet. "That one was supposed to drink the whiskey, and lay down quietly so we could speak privately, but some plans are meant to unfold messily, I suppose."

"You murdered every man and woman in this camp simply to speak with me?"

Wilibau rolled his eyes, hands folding behind him, "No need to be dramatic, it's only a sleeping tonic."

Teeth gritted, I snarled, "Ryley-"

"The whiskey was meant for his brother, with his large stature and endurance we had to up the dosage a bit. The boy drank too much too quickly. He'll wake up in a day or so, feeling a bit hungover but otherwise unscathed."

I considered it, watching Wilibau cautiously. "What is it you've come to say."

He smiled, a bit tightly, and leaned to sit cross legged on the ground, motioning me to follow. "Best make yourself comfortable, Heir of Gold, we have much to discuss."

Cuyler:

My face had turned numb, yet still I could feel the pricking of ice against my skin as it burned me with its cold. The only sound in the world was the wind and the crunching of snow against the fidgeting of the bastards around me.

And of course the pounding of my heart, squeezing and collapsing inside my chest.

It had been minutes since Orihime had entered the tent. Minutes in this frozen hell felt like more years than anyone had the right to live. I strained to listen, to hear any sound coming from her, but there was nothing.

I pulled at the rope around my wrists. Scolding myself, I should have been faster. I'd nearly been to the tent before they'd gotten me back to the ground. I'd been inches from saving her… I should have been faster. And now I was bound, hands and feet, with no way to rise from the snow.

None of them said anything, to me or each other as we waited.

They'd placed me beside Ryley, his arms spread out like an eagles wings. And sharp panic sunk in my gut, before the idiot started snoring softly, his breath foggy in the night. I'd strangle him if I had the hand range to do so.

I rose my head as high as I could, and glanced over all their faces. They would pay for this, with their lives, their families lives. I hissed as much and a dark haired lad laughed outright, "Such a big man, making threats while his comrade makes the sacrifice."

"You will pay for her suffering with your blood, coward."

He turned to face me fully, "Careful, Northerner, or perhaps I'll request a turn with her if you keep flapping your mouth." He kicked a mound of snow into my face, it slid down my jaw, nearly melting with my scorching anger, "Maybe I'll cut off all your fingers in the meantime. Little good your threats will be then."

This time it was I who laughed, "Orihime will skin you all alive. I'll need only watch."

They turned back around, with shaking heads and mocking laughs.

Orihime would hate me for the thoughts swarming through my head. She was not some fair maiden, needing to be saved, this I knew. And she would scold me for thinking I could protect her any better than she could protect herself. But even still, I went back to listening for her. Listening for anything other then the thundering word pumping through my veins.

Failure.

Failure.

Failure.

.

.

.

Till next time-