It spreads its wings

But fails to fly

It turns around

There's nowhere to run

Trapped in its cage,

It sings a sad song.

This is the tale of a robin.

A Robin's Song

...Of sorrow.

...Of loneliness.

...Of desperation.

...Of love.

Chapter 3

No more jokes. He was both grateful and shocked. Of course, he was. Before he escaped the room with the unconscious woman in his arms, Richard was being pushed back from the intruder's strength. And, now, by some miracle, he escaped with his life.

Logan smiled and said, "I knew you'd make it out." He lied through his teeth. Well, he had his right to doubt the prince's chances in surviving. For the prince to throw his own sword aside after all these years—it is indeed a wonder. "What about her?"

She was still asleep on Richard's bed, covered in one of his heavy blankets. The dim light of the slowly dying flame lit her pale face and cast a soft glow on her black hair. Her light-pink lips parted slightly in dreaming...whatever unconscious women dream about.

Richard gazed at her sleeping form and wondered at what he wouldn't give just to fall into a deep sleep. Forget about what happened earlier. Forget the bruises and the pain. He wanted to embrace...the darkness.

"Hello? Richa-hey! Richard!" Logan reached out for his falling friend. He knew something was wrong when the prince's eyes rolled upwards and his lids closed. Luckily—if you can call it luck— Logan caught his arms before his head hit the ground. He sighed in relief and cradled the black-haired man's head in his hands. Wonderful. Now, he had two people to take care of. Could it possibly get any worse?

"Richard! Richard, my dearest darling!" Her voice echoed down the halls.

Logan froze and his eyes went wide at this sudden misfortune he was cursed with. He had to do something quickly before they all perished from the dragon's fiery breath. His head jerked this way and that, looking for a nice little hiding place for the both of them.

Richard's chamber was nice and big, but to Logan 's horror, it was also empty of any suitable furniture to conceal the bodies. At the same time, his brain furiously worked at making up a believable story to save their sorry hides. Maybe, he could say that the prince was under the weather. 'No,' he thought, rejecting the idea. She would barge in anyways. A minute passed, and every plan he thought of ended with the princess charging in the room and his pathetic body flying out the window. He felt like a rat trapped in a corner about to pay the price of pinching a crumb of cheese.

Another sound of her infamous laughter forced him to stay focused and to come up with the most ingenious thing ever to grace his slow brain. It was then, it hit him. His eyes caught a glimpse of salvation when he spied a seven-ft. wooden cabinet—which he had sworn it wasn't there in the first place—hidden in one of the far, dark corners. With that piece of wooden furniture, he could probably prop the prince up to lean his upper body against it and his feet would push against the wall. And he could without a doubt fit the sleeping damsel underneath the bed since it was placed on metal stilts. For whatever curious reason his Royal Highness had, this peculiarity was a God-send to Logan . After making sure they would not be seen, he could say that the prince was simply not in his room. His plan was perfect.

Now, if only he could pick up the prince and make it to that blessed corner. He slung the languished body's arm around his neck and tried to move. Dear God, since when did Richard get this heavy? He realized in horror that he would never get there in time. What, now? Were they to suffer the wrath of the princess? No, it's not over. Not yet...

On the other side of the door, Victor tried his best to steer her Royal Highness away from Richard's chambers. After locking up her room and telling her that her chamber was now moved someplace else, she became worse than a child with their many questions. He stuttered and pathetically came up with some half-witted excuse, but it didn't matter. She prattled on and on, without even listening to him, before turning around towards her fiancée's room. Naturally, Victor panicked. If she saw the condition of her fiancée, questions would be flying everywhere. Not to mention the bodies of three men—especially the handsome, young, dark-skinned man and his shiny, bald head. That was unthinkable. He didn't even want to dwell upon it. And to prevent it from becoming a reality, he had to try harder.

"Your Highness, maybe we shouldn't disturb the prince. Maybe he's fast asleep, already."

"Dear Victor!" She laughed at his naivety. "We do not sleep this early. The prince and I busy ourselves until the breaking of the dawn." She clasped her hands together and held them tightly between her bouncy breasts. She gave him a big smile and went on her merry way.

Victor fell behind a little and silently decreed with a grimacing face, 'I wouldn't want to know. Even if I was tortured to death, even if it was the only thing that could save my life, I wouldn't dare try to find out.'

They were but a mere three feet away from the door. What was Victor to do? Grab her hands from reaching the door? That would be an offense greater than destroying mankind. There was nothing he could do. He acknowledged the fact that he had run out of time and silently stood behind her to wait for the disastrous outcome.

The princess swung the door open and Victor cringed inwardly. He failed.

"Rich--! -ard?" The Tamaranian princess became confused at what she saw.

Logan stood at the door, obstructing her way into her beloved's room. She had talked to him a few times only in short intervals. But she knew that he and her fiancée were close friends like Victor was also. What was going on?

" Logan , I did not expect to see you. What...are you doing in my fiancée's room?" Something was amiss-she could feel a tingling sensation crawl all over her body.

"Your Highness," Logan began in earnest. "Prince Richard is sick. I'm afraid you can't come in." So, he did end up using the first excuse, after all.

"What?! My precious love! Move! I'm needed to be at his side!" She couldn't believe it. Her Richard was strong against any disease. Why would he falter, now?

Logan took a risk and quickly stepped in front of the princess. "I'm sorry, princess, but the prince has asked me not to let anyone through. Especially, you." He tried to keep himself from cowering under the murderous look she was giving him. "He-he wishes that you stay away to prevent any transfer of his disease onto you." Nice lie, but not enough to convince her. He silently cleared his throat. "He loves you too much for you to suffer like him."

He wondered if that did the trick since she was just staring at him for awhile. But after a few moments, she was back to normal and started to think aloud at how courteous her fiancée was, how caring he seemed, how much love he showed... Logan breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

"I shall not disturb him. I will go and find a cure to heal my beloved Richard! He will get better for I am Koriand'r, princess of the Tamaranians! No disease is big enough to conquer our love!" And, so, she spun around and ran down the halls, almost knocking Victor down who was in awe at Logan 's play-acting.

Her clattering footsteps soon died down as the princess raced on towards the library. Oblivious to the other's thoughts, they both mused that she was sure to get lost since she never took the time to learn of its location. Victor looked back at Logan who had leaned against the wall. Was Logan joking, or was the prince really in trouble? His question was answered when the auburn-haired man chuckled. Victor crossed his arms and smirked.

"That was an admirable act. I commend you, you little imp." He shook his head at his friend's ability to weasel his way through tough situations.

"Yes. And she was so taken in that she didn't even bother to ask what disease he had. But just in case she does, I'll be ready for her."

"Mm, hm." Okay, the suspense was killing him. "So, where's Richard?" He had to know before he ripped off his non-existent hair from anticipation.

"Sleeping like a babe." They both walked in the room and Logan led the way towards his bed. He pulled back the covers and revealed both of the sleeping beauties lying face to face.

"Are you crazy?!" Victor yelled, grabbing Logan 's garments and took him by surprise. "What if Princess Koriand'r decided to run in and discover him like this?!"

"Quiet down, you barbarian!" Logan whispered in irritation. "She wouldn't have and she didn't. That's all that matters!"

Victor growled in frustration. "I cannot believe you... So, now, what?"

Logan shifted his clothes back to normal. "Well...we'll just have to stay outside and guard the door from anyone who'll try to enter. ...Until Richard comes out."

"What about her? Are we going to leave them like this?"

That was a good point. What if she woke up? No doubt she'll want an explanation. What if she was as loud as the princess? What were they to do if she grabs everyone's attention with her loud voice? Can she even be trusted with their prince? This was giving him a headache.

"Hm, we can't exactly carry them to separate rooms. There's bound to be a guard at every corner. If they were to see us with either one of them—you know how fast news travels around here." His weaseling skills were quickly failing him. "The only thing I can come up with is that one of us will stay in here, in case the prince or the girl were to wake up. The other one will have to stand guard outside the door." Yes, this was such a hassle. The prince owed them both a kingdom, or two, for the lengths they went through to keep his reputation in tact.

Victor hesitantly agreed to this proposition, and they both took their respective places— Logan guarded the door, ready to talk his way out of anyone's suspicions, and Victor sat on a chair, waiting for one of the two to wake up. This was going to be a long night.

Somewhere beyond the scope of reality, the mysterious woman dreamt illusions that were far from her concept of understanding. Before too long, the dream turned into a nightmare.

Her breathing quickened at the darkness that surrounded her. Although she was comforted at the thought of it shielding her from those that wanted her life, she couldn't dismiss the fact that it was, at the same time, unnerving. They may not be able to see her, but she also couldn't see her enemies, either.

Suddenly, the darkness had gained a more tangible form and took shape right before her. It was an unrecognizable shape—its flame-like tentacles whipping about and its mass changing positions every so often. But she didn't see this. She couldn't. She had felt it, though. Something pulsed in her body every time the "thing" disturbed the air, whether through shape-shifting or position-shifting.

An image flashed for a moment on the creature's growing mass. She blinked a few times and shook her head in distress. She tried to scream, but she only managed to plead in a small voice, "No, please, don't come any closer..." Tears ran down her eyes and she prayed for someone to come to her rescue. But she knew it wouldn't work. It never worked. Prayer was something given to the pitiful and the weak—to give them an impossible hope.

She was nearing her end. The cold took gripped her soul, and the congealed black mass was almost upon her, until...

There was something else that started to pulse within her being. It was faint, at first, but it grew stronger. Soon, her heart matched the beat, and a red glow illuminated the center of her chest. This light that emanated from her body flooded her with warmth, melting the frost that formed on her soul.

What was happening? Who could be causing this? She turned around, but she saw nothing.

Returning to the bounds of their present world, the sleeping prince had unknowingly inched his way closer to the woman's body and wrapped his arms around her, trying to escape the unbearable cold that hung in the air of the castle. Also unaware of what occurred, was the one that was supposed to keep watch but, instead, fell asleep.

†

Dawn was breaking just over the horizon. But no one noticed. The skies were gray with large clouds looming over their heads. Rain—it was what most of the inhabitants of Thrush thought. The winds blew a cold, northerly wind that pierced the skin of everyone that stood outside. The day would be a miserable one—like God Himself was angered with the world.

Poor Logan had also slept, unwillingly. He sat on the floor with his head resting on his chest. His arms were slack and his feet were outstretched—he was a perfect image of an oversized rag doll. But something stirred him from his sweet slumber. At first, he thought he was still dreaming and dismissed the thought. But when it grew louder, his head finally pulled him out of dreamland and slowly, but surely, opened his eyes. He blinked them in a rather lethargic manner and yawned. He had stopped mid-yawn and was horrified at what he saw.

Their Royal Majesties—the King and the Queen—approached him with a solemn air about them. The king had on a blue, royal garb with his wife in a matching outfit. Logan staggered to his feet and dusted his clothes. When they were close enough, Logan briefly stared into both of their faces and bowed.

The King's glanced at the young man. His eyes, that were as black as his hair, held a sort of concern in a nonchalant way. He rarely showed his feelings—a trait that was the perfect, stereotypical king. You would think that someone like him wouldn't bother to check up on his son. But Logan, who grew up in the castle with this man, knew better.

On the other hand, his wife was showing more than enough concern on her face. Her eyebrows were distressingly creased and her green eyes were bright from worry. Her orange hair, which was usually tied up in dignified beauty, was draped on her left shoulder in a braid.

How could he have not considered this possibility? He was such a half-wit. He needed time to think this through because there was nothing you can put past the old man. He had the wits of a sage—a young and healthy one, at best.

"Dear child," began the Queen. "We heard the agonizing news of our son. How is his condition?" She grabbed her cloak tighter since she could not squeeze her husband's arm even more.

Logan tried to psyche himself up. 'Just remember how you did it with the princess. Just remember. Be civilized. Be clever. Be persuasive. This is nothing...' Logan was ready. He opened his mouth and—

"..."

Nothing came out. Logan had lost his nerve just when he looked into their concerned eyes. He couldn't lie to them—they were like his own parents ever since he had lost his real ones...

"Stand aside," commanded the king in a steady voice.

"Your Majesty...I-I...," Logan stuttered. "I can't," he whispered.

The king raised his eyebrows at this. He can't even be allowed to see his own son? It was unthinkable. Yes, they did have their differences, but this is different. This time, it may be his last to ever face his own flesh and blood. "What are you saying?"

The queen nodded her head. "What do you mean?"

'Do it, Logan . Just say the prince doesn't want any visitors!' He couldn't. He couldn't. He couldn't! Damn his pathetic soul to hell!

"What's going on?"

Saints be praised! Logan turned around quickly and faced redemption. The door opened wider and revealed Richard, who was fixing the collar of his red outfit. By another miracle, he was clean from head to toe—no visible scratches were to be seen. It was like yesterday never happened.

Richard tied his hair with a red ribbon and left it dangling on the edge of his right shoulder. "Good morning, father, mother."

Richard's mother breathed a word of relief and hugged her son. He looked fine. There was nothing to be worried about. "Oh, Richard, we thought you were deathly sick from what Princess Koriand'r had relayed to us." She let go of him and placed her hands on his shoulders. She could have sworn he had a look of confusion gracing his face that disappeared in an instant. "But from the looks of things, you're looking more than healthy...and more handsome than usual."

"...Mother..." Richard could feel his temperature rising. In the end, he still acted like a shy child in the face of the Queen.

Yes, indeed. There was nothing to be worried about. He was grateful his son had not caught anything fatal, but since everything was fine, the king couldn't help but be a little irritated. "Well, then, if the boy isn't chained to his bed with a deadly disease—come, Barbara. No need to waste any more time here."

'Thanks a lot, father, for caring...' Richard said nothing and glared at something nonexistent on the wall behind him.

The Queen ignored the insensitive remark...for now. She gave a small kiss on her son's cheeks and resumed her place beside her husband. When she thought they were out of their son's range of hearing, she began scolding her husband. "Now, Bruce..."

The prince watched the disappearing forms of his parents. Nothing could ever please that man...

"Richard, not to disrupt your thoughts...but where did your wounds go? I know I saw a few cuts and your face wasn't looking too pretty." He crossed his arms and looked at the walls, trying to see if they held any answers. "You...you did fight, right? That wasn't a dream...or am I still dreaming?" He rubbed his temples. "What's in the world happened? You couldn't have healed so quickly!"

The black-haired man nodded. "Yes...well...I don't know how to explain it. When I woke up, I didn't suffer any pain from yesterday. I thought it was all a dream. But when I saw—" He stopped himself. He was about to tell his friend the fact that he held the sleeping woman in his arms—a great indication that it wasn't at all a dream. He carefully chose his next words and resumed. "When I saw...my blood-stained clothes, I knew that what happened wasn't an illusion." It was puzzling him to no end. He knew he couldn't overlook this strange chance of luck.

But first things, first. His stomach growled in pain and he remembered he missed yesterday's lunch and dinner. He invited Logan for some breakfast.

"What about our unconscious guest?"

"She'll be fine. I asked Victor to look after her in exchange for a meal. If she needs anything, Victor's a good physician and a decent fighter. He'll be able to handle whatever trouble she gives him."

"Right, then. What are we waiting for?"

[To be continued...]

A/N:

Yes, indeedy. To be continued. Although...I could have added more, but it's that time again. 3:30 AM. Time to post the chaputar.

I know it got sloppy. Sorry, sorry. I just hated writing this part. The reason? I couldn't think of anything to put in between Robin winning and Raven leaving. But voila. There you go. Some inbetween stuff that you can be amused with.

Today's magic number is: 3,331. I did a word count on Microsoft Word. That's how many words, excluding the author's notes, are in this chapter. Wow. Can I get a witness? Hah. Normally, I wouldn't write that much.

But, in all honesty, I won't make it long if it feels like it's dragging. Tell me if this is dragging like a bag of wet potatoes. A big-nasty, gargantuan one, at that. I hate dragging. If I had to drag something, it would be my fat ass from boredom.

As for summaries...have I ever told you I suck at writing them? Well...now you know.

Okay, then. Oh, and one more thing.

So, I kinda forgot that the word "awesome" originated in the late 1500's. And the Middle Ages ended at about early/middle 1400's. Did you know that? Huh? Didja? Didja? Does anyone care? I didn't think so.

I told you there were other ways to mess up skinning a cat.

The name "Barbara" is of Greek and Latin origin, basically meaning "foreign woman." It was a common name in Scotland . The Gaelic form is "Barabell" (BA-ra-bul). The Scots-Gaelic form is "Barabal." The Irish -Gaelic form is "Báirbre" (BAR-bruh) and the pet form "Baibín" (BAB-een).

The name "Richard" means powerful; strong ruler. It's also a Teutonic name from the European Middle Ages. England 's King Richard Coeur de Lion was a crusading knight.

"Bruce" was a surname since medieval times and is now a common given name. A folklore tale of 14th century Robert King of Scotland says: (the Bruce) who learned the value of perseverance from watching a spider spin a web.

Logan 's name is Scottish that means "Finnian's servant."

The origin of "Victor" is Spanish meaning "Victor."

I apologize for being so anachronistic. My friend, I'll try harder to be in synch (no pun intended) with history.

And thank you for everyone's input/reviews. I really do appreciate it! Keeps me in line, you see.

For those people who actually read the A/N, I dedicate this chapter to:

BrassBanana, byebyebb18, Abby, RavenGhost, x-RAVEN-x, Jinnai, Terra Nova, writerofthefuture, Lain the fluff-master, Deadly Eyes, and Chiaki Nozomi

Ah, hell. Why not?

-Knight.B

Oh yeah, my little website is up. The address is in my user lookup page. Would you take a gander at it? Pleeeeeeaaaaase?