Key to the Kingdom

by ChloeBlack101

CHAPTER 12 IS FINALLY POSTED! Is Chloe really going to go through with leaving Nero, and Brady, forever? Will Philip win out? Have to read to find out! I know this is a dark fic, but please read and review. Enjoy!

13. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Chloe smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress as she checked her appearance in the full length mirror in Brady's chambers. The late afternoon sun poured into the room in soft waves, bathing her in its warming glow. Her dress was pale pink satin, one of the dresses Harold had ordered the Royal Seamstress to sew. Her hair hung loose in soft waves, one strand bradded with a grassy material dyed black and red, a little touch to her appearance that Harold had instead on.

Harold had come by just an hour before, apparently with instructions to see to it Chloe was bathed and dressed before the hour before sunset. So Harold had come with his fruit based soaps and shampoos and bathing herbs, picked out a dress for her and presumed to bathe a highly confused Chloe. It was only after she was washed, dressed, and had her hair done that Harold had given her the note. On a piece of parchment folded in half a message was scrolled in Brady's hand writing that merely read:

Meet me in the raspberry fields an hour before sunset.

Chloe did not want to meet him. Not really. But Harold's look of disappointment when she had verbally declared that had changed her mind. So she had finished her hair and other preparations, which included finding a necklace and hair pin to match her dress, after had Harold left to attend to his other duties.

Now she stood before the mirror looking rather radiant just minutes before she was to meet Brady. Radiant… except for one details. Because she had such fair, pale skin, she could not hide the redness that still graced her usually stunning eyes and fair white skin.

She had spent her day alone in Brady's chambers, never once leaving and only allowing Harold in once to bring her a late lunch, which she had barely touched. The vast majority of her time since Brady had left the room the night before had been spent trying to control her sobs. She had slept a little, falling asleep out of shear exhaustion on the sofa and then had later woke to crawl into the bed she should have been sharing with Brady. But most of her night and day had been spent crying or lying still and thinking of Brady and the last hateful words he had spoken to her.

She had only finally calmed her sobs a little while before Harold arrived to bathe her. But to Chloe it felt like she had never stopped crying. She felt as if a part of her had died, and all because of a stupid habit she had of not being able to trust anyone no matter how good they had been to her. Since she had heard the slamming of the door, a feeling of utter dread and despair had settled in the pit of her stomach, and Chloe feared there would be no chance of a positive resolution.

Her bath, though it had not proved to help be a "cure all" as Harold had promised, had calmed her nerves a bit at least. She was tired, as what little sleep she had had was not the most restful kind of sleep. But she felt less so now. Though the water could not wash all her sins and troubles away, God how she wished it could, her shoulders felt less burdened with the weight of the world now. She had been tense before. And even though the time when she would have to leave the safety of their room to meet Brady was growing near, she still felt a little more relaxed then when she had first read Brady's note.

With one last look at her reflection and a toss of her long, flowing hair, Chloe sighed heavily, turning on her heels and starting out the doorway. Servants greeted her with smiles and a tip of their hat or a slight bow as she passed them down the hallway and made her way out of the Palace.

The raspberry fields were quite a distance from the Palace. They apparently were best planted away from other crops, so a separate plot of land had to be set aside just for their growth. Despite their distance from the Palace, the fields were usually reserved for Palace use, whether it be for food, wine, trade, special occasions, or to supply the local merchants with when their own supply was too limited for whatever reason. Usually, there would be someone tending to the field, watering, weeding, driving off wildlife, that sort of thing. But this late, there would probably be no one in the fields save the little critters who liked to munch on the bittersweet berries.

The fields themselves were bordered by stone fences with a gate that had to be pulled up to open, an effort to keep the bigger animals that could not burrow underground out of the raspberries, which were a fairly uncommon commodity in Nero if you were not a King with a raspberry fetish. Chloe was fairly tired from the walk by the time she reached the front gate, which was most likely due to the fact she was exhausted before she even set out for the fields.

When Chloe lifted the gate, she was, much to her surprise, showered in pink and white rose petals.

"Whoa!" Chloe cried in surprise as the rose petals fell over her, causing her to drop the light wooden gate handle. Apparently there was a rope attached to the other side of the gate. When she had lifted the gate, the rope had pulled taut, causing the rose petals to be released from what looked like a little sheet which was attached to the rope above the gate entrance just out of sight to someone who was not looking up closely.

Chloe brushed off all the rose petals, having to pick a few out of her long, flowing hair, and lifted the gate again. This time there were no more rose petals to fall, so Chloe was able to step inside the raspberry fields, bringing the gate back down behind her.

There was a clear space that traveled the entire distance of the field on all four sides that separated the berry vines from the stone wall. It was in this clearing that Chloe found a big wooden sign with black letters stuck on a post just in front of one of the paths into the fields. Attached to the sign was a single light purple rose, most likely from the same bush as the first rose which Brady had ever given her. In big, bold, painted on letters, the sign read:

Follow the right path to your heart's desire…

Directly behind the sign was one path into the field and two other paths, one on each side of the sign. The middle path was fairly uncultivated, with branches sticking out in the wall all along the path and the ground littered with broken twigs and the like. The left path looked even harder to get through, with branches spilling out high and low and the ground littered with jagged rocks. The path on the right, however, was much different. All loose branches had been cleared from the path for easy walking. This path also wasn't as dark as the other two. Candles, safely placed in clay jars with shapes such as triangles cut out of them so as to allow light to spill from them, but not prove a fire hazard, were spaced out equally along the path. Last, but certainly not least, was the ground itself; the path on the right was covered in pink and white rose petals.

Chloe shook her head, a slight smile gracing her formerly depressed, tired face. Brady had such a vivid imagination, the hopeless romantic. She didn't imagine she would ever meet another quite like Brady Black. Chloe could tell that Brady himself had made the other paths uninviting. There would be branches here and there of course, but the ground would not be littered so profusely with jagged rocks; rocky soil was rarely good for much large plant growth. But for Brady's cute little message to be effective, the paths beside the "right" path would need to be uninviting, although Chloe figured the dramatized loose branches and rocks ceased as soon as the path got out of sight.

Chloe retrieved the exquisite full-stem dethroned purple rose from the sign and, holding the rose close, began to walk down the path on the right. Her feet were cushioned by the soft rose petals, making her footsteps so quiet they could barely be heard. There were still a few branches to get around, and the rose petal paths were not always straight. They were occasionally quite curvy and narrow. Chloe walked and walked, twisting and turning in the narrow paths in the raspberry fields, the sweet, tangy smell of the berries following her with each step until she finally came to the center of the fields.

There she emerged into an immense clearing of wide open grass. The clearing itself was circular and curved into the fields themselves. She imagined the clearing probably served many purposes. Given the size of the fields, Chloe imagined one of its purposes was merely to have a place to rest. She was not doing any work in the fields and already she was exhausted!

Inside the clearing at the far side lay a blanket, covered in the theme pink and white rose petals which had led her there. In the center of that large blanket was a spectacular bouquet of some of the hybrid roses from the royal gardens. No natural colors like red graced the bouquet. Instead, it was filled with roses that were deep blue, purple, yellow, and black in color, all of which were of the rarest variety in all of Salem. In the center of the bouquet, which was placed in a white basket with green leaves woven in patterns just under the brim, was a blue teddy bear with a black rose embroidered over its heart, a little companion to go with her other teddy bear no doubt.

Chloe approached the blanket slowly. Seeing that no one was in the clearing, she bent down, her knees resting on the rose-petal covered blanket. She took one of the rose buds in her hand, cupping her hands around it and bending her head to smell the exquisite blue rose. The sweet scent engulfed her nostrils, and for a brief moment, Chloe was in heaven.

"You're late," Brady stated. He was standing at the entrance of a path to the left of the blanket, a few feet away. He had been watching her the whole time, delighting in the blissful look on Chloe's face as she enjoyed his gifts. He could have stood there merely watching her for an eternity, but he believed it unfair that he could see her while she could not see him. So he had begrudgingly stepped out of the shadows to make himself known.

"Well, I would not have been late had I know I would have to walk across all of Nero simply to get here," Chloe stated. They were not harsh words. Under normal circumstances, her tone would be flirty and joking. But there was a strain between them now, the memory of their passionate, angered words from the evening before all too fresh in their minds and causing a thick barrier between them.

"I am sorry for the great walk," Brady said, stepping forward now to approach the blanket. But he would not approach her until he was certain she did not hate him. "But if this place were easier to get to, more people would come to it."

"I suppose that is true," Chloe stated, a genuine smile now gracing her face. "But then again, who else except raspberry-obsessed royalty would wish to come here?" Brady laughed, shaking his head as he sat on the edge of the blanket farthest from Chloe. He was dressed in the simple yet fashionable clothing he was most comfortable in; black leather pants, a white dress shirt, and a deep brown leather vest.

"I do suppose you have a point. Although I just can not imagine why more people are not obsessed with the wonder that is the raspberry. It simply baffles me," Brady stated. Chloe laughed with him now, finding his boyish attitude very refreshing. He had the sophistication and experience of a grown man, and yet through all his hardship he still had not seemed to lose touch with the part of him that was still an innocent child. And that made him even more wonderful to her. His handsome face had the look that it had before when they first met and began to fall in love… before all their hardships really began to unfold. They laughed together for a moment longer, but soon the laughter faded. The air grew thick again, and Chloe looked down nervously, not quite able to meet his glance. Brady shifted in his seat on the blanket uncomfortably, not sure of what to say. When it came to public speaking and announcements, Brady always knew just what to say and how to react to the masses and their cries and questions, for the most part at least. Brady was an excellent, strong public speaker, full of charisma and grace. But when it came to being open and honest about his own feelings and emotions? That was a whole other matter. For this situation with Chloe, Brady was as lost as one of the simple peasants who did not know how to react to the news of the failed peace treaty.

"I hope you like them," Brady said finally, meaning the flowers. "I remembered you liked the beautiful roses in the garden so much. I thought you would like some to look at whenever you wished. They won't last forever of course, but the wet cloth in the bottom of the basket will keep them alive and beautiful for a while at least.

"They are lovely," Chloe stated, her tone as unsure as Brady's was. "Thank you."

"Chloe, I…."

"No, Brady, please… let's just not do this right now."

"If not now then when Chloe? This is not a matter we can just brush aside. We have to talk about it some time. Why not now?" Brady insisted. Chloe nodded reluctantly, positioning herself more comfortably on the blanket. She sat down facing Brady, her legs tucked under her.

"Yes, we do need to talk I suppose…" Chloe stated. "But not like this. Not with you starting off with a million apologies. You do not need to be apologizing to me," Chloe stated.

"Yes I do," Brady replied firmly. "The things I said…"

"Were hurtful, yes," Chloe finished. "But I said and did some pretty hurtful things last night as well," Chloe stated. Part of her -- the stubborn, pessimistic part of her -- wanted to stay upset with him. But the other part of her -- the trusting, caring side of her she had tried to suppress to keep herself from getting hurt -- told her that she could not possibly remain angry at him. Brady had not meant to hurt her. He would never do such a thing purposely. She could see that now, not because of the romantic gesture and the lovely gifts, but because of the thought put into it. It was the fact that he cared enough to go to the extra trouble to just make her smile that made her fall in love with him all over again. Yes, Brady had said some hurtful things. But she was to fault for that. Brady was doing his very best to keep everyone happy, and all she could do was complain about it. Not even the saintliest of saints could handle that pressure for long.

Of course she did feel as if she could not simply forgive and forget. If Brady could forgive her, she would forgive him. But forgetting was a whole other story. She was happy they were talking now. She'd been hesitant at first, but the sooner they got everything out into the open, the better. But there was something that Chloe believed she would always keep inside. They would get through this, yes. But something told Chloe that it would not quite be the same as before. Perhaps, though, that was a good thing. Such perfection could not possibly exist. They both had their individual flaws, and therefore there would be some flaws in their relationship. What Chloe realized now, however, was that she could not simply abandon the relationship just because of these flaws. She could not let their differences split them apart. Somehow, Chloe would have to find a way to make their differences bring them closer together. But no matter the outcome, she had to accept that her life had never been perfect, and it simply was not ever going to be so.

"No, no… you didn't do anything wrong!" Brady insisted. "You were just concerned about your bother. I of all people should have understood that. When my sister Isabella was alive, there was nothing that I would not do to protect her. I should have understood that. Even though you did not really grow up with him, you would feel the same way about Philip. And you two are twins after all… I am sure that makes that bond, that desire to protect, even more great."

"You are right. I do have a great desire to protect him. Even after…" Chloe paused, shaking her head sadly. "Even after everything, I still strongly feel that. But that does not give me the right to treat people badly just because of my selfish needs… least of all you. You are only one man after all. We all have faults… I should respect that," Chloe stated.

"Are we going to be alright then, Chloe?" Brady asked hopefully. "We… we're going to get through this, aren't we?"

"I can't forget what was said and done last night," Chloe replied honestly. Brady's heart fell, and he turned his gaze away from her. But Chloe just smiled, scooting towards him on the blanket. She placed her hand under his chin, gently forcing him to look her in the eye. "But I do not want to stay upset with you. I love you… You are everything to me. We both said things we regret. We can't change that now. We can not just ignore the past… But lets not let those things come between us. What's done is done. We should simply let the past be," Chloe stated. Brady looked uncertain, searching her face, her soulful eyes, for the truth she could never hide from him. But when he saw the sincerity in her sparkling sapphire eyes, Brady's lips broke out into a huge smile. He could see she meant the words she spoke. Nothing would be forgotten, and yet all was well again. Different somehow, but still they were alright.

"I could not agree more," Brady stated. He pulled her to him in a passionate embrace, wrapping his arms around her waist. Chloe pressed herself closer to him, wrapping her arms around him as well.

"I love you, Brady."

"And I love you, Chloe," Brady returned. They stayed there in that embrace, arms wrapped tightly around each other for quite some time. Neither of them had a care in the world about how much time actually passed. All they cared about was that they were together… and they were forgiven.

Before too long, however, the couple did have to split apart. It was growing darker by the minute. Though there had been candles lighting the path to the clearing, Brady had not had enough time to light the candles he had placed in the clearing itself before he had heard Chloe approach and had to duck from sight.

"I have to light the candles," Brady stated eventually. But their arms were still wrapped protectively around the other, neither of them moving to allow him to stand up.

"I know," Chloe said, running her fingers idly through his gorgeous hair.

"There will be very little moon lighting tonight. I really should light those candles," Brady repeated, still making no move to unravel himself from her embrace.

"We're becoming one of those lovey dovey couples that can not possibly bear not to be touching, aren't we?" Chloe asked playfully. Brady laughed, nodding his head.

"Yes, I do believe we are," Brady replied. "But then what is really wrong with being co-dependent?"

"Nothing is wrong with that at all," Chloe replied. It was she who finally pulled away, forcing herself to move back to her previous seat out of touching distance from him. "But I don't fancy having bruises all over my body because I couldn't see where I was going. I don't look so good in bruises."

"In that case, I'll light the candles right away. I am the one who must look at you after all," Brady teased. Chloe swatted at his arm playfully as he stood, smiling brightly at him. Brady smiled back, before moving away to light the candles around the clearing. When he sat back down on the blanket beside her, darkness had fallen. But the clearing was sufficiently illuminated by the many lit candles. It wasn't as bright as the day time, but the dim lighting casting shadows in the clearing set a much more romantic mood. "There. Now you won't be able to blame me if you get bruises on your body," Brady stated.

"And you best keep it that way, Brady Black. I won't be taking any impertinence from you. I may be smaller, but I could so take you any day of the week," Chloe stated. Brady laughed, pulling her into his arms so that her back was against his chest, his arms wrapped around her.

"Oh, "take me," please. I could use a good beating now and then," Brady said teasingly, an impish smirk on his face.

"Brady!" Chloe squealed as he tickled her lightly. She swatted his arm again, making him stop his tickling pursuit. "You are such a sex-driven maniac," Chloe joked.

"Hey, I blame you. I was a virgin before I met you. It's not my fault you are just so damn good," Brady replied. Kissing her neck lightly, he spoke softer and more seriously. "So beautiful," Brady continued, kissing her neck again. "So sexy," Brady added, kissing her again with even more passion. Chloe melted into his embrace, craning her neck to allow him greater access to her sensitive flesh, and placing her hand behind his neck to deepen his kisses.

"I never forced anything on you. Not my fault if you get addicted," Chloe stated.

"Never said I was complaining," Brady pointed out, turning her around in his arms so that she was facing him. He gently began to lay her down on the rose-petal covered blanket, his hands never leaving her skin.

"And just what do you think you're going to do now?" Chloe asked, looking up at him as he towered over her.

"Why, begin phase two of my plan to make up for last night of course," Brady stated coyly, lowering himself down above her. He kept his right arm bent slightly to support the weight of his body above her. Brady bent his head down to kiss her lips, before he began to move his kisses down her jaw line and back to the flesh of her luscious neck.

"Brady," Chloe giggled, the sensations of his kisses tickling her sensitive skin. "You promised," Chloe pointed out, gesturing with her free hand towards the raspberry fields. Brady lifted his head from his attack on her neck, propping himself up above her with both arms now, one leg resting on the blanket between her slightly parted legs and the other resting aside her left leg.

"Excuse me. If I recall correctly," Brady began, "you only made me promise I would not make love to you on a raspberry covered bed. Do you see a bed anywhere around here?" Brady asked slyly, an impish half grin on his handsome face. "What I see is a rose-petal covered blanket in the middle of a field of raspberries. You didn't say anything about that."

"I guess I didn't," Chloe laughed.

"Next time you are going to have to learn to be more specific," Brady stated. "But it's too late this time, so you will just have to suffer the consequences."

"I think I can manage," Chloe stated. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down fully on top of her with a devious smile on her face. Brady pressed his lips to hers, molding their bodies together as one. They made love there in the raspberry fields until long after the moon had risen high in the sky. And they fell asleep together, wrapped in the safety of each others embrace, each thankful for this time together and each praying that their agreement of forgiveness would stand true. Total hell was approaching them. Together they could survive. But apart? Apart, they would suffocate under the weight of the hardship that was to come…..

All around her was darkness. No light, no sound, no stirring of moment what so ever… Stretching for what seemed an eternity, there was nothing but darkness. She saw nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing as she seemed to fall forward in the dark abyss. Falling forever in the great darkness, and yet she felt no fear. For the darkness was nothing compared to what lay ahead. Here was nothingness. No truth or happiness to be found. But at least there was no pain.

And then suddenly the calm darkness came to a screeching halt. Her decent into the darkness ended and she fell, stunned, face first on the cold smooth stone floor. Pain shot through her, a shocking change from the unfeeling yet blissful shadows. The floor was cold as ice, causing goose bumps to cover her sensitive flesh. Her gasp of surprise echoed inhumanly about the small room, pulling her into a state of consciousness she would have preferred to avoid.

When the echo played out and the pain subsided, she slowly stood upright. She turned her head slowly to survey her surroundings. She was now in a presumably small, empty room, very dimly lit. But she could see only three gray stone walls. Where the fourth wall should have been, there was the only true darkness to be found in this new room. The rest of the room was completely empty, its bleak gray walls and shades far more uninviting to her. Wishing to get back to that blissful state of indifference, she began to walk towards the darkness in front of her.

She walked for what seemed an eternity, her hand stretched out in front of her, palm out, trying to get back into the veil of darkness. But with each step, the darkness receded. She could not return to the indifferent shadows which she so longed to be in. As she went along, the walls began to get closer and closer. The floor began to slope up while the ceiling slopped down and the two walls seemed to be coming towards each other further down the tunnel. She paid no heed to the confinement, and refused to notice that as she walked she spread the gray bleakness to the room which was previously unspoiled.

The tunnels soon got so tightly closed that she had to crawl on all fours, but still she pressed on. At the end of the tunnel off far in the distance, she could see light. Just a small pinhole of light at first, but as she crawled forward, the circle of light grew bigger. Perhaps if she could no longer be a part of the blissfully unfeeling shadows, then maybe the light could warm her enough to keep the pain and hurt away.

She crawled onward, the walls still getting closer and tighter around her until the point she had to actually crawl on her belly. Yet still she pressed on, the light getting bigger and bigger, though it was still not bigger than a brass bartering coin. She slithered and shimmed down the rest of the tunnel, almost like a snake hunting its prey. Just as she reached the point where the ceiling began to press on her back, just when she believed she could go no further, she reached the tunnel's end.

At the end of the tunnel was a black stone wall that was just wider than her shoulders and just a little taller then it was wide. In the middle of the stone wall, a small rectangle was craved out, causing a small opening between the tunnel where she was now and whatever lay on the other side. Over this opening was a thin sheet of clear glass, making a rectangular window to the other side. This glass was how the light, though it was very dim, was getting into the tunnel. The rectangular window was just large enough so that when she put her face against the wall, she could see through to the other side with both eyes.

When she looked through the glass, she saw before her what looked to be a bedroom. It was plainly furnished, almost bleak. And yet it was not a peasants bedroom. Though simple, it was almost majestic in construction. Someone important vacated this room. The room was only partially illuminated by one solitary candle that was burning on the beside table. There were windows, but they supplied no light, signifying it was nighttime.

As she looked closer, she began to see the outline of a person lying in the bed. Their back was turned to her under the covers at first. But before long, they turned uneasily toward her . Restless, as if something was plaguing them and keeping them from sleeping peacefully. She could now see his face. Though it was dimly illuminated, she could tell it was the face of a young man, no older than she herself. For some reason, she felt as if she should know him. And yet his face sparked no memory within her mind.

She watched him turn restlessly in his sleep. Yes, he was indeed asleep, though he often murmured or cried out as if to say he wanted to wake and escape whatever nightmare he was having. A door then opened in a part of the room she had not previously been able to see. This bathed the room in light… perhaps there was a lighted hallway behind the door that could now provide light into the darkened room.

Now that there was light, she could see something that greatly troubled her. Above the young man's bed hovered a huge black and purple cloud. It swirled angrily just above him, and appeared to be slowly spreading with each passing moment. This was not the kind of darkness she had been desperately trying to return to. This… this was an evil, destructive darkness. This cloud was filled with hatred and anger and pain… everything that was wicked in the world, this cloud possessed. The cloud grew slowly, a swirling mass of dark evil spreading out along the room's ceiling as well as growing wider in the middle, as if it were trying to grow big enough to reach the sleeping man below.

From the doorway, a tall figure emerged, casting a dark shadow on the newly lit room that sent chills up her spine. His face was concealed by shadow so she could only tell that he was a male, and he appeared young in age. Older then the sleeping man, yet still he held himself more like a younger man than a grown, older adult. But she could sense something familiar about him, though that feeling of familiarity was clouded by fear. This man was not meant to be here.

With catlike movements, the Dark Man -- as she would remember him as, as he seemed to have a dark aura about him -- crept into the room. He was holding something in his right hand, and it was clear by his soundless, easy movements he intended for the unaware sleeping man not to wake. His feet made not a sound on the wooden floor as he approached the bed. And yet, despite that, the sound of his approach seemed to echo painfully in her head, as if she was hearing and seeing things that the two men below could not possibly conceive.

As the Dark Man entered the room, the evil cloud hovering over the scene began to grow more rapidly, expanding at the sides and down, getting closer and closer to the sleeping man. It seemed as if it were feeding off the vibrations radiating off the Dark Man. This man was so filled with rage. But she took little note of that. She felt something now about that cloud, and what it really meant. Its presence meant that there was something about the scene unfolding before her that she was not meant to understand or that would not be revealed to her. That cloud signified the reason the events below had to take place. And that reason was something she was not meant to be a part of.

As the Dark Man approached the sleeping man, the light from the candle glinted off the object that was in the Dark Man's hand, allowing her to see what it was. In his right hand was a sword that glinted with a fury matched only by its wielder.

When he reached the bed, the Dark Man stared down at the man below him for a moment. He was on the left side of the bed, whereas she was watching from the right. Now she could see the man's face. She could see it clearly, but just as before, she could not place the somehow familiar face. No matter how crazy it sounded, it felt like… it felt like she had known them both once long ago, very well. But now… now they were strangers to her.

The Dark Man looked down at the sleeping figure for a moment, a look of pure disgust on his handsome face. And then he lifted the sword high above his head, positioning it over the sleeping man's heart. As he did so, the evil cloud jolted forward the remaining distance, seemingly being pulled into the sword itself. The entire cloud disappeared into the sword's hilt, and formed a black snake coiled around the blade. It was not a live snake… no, this evil darkness was a part of the blade itself, symbolizing it's purpose was now one of pure evil intent.

The Dark Man lifted the sword as high as it would go and, with a cry of anguish that sent chills down her spine, plunged the sword downward. She tried to scream, tried to dissuade him from committing such a devious act, tried to perhaps warn the man sleeping unawares in the bed. But her cries had no voice. She tried to pound her palm against the glass. But all to no avail. If she had even made a sound at all, which she did not believe she had, it would not reach the Dark Man. With inhuman force, the blade descended downward with its wielders cry persuading it onward. The evil blade plummeted down for what seemed like ages before it finally made contact. With a sickening crunch, the blade sank into the young man's chest. His eyes flew open in panic, wild with the intense, burning pain.

The young man's hands flew up involuntarily to the hilt of the sword. He looked up at his killer in disbelief as his life's blood spilled out over his paling body. His murderer watched this, not one ounce of remorse on his face. And with the young man's dying breath, his killer spat on him. And then he was gone. His body became still, his arm falling to the side, leaving it to hang lifelessly over the edge of the bed. The only sound that was heard was the almost deafening sound of his icy cold blood hitting the floor in slow, steady drops from where it dripped down his lifeless arm.

His cold dead eyes stared up at his killer, unseeing. And the Dark Man merely stared down at the lifeless corpse in disgust, as if he was not satisfied with the act he had committed. It appeared to her, as she watched on silently in despair, that she could not prevent this tragedy. She believed that this man whom she presumed to be a dark, hateful creature was not satisfied with the other man's death. It was as if killing him once was not enough; perhaps he wanted him to experience the pain of death a 1000 times over, as he himself seemed to be damned to by the simple act of breathing.

The Dark Man surveyed the scene for a moment longer. Then when he appeared to be satisfied, as satisfied as he could be at least, he turned to walk away. But before he had even fully turned, a shadow blanketed the room. One shadowy figure, a man bathed in unnatural red light, stepped into the room. This Red Man was followed by three more men, each bathed in a gray-shale light, signifying that perhaps they were insignificant in comparison to the first man. The three new men were armed, but nothing else about them stood out. Their presence meant something, but the real focus was on the Dark Man and the Red Man, who seemed to know each other.

"You!" the Red Man cried when he saw the Dark Man standing over the lifeless figure in the bed. "I'll have your head for this," he growled.

With that decree, the three armed, Gray Men lunged on the Dark Man, the Red Man standing still in the doorway as if he wished to watch before he himself took action. The Dark Man did not make a single move to stop them. He submitted to their fury but in a dignified manner, almost as if he believed his work to be done. It was as if he had nothing left to live for. The first Gray Man lunged at the Dark Man, slicing his blade across his chest. The Dark Man made no struggle, nor did he utter a single sound. He would give these men nothing… no pleasure in smiting him down, no satisfaction, no glory… nothing. He stood tall as the second of the Gray Men came forth, slamming the hilt of his sword into the Dark Man's vulnerable head. The Dark Man, bleeding and injured, began to waver as the third and final Gray Man grabbed him by the hair, jerked his head down, and kneed him swiftly in the face.

Blood poured down the Dark Man's face as he steadied himself using the aid of a bedside table. He straightened himself upright to stand tall in front of the last figure, the Red Man who had spoken to him who was somehow different from the others. The Dark Man stood tall and stared at the Red Man with as much disgust and disdain as he had for the man he had slain.

This last man stood tall as well, sword in hand, locking eyes with the Dark Man. They each held the others gaze, a certain hatred passing between them that lit the air ablaze with rage. The Red Man had a smirk upon his face, as if he found such pleasure in seeing the man before him bleeding and broken. The Dark Man's eyes held no emotion. Not pain, not remorse, and most certainly not fear. They were merely empty. But they had not always like that, that she could feel now that her fear of the Dark Man had subsided. This was what brought the Red Man the most pleasure. Perhaps he had seen the Dark Man's eyes before they became hollow, and found it a more fitting punishment than anything else he could do to him. The Red Man seemed to watch long enough to commit every detail to memory. And when that task was done, he too advanced on the murderer and slowly, still wishing to bask in every moment, raised his sword. With swift accuracy, he drove his blade into the Dark Man's stomach. The Dark Man, though trying not to allow his pain to show, did gasp as the intense pain racked his once strong body. His gasp of pain caused a gasp to escape her own lips as well, though it was silent and went unheard by those below. And, had she been able to move her arms, she would have clutched her chest as pain racked through her own body. She felt as if the blade had sliced not only into the Dark Man below her, but had pierced her own heart as well. But her cry of pain was unnoticed by the men below. They could not hear her.

With unearthly force, the Red Man used his foot to push against the Dark Man. The sword, with its malicious blade that had run the Dark Man completely through, was pulled out as the Dark Man was pushed back, doing as much damage coming out as going in. The Dark Man slammed hard against the wall, his arm knocking over the night stand he'd used to steady himself and knocking its contents to the floor. The Dark Man, with a strength that no man in his position could possibly be able to posses, staggered to right himself. Even dying, he was too proud, too unwilling to allow these men who he believed to be vile and despicable to take pleasure in his pain. He righted himself once more, just long enough to grasp something which hung around his neck on a silver chain. Just as he grasped the item, the Red Man slammed his fist into the Dark Man's face, catching him square on the chin.

The Dark Man fell now, never to right himself again. He fell over the corpse of the man he had slain, stretching across the bed just below where he had driven the evil sword into his enemy's chest. The fall had caused him to rip the chain from around his neck. Now, with his arm bent unnaturally over the dead corpse of his enemy, the object which he had grasped with his final breath of life fell from his clenched hand.

The object glinted as it fell, landing with a sickening and unearthly sound in the pool of the Sleeping Man's blood that had formed on the floor. She could clearly see it just before the blood of the dead consumed it. The object which the Dark Man had grasped was a ring… a beautiful, golden wedding ring. And now, though she wished the faces had stayed hidden in the shadows, the truth simply not revealed, she could see the faces of the two slain men who lay sprawled over the bed. She knew exactly who they were….

The room began to fade then, and a new scene was placed before her. No longer was she in a tiny tunnel looking through a window. Now she was outside, standing in the rain… standing over two fresh graves. Between the two graves were two swords, plunged deep into the ground as if they marked the boundary between the two graves.

The tombstone on the left read:

Here lies Philip Kiriakis, son of Victor and Katherine Kiriakis and King of Mucche who was dishonorably slain by his greatest enemy, his father's murderer while asleep in his own Palace.

The tombstone on the right read:

Here lies Brady Black, son of John and Isabella Black and beloved King of Nero who was unlawfully smite down after taking his rightful vengeance against Nero's enemy, King Philip of Mucche.

She fell to her knees in tears now, placing one hand over each grave as she cried out in anguish.

"You brought death to them both, Chloe," a voice suddenly boomed. "Their blood… is on your hands." As the voice declared this, blood began to pour from each grave, bathing her hands in it. She pulled her hands back quickly and bolted upright as the blood continued to pour out of the graves. And the last thing she heard as the blood washed over the land and she surveyed her blood stained hands was her own screaming, carrying out over the land of Nero and the land of Mucche… and shattering every last thing in sight…….

"Nooooo!" Chloe screamed as she bolted up. Her eyes immediately darted down to her hands and she saw the blood. She continued to scream, trying to wipe the blood off her hands. "No! No! The blood! Oh God, the blood!" Chloe screamed. Strong arms were soon around her, and two strong hands had grabbed her own to stop her frantic flailing, which inevitably only caused her panic to rise.

"Chloe, stop it! What is it, what's wrong!" It was Brady. He had woke up when he heard her scream. His arms were wrapped tightly around her as he feared she would hurt herself in her panic. Chloe jerked her hands free, desperate to cleanse them of what she believed to be the blood of those she loved most dearly.

"The blood! I have to wash away the blood!" Chloe exclaimed. Brady took hold of her hands again, this time forcing her to look at him.

"Chloe, calm down," Brady said as calmly as possible. He held her hands with one hand, using the other to gently caress her check in an effort to calm her. "Just calm down. It was only a nightmare," Brady soothed.

"No… no, it wasn't. It was real. All the blood… God, the blood. It's still on my hands… it's all over me!" Chloe stated.

"No, Chloe. There is no blood. Not even a drop. Just some raspberry juice. We did spend the night in a raspberry field, remember," Brady stated. He raised her hands up for her to see, and sure enough, there was no blood. What she had seen as blood was merely a few places where raspberry juice had stained her skin. His hands had a few spots like that as well. She had been in a playful mood last night and had thrown a handful of raspberries at him. An extremely fun, completely naked food fight had ensued after that. They had been covered head to toe in raspberry juice by the playful fight's end. There was a water basin in the clearing that they had used to wash each other, but they would need a real bath with soap to get all the stains off. "It was just a dream, Chloe. Just a nightmare. There is no blood."

"Oh, God, Brady… it was so real," Chloe cried, collapsing in his arms. She could remember now where they were. They had fallen asleep together in the raspberry fields, their clothes tossed carelessly about with only the blanket covering them. The ground of the clearing was fairly soft and rock free, so they had not needed the blanket as padding against the earth. There were still a few hours left before sunrise and most of the candles had burnt out. But there was still enough light for her to have seen the raspberry stains.

"Shhh… it's alright now, Chloe. None of it was real," Brady soothed gently, wrapping his arms around her. "Come on now, why don't you lay back down…"

"No! If I fall asleep, I'll see all that again! Please. Please Brady, I don't want to see that again," Chloe declared.

"You don't have to sleep, Chloe. Just lay down, rest your eyes, and keep calming thoughts in your mind. I won't let you fall asleep if you don't wish to. I promise," Brady promised. "Will you lay back down with me now?"

"Yes… if you will hold me, yes I will," Chloe answered. Brady nodded and he settled himself back down on the ground, opening his arms to her. Chloe laid down, cradling herself against him and resting her head on his shoulder. She wrapped her arms around his chest as Brady pulled the blanket back up over them both. He pulled his other arm up around her, pulling her closer to him.

"Rest now, love. I will protect you," Brady promised softly. Chloe closed her eyes, sighing heavily. She was beginning to believe that no one could ever protect her. And that dream was just so incredibly real… so unnervingly, disturbingly real that Chloe was beginning to believe that Brady was the one who needed protection… protection from her…….

Chloe slumped down into a chair in the Great Hall, thankful to finally be off her feet. The Great Hall had been closed off so as to have a place to make preparations for the wedding. Brady was adamant about having the wedding as soon as possible. A week had passed since her nightmare in the raspberry fields, and there had been no movement at all on the Mucchean front. Brady feared the calm would not last and he wished for them to be married before all hell broke loose.

A week had passed, and Chloe had barely slept a wink. Each night, her sleep was plagued by awful visions. The two nightmares which she had seen kept repeating, the first dream repeating one night and the second the next night. Each night the dreams became more vivid then the night before. Chloe now cursed the setting of the sun and prayed only for sunrise. By morning, it would be as if she had not slept at all. If she slept, the dreams would come, and there would be no waking from them no matter how hard she tried to pull herself from those horrid images.

And so, Chloe was always exhausted. But on this day, her exhaustion was even worse. Brady had handled everything before now. But he had insisted that she meet with the seamstress today to be fitted for a wedding gown. She hadn't the strength to argue, so she had spent the last two hours straight doing nothing but standing still while the extremely picky seamstress made measurements and fussed over picking out just the right material for the dress. She had insisted on finding the perfect material to "match those stunning pools for eyes," or so the seamstress had said. All Neroean wedding gowns, for the royal family at least, were made in the same style. The only difference was the size and colors. It was another sign of tradition that let everyone know Nero still held tight to it's roots, or so Brady had told her.

Chloe could finally rest now. She sat in a chair in the middle of the Great Hall, watching the mayhem around her as everyone darted around trying to finish their assigned choir. Usually, wedding ceremonies were held wherever the couple should desire. Commoner weddings were usually small and private inside a home of a loved one, while royal weddings could be anywhere from small, intimate ceremonies inside the Palace to huge, city-wide outside celebrations and festivals, depending on the couple's taste. But Brady was concerned an outside ceremony would leave them unprotected, not only against the elements, but against Philip as well. He did not approve of their merger after all, so it was possible he would try to do something extreme to keep the wedding from happening. So Chloe had agreed to the wedding being held in the Great Hall. There they could have a perfectly grand wedding, indoors with no worries of rain or high winds ruining the ceremony, and with the added protection of all of Brady's guards. There was no actual date set yet for the wedding. There was only Brady's vow that it would be as soon as possible.

There had been no word thus far on the Mucchean front in the past week. But there was much activity in Nero. The people were growing restless, calling for Brady to take action against Mucche before Mucche decided to strike on them. Riots were breaking out in more abundance, although the town militia was able to keep them under control, for the time being at least. Brady seemed to pay no heed to these riots. Chloe often caught sight of him waving off his concerned councilmen, telling them he was far too busy and to handle the situation themselves if it troubled them so. "I picked you all for a reason. I trust your judgment. So go out there, and use it" Brady would say.

Brady was just too caught up with the wedding preparations to notice anything else. Most, especially those inside the castle, did understand at first. He was experiencing his first true love. Any man about to be wed for the first time to his first and truest love had a right to be excited about it. But it did not take too long for that understanding to begin to fade. A few councilmen still supported Brady in all his decisions, but the common citizens were a different matter.

Brady was so excited about the upcoming wedding and yet all the while, Chloe was beginning to pull away from it all. She went where Brady asked her to go without a fuss, and she put in her own thoughts and ideas when he asked her about every aspect of the service, such as guest lists and food and music. But her heart was not really in it. Perhaps it was just because she was so tired. But Chloe feared it was not going to be so simple.

"Brady," Chloe called as she spotted him across the room. He was speaking with the seamstress, probably confirming when the dress would be ready. Brady waved the seamstress away, apparently done with whatever it was he was telling the frizzy haired young woman, and approached Chloe as she stood from her chair. He grinned at her widely, opening his arms to her to hug her close. She could tell he was ever so happy. Perhaps he was happy enough for the both of them.

That was another reason no one approached Brady to make him address the current issues in Nero. Brady had experienced so much hardship in his few short years that he had previously closed himself off emotionally. Anyone else might not have ever been able to recover emotionally from all the strains put on them. Brady had always been a good King, but the people knew he was very depressed at times. They feared for him when those detached, depressed moods began to happen more frequently and when they began to last longer. They had all seen the consequences of what happened in Rubino when King Shawn began to do the exact same thing. Chloe had done away with that wall Brady had built around himself and no one wanted for that wall to be rebuilt. It could mean danger for them all.

"Chloe, my love," Brady greeted happily, kissing her forehead. He stood back from her a bit, holding her still at arms length. His smile faltered and was replaced by a look of concern. "You do not look well, Chloe. Is something the matter?" Chloe had not told Brady about her recurring nightmares. The morning after her nightmare in the raspberry fields, Brady had asked about it. But he had not asked for details, and she had not supplied them. What could he do about them anyway, besides worry needlessly. He slept with his arms around her each night, and yet the dreams came. There was no reason to trouble him. He spent too much time on her already.

"I am fine, Brady, really. Just tired is all," Chloe answered. "Being fitted for a dress is not easy work. I was hoping, if you do not need me, that you would not mind if I went to lay down for awhile?"

"Of course I do not mind," Brady replied. "You go and get all the rest you need. Would you like food to be brought up to you? The chef makes a wonderful soup that will sooth you. Or I could send for someone to draw you a bath."

"No no, that's quite unnecessary. I just want to lie down is all. Thank you though, Brady. You are always so good to me," Chloe stated, though only half-heartedly. Perhaps, Chloe thought, he was too good to her for his own, or rather, his country's own good.

"Nothing is too good for you, love," Brady replied, a half smile on his lips again. He kissed her forehead once more before he released her. "Do not hesitate to call if you need anything. Rest up. I will wish to talk to you about setting the date when you are feeling better."

"All right," Chloe said, having nothing else to say about the wedding. She wanted to avoid all the talk and preparations for the time being and just rest. Maybe she could get some rest without falling asleep. Because if she slept, she knew the nightmares would haunt her again. And, though she fought the idea with every breathe she took, the more and more she saw those horrid images, the more she feared they were visions, warnings of oncoming doom rather than just simple dreams.

Chloe turned now, beginning to make her way up the Grand Staircase to her and Brady's chambers. She had had dreams before that seemed like only dreams until they came true. Usually, the actual event was not exactly like the dream . Her dreams were symbolic more than anything literal. But on occasion, some small event would come to pass exactly as it had in a dream of hers.

One day when she was younger, only perhaps five years old and still living in the Mucchean Palace, Philip had fallen from a tree while they were playing unattended in the court yard. He had broken his arm, and the woman who served as their nanny had been imprisoned for negligence. A life sentence, in fact, just as had happened in a dream Chloe had had the night before. In that dream, Chloe did not see Philip fall. She did not know he even had anything to do with the vision. But the dream had stood out, because she had seen the poor woman in the court yard during what looked to be a trial. Trials were customarily held in the court square or within the Palace itself, which was one of the things that stood out. The other was that when Chloe heard the sentence in her dream, life imprisonment, she felt a sharp pain in her own arm as she slept. Normally, the woman would have been put to death under the cruel system of Mucchean law. But Philip had convinced Chloe to make up some story, though she didn't know exactly what that story was now, to keep the poor girl alive.

Another night, the night before the kidnaping in fact, Chloe had been stricken with horrible nightmares. She had seen her mother weeping over a scrap of cloth in the court yard. And she had seen a slavers cart in a land she did not recognize. Standing beside that card had been two strange children. She had not known it then, but all those things had signified the kidnaping in one way or another. Philip had torn his shirt on a branch while being carried through the trees surrounding the castle. They had both been put in a slavers cart, and the children she had seen were no doubt Young Brady and Isabella. Chloe had not remembered these things until recently. The memories seemed to return to her after her second terrible nightmare in the raspberry fields, buried somehow deep inside her mind. But now she remembered these things clear as day, as though it were important for her to realize that she had had this happen to her before.

Chloe had not paid any heed to these dreams as prophesies before. She did not believe in such things. To believe that she was perhaps clairvoyant was completely unheard of! And yet, each dream, no matter how big or small, had indeed come to pass, causing some hardship for herself or those around her. She couldn't ignore these dreams this time. Whether they were meant to be figurative or literal prophesies she did not know. Nor did she care. They obviously could not be literal. Brady would never take a life in cold blood as he had in her vision. That she was not afraid of. But what did scare her was that she did believe she could be responsible for both the deaths of her husband to be and her twin brother Philip. What really saddened and frightened her, perhaps most of all, was that she believed these dreams, whatever they meant, must have something to do with her impending marriage to Brady. And, judging by the violent nature of the dreams, she could only imagine that that something was not positive…

Back in the Great Hall, Brady was looking over the sample invitations which a local artisan had prepared. Simple hand written declarations on parchment scrolls would not do for an event of this nature. No, each invitation would be like a piece of artwork in its own right.

"Your Majesty, a word please?" Harold asked as he approached Brady.

"Just one moment, Harold," Brady replied. "I like this one, but I will want to discuss it with Chloe first. Leave them here with me, and I will call on you once we have reached a decision."

"Of course, Your Majesty," the artisan replied. He placed all of the samples back in his "portfolio" as they were referred to as, and handed it to Brady. "I will anxiously await your summons. You have no idea what an honor it is for you, your Esteemed Grace, to choose my services," the man said, bowing.

"You do good work, Jonathan. It is no surprise that you would be picked for such a task. Might I say that it is an honor that you would use your talents on my behalf," Brady stated. "I am sure you can show yourself out. Wouldn't want to stay in this mad house long. I will call upon you as soon as we are ready." The gracious artisan again bowed, before taking his leave, disappearing into the crowd of people hustling about the Great Hall. Brady turned to Harold, motioning for him to follow as he began to walk towards the Grand Staircase. They ascended the stairs and went inside one of the empty rooms in the hall above the Great Hall so they could have privacy to talk.

"Forgive the wait, Harold. I have been so busy as of late. What did you wish to talk to me about?" Brady asked.

"That is what I wanted to discuss, Your Majesty," Harold replied. "You have been very busy this last week."

"Well, I am preparing for a wedding, Harold. That does not happen over night," Brady stated.

"I do understand that, Your Majesty," Harold replied. "But do you not think that perhaps you are rushing in to this wedding?"

"You do not think the wedding should happen, Harold? Or do you think that our marriage will simply not last?" Brady inquired.

"You know that is not what I meant," Harold chided, dropping his professional manner as his patience was beginning to wane. "You must know I want this wedding to happen. I mean, I've only been pushing for you to take a wife since you were crowned King of Nero. Hell, I think that I want this wedding for you even more than you want it. But the timing…"

"Is terrible. I realize that," Brady finished. "Harold, the sooner this wedding happens, the sooner I can stop worrying about Philip trying to stop it. You were not there when he denounced our union. You did not see how passionately he was against it. I truly believe that there is nothing he would not do to put a stop to my marriage to Chloe. With that in mind, if there is going to be a wedding at all, it has to be as soon as humanly possible. And there is going to be a wedding, Harold. I have lost so much… I have even lost her once before. I will not… I can not go through that again."

"I do admire you for that, Your Majesty," Harold said honestly. "But the people are beginning to suffer. You have been busy as you said, so you may not have seen, but riots are growing in frequency as well as strength. For now, everything is being held under control. But I fear these riots can only get worse."

"And I will handle that when the time comes. Once Chloe and I are wed, the threat that Philip will keep us apart will be gone. That will leave us to concentrate solely on the mayhem between Nero and Mucche, and within Nero's own walls. That I can handle. What I can not handle is someone trying to keep Chloe from me. The people will just have to accept that."

"Will you at least make an announcement, Your Majesty?" Harold pleaded. Brady was beginning to be so unlike himself. Perhaps all those years of being forced to put others needs ahead of his own were finally showing deep consequences.

"Yes, of course. There are some things that I must attend to first, but you can set up an announcement for this afternoon," Brady stated. "Now, if you will excuse me," Brady said, walking passed Harold and towards the door. He stopped before he reached for the doorknob, turning back around to face Harold again. "Actually, make that tomorrow morning. I will not be available until quite late, and I am certain the people are quite sick of me waking them at all hours of the night."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Harold stated. Brady turned then and exited the room. Harold quickly left as well, turning up the hallway away from the Great Hall. He was on his way to the Royal Hall when he spotted who he had been looking for.

Shawn had returned two days after he left Nero and had stayed in the Palace since. His people had been very welcome of the news he brought. It had not been good news of course, but they were pleased just the same because he was finally becoming involved in their lives again. All had been supportive of him returning to Nero for as long as it took. The sooner Nero beat down the enemy Mucche, the sooner the citizens of Rubino could sleep peacefully without fear of being abducted from their peaceful homes. So Shawn had returned to Nero with the encouraging words of his council and people behind him. But he had returned to nothing… nothing but wedding plans. Brady rarely let Shawn speak his worries about what Philip might be up to. Brady would not let anyone speak any discouraging words around him. He was in far too elated of a mood to allow anything to bring him down. Most were amazed Shawn had stayed as long as he had. They also believed he might leave at any time. They could only hope it was not for good.

"Your Majesty, a word?" Harold asked as he approached Shawn.

"If you will stop calling me "Your Majesty," you may speak anything you wish," Shawn stated, a slight half grin on his face.

"I have serious matters to discuss, Shawn," Harold stated tiredly, dropping the formalities. "Please no joking tones tonight." Shawn sobered up, looking at Harold with much concern.

"What is wrong, Harold? Is something dreadfully the matter?" Shawn asked seriously.

"Have you seen Brady yet today?" Harold asked, shifting the clipboard he most always carried with him over to his left arm.

"Not today. But I was just on my way to meet with him. I believe it is about time for me to be heading home. Brady seems not to be interested in any further movement on the Mucchean front, so I can not see that I have any further business here. I have an entire country at home that needs my attention far more then these goings-on's."

"I do wish you would not leave, Shawn," Harold replied. "I am at my wits end here. Riots are beginning to break out all over… I truly fear for the people, and for Brady. You are perhaps the only level-headed person left in the city that holds any real power of persuasion with Brady. Brady will not listen to my concerns… and he certainly will not listen to any of the council members. If you leave, there will be no one who could possibly get through to Brady."

"What concerns do you have?" Shawn inquired.

"I believe we share the same concern. I know you see it too," Harold replied. "As much as it pains me to say it… I am fearful that Brady is becoming so involved with Chloe that he is ignoring the suffering of his people." Shawn nodded solemnly in agreement.

"You are right. I do see it. I had begun to see signs of that before Brady and Chloe even left for negotiations in Mucche," Shawn stated. "But I do not see how I can help with that. Brady is a very stubborn man. He is so set in his ways. And I am sure you have seen my efforts to make him listen to reason. He has denied all those efforts."

"Perhaps… but you are his friend. You have known him longer and you shared similar interests. If there is anyone among us who could still possibly get through to him in time, it would be you. So won't you stay? I know it is a lot to ask of you. It is much to ask to keep you away from your own home."

"There are some good things about being in Nero," Shawn stated. And Harold knew exactly what he meant.

"Yes, well… that means you will stay then?" Harold asked, allowing a slight, hopeful smile to grace his lips.

"If you wish it so, then yes," Shawn stated. "I would do anything that you wished."

"Anything?" Harold asked, a sly note to his tone. A few council members turned the corner of the hallway they were in, and both Harold and Shawn straightened their faces, forcing their smiles away. "I do have some ideas on how to go about solving that problem, Your Majesty. Would you be free to meet with me later?"

"Yes, of course."

"Splendid. Then I shall see you later this afternoon. I have a few errands I must attend to first, but I will get them all out of the way to free up the entire afternoon for us to… solve that problem," Harold stated. The council members passed, nodding a greeting in Shawn and Harold's direction, before they disappeared around another corner in the maze that was the Palace hall system.

"That would be just fine. I will look for you about sunset then," Shawn stated. He then disappeared around the corner where the council members had gone. He did still wish to talk to Brady. Brady had said he wished for him to attend the wedding. If it was going to be soon, as it appeared it would be, there would be little point in him leaving for Rubino only to return a few days later.

Though, as Shawn walked down the hallways towards the Great Hall, a strange feeling over-whelmed him. As he got closer to where the wedding was to be held, the atmosphere seemed somehow different. He knew it was just his imagination. These so called feelings and insights, which one of his more eccentric council members swore must be some type of witchcraft or psychic connection, had been happening from time to time ever since his beloved parents passed away. The feelings only got stronger after the loss of his sweet Isabella. She had had an insight for things as well. It was as if she was still trying to do good, trying to spread her goodness to others, by making Shawn feel the things that could prove helpful to others. Only a creature as good and innocent as his Isabella would still be compelled to help others even after being sent to her own premature grave. But these insights, or whatever one wished to call them, had never steered Shawn in any positive direction to help others. All they succeeded in was placing added stress upon himself, and often those around him.

It felt to Shawn that there was something dark in the air, like only disaster could come from all of the events that had happened as of late. But Shawn forced these terrible thoughts from his mind. He did not need to worry himself with thoughts and images that would never come to pass. Because if his insights were true, and the wedding did not happen… that would surely kill Brady. Or worse. Losing Chloe could turn the goodness in his heart around and force him to become a monster blinded by hatred that no one could possibly control… or escape from…….

Philip sighed heavily as he read over the letter which Michael had handed him moments ago. One week ago, his spies had returned to Mucche with tales of their "unjust" imprisonment. They all had a personal score to settle with Brady and his countrymen now, even though it had been Brady who set them all free. So, rather than having to bring in new men who would have to be trained and briefed to be his informants, Philip had granted the Carvers the job of guarding the Neroean Palace to wait for the perfect time to kidnap Chloe. Provided, of course, that this time, they were not so careless as to allow themselves to be captured.

A messenger was sent back and forth between Nero and Mucche on a fairly regular basis during the last week. The Carvers did seem to be showing they were prepared to prove their worth. But the messages Philip received did little good. Chloe had not been left alone and unguarded for even a moment in the last week. The fact that Brady was pushing for a marriage so soon worried Philip. He did not want the marriage to go through at all. If Chloe actually married Brady, it would be that much harder for Philip to peacefully, or as peacefully as kidnaping can be at least, dissuade his sister from consorting with their enemy. He would still take Chloe to Mucche and stage her death, but Philip longed for Chloe to go with him of her own free will. Not that she would do that, but the chance of it was even slimmer if she actually went through with the marriage.

"Bad news, Your Majesty?" Cynthia asked as she came up to Philip. Philip had been sitting alone on the courtyard steps when Michael had brought him the letter. He'd stayed outside to read it. The fresh air helped to clear his mind and the location, in a strange way, helped sooth him. It might have been the place that he and Chloe had been taken from their homes, but it was also the last place that he and Chloe had ever been happy together. The courtyard was rarely used for anything significant. It almost felt to Philip that having people there tainted the significance of the place. As Cynthia sat down beside him on the second to last step, her skimpy skirt barely covering any of her slender thigh, Philip felt as though that concept went double for her. And yet, he would not make her leave.

"No, not bad news. Just not good news," Philip stated. He folded up the letter, tossing it aside in frustration. "It looks as if the wedding is going to go through, maybe before the next week is over. And Chloe has not been left alone for even a moment, nor has she even set foot out of the Palace. The Carvers can not even get close to Chloe, let alone lure her out of the Palace. I do not think this plan of yours is going to work, Lady Cynthia. If we can not get her before the wedding happens…"

"We will, Your Majesty. Be patient. Everything will work out in your favor. Maybe not as planned, but what will it matter as long as you are the victor?" Cynthia asked.

"If not according to our original plan, then how is this going to work in my favor?" Philip inquired.

"We shall address that when we come to it, Your Majesty. You put too much faith in this marriage holding your sister to Brady. If they are married, it will not be impossible to break them apart. It might even give you more fuel to use to convince Chloe that Brady took advantage of her," Cynthia stated. "For now, you just tell your men to stop fooling around and start trying to make Chloe be left alone. I still have faith we can get her out before the wedding. In fact, if it worked out that we got to Chloe the day of the wedding… well, that would make it all the more devastating for Brady Black. I would personally not be concerned until Chloe is walking down the aisle. Even after that, we still may have our chance. It just may take longer then expected.

"Alright, Lady Cynthia, I will not show cause for alarm just yet," Philip stated as he stood up. "But you just remember what I told you before," Philip said in a warning tone, referring to his statement that he would hold her responsible if anything went wrong. Cynthia just smiled as Philip glared down at her.

"I do remember, Your Majesty. You just go on and write your reply. Everything will work out as it should," Cynthia stated.

"You should hope that it does," Philip stated. He turned then and picked up the letter before turning to walk back into the Palace. Cynthia just shook her head, she too standing from the step. She walked down the remaining steps into the courtyard as she had almost sensed that Philip did not wish her to be there. His threats seemed idle now. She had been concerned at first, but she knew now Philip would not act upon them. She had him wrapped around her little finger… she was in complete control. And she was going to remain that way, no matter what……

Brady opened the door to his bed chambers, relieved to be finally retiring for the evening. He had spent the rest of the day meeting with all sorts of people pertaining to the wedding. Brady had to arrange for large amounts of flowers, roses of varying shades of course, as well as centerpieces of edelweiss and lilacs for the reception tables. He also had to interview artisans. There was someone to do initiations, but there would be someone else entirely to paint wedding portraits. Brady also met with just about every chef in the country and every possible form of entertainer imaginable. Everyone in the kingdom seemed to want to be involved in the royal wedding. At least everyone that was not currently despising Brady for being so involved in the wedding that he didn't notice his people's outcries.

A riot had broken out that evening as Brady had met in the courtyard with the entertainers. One man, a farmer who was going to lose his land because he hadn't the means or money to pay his taxes due to flooding and a lack of cotton seeds available to him, had stormed into the courtyard, demanding council with King Brady. The guards had apprehended him before he reached Brady, and the short tempered man had not cared much for that. He, though a simple farmer, had fought with the guards to free himself. And that had started a chain reaction. A group of men in the courtyard, three men who had come to perform a piece of a play for Brady, came to the farmer's aid, as they saw his apprehension as unlawful. Another group of men had jumped in to defend Brady's honor and right to do what he deemed lawful. Before long, the entire courtyard was engaged in one huge brawl. And all the while, Brady watched, helpless to stop it… and he had not even noticed the poor farmer before his guards had taken it upon themselves to contain him.

The brawl did eventually come to an end. No arrests were made, at Brady's request. He had sent for one of his men to bring a bag of cotton seeds from the Royal Supply for the farmer to take free of charge. Brady had personally apologized to the man for all the trouble. Since the man would have to work hard enough as it was to produce a very late crop, Brady had promised to speak personally with Lord Craig Wesley on the farmer's behalf. Lord Wesley ran a very large farm closer to Nero's southern border, but he was also recently put in charge of over-seeing land seizures. Be it tax dodgers or law breakers, there was often some bit of land to seize, and Lord Wesley was the man in charge of its over-taking, as well as its resale. Brady had apologized to everyone else in the courtyard as well, dispatching them all with a promise that he would take more care to see to their needs.

Brady was very glad to be free to return to his chambers for the night. He wished to first talk with Chloe about setting the date for their wedding. His brief meeting with Shawn had given him another reason to put urgency in the setting of the date. It would not be a wedding without Shawn in attendance. His sister Isabella, had she been alive today, would have been very disappointed if Brady did not do everything within his power to insure that Shawn was present at his wedding. After hopefully getting a date set, Brady then planned to prepare a speech for the announcement he had promised Harold he would make in the morning, before retiring to a relaxing bath with his beloved Chloe before bed.

Brady did not see Chloe as he entered the room and shut the door behind him. But the door to the balcony was open, so Brady knew she must be out on it. The balcony was mostly for public announcements, but Brady often stood out there to clear his mind before going to bed. He and Chloe were much alike; Brady assumed that that was Chloe's intention as well. Without the torches around the balcony being lit, no one would see anyone standing out there this late at night and assume that a public announcement was going to be held.

Brady removed his belt and sword scabbard, placing them on his desktop. He kicked off his boots and placed them at the foot of the bed. In his bare feet now, Brady pushed aside the balcony curtains which were fluttering loosely in the wind and walked out onto the balcony. Sure enough, Chloe was standing outside at the edge of the balcony, looking up at the night sky. There was little moonlight, and no torches were lit so no one below could see them, or even know they were there. Chloe was dressed in her night garments with a white silken robe wrapped about her to protect her against the night breeze. The wind whipping gently around her robes and hair made her look practically angelic. Brady wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Feeling better?" Brady asked in a low voice. Chloe nodded, placing her hands over his on her abdomen.

"Yes, I feel much better," Chloe said. Of course, it was a lie. She had rest some. But she could not sleep. She dared not, least her dreams be plagued as they always were. The rest had not done much good. She still felt exhausted, but it was not as bad as it was before. At least his arms around her seemed to calm her nerves a bit. "Did you get everything taken care of that you needed to?"

"Well, for today at least. I promised I would have a decision on the invitations by tomorrow. There is still much to be taken care of. But I am finished for the night at least," Brady answered.

"You took care of the situation in the courtyard I take it?" Chloe inquired.

"How did…"

"Harold brought up some supper an hour ago. He told me about what happened. You know Harold… he loves his gossip," Chloe stated. Brady chuckled, nodding his head.

"Yes, that is Harold all right. And yes, I did handle the situation. Everything it under control. Just a misunderstanding," Brady stated.

"Well I am glad everything worked out," Chloe stated. She shivered slightly despite his arms around her as a stronger wind blew passed.

"Come on, lets go inside. You'll catch your death out here in that outfit," Brady said in a half teasing, half serious manner. Chloe nodded and he unraveled his arms from around her, taking her hand to lead her back inside. Chloe headed for her vanity, sitting down to comb her wind-blown hair as Brady pulled the balcony doors shut, latching them. He then made his way over to the couch, seating himself down at one side of the plush furniture. From the couch, he had a perfect view of the vanity, and he so loved to watch Chloe brush her long, gorgeous hair.

"Miss Elizabeth asked for me to inform you that there would be some final fittings that must be done tomorrow evening," Brady stated as he watched Chloe brush her hair. Miss Elizabeth was the seamstress who was making Chloe's wedding gown. "She said she was going to get it done today if she had to work all night. She wanted you for fittings first thing in the morning, but I convinced her to take her time on the gown, so the quality would be the best possible. But she is just very anxious to see it on you. This is the first time she is making something of this much importance you know. Her older sister, Josephine, was the one to sew Marlena's wedding gown. And it was their mother Pauline who sewed my mothers, so Elizabeth is very excited to finally have her chance to live up to her family's reputation of beautiful wedding gowns. She promised that it would be a gorgeous gown."

"I am sure it will be," Chloe said half-heartedly. She dreaded having to stand through more fittings. It would just be final alterations to assure a perfect fit, so it hopefully would not take as long as it had today. But knowing Miss Elizabeth, a very prideful woman who put all her pride and effort in to every gown she crafted, it would not be a very quick fitting. Brady stood from the couch, coming over to Chloe at the vanity. He took the ivory toothed comb from her hands, lying Chloe's hands to rest still on her lap and began to take over the task of brushing her hair for her.

"Miss Elizabeth said that you did not seem too excited about preparing your wedding down," Brady stated as he ran the brush slowly through her silken hair. "Are you sure that you are feeling well, love? If you are ill, we have a very good healer here in the Palace. Whatever troubles you, surely he can cure it."

"I doubt that," Chloe muttered under her breathe.

"What did you say?" Brady asked, pausing in his task.

"Nothing," Chloe replied. "Do not worry, Brady. I am not ill. I was just very tired is all."

"Are you not sleeping well?" Brady asked, continuing to brush her long hair.

"No, I would suppose I am not," Chloe stated. "But it is nothing important. I will be just fine after a good nights rest."

"Alright, if you are sure. But do not hesitate to say something if you should change your mind. I can call for him any time day or night," Brady assured. "In fact, I am sure he would have something to help you sleep, should you want it."

"I do not want it," Chloe stated. "But it is nice to know that it is available if I should desire it. You can stop brushing now. My hair will get too flat if it's brushed too much," Chloe said. Brady nodded, lying the brush down on the vanity in front of her. He placed his hands on her shoulders now, gazing at their reflection in the mirror.

"I thought that since it is still somewhat early, we could discuss the wedding plans," Brady stated. "I picked out a few of the sample invitations to show you. And there is still the matter of deciding on the exact date. You know, all these preparations do not mean much until a date is set."

"Brady, I am just too tired tonight," Chloe stated, shaking off his gentle grip on her shoulders. She stood, making her way over to a window beside the balcony door. The window's curtains were already tied back so she could look out the window at the darkness outside. "Can we not just talk about it in the morning, when I am more rested?"

"We would already have this out of the way if you would not keep brushing it aside," Brady reminded her. He did not approach her at the window. Instead he stood in front of the vanity where he had been and watched her, a hurt, almost disappointed look on his face. "I mean… you answer my questions when I come to you and ask. And you go meet with all those who I ask you to meet with. But you do not take it upon yourself to meet with the seamstress or the caterers or anything like that. You do not come to me with ideas on how the wedding should go. This is your wedding too, you know, Chloe. I would think you would wish it to be perfect, as I wish it to be perfect for the both of us," Brady stated. "Are you just not used to all the lavish attention? Is that what troubles you? You have never really been doted on and have people care about what you want before. So is that what troubles you?"

"No, that's not it at all. I mean… I really am not used to all the attention. But that is not what is bothering me," Chloe replied.

"What is bothering you then? Are you nervous? Do you think everything is going too fast? What is it? Please, tell me why you are so troubled about our wedding," Brady pleaded. "You do want this wedding to happen, don't you?"

"I…" Chloe hesitated, though not intentionally. She did want to marry Brady. She loved him dearly, with all her heart. That she was sure of. But something just kept pulling at her, tearing her in another direction all together. These dreams… these oh so horrifically vivid dreams… they seemed so centered around her and her wedding to Brady. Both dreams had shown her engagement ring fall into a pool of blood. Not just any blood either. The blood of those she loved.

"Chloe?" Brady inquired. He came up to her now, grasping her shoulders to turn her to face him. "You do want to marry me, don't you?" Brady asked, searching her eyes for the truth her words could not fully express. He seemed to be quite fearful of her answer.

"Yes Brady, I do. I really do want to marry you. It's just that…" Chloe started, shaking her head sadly. "Everything has been so confusing. In just under two weeks, my life has been turned completely upside down and back again." Chloe once more shook off his grasp on her, turning towards the center of the room. She seemed to begin to pace nervously now. She seemed lost in her own thoughts, as if she did not quite realize he was still in the room with her. "Ever since Cynthia came to me to say she knew who I really was, life has just been one huge twist after another. You finding out who I really am, the both of us finding out about your past together, you asking me to marry you…"

"Wait… wait just a minute. What did you say?" Brady asked. He still stood at the window. Chloe stopped pacing, turning to face him from where she stood in the center of the room.

"Life has just been one huge twist after another?" Chloe replied.

"No no, not about that. About Cynthia. What did you say about Cynthia?" Brady demanded, though not really in a harsh tone.

"Oh, that," Chloe said. But then it hit her. "Oh… that." Chloe had never told Brady that Cynthia had threatened her. She couldn't before Brady learned her identity because that would implicate her as Chloe Kiriakis. And after he found out… it had honestly slipped her mind. She did not know how something like that could be so easily forgotten. But with Brady's proposal and everything else, Cynthia had been the last thing on her mind. To be honest, Chloe had been as surprised to see Cynthia in Mucche as Brady had been.

"Yes, that. What did you mean by that?" Brady inquired.

"I did mean to tell you before," Chloe insisted. "I just… with everything going on…"

"Well you can stop stalling and tell me now," Brady interrupted. This took away some of Chloe's fear, replacing it with a flash of anger and annoyance. Both of them were rather quick tempered. It took little to set them off, and the two's tempers together made for a terrible combination.

"Cynthia knew who I was," Chloe snipped. "Before I told you who I really was, Cynthia came to me and told me she knew I was Victor Kiriakis' long lost daughter. She knew I was really Chloe Kiriakis. I don't know exactly how she knew, but she knew. And she threatened to take that information to Philip."

"That's how she knew!" Brady exclaimed, coming to an understanding. "That is how she came to be in Mucche long before us. She already knew about your real identity. That is why she went to Philip," Brady stated. "But wait… you knew? You knew before we ever even left for Mucche that Cynthia would be there. You knew that Philip would be prepared for our arrival."

"I am so sorry I could not tell you before. After Cynthia's threats, I told you who I really was. I wanted you to find out from me, not from them," Chloe said. "I was going to tell you everything that night that I came to your chambers. I wanted to tell you everything, even about Cynthia. But then we… got distracted. And in the morning, everything was just so… so confused and jumbled. I just… I forgot about Cynthia's warning."

"Forgot? How could you forget something like that?" Brady demanded.

"I was scared, alright!" Chloe exclaimed. "I was scared to tell you before. And with everything going so well between us… I did not want to ruin that. And after that first day, I really did just put it completely out of my mind. I was scared to ruin the happiness I was experiencing, Brady. Everything that ever goes well for me always gets ruined."

"Chloe, when have I ever given you a reason to be afraid?" Brady asked, trying to calm his voice. "I have never done anything that would cause grounds for distrust. I know there was the incident with your brother and my intentions… but I have never given you a reason to not trust that I would never harm you."

"I was still afraid all the same. By the time I thought of Cynthia, it was too late to tell you. I did not remember her warning until I saw her in Mucche with Philip," Chloe said honestly. "I thought if I told you after that, it would upset you. And then you would be angry with me… mad at me."

"Of course I would be upset Chloe," Brady said crossing his arms over his chest. "Do you realize the embarrassment… the pain that could have been avoided if you had just told me about this before we approached your brother? Things might have turned out differently if I had just known… I could have been more prepared to handle the confrontation with Philip," Brady stated. "And to be quite honest Chloe… I am more upset, more hurt, that you waited until now to just blurt out this secret you hid from me. If you had told me before, we could have talked through it."

"Brady, I…"

"No, don't. Just… don't," Brady interrupted. "I am trying my hardest to be completely honest with you, Chloe. That is difficult for me, you know. I have never had anyone so important in my life that I needed to accommodate for. It has always just been me. I have a tendency to keep things to myself. Despite that, I am trying my very best to be honest with you, to be the kind of man who is a good and faithful husband. To tell you everything that concerns us both, or even just things that may only be important to me. Because that is what a relationship is, Chloe. It is sharing and trusting and having the utmost faith in each other," Brady stated. "You seem to expect honesty from me, Chloe. You showed that when you reacted so strongly to my not informing you about the possible attack on your brother. And yet, I am not to expect the same level of honestly from you?"

"That is not fair, Brady. It is not fair for you to turn this all around on me."

"No, it is not fair," Brady stated. He shook his head sadly as he walked towards the door, grabbing his boots along the way as he had done a week before after their last argument. "But if you really knew me as I thought we knew each other, you would know that was not what I was trying to do."

"Brady…"

"Lets not make this an argument as we did last time, Chloe. I do not want to say something hurtful that I do not really mean. I love you. I don't want to fight with you. But I am not in a frame of mind enough to talk civilized with you. I need some time to think. We can talk in the morning," Brady stated. Chloe nodded. Not that she had a choice, but it probably was best. She did not want to fight with Brady either.

"Alright. That would be best," Chloe stated. Brady picked up his belt and scabbard off the desk. He carried both those and his boots and, in bare feet, walked out of his bed chambers, closing the door soundly behind him without another word.

Chloe slumped down on the couch, near tears, but refusing to let them fall. Perhaps everything would be fine in the morning. Brady loved her and would not stay upset with her. And she would do her best to not expect perfection from him when she knew well that she could not give perfection to him. Just as Brady had said, Chloe was used to being on her own. She had only her own feelings to worry about most of her life. It was hard adjusting to accommodate for a whole other person. Perhaps that was the only problem. Things were just going too fast, and they were just still not used to the other's emotions and thoughts yet. But as Chloe stood up and sadly made her way over to the bed, laying down, alone, for the second time, when she should be lying next to her husband to be, Chloe began to feel less and less optimistic. Brady and Chloe had some issues they needed to work through, yes. But there was something else underlying the entire situation. And as Chloe pulled the covers over herself, burying her face in Brady's pillow, she could only pray that that something wasn't capable of tearing them apart, as she so feared it would…….