Title: Knotted Destiny
By: QT
Edited By: Buttons7

Summery: A new era is arising as darkness sets over the vast kingdom of Tortall. People are slain ruthlessly, cities are destroyed, people's hope diminishes rapidly. The only one who can turn the tide and return things to a balance is an unknown and unexpected hero.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of Tamora Pierce's characters, however, I do own this plot.

"..." Talking
'...' Thinking
blah Dreaming

Jonathan of Conté, the well-known ruler of all Tortall, paled as he read and re-read the parchment. For the first time in a long time, he felt utterly and depressingly powerless. His beloved eldest daughter Kalasin had slipped out of the protection of their home as easily as she might walk out a door. She was heading straight to the heart of battle without a penny's worth of knowledge of fighting! All she knew was how to ride and tack a horse, heal, and maybe even polish weapons along with armor.

She was no warrior, she was a princess. Kalasin of Conté was a noble inside and out. Nobles didn't stand a chance trying to blend in, especially one who never had the experience of the real world, of poverty. Kalasin had a huge heart, and seeing the unshielded truth would burn her like hot coals, boiling her blood with fury and pity, though, perhaps because of her kindness and willingness to understand things and help, she might have a chance. She might come back alive out of the death-trap she had entered.

Roald paced in his room, continuously testing the windows and doors for escape routes, but everything had been magicked to keep him inside. Closing his azure eyes, he plopped down onto his feathery bed and ran the events through his mind.

He glowered at Merric when he had refused to go after Kalasin. Standing up as straight as he could manage, he took on the air of someone with authority and smirked devilishly as he thought to himself, 'this will get them to listen to me, this will work'. "I order you and Gamba to go after her. I have other soldiers to look after me so you two will not be needed, I guarantee it," he said matter of factly.

Clenching his fists until they were white-knuckled, Roald felt his temper escaping his firm hold. Merric had refused so easily, having the nerve to say that he would not listen to him since someone frightened him more! Quickly, Roald stormed off down the stairs when Gamba came out with their things packed up.

Protests came from behind him as others, mainly their fellow soldiers, glanced at them with questioning looks. Marching out the door and taking off in a run at the sight of the stables, he had stopped momentarily when something flashed in the corner of his eye. Looking off to the side, he caught a glimpse of a white horse carrying a shadowed figure south of the inn and Corus. 'Kalasin, you fool!' his mind screamed as his feet hit the earth when he broke off at a run once again.

"Roald, we can't follow! She's heading south where the fighting is heaviest and most dangerous!" he heard Gamba say in alarm.

"We have to follow her," he replied sternly.

The stable boy had seen them and fetched their mounts, which were waiting for them when they reached the stable. Levelling himself in the saddle of a sturdy bay gelding, Roald glanced back at his companions, his gaze lingering on Merric who was gazing up at the sky with pale blue eyes. 'He's praying,' the boy thought and then sent a prayer of his own to the gods.

"Stupid Merric," spat Roald as he came out of his memories. "If he hadn't knocked me out, we would have reached Kalasin by now and brought her safely home! She wouldn't be dead-" he stopped himself and bit his lip. "No, my sister's not dead. I have faith in her, I have to, and I believe even if her body dies, her spirit will refuse to rest until the task she's seeking is done with. That's how she is, stubborn as a conservative."

Thayet of Conté ran long slender fingers through her raven hair. Resting a hand on her husband's arm, she opened her mouth to speak and then closed it. Gripping the letter that she had read along with her husband, she took it from his grip and set it down on the table before them. Opening her mouth again she spoke quietly, "Kalasin is a strong girl, Jon. We can't reveal to anyone that she's ours or it'll put her as well as Tortall in a bigger threat than is necessary. She is intelligent and had truly thought about this when she said not to send anyone after her. If we go against her wish, we'd just be saying to our enemies that our daughter is out there alone, waiting to be captured and gods knows what else for ransom!"

She paused as her voice started to crack, a lump forming in her throat and tears threatening to spill. "You have to be cool and level-headed now more than ever. I don't want to send word to even Raoul or Alanna; you never know who could be spying. We still have our other children to think of, anyway, so we mustn't hang on the idea that Kalasin will die, because she won't. She's a Conté and my child. She will make it Jon, I know in my heart that she will."

Kalasin closed her eyes, attempting to go to sleep as Lerant had commanded her to, but though her body was worn out, her mind wasn't. Thoughts of family, of what to do next, and of Lerant flooded her head. It seemed like hours passed by before Kalasin heard a light snoring from nearby; Lerant must be asleep, the girl realized. As she sat up, a blinding light shone. Yelling, Kalasin shaded her eyes until the light died down to a glow. Cautiously she removed her arm from her face and glared when she saw the great god Mithros standing before her. 'He's so handsome,' thought the Princess as she scowled. "What do you want?"

Raising a thick brown brow, Mithros gave a questioning look to Kalasin before shaking his head. "I have a gift for you, and I cannot stray away from my realms long," he said with worry and sadness in his voice. "Hold out your hands," the great god commanded.

Doing as she was bid, Kalasin held out small soft hands, palms upright. Another blinding flash occurred, causing the girl to see spots. Once her vision cleared, she gasped and stared in awe at the sword she held. It was light-weight so that she could wield it easily; the blade was sturdy and glowed an eerie pale blue. On the blade were markings that she was unable to understand. The handle was pure gold and the design was extensive. "This is beautiful!" she cried, carefully setting the sword down before running to the god and throwing herself at him.

Taken aback, Mithros looked down at the little girl who hugged him tightly, a warmth growing in his chest. Smiling, he loosened her grip and then knelt down a little so he was nearly her height. Small tears ran down Kalasin's soft, ivory cheeks as the god ran a rough hand through the girl's ebony locks. "Kalasin, my small warrior, I give this sword to you in hopes that it will protect you. Our realm was overthrown and my brothers and sisters, along with myself, struggle to gain our kingdom back.

Soon you will encounter this evil and come to fully understand your task. You are our only hope, my little one. Lead these people to victory, let no one stand in your way and may my gift to you protect you in the thickest of hardships."

Kalasin's lower lip quivered slightly as emotions ranging from awe to fury boiled in her stomach. Tilting her head so her cheek was resting on the god's rough hand, the Princess forced a smile before taking his hand in her two small, delicate ones and standing up straight. Closing her eyes she fell inside herself, dipping her hands into the hot liquid fire that burned inside of her.

Unsure of what she was doing, the god watched her curiously and patiently, his piercing brown eyes never leaving her figure. 'She was born to do this,' he thought to himself, 'born to lead, born to wield the sword I made and poured my power into, born to be a-'

"With my whole self, heart, body, and soul, I wish you victory Great Mithros, I wish you strength, and I wish you happiness," interrupted Kalasin's whispers.

Mithros's eyes widened as he felt a coolness slide into his body. "How-no. No, this cannot be! No mere mortal is supposed to be able to give a god energy like this!"

Flinching at the pain his voice was causing her, Kalasin bit her lip until it bled to keep her concentration. She wanted her friend and superior to have a chance in battle, she wanted to help but knew she couldn't travel to where he was encased, so this was the best she could do; give him her energy, give him her strength, give him her heart.

Seeing the girl's color pale, the god yanked his hand from her and held out his arms as her body fell limp. "You've used up too much of yourself Kalasin," he said softly as he lay her carefully on the ground and set the sword near her, but not where she could cut herself if she hit it. Crouching down by her, his brown orbs studied her carefully. People would underestimate her, which would be their fatal mistake. "They will see you as a child, not the goddess that you are, Kalasin, not the way I see you." With that, the great god bent over and brushed his lips against hers, "sleep well," he said softly before disappearing.

AN: Alright, so this was suppose to have more romance and gore, but I've hit a brick wall temporarily so I apologize for the shortness of this chapter. I have made my way around the brick wall however, so expect a chapter soon :) if my mother gives me time on the computer...she's being a snot right now.