Disclaimer: If I was Tamora Pierce then this wouldn't be on here. I would be spending my time writing Bloodhound, not torturing Beka and Rosto.
A/N: Hehe. I updated! And this's a really long one, so you can be happy about that. I'm actually a bit ashamed to admit that I enjoyed writing this (you'll know why I say that I'm ashamed about that by the end). This's AU to the books, and the only things that aren't AU to this will be marked as such. Enjoy – and don't forget to review!

"No! I swear, I didn't do it!" His voice rang through the streets, over the noise of the struggle, and the crowd. Shackles rattled at his wrists, tight against his pale skin.

Some people mistook him for a madman, the way he looked as he struggled. Muscles stood out in his neck, his pale blond hair had come loose from its horsetail, flying everywhere with each fluid movement of his lithe body.

His boot skidded violently across the cobblestones of the street as they tried to drag him away. No matter how hard they pulled the chains, he resisted, and held fast, giving as little ground as he could. He fought them as hard as he could, but it was no use.

The shackles strained at his wrists, he could feel the bruises forming there the metal bit into his skin. It was then that the Cage Dogs put all of their weight on the chains.

"Beka, tell them!" He knew it wouldn't help, but it was worth a try. She stood there, completely frozen, her blue eyes wide with shock. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out, she was scared to death for him, he could see it in her eyes.

There were six Cage Dogs against one of him, and they were not happy. Rosto continued to fight them, even though he knew it was no use – he was caught. Still, he did fight them, reaching out one hand toward Beka, as far as he could fight to move it while constricted by the chains, and the weight of six angry Cage Dogs.

It was a miracle that he'd lasted this long, considering the ratio of his strength to theirs. The miracle was no more, though, his strength waned, and he stumbled backwards. The Cage Dogs were surprised by the sudden slack; they weren't used to that, not after the way he'd fought them for so long. Rosto regained his balance, but then pitched forward when one of them used a baton on the back of his shoulder. At the instant he hit the ground on his hands and knees, two young Rats jumped from the shadowed alleyways, one on either side of him, their hands glowing with magic. They cut right through the metal links with the magic. Taking the opportunity, Rosto shifted to his feet in a single swift motion.

Before the Dogs could respond, he was off. He stopped next to Beka, kissed her softly, then ran for his life as the six very angry, very violent Cage Dogs chased after him. Beka just watched him go – he'd instructed her earlier, right before he'd been arrested, that she was to stay out of this fight, and let him take care of it. He'd made her promise that she wouldn't fight, even if it was to save his life. He hadn't wanted her to get hurt.

Now he knew that she would be hurt either way, whether or not she was actually injured. Cage Dogs rarely came out of the kennel for an arrest, and when they did, it was always something bad. This was worse.

They had accused him of the kidnap and murder of the eldest prince. He hadn't done it; he was completely innocent of this crime. He knew the consequences of what they were accusing him of – death. That was why he ran. If he could get away, then maybe he could prove that he was innocent. Or maybe not. He did know that, if he was caught again, he would die at dawn. They wouldn't wait for someone to prove them wrong, they wouldn't care that he wasn't the one who'd done it. If the person who had done it showed up later, they'd realize their mistake, but they wouldn't care, they'd just execute the guilty one, and move on.

That was how Cage Dogs were. The Watch Dogs on the other hand, would care. People like Beka, Tunstall, Goodwin, and Erskan, they would care. He'd been the one to promise them safe passage at the heart of the Court of the Rogue.

He glanced behind him to see four of his pursuers tailing him. Where were the other two? He found out the answer to his question when they came at him from the alleys. He dodged one, but he wasn't quick enough to avoid the other one. The other was a rather muscular man, who managed to clothesline Rosto with one arm. In a split second, the man had his arm completely around Rosto's neck, and had wrestled the young Rogue to the ground.

Rosto forced his muscles to uncoil when he found a dagger at his throat. His doom was sealed. He knew it from that instant on. More shackles closed around his wrists, tighter this time, and fused together, this time - a precaution for people like him, he guessed. One of the men, the one who'd clotheslined him, grabbed his arms, and started hauling him back the way they'd come.

They way he jerked Rosto he was making the younger man stumble over the uneven cobblestones. Rosto glanced around when they reached where the initial struggle had occurred. Beka was nowhere in sight. That was good – she wouldn't see them drag him away, or the ways they came up with to humiliate him, as Cage Dogs often did with the people they arrested.

Later, not too long before Evening Watch, someone entered the cages, unaccompanied by anyone else. It wasn't one of the Cage Dogs, that was for sure, judging from the hooting from some of the very drunk Rats near the door. Rosto didn't even bother looking toward the person, it was dark, and he was in the farthest cage from the door anyway. It was unlikely he'd be able to tell who it was, anyway.

Footsteps drew nearer to him. He hadn't expected that. In the moonlight that streamed through the bars from outside, he could see an outline, drawing ever closer to him.

He knew he probably looked horrible, but, at this point, he didn't care. He sat in the corner of his little cell, his bruised wrists resting on his knees; his blond hair was once more pulled back with a spare hair-tie he'd had in his pocket. There was yet another cut on his cheek, not even a few hours old from the look of it. He could also tell that he had a black eye from where one of the Cage Dogs had punched him. He was a mess, and he knew it. He just simply didn't care anymore; he was resigned to his fate, now.

The silhouette drew close enough for him to see. Beka. She offered a sad, almost heartbreaking, truly forced smile when her ethereal blue-gray eyes met his sable stare. She carried her baton, and all that she needed for her Watch.

She knelt by the bars that separated them, her eyes never leaving him. He slowly made his own way to the bars, wincing with every movement that caused his sore body to twinge. They sat there for a few moments, neither of them moving.

"They decided your fate, Rosto," she whispered. Her lip quivered, tears formed in her eyes.

"You're t' die at sunup." It must have killed her to say that, he could see that just by looking at her. She was hurting, knowing that she was losing him. There was no way he could comfort her, he, too, knew there was very little hope.

He reached out a hand to touch one of hers. She raised one of her own to touch his between the cold metal bars. The glint of gold on one of her fingers made him smile. Years ago, she'd told him that she would never have feelings for him, that she'd never love a rusher. The glint told him differently. He'd worked an honest job on the side of being the Rogue to earn enough to buy that ring for her honestly, knowing that she'd never accept it if he'd bought it with money from the Court of the Rogue. She'd accepted him, then. She'd made him the happiest man in Tortall, at that moment.

The part that had surprised both of them most of all was that they'd made it work. They'd been happy together. That had surprised everyone, even the two of them. Three years, they'd been content, until now.

She squeezed his hand, bringing him back to the present, then released it. Moving that hand forward, he drew her closer, kissing her passionately, his other hand stroking her cheek. When they drew back, he could see all of the tears that filled her eyes. She was crying, now. It broke his heart to see her like that. She hadn't cried like that, even when Rosto'd nearly died in a duel over the Rogue, nor when they'd lost their unborn child.

"I love you, Beka. Stay safe. Move on. Live your life." She stared at him, her mouth agape.

"I can't live without you, Rosto. Mayhap a few years ago, I could've, but now, I don't think so. I love you too much." He reached up and pushed some of her dark blond hair out of her face, his expression tender.

"I know, Beka. That's why I want you to live your life, and move on," he paused, his dark eyes meeting her eerie light ones. "There is happiness out there, waiting for you, that I could not, and never will be able to give to you, my sweet."

Now he was fighting tears. He only had so long before he would die for the crime he hadn't committed. When he'd married her, he'd promised, jokingly at the time, that he'd be a good Rat. He knew now that he had meant it. He was a good man; Beka wouldn't have agreed to marry him if she hadn't been sure of that, he knew she wouldn't have. But there were other men out there who were better than him – who would make her just as happy, without the risk of being the Rogue, without being Rosto the Piper.

It broke his heart to even think those thoughts. He loved her with all of his heart, all of who he was.

"Please, Beka. Promise me this. Don't mourn me for long; I know you can move on. There's no hope for me, not unless someone else comes forward and claims that I am innocent, and that they was the one that doused the prince. Elsewise, I'm a dead cove." He saw the glint in Beka's eyes as he said that. She was going to try to find the killer, and free Rosto, at her own expense.

"Now, Beka, I know what you're thinking. Don't go getting yourself killed trying to find that crackpot. My life's not worth yours. I want to know that you're safe. I don't want to know that I was the reason that you died, too. Do you understand me?" She sulkily nodded, more tears filling her eyes.

"That's my gixie." He offered her the best smile he could managed, "It'll be alright. I know you can do it." He kissed her once more, right as the door opened again. He

squeezed her hand once more before releasing it. Tunstall and Goodwin entered, both looking rather sad. They both nodded to him in the faint light of the moon.

"It's time to go, Beka," Goodwin said quietly. The veteran Dog met Rosto's eyes. "We believe ye, Piper, if it's worth anything to ye. If sommat happens and the killer comes forward, the Cage Dogs'll let ye free, they said. Good luck to ye, we hope it doesn't come down to you dyin' on the scaffold tomorrow." Rosto nodded, smiled as best he could.

"Thank you. Will you pass on a message for me?" He asked the Dogs. When Tunstall nodded, Rosto continued. "Tell Aniki that the Rogue belongs to her the second I die. I know she'll do a good job." He looked away for a moment, contemplating what his next words.

"Beka, there are letters in the secret compartment on the side of my desk, they are signed and addressed, but unsealed. Seal them and send them off, what family I have in Scanra will like to know that I'm dead so that they can perform the proper mourning. If you insist on going yourself, you have my blessing, but be careful. Some of them 'at I'm related t' are a good deal more violent then even these Cage Dogs."

He reached out and grasped her hand once more, "Be strong, Beka. Be careful, my Terrier, my Bloodhound. I love you. Don't ever forget that." He pulled her close to the bars again, and kissed her tenderly on the cheek.

"Take care." With that, he released her, and backed away from the bars while the two veteran Dogs led her away. She glanced over her shoulder at him once more time before the door closed behind her. He would never forget the look in her eyes.

"State your name, where you are from, your rank, and what you are accused of. You may add whether you believe yourself to be guilty or innocent, if you must." Rosto turned his dark eyes toward the Cage Dog that spoke, keeping his face uninterested.

"And say it loudly," the Dog added as an afterthought. His wrists bound behind him by rope, Rosto stepped forward, a step closer to death. In a voice that carried, he listed what he was told to, as per tradition of the prey of the Cage Dogs.

"Rosto the Piper, formerly of Scanra, King of the Rogue. Accused of the kidnap and murder of the eldest prince of the Realm of Tortall. Innocent of all charges, but the only suspect in the crime." Rosto looked straight forward, toward where the sun was rising. His last sunrise had come.

Then the Cage Dog standing near him spoke again. "Ye 'ave accepted your fate, then?"

Rosto turned his head, "I have no fate," he said simply. He took another step forward. His only thoughts now were Beka. He didn't have a fate, anymore. Not one that concerned him, at least. He could only think of Beka, and wish that they'd had more time together. He hoped that she could move on, like he wanted her to.

Now, all that was left was for him to face what was coming. All that was left was for him to pay the price for something he hadn't done.

Posted 1/8/08