Ok first off I just want to say thanks to my wonderful reviews! Thanks a bunch:-) Next I wanna say... Whoo Hoo... 500+ hits!!! Now I wanna say (lol :-P)... sorry for a kind of short chapter, but I did put some minor goodies in it :-D Please read & review!!

Note: It will be a bit before I post the next chapter. I will only hope that I am fogiven when I do post the next chapter and the surprise within it :-)

Discl: I hate these stupid things... We already know that I have nothing and own nothing! Ugh, why rub it in:-)

Vossler let his grip on her slacken allowing his hands to drop to his sides, as he looked at her in a different light. He felt sorry for her.

'This would explain for earlier,' he thought while in his stupor.

Amalia quickly pulled away from his grasp and walked toward her dresser that contained her armor and uniforms. She sadly glanced over the intricately engraved steel plates of her leg armor that sat out on top of the chest, lightly tracing the golden details with her petite fingers. She hoped that Vossler's silence wasn't a sign of anger toward her for not telling him then of all that had happened. She hung her head, once again in shame, hating herself for being so weak and replied, "No more secrets, no more lies, only truth."

Amalia stole a quick peek toward Vossler's direction to see if he expressed any emotion at all, but was startled when she looked over to find him standing unbearably close to her. His mental state was one of distress, as he carefully looked her in the eyes, knowing that he just forced her to relive an extremely painful memory that she had no doubt wanted to forget.

He rested a hand on her shoulder, gently squeezing it, "I'm sorry for causing you pain. I had no idea…what he did to you."

She exhaled when she turned to confront him and replied, "No need for an apology. I see that you are only trying to protect me and see to my well-being. I should have told you the moment that I rushed into you, but I just … couldn't."

Vossler watched as she once again let her gaze fall to her platinum armor that had been haphazardly thrown onto the dresser from earlier, in despair. He hated to see her like this. He wished that there were something that he could do that would rid her of the torment and pain. Ever since she had grown up into the young beautiful woman that she was now, he had naught seen the happiness and exuberance that she had once exhibited when she was younger. He had missed that part of her greatly and hoped that somehow, someday when this whole ordeal was said and done with, that she would return to her previous self and not become consumed by the suffering she was in now. It was taking a toll on her, he knew. Her already slender body was almost beginning to show the first signs of emaciation from her poor appetite she had developed from the stress of things these past two years. The healthy glow that had once radiated from her darkly tanned skin was now replaced by a dull sheen that clung to her sickly pale white tones. Her once bright and sparkling sapphire irises were no longer evident, being consumed by the cold and stormy blue frost they now offered.

He mentally shook himself trying to clear the foggy haze that had surrounded his better judgment and slowly took a small step toward her, bringing is body into closer proximity. Sighing inwardly, he debated whether his next choice of action would be a mistake as he reached his hand out timidly and cupped her soft pale cheek, which triggered her head to snap up into his palm as she looked at him in confusion. She felt her heart's beat intensify suddenly at his touch, so much that she was certain that it would rip itself from her chest cavity, causing the muscle to release a dull ache in her bosom.

She took no attempts to move away from him so Vossler felt reassured and continued his movement as he softly turned the rest of her body to fully face him. Then he slowly began to rub his thumb in small circles on her cheek hoping to comfort her, but it backfired on him and she quickly began to shiver faintly at his contact.

Amalia didn't know exactly what was taking place at that particular moment but the rush of emotions that were flooding her body caused her to go numb and slightly shake, overwhelming her. She didn't understand what Vossler was trying to do, but he had defiantly stirred something within her. When she looked up into his eyes, she could see nothing but a cloudy and emulsified daze mixed with something else that she couldn't quite catch as it had only momentarily shown. She quickly had become aware of his body's adjacency to her own, feeling the heat that it was emitting and froze in realization, fearing his intentions with her. The dry cottony feeling in her mouth prevented her from voicing her plea so she could only look him in the eyes and hope that he could read her requisition. She began to feel the unexpected burn in her cheek as the heat from his touch intensified, throwing her senses into disarray. The feeling it filled her with shocked her and gave her a slight sense of calm as she subconsciously nuzzled her cheek further into his palm and closed her eyes in condolence. She slowly began to relax and submit to his taction as her thoughts and emotions continued their turmoil within her, all helplessly swirling into a blur. She didn't know what to presume about his advances on her; she knew naught what his intent was but the sensations it brought froze her in the very place she stood as she fought to gain control of her bodily actions.

When Vossler felt her cheek once again slightly nudge into his hand, he took that as a sigh of her compliance and he quickly took a chance closing his eyes and placing his lips carefully onto hers testing his limits to see if she would pull away and slap him, denying him to proceed any farther. To his surprise she didn't pull away but nor did she return the gesture, she had only allowed her eyes to flutter open in mild surprise, then drift back closed in her mental fog.

Feeling the sudden warmth and mildly chapped texture of his lips confounded her but the bleary haze that clouded her mind prevented her from proceeding.

It was as if she was in some kind of trance as she entered a dreamy state of euphoria and within this illusion of sorts, she had pulled away from their embrace bewildered from such intimate contact and noticed that she was no longer among Vossler's presence but of another man's. He was of the same height and build as Vossler but had a head of longer blonde hair that had been neatly combed back, keeping it from falling into his rather tanned face. She then looked up to the man's eyes and noted that they were no longer the dazed hazel colored ones she had previously pled with but ones that glowed an icy blue sending a chill up her spine as she became engulfed by their intensity. She couldn't help but feel comforted by this man's presence as her mind scrambled to figure out who he was. His facial features were very distinct and defined; they were almost perfect, she thought to herself, from his not so long nose and perfectly toned cheeks to his flawless lips and jaw line. She then observed the faint but defiantly distinguished thin blonde stubble of his beard that adorned his face adding to the feeling of familiarity. The man had seen her distant questioning gaze and let a soft smile grace his lips while he gently pulled her back into their embrace. She jumped when she felt her skin tingle from his contact, feeling an extreme desire to be near him as her body obeyed the man's request. He peered into her almost lifeless orbs and sadly shook his head though the same self-assured gentle smile still played at his lips. She gave him another quizzical look as he confidently brought both of his battle worn hands up to her, unexpectedly holding her cheeks in them as he tilted her lips up just in time to meet with his. Suddenly a sense of completeness and desire for more washed over her body as she quietly moaned into him, deepening their kiss. His lips were intoxicating, throwing her already mangled thoughts into a whole new dimension as she became addicted to his taste, craving more. Her body seemed so fragile and lithe, as if it floated lighter than a feather in his arms, her feet never touching the hard ground that had disappeared from under her. For once, she felt herself let go of everything, not caring about anything else but this moment because it just didn't matter. Eventually the mysterious man broke their increasingly intimate kiss and pulled himself away from her embrace. She watched him pull away from her as she felt his strong arms slide slowly out of her grasp. As he backed away he saw the multiple emotions taking hold of her but the one emotion that showed its strongest was that of pain. That's when he smiled to her and said, "Wait for me."

Before she could think she blurted out, "Wait!"

He only shook his head as he still continued to move out of her grasp.

"Please…don't… leave me," she weakly requested as the sense of feeling whole again was torn from her and she suddenly felt cold and hollow once more, sadly lowered her head.

"Ashelia," he whispered as she brought her head back up to his attention, "Please, wait for me."

She could only nod as he faded away into the bright white void, before her.

Vossler had felt her lips suddenly jolt to life as she began to hungrily accept his kiss allowing her tongue to slip its way into his mouth in exploration. He felt her quietly moan against his lips which pushed him over the edge as the burning need in him began to over take his body and he forcibly pressed his lips to hers causing them both to stumble backwards until Amalia's back roughly collided with the wood of her dresser. Still in her dreamlike haze, she felt the sudden sharp burn in her back as everything around her came crashing back from the heavens. Vossler's sudden domination brought her back to a state of awareness as her eyes shot open and she saw the predicament that he had put her in. She began to panic when she tried to push him off of herself but was quickly restrained from doing so when he pulled her arm down from his chest and painfully pinned it against the piece of furniture behind her. Countless thoughts ran through her head at that very second as she felt the knot in her stomach pull even tighter when the fear of what was going to happen settled in.

'What the…? Damn him… ! How could he take advantage of me? Especially after I told him about Rasler!'

A thought occurred to her as she felt the cool metal of her armor poke into her back and mentally kicked herself for not having remembered sooner. Somehow with some quick thinking and her extreme flexibility, she was able to free up her injured arm and though painful, was able to reach the armor a top her clothing chest. Stealthily, she felt for the hilt of one of her Platinum daggers concealed within the steel plating, grasping it when she touched the distinctive charm chained to it and slowly pulled it out so that it wouldn't make a sound. She carefully pulled her arm back toward her body with the menacing blade in hand and maneuvered it so that the tip of the brand was facing upwards between their bodies. As she waited for the perfect time to strike, images of Rasler's assault on her plagued her thoughts causing her to forget her rather heated encounter with the mysterious man entirely. The images kept flooding her brain, continuously repeating over and over in her mind, as he had thrown her down and rendered her helpless to him. Finally she felt Vossler pause in need of air and that's when she made her advance. Hastily pushing his body off of her with all the strength she could muster, she quickly brought the point of the dagger up to his throat and menacingly threatened, "Remember your place soldier!"

His eyes flashed open the instant that she had shoved him, finding her in a fit of anger and a… a blade at his throat? He quickly extended his hands out in front of his chest trying to block himself from the object approaching his neck and beg for her forgiveness at the same time.

"Whoa! Put the dagger down Amalia!" Vossler pleaded with her as she began to slowly draw toward him, still brandishing the steel.

"Who do you think you are?!" she scathed in return ignoring his earlier request to disarm herself and continued to back him up against the door that led out of her bedchamber.

"What do you mean? Hey! Please m'lady, there is no need for this!" he cried out as his back had finally met the wall next to the doorway.

Amalia ignored his words as she preceded her advance on him with a look in her eyes that could kill. He saw the animosity growing the more within her every step as she approached him and knew he had made a grave mistake.

'Shit, shit, shit… bad idea! What was I thinking!' he panicked to himself, having seen his royal charge in action before when she was armed and pissed. The poor guard hadn't a chance even if his life had depended on it.

"Do I look like a fresh piece of ass?! Do I look like a damn bar or stable whore to you, Vossler?!" she roared at him with disgust as her nose stopped only a mere inch away from his own while the tip of her dagger's blade barely pierced the thin skin just under his chin. Wincing slightly as the metal bit into his skin causing a few drops of blood to stream down its brand, Vossler once again tried another attempt to apologize.

"Amalia, please! I made a mist—"

"Answer me, damn it! Do I?!"

"No," he sighed in defeat.

"Then what in the hell where you thinking?" she questioned him in disbelief as the not so lady like side continued to rear its ugly head. "Why would you try to pull this over my head when I've already been through this shit once today? And of things, after the torment of having to tell you about Rasler! Why did you do such a thing?!" She was beginning to shake almost violently with anger. Vossler could tell by the way her spoken words would tremble and how the dagger, as it slowly reappeared from under his chin, quavered in her extended hand.

"I only wanted to see you happy again… like the way you used to be… before you were betrothed," he said quietly as he lowered his eyes down in shame. "I'm sorry and I know that I have made a grave mistake. I let myself get out of hand but please forgive me for it was with good intentions that I pursued this. But I will understand if you find that I am not worthy of your forgiveness, Amalia."

Amalia too, wished to be like her old self once again but she new that was only a false hope to believe in. She had gone through far too much tragedy and suffering to bring the old Ashelia back. She had been brutally ripped to shreds over these few years, 'damaged goods' as they say, her soul forever scared for an eternity. Face it, she would never become who she once was, that person had died alongside the rest of her family.

"That part of me is dead, the happiness and the carefree, willed by the fates to be no more. So please… do not ask of me this," she said weakly as she closed her eyes and lowered her head in sadness. With a sigh of exhaustion, she walked toward her door and opened the heavy postern, signaling with her dagger for him to leave never making visual contact with him.

Vossler only gave her a simple nod of compliance.

"I bid you goodnight," he stated as he lowered his gaze and solemnly walked into the pitch-black corridor only to be followed by the sound of Amalia's door as it latched closed behind him.

As the oaken door clicked shut Amalia leaned herself against the cool wood, for a second time tonight, inhaling and exhaling deeply as she tried to calm herself. This whole night had been hell on her and she had only wished for it all to go away, to be able to crawl into a black hole somewhere and never be found.

Sighing to herself, she lamely pushed off the door and unsteadily trudged over to her bed where she practically collapsed onto it from her overexertion. She set her hands on her lap and jumped when she felt the cold stickiness of her blade touching her thigh, realizing that she still held the dagger. After examining it, she noticed the thin streams of blood that had trickled down from the tip and felt the sudden guilt well up inside of her. She hadn't meant for her outrage to happen, she hadn't meant for him to physically get hurt either but it was a trait of hers that couldn't be helped. When she was forced into a corner or angry, she would fight back, but if either of these situations happened when she was armed… well lets just say their efforts would be rewarded with a pine box in most cases if she ever chose to take it that far. And lately it seemed that this acquired trait of hers was being pushed more and more everyday. She only hoped that the day she completely and utterly snapped would be the day she comes face to face with Vayne Solidor himself.

A sudden rush of annoyance hit her at the thought of his name, what it meant for her country and her fingers abruptly clamped tight around the hilt as she reeled back and then threw her well-muscled arm forward launching it from her grasp into the brick mortared wall before her. Quietly she stared at the weapon's shank now embedded into the stone with a look of disgust.

"I should have known better than to put my trust into another man," she snarled to herself.

She shook her head in shame as she ran her bandaged hand through her tousled hair pushing the stray hairs out of her face.

'What was wrong with him? Doesn't he remember his knightly vows? His sworn oath?! To protect me! Not ravish me!' she brooded, her blood beginning to boil at the remembrance.

She let her gaze fall from the protruding dagger in the wall to the dull ache that her injured leg was emitting and was appalled at the thought of what it would represent to others that saw it. Weakness. The one thing she hated most to show. She couldn't believe that she had allowed herself to be fooled and fall victim to Vice and his accomplices. If only she had been stronger, she knew she wouldn't have had to rely on someone else; she would have been able to at least escape if not fight back.

Thinking more about her situation only served her to more fury as she slammed her fists down into the lumpy cotton mattress. Abruptly she shot up and stormed over to where she had deposited her platinum armor, forcefully yanking it off its perch. Next she bent down and pulled open the very bottom drawer of her chest and quickly took out her leather greaves and armored boots. Lastly, she grabbed the black leather cincture that protected her midsection and returned to her previous position she had occupied earlier with her possessions in tow. She hastily pulled the leather sleeves that lay beneath the platinum plates onto her legs being careful not to disturb the wound on her thigh as the leather hem stopped just a few centimeters below it. Quietly she next clamped on the protective metal gear, first around her thighs then her knees and finally her shins. Next she tugged on the red leather of her greaves, tightly lacing them up and folding over the light blue fabric collar that displayed the Dalmascan military symbol that had been embroidered in twenty-four karat gold thread at the hem. If it had flashed the late royal family's crest, there would be, no doubt, questions and rumors amongst her ranks that she could not truthfully answer without causing a devastating ruckus. She then quickly forced her feet into the cold armored boots as she stood and attempted to also put on the leather cincture, securing the buckle in front, without trouble.

She adjusted the rest of her uniform that she had already been wearing and had the sudden nagging feeling that she had forgotten something. When she glanced down, she noticed that her wrists were still bare and in need of their protective leather gauntlets which she quickly plucked a rather worn pair out of the drawer in her nightstand and roughly shoved her hands into the sweaty material. She winced at the sudden burn in her palm when she gloved her injured hand but quickly ignored it as she unsheathed the Platinum dagger still hidden within her armor. Bringing it close, she inspected its cleanliness and when satisfied with its gleam, she replaced it within its proper place. Then she looked to her other shin guard finding its companion missing knowing that its whereabouts were found protruding from the stonewall as she briskly walked by, ripped it out from the grip of the stone's mortar, wiped it clean and slammed it back into its proper place with a loud 'clack' resounding into the room.

She came to where her Tournesol lay propped up in the far corner of the room along with a dark mahogany box that brandished a pad lock for only someone with the right key could open. Quickly she hoisted the sheath that contained the large brand. Agilely she grabbed the extremity and pulled it out of its protective sleeve to admire the golden dipped metal. On the broad side of the sword, it wore a thin stream of small diamonds that followed the engravings flowing to its very tip. Though the cut of the blade was a jagged zigzag pattern, it still did its job flawlessly, leaving her foes immensely wounded or worse…dead. The blade was then returned to its leather scabbard, passing Amalia's scrutiny as she then positioned it on to the center of her back, securing the strap in front that held the body long weaponry to her body.

Next she knelt down, examining the keyhole on the pad lock sealing the beautiful wooden box from prying eyes. She pulled the case close to her and then brought her hands up to her neck as she unclasped the thick silver chain of her necklace. The ivory and ruby trinket that it bore hid the key to unlock the protected secret within. After turning the key and removing the lock, she returned the jewelry to the safety of her neck and cracked the lid fully open. There lay two very unique pistols within a bed of royal blue velvet that had been intricately decorated with silver embroidery. Next to the pistols were two specially designed holsters that strapped to the thighs instead of the back or hips and some multi-cartridge clips that couldn't be found at any of the local bazzars.

She delicately ran her fingers over the cool metal of the gun barrel, smiling at the memories that it brought back. She had stayed up late, as her usual, one night a few years back and decided she would go snooping around in the castle hoping to find something that she wasn't already acquainted with. Three hours later led the young princess into the royal treasury room rewarding her with countless trinkets, jeweled dishes and vases, golden statues, mounds of coins, rubies and emeralds, and the mahogany box. It looked like it had been carelessly thrown onto the floor in a hurry because the key for its lock was still lodged into it. Curious, she turned the odd looking key and removed the lock. Slowly she opened the old wooden container and her eyes lit up as she found the two custom created guns, quite similar in structure to the Arcturus but more compact, that it hid. Since the night she had found them she has kept them concealed only until recently, using them in her nightly training rituals, trying to become better accustomed to their feel.

As the memory faded, she buckled one of the black holsters onto each thigh and cursed loudly when she had forgotten of her left leg's trauma, which caused a sharp pain to rocket throughout the limb when the strap had been tightly fastened.

"Damn you Vice," she silently growled.

Finally the pistols were removed from their dark plushy housing and gleamed when the lighting of the room caressed the short stainless steal barrels. She held them both, one in each hand, griping the butt of the guns and the rare pearl plates that were encrusted with a royal insignia she wasn't familiar with. Now standing, she loaded them with the supplied ammunition and slipped them into their positions on the sides of her thighs.

Lastly she walked back to her dresser one more time and produced the ruby and sapphire embellished neck guard, clasping it into position around the neck and on the center of the collarbone. Doing a final check over, she went over to the doorway and turned out the light crystal before she stealthily slipped out of the room. She briskly began to walk toward the Storehouse in Lowtown that would gain her access to the Garamsythe Waterway and her training grounds in the Overflow Cloaca.

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