I was proud of this, until I realized that the second half is basically Fastion and Mara's Scene: The Extended Version. Let's all just pretend that I'm much more creative than I actually am.

...

"Does it remind you of home?"

Karigan started. She'd almost forgotten he was there. "No, not really. The smell, yes, but Corsa is considerably busier than this. There's hardly any beach to stand on."

"Mmm." Zachary turn his face into the ocean wind. "This is just like Hillander."

Karigan hazarded a glance at him. Despite the recent events, his eyes glowed as he stared out past the ocean at the flaming sunset. One booted foot tapped against the rocky sand and she smiled at his left hand, which reached down as if a terrier panted beside him.

"How often do you visit?"

"As often as I can."

Which is never. Karigan sighed and cast her gaze to the other end of the beach. She could hear the shouts of fishermen as their boats pulled into the dock. A few figures wandered down the shoreline, some with children, some by his or herself. Rena's menfolk would be coming home for supper, plates of which she'd shared with Karigan and the king.

"Don't stay out past sunset," she'd warned. "Too cold for him and strange folk out after dark."

Karigan couldn't imagine what strange folk could inhabit this isolated place, but they'd agreed to her terms without complaint. In spite of his injuries, Zachary was determined to go outside and he'd all but dragged Karigan with him, who refused to let him go anywhere by himself. I'm his Weapon now, she told herself. He was her responsibility.

Once out, she'd assisted him to the beach, where they found a small hillock to sit on. Sitting was a painful process for him, but they somehow managed with much laughter. Since then, they had sat in almost complete silence for at least an hour, if not more. She wondered if it was like this for Fastion: standing silent guard for the king as he watched the stars or the city.

Fastion.

"Shall we go back inside?" Karigan asked, standing and desperate to get away from her thoughts.

"Not yet," the king responded.

She frowned. Did Fastion have to deal with his stubbornness, as well? She folded her arms and waited for a bit, then sighed and ambled toward the water. Let him stare at his sunset and ocean. She would collect seashells.

In the past hour, there had been multiple times when she thought he would confront her with his feelings again, in private, and in a place where she couldn't run away. To her relief, he had never spoken, though she caught him watching her enough times. At the thought, she glanced up. His eyes weren't on her, however, or the sunset for that matter, but on the docks. She followed his gaze. A group of people gathered tightly on the sand and their upraised voices carried distantly on the wind. An argument of some sort, apparently.

She looked back at the king. He reminded her of one of his terriers – eyes wide, posture rigid, head forward, his entire focus on the other side of the beach. If he had dog ears, they'd be perked like arrows. Suddenly, he moved, trying to stand. Dropping the few shells she held, Karigan ran to him.

"What is it?" she asked, grabbing his arms.

"Something is happening over there." He leaned on her heavily as he pulled himself up with a grimace on his face.

Karigan shook her head. "We should go back inside. Rena will be expecting us." She began walking toward the beach stairs, but he stood his ground.

"No, I want to see what it is."

You can't be serious. "It's not a dispute you need to settle. Please come."

"No."

"Yes. You need to rest."

"I'm fine. You go inside."

"Will you just come!"

He jerked his arm out of her grip and their eyes locked. A taut moment passed as two of the most powerful wills in Sacoridia battled over much more than just witnessing a beach fight. His features finally softened, but he placed an obstinate foot nearer to the docks. Karigan's eyes narrowed, but if he was determined to go, it wouldn't do either of them any good for him to go alone. She clenched her jaw and, shoving a lid on her pride, fell into step beside him.

She kept her gaze on their destination, but was very aware of his furtive glances. Seeing him about to speak, she threw her chin up tenaciously. His mouth snapped shut. Smart man, she thought, ignoring the guilt that whispered in the back of her mind. I have to protect him, she reasoned. He's injured and the sooner he recovers, the sooner we can return to Sacor City.

Assuming, of course, that Sacor City was safe.

The commotion turned out to be a brawl. Two men wrestled in the sand, bloodied and angry. The surrounding crowd shouted and jeered. Karigan noticed Rena's husband and sons were absent, thank goodness.

"See? Just a fight. Now let's go."

He ignored her and stepped closer. "That boy is half his size," he hissed. "It's not a fair fight."

Karigan peered through the onlookers. The king was right. A grown man pummeled a boy that couldn't be more than fifteen, and it didn't appear that he would stop anytime soon. "It's not our place," she whispered back, trying to convince herself as much as him.

"He doesn't stand a chance. I can't fight, but I can't stand by."

Karigan looked up. Zachary was staring pointedly at her. She shook her head. "No. We're guests here. We can't – "

The boy gave a cry that raised bile in her throat. Without a second thought, she shoved through the crowd. Just like Timas Mirwell, she thought. Except taller. And bigger. More like Drent, then. No problem.

She threw a kick into the man's stomach and he fell away, gasping for breath. When his eyes found her, his sun-wrinkled face twisted and he stood. "What do you think yer doing, girl?"

"Leave him alone," she snapped.

The man guffawed and turned to the crowd. "D'you hear that?" The onlookers laughed. He leered at her. "Why dontcha go make yer man his dinner?"

Karigan punched his ugly face. He toppled backwards. In the ensuing silence, she heard Zachary's ringing laughter, reminiscent of that first day they'd spoken, but didn't linger much on it as the man came barreling toward her. She sidestepped and he charged into the crowd.

She was almost disappointed. That was it?

Powerful arms grabbed her from behind. Ah. That's how it's going to be. She threw her head back into another ugly face and propelled her elbow into his stomach. Someone came at her from the front. She ducked his fist and landed an uppercut that would make her trainers proud.

A few more men tried and failed and she soon stood among a few prostrate bodies as the crowd dispersed. Shaking out her throbbing hand, she leaned down beside the young man. King Zachary soon joined her.

"Are you all right?" he asked gently. The boy stared at them with bleary eyes.

"Thank you," he whispered. "I don't know why you helped me, but thank you."

"It wasn't a fair fight," Karigan said. His injuries didn't seem serious, though he did receive quite a beating. "You didn't stand a chance."

"Why did he do this to you?"

As he was helped to a sitting position, the boy said incredulously, "You don't know who I am?"

Karigan exchanged a look with the king. "We're not from here."

The boy scrambled away from them, backing away with his hands outstretched. "Then you shouldn't have helped me."

"Wait, do you need help returning home?" Wincing, the king straightened. "We can escort you if you – "

"N-no. Just – just stay away from me." He turned and limped away from the docks.

Karigan watched him go. "Are you going to make us follow him?" she asked, half-joking.

With a frown on his face, Zachary replied, "No."

A silence followed, then Karigan whispered, "Did you see his hand?"

"I was hoping my eyes were tricking me."

On his palm had been a black tattoo.

…

"It didn't look like a tree," Karigan mused as she washed her hands.

"It didn't look like much of anything, the way he was shaking it at us." Zachary looked around his small chamber with an affectionate smile. "This family has been very kind to us."

"Yes. I'll ask Rena about the boy. She must know something."

Zachary nodded briskly. "Right. Pray that she's only heard good." He frowned. "There was something about him…."

"I'll thank the gods if she hasn't heard anything. No reputation is better than a bad one."

As Karigan left the room, Zachary called a quick, "Goodnight, Karigan."

She paused in the doorway, then turned and bowed. "Goodnight, majesty."

He looked taken aback. Good. Their situation changed nothing. She shut the door and moved toward her room with a yawn. Her unused room, now that she thought about it. Last night she'd slept curled up against – no, she'd slept curled around his arm. Not all night, though. When she'd woken up, she was curled – gods, never mind.

"You give him medicine, yes?"

Rena's voice startled her. "What?"

"You put the cream on Zachary's back." The woman held out a jar the midwife had left behind. Karigan stared at it.

"Oh! Oh, no, I won't – can't – couldn't."

"Midwife says it helps him heal. You put it on. Every night. He's yours." The jar was forced into Karigan's unwilling hands. "Goodnight, love. Breakfast at dawn." She waved vaguely as she shuffled away to her bedchamber.

Karigan continued to stare. Awkward.

Pounding footsteps and the first of Rena's sons, Trev, appeared at the top of the staircase. "'Night, Karigan," he said in that friendly way of his.

"'Night," she replied absently.

The second son, Rich, soon joined them. His face flamed and he babbled incoherently before fleeing to his room. Trev grinned and winked at Karigan. She smiled feebly in return.

Awkward.

Zachary could reach the wounds himself, couldn't he? It should be a simple matter to apply the cream. If he used his left hand, he wouldn't have to strain his hurt shoulder. Thus emboldened, she returned to his room and knocked. At his call, she entered.

"Karigan? Is something wrong?"

She put the jar in his hands. "You need to apply this to your injuries you can manage can't you goodnight." Spinning, she hurried out, slamming the door behind her and leaning against it with a sigh. Well, that took care of that. She walked toward her room confidently. By the time she reached her door, however, she was slouched, chewing her thumbnail worriedly. What if he couldn't do it himself? What if he hurt himself more trying?

I can't do it, she argued. It just would be so…just so…. But what if he pulled the stitching?

Groaning, she gave her door a smart kick before dragging her feet back to the king's room. She should just pretend she was one of his servants. She was, wasn't she? Wasn't that what she was trying to prove to him, anyway?

She knocked softly and peered into the room. He sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the jar next to his leg with a strange expression.

"Do you need help?" she whispered. Please say no.

For the first time since she'd met him, he looked disconcerted. "I'm not sure. It shouldn't be too difficult." He moved to remove his shirt, but stopped, struggling vainly to cover a pained expression.

Karigan also tried to cover a pained expression. "Here, let me." She settled on the very edge of the bed.

"Karigan, if you're not comfortable – "

"No, no. It's fine. It will help you recover faster."

He looked unconvinced, but turned his back to her after a moment. Taking a deep, quiet breath, Karigan lifted his shirt up to his neck. Oh, calm down, idiot. You saw it all last night. It's just his back.

The knife wounds looked irritable – probably because he'd spent too much time moving. The scab on the other gash had cracked and bled afresh. At an attempt to lighten the mood, she said, "You shouldn't have made us go help that boy. You've bled all over yourself."

"Is it terrible?"

"No."

"Oh."

If anything, the mood deepened.

She took a bit of cream on her fingertips and dabbed the first injury with a feather light touch.

"Karigan, I appreciate your caution, but you'll want to get some of the medicine on it, too."

She laughed a little too loudly. "Well, of course." She slapped the ointment on and he spasmed. "Sorry! I'm so sorry!"

"Perfectly fine," he whispered. "Just…a little more of your previous caution."

She applied the medicine with a more reasonable pressure. "Where did this come from?" she asked as she carefully maneuvered around the scabbed scratch. She felt – no, that wasn't a shiver. Could it have been a shiver? He wouldn't. Well, maybe, but her hands were probably cold.

"The portcullis," he answered. "I didn't duck soon enough."

"Oh." She replaced the lid on the jar. "All done." She took hold of his shirt.

"Wait – before you…could you…?" He gestured to a nightshirt folded beside the pillows. "It's a bit…difficult."

"Of course." He lifted his left arm. Oh. She had to sort of go like…this to get it off that arm, then pull it over his head, then find a way to get it over his right arm without hurting him. Kneeling, she leaned slightly over him to pull the shirt off like…that. She looked down. He looked up, then quickly looked away. Blushing fiercely, she grabbed the nightshirt and reversed the process. As she helped his left arm through the sleeve, his head turned and Karigan became very aware of his mouth, a breath away from hers. For an instant, she froze, her heart thundering, then, regaining some semblance of control, pulled away and let the baggy shirt drop.

"Goodnight," she said, leaping off the bed and rushing into the hall.

Zachary softly closed the door behind her. He dropped his forehead onto the wood and closed his eyes. "Goodnight, Karigan G'ladheon" he whispered.