I apologize for the wait. Honestly, Blood Payment is like a breath of fresh air with all the different relationships to toy around with and new scenarios. Dishonored will be updated sometime this week. Please enjoy!

"I saw it, Duchess! Flying towards the Bavarian Forest and the mountains! Had stock in it's talons, it did!"

"Shhhhh. Calm down, Berend." Anaya cooed gently, wiping the film of sweat from his brow with a damp cloth, the boy's pants drying on a table.

"But I saw it! I swe-"

"Dragons are not real, Berend. Do not let those men fill your head with tall tales." Silas replied from his position on a chair, the man just wearing a simple tunic and pants. Despite him speaking to Berend, the young man was more focused on his own wounded arm.

"But I swear! You can see blood on the sill!" The boy exclaimed, "Go and take a look! It's there, I swear!"

"Berend, shush." Anaya cooed once more, wiping his brow before turning to the man on the chair, Berend remaining quiet in a pout.

"Do not sulk, Berend." Silas ordered firmly, tensing as the woman approached, pressing her thin fingers against his wound with a cloth. Her other hand lightly pressed against his skin, "You are so cold. Why are you not warm?" Anaya asked, her skin pale, oceanic eyes rimmed red and heavy with darkness. Her hair was messy, frizzy, and disheveled compared to what it normally was.

"I am fine, Anaya. Do not fret over me." Silas replied, obviously exhausted from the day's events, watching the woman slowly clean the wound of dried blood.

"And when I do not worry is when you get yourself in danger." She smiled, laughing softly, though her voice fell silent as she focused upon cleaning the wound, "It feels nice to hear you say my name again. It does." She spoke softly, nodding her head as if to confirm.

"I have spoken your name before." Silas stated, Anaya shaking her head, "But we were always alone, you and I. Now it...feels as if I am me, and not the Duchess. I am no longer caged, like a bird." She smiled up at him, though softly frowned as her smiled faded.

"What is wrong?" Silas asked, a brow raised as the woman sighed, shaking her head, "A freed bird is not fit for live outside her cage."

"Yet she can have a keeper that will guide her." Silas replied, Anaya smiling at that as she laughed gently, "And you have done so well. You have grown so much from the little boy that was afraid of the bull in the pasture."

The knight chuckled, low and soft, "You try to tip over a bull and then have it toss you over the fence. I went soaring. Hahaha-ow." Silas whined, his wound stinging at her touch.

"Oh, quiet, you big baby." Anaya taunted, ever so slightly rolling her eyes, Silas grumbling, "Harpy."

"I said shhhh."

"No you did not."

"Yes I did."

"I digress."

"Liar."

"I never lied, Anaya."

"Liar."

"Is that all you have to say?" Silas asked, the corners of Anaya's mouth tugging ever so slightly, "Yes. Unless you want me to strike you with my infamous fists."

Both laughed softly, the man exposing the right side of his face, tapping his jaw, "Go on then, iron maiden. This is my good side."

Anaya grinned, strands of hair cascading down her face, brushing them away, "Awe, but if I do then I will break your jaw."

At this, Silas snorted, exhaling sharply with a grin, "Oh, please, Anaya. You above anyone else should know that you cannot hurt steel."

"Because you are invincible, of course."

"In my mind I am." The man replied, Anaya rolling her oceanic eyes, an ever present smile plastered upon her face, as if molded on.

"And this is why you are a lummox." The fallen Duchess stated, Silas facading hurt, "Ah, and there is the Duchess' cruelty."

"My meanness is only directed towards you." The woman replied, smiling as she slowly rose to her feet. A yawn slipped passed her lips. Silas looked on at the woman before his grey eyes then wandered towards the boy upon Anaya's bed.

"I think we should allow Anaya to rest, Berend." Silas voiced, the boy shaking his head, "No! I don't want to go back in there!"

Silas sighed upon hearing his kin's reaction, "Berend, you must go. Do not make me drag you out."

"It is alright, Silas. Berend can sleep here if he wishes. I do not mind." Anaya commented, the knight feeling his blood turn cold and heart skip. Berend looked upon her, grinning ear to ear, "Really? I can?"

"Of course. I see no harm in it." The woman replied, smiling softly as the boy cheered.

Silas remained quiet, pausing to answer, "Bu...no. No, Berend you will not."

Berend looked upon his older kin, face flushing in building rage, "Who are you to say so? Duchess Anaya said I could! This is her room, not yours."

"I...yes, but..." Silas faltered, feeling ashamed. He could not help it. He felt jealousy towards his cousin. The very thought of his younger kin laying beside his Duchess chilled his bones and birthed the poison of envy. He knew Berend did not see Anaya the same way Silas himself did, and he knew it was childish, but the knight was intent on simply not letting his cousin lie next to the woman-no matter how terrible the excuse would be, "But you will not be a good knight then."

Berend raised a brow in skepticism, "How will I not be a good knight?"

"Because you are refusing to face your fears and are being a coward." Silas growled, approaching the boy, as if to clutch his arm and drag him out.

"So? You're the knight, Silas. I'm just a kid." Berend replied, Silas grunting, "And you need to prepare yourself for the cruelties of the world."

Anaya quickly stepped between them, "You will leave him be, Silas." The man's stride halted as her protruding stomach brushed against him, the woman's hand tightly wrapped around his offending wrist.

Silas looked upon her thin fingers clamping his raised hand, finger and thumb not even touching. Her voice was stern, as if scolding, and while her eyes shone with slight terror of his odd behavior, her determination would not have her back down from him. His eyes, however, shone with shame, and he did not meet her gaze.

"...very well." The man muttered, ripping from her grasp, "I hope you two sleep well." Silas muttered, the woman frowning as the man left the room, closing the door.

The knight sighed as he tried to shake off the feeling of embarrassment and shame, but he could not. Walking into his rented chamber, Silas had noticed the room in rather clean and orderly conditions. It appeared strange to the young man that his cousin would act so when the room itself appeared to have no indication of panic or struggle. Looking around the room, Silas felt his anger boil as he began to wonder if everything was a ploy, and his younger kin was just making up a story to vex the older man. If that was the case, it certainly was working. The knight was becoming even more enraged that Berend was succeeding in his ploy-if that was the case. Of course, it did not account for the fact that his cousin had soiled himself. That was the problem, unless the boy was just spilling tall tails to prevent himself from further embarrassment.

"Little bastard." Silas growled, making his way towards the bed in an attempt to lie down and rest. Unfortunately, the man could not as his mind remained focused upon his companions in jealousy, and embarrassment for how he had acted in front of the woman. Against his will, he could not fall into death's second self no matter how tightly he closed his eyes. His thoughts would race and images would flash-and then he realized something. His father was dead.

Dead, yes, his father was dead. The thought flashed and raced within his mind, and even though he desired to grieve, he could not-would not. In truth, the fact that his father was dead appeared to be hollow, even though these words he had spoken earlier in the day. Yet now that he had time to dwell upon the day's events, those words had become reality. And yet he could not cry. He did not even feel upset over the matter.

This matter concerned the young man. He loved his father, yes? Did he not truly love his father enough to grieve for the man? Was he losing his humanity, losing himself in all this chaos?

Silas dwelled upon the matter, jealously giving way to concern over his own emotions for his fallen patriarch. Yes, he loved his father. No, he did not grieve for the man. He did not grieve for the man because his father would not want to be mourned. What time was there for mourning? Wallowing in pity and grief was something that the old knight never taught the young man. Carl had taught the man to turn negative emotion into ambition, and Silas had already begun to focus upon his next task, yet knew the trials. Besides, his father had gotten the death he desired at the cost of his own life. He fell protecting someone else, and in going so had left his legacy alive. It was something Silas would make sure to honor.

At peace with himself, Silas closed his eyes once more, yet found himself jolted awake as his thoughts once turned to jealousy. It would not leave, and the sickness made his chest tighten.

Having enough, Silas got up and swiftly went towards the windowsill, pausing as he saw a stain on the outer rim. The moonlight shone upon the land, his eyes looking curiously upon the substance before opening the window. The gentle gust of cool wind drifted into the room, Silas looking upon the outer sill at the substance, touching the pool and seeing his finger come back stained, a dark liquid upon the pad.

His brows furrowed upon seeing the blood, his gaze going out towards the roof to spy larger, darker pools upon the thatched roof. Silas looked up towards the sky, finding no ledge that one could rest upon and no siding to scale the roof. He simply saw no rational way how so much blood could get upon the roof-for the pools were too large for any kind of bird.

Upon seeing no explanation, Silas moved back into the room, hitting his head upon hearing a knock, "Ow. Damn it." The man cursed, rubbing the dull pain away as he moved towards the door, opening it.

Anaya stood at the door, Silas now fully opening it as he leaned slightly against the frame, "Anaya? What are you doing up? You should be asleep."

"I could not. Berend kicks." The woman replied, giggling slightly before cutting herself off, "Oh, I am sorry. Did I wake you?"

"No. No, I was up. Please, come in." The fallen knight spoke with a pause, stepping out of the woman's way as she breached the precipice, "Thank you."

With that, the man closed the door, Anaya looking around, rubbing her arms.

"Are you cold?" Silas asked, the woman nodding, her torn and dirty dress doing little to protect her from the chilled air, "Yes. It is a bit chilly, but you know me."

"I thought fresh air would be good. I barely feel the wind." Silas commented, easily closing the window that groaned in protest.

The ex Duchess looking around room, smiling as she made her way to second bed, waddling slightly and sat down, "I like this room. It has the moonlight."

"Was your room too dark?"

"Yes, it was. It scared me a bit, but I know it is silly." She answered, resting a hand on her stomach, as if to make sure the child was still there and didn't fall off.

"I apologize for the way I acted. It was uncalled for." The young man replied, clearing his throat. Anaya looked upon him, tilting her head and smiling softly, "That is okay. After what happened today, I cannot judge."

"Lucky me, eh? Is there something you wanted to talk about?" Silas asked, the young woman falling silent as her eyes shifted to the ground, as if in thought.

"I do not...feel sad. Yet I feel...terrible, but happy and free. I do not feel upset for what has happened, for losing my title or for you losing yours. I do not feel sad for Rorek or your father-whom their deaths I have caused. Instead I feel terrible for allowing that to happen. I feel terrible for putting you in danger, and for causing you to lose your father. But I think I feel terrible most of all because I am happy. I feel as if I can breathe again, and it feels amazing, and I am happy, and I see hope and freedom. But I feel terrible because I feel happy. I should not be happy because I have caused so many people to suffer. I do not know. Is that normal, Silas? Am I a bad person?" Anaya asked, looking upon him with a questioning gaze.

The man paused in thought, being careful with his wording and answer, "I do not think you are a bad person, no. I think...it is normal that you feel so many emotions. I have questioned myself tonight as well. I do not think you should feel terrible for all those deaths, for they were not intentional nor by your hand. They just happened, and you could not stop them. I love my father, yet do not mourn him, and I do not want to mourn him. Does that fact that I do not want to mourn my father make me a bad son? I do not think so. Just as how you do not feel upset for being stripped of your rank and fall into mourning. You are not a bad person, yet you allow yourself to have guilt because you view yourself to be a terrible woman. Death is a shame wherever it occurs, and it is something neither you nor I can stop. It just happens. If anything, we can honor their deaths by moving towards the future-though I my father. So, yes. I think that is normal."

The woman listened, allowing his words to sink in, head slowly nodding in understanding, "Thank you. I was a bit afraid. It is not everyday something like this happens."

"Well, I think we are the two exceptions. Of course, I do not know how Berend feels." Silas replied, falling silent for some time, "Anaya, may I ask what you are happy about?"

Anaya looked upon him, mouth frowning softly in fluster, "I do not know, honestly. I just feel...free, happy. I mean, we can go anywhere we want now. We can...see mountains with snowy peaks and...see oceans and...oh, what is it called...sand? Sand, yes! Sandy beaches and shores with waves, and visit places like...like...Paris or Rome. Maybe even Britain? Greece? We can see all those places and things! Not now, but maybe in a year or two, we can. And then maybe, maybe when we speak to someone on our travels and they speak of a wonderful painting, we can say that we have been to that city! Oh, imagine how pretty that city is in real life! Not just as an oil painting!" She gasped, face flushed with joy and her eyes sparkling in the night.

Silas laughed upon hearing her reasonings, "My, my, that is a lot of ground to cover. Are you sure you know what you are getting us into?"

"No, not really. But that is okay. We do not need to see all those cities and places. All I want to do is see the ocean some day. They have these very pretty shells I have seen in paintings, and I have heard that in some you can hear the ocean! I can only imagine how pretty an ocean is at sunset and how the water looks and sounds like. They are not like the rivers here, I know." She spoke, falling silent with an ever present smile, hand rubbing her stomach.

"Does it hurt that you keep rubbing your belly?" Silas asked, curious as Anaya paused to look at him, shaking her head, "No, it does not hurt. It just...feels normal. I thought I would be able to feel it, but I cannot. I do not know how to describe it. I just feel portly, and know that something is growing in my tummy and that it will have to come out."

"You are not portly, Anaya." Silas replied, the woman almost rolling her eyes, "So you say."

Silas remained quiet, watching her hand rub over her stomach curiously, "What does your stomach feel like?"

Anaya paused, looking at the man before softly smiling, "Come here."

Silas hesitated, though answered her call as he approached, the woman still smiling as she gently clasped her smaller hands around his, guiding them towards her slightly bulging stomach. His hands settled upon her stomach, natural flesh soft and tender, though underneath a bit more mass-though he did not risk pressing his hands harder against her. He did not want to harm her.

"Oh my," Silas smiled, which swiftly broke into a full grin, "That is...this is wonderful. Beautiful, I mean...a child...an actual child is growing within you." The man was flabbergasted, hands still resting upon her stomach.

The woman grinned largely in return, "I want to...I want to give bump a good start. I want to be a good mother, even though I do not know what lies ahead. But I know now that I want to help you. I know you will work hard to support everyone, Silas, and I want to help. I can help."

The knight chuckled, canines showing as he pulled away from the woman, "Well I cannot stop you if you wish to help. But why did you call your child 'bump'?"

"Because it is a bump. So I call the baby bump." She smiled, eyes sparkling.

"Baby bump? Sounds legitimate." Silas replied, laughing, the woman's voice chiming in before gently fading, "What will happen tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? The inn keeper should know of a few rumors coming through. I can ask him and go off of any leads for work."

"Sounds like a plan. Better than mine." Anaya replied, rocking her head back and forth as she looked out of the window towards the the moonlight, the woman seeing rustling towards the ground and hearing shouting, "I think the men are leaving."

"They sound like they are drunk." Silas replied, hearing the sounds of horses groaning from the men trying to mount them. Silas shifted, going towards the door, "I am going to check on Brago."

"You are? Be careful with those men." The woman frowned, concerned.

"Do not worry, Anaya. I will. Stay here." The young man replied, closing the door as he left.

As Silas moved through the tavern the loud guffaws became louder, as were the sound of struggling horses. Pushing through the door into the chill night air, Silas came upon the sight of ruffians harassing the old war horse, Brago tied and unable to run away. Silas recognized the one man as Mordred, whom was laughing at the hapless animal and hitting the stallion.

Silas felt his anger rise, whistling shrilly to get the mens' attentions, "Hey! Leave that horse and be on your way!"

The men paused, turning their heads toward the lone knight, Mordred swaying slightly from drunkenness, though smirked smugly, "Well, well...wha' we 'ave here, boys?"

Will Cynder fall at the hands of the mercenaries once more, or will fate play out differently for the Terror of the Skies? Thank you for reading and supporting! :)