Hey all! Here on your screen is the next chapter of A Chance for Peace, which has taken me FOREVER to write (for which I apologize). I've been extra careful with editing and making sure this is my best work. I just wanted to thank anyone who took the time to review or read the previous chapters; it means more to me than you know! This chapter is a brief look into Seamus' past, in which I will be describing my characters in a little more depth, so hopefully that will straighten a few things out if you were confused as to who was who when you read the other parts. I've taken a few more liberties with the Hawksong world, I hope you enjoy them. I've also gone back and done a little editing (Name changing on Erica's brother, AAR actually updated the family trees in Falcondance. Hawksong, which I was using for reference, didn't have the name of Erica's brother in it; plus a few other little things) on chapters one and two, so it might be a good idea to re-read it all. Hopefully this isn't excessively long, as it is much lengthier than the other chapters. Please rate and review if you'd be so kind (:

Seamus sat on the edge of the small bunk in the corner of the stone chamber, exhausted from the day's horrors, watching the flames from the torches reflect off the smooth walls. It was here he spent every night, whiling away the few hours he wasn't training, either by reading, carving, polishing his armor, or sleeping.

He began to strip off his grimy armor, feeling relieved to be rid of its cumbersome weight. After removing the tough leather cuirass and pants, he began to undo the straps of his gauntlets. Beneath them, his forearms were caked with a thick layer of dirt, sweat, and streaks of dried blood from the dead.

Seamus stowed the soiled armor in a trunk at the foot of his bed for later cleaning. At the moment he was too tired and direly in need of a wash. He crossed the room to a stone washbasin that had been filled with cool, clear water by a maid. Without hesitating, he submerged his head and began to scrub his thick black hair vigorously, turning the water a sickly mud brown. Afterwards, he used a cloth to bathe the rest of his body, having to wring out the filth from it numerous times before he was totally clean. It wasn't a proper bath, but it would have to do for the time being.

Seamus dressed himself from the plain oak wardrobe in a loose tunic of undyed linen and climbed into freshly laundered brown trousers before pulling his hair back in a loose ponytail with a strip of leather. He checked his reflection in the mirror to be sure that he was presentable, but he could only do so much to ease the weariness from his appearance.

He looked awful, though the "bath" had helped some. His damp hair was lank, with none of its raven's sheen, while his bronze skin was dry and his lips were cracked and chapped. He had also somehow accumulated a few bruises on each arm. War was never a pretty business.

Finally, he exhaled in a great sigh of fatigue and sat back down, staring once again at the torchlight, and casting a long glance about the room.

Though the room was his quarters, there was hardly anything personal laying about the room that might indicate its ownership. Everything was kept in its proper place at all times.

The only furniture in the room besides the bed, washbasin, and wardrobe was a finely carved writing desk, with a raven feather quill in an ink pot on its surface. Seamus rose restlessly from his position and crossed to the desk, gently picking up the pen and twirling it between his thumb and index finger bemusedly. It had a fine blue shine to it just like all raven feathers did, and was quite long for a relatively small species of bird to have shed it. The pinion had been bequeathed to the eldest male child in his family for generations, and had come from the founder of the Blacktalon family, Domian.

The tales of Domian's valor in battle had been passed down through the ages, and not just among the Blacktalon family. The name Blacktalon had commanded respect for as long as anyone could remember, perhaps since Alistair's people were given wings. Indeed, many had been surprised when Andreios had moved through the ranks faster even than Seamus and Graeff, the two descendants of the great house of Domian.

In fact, Seamus himself had been amongst those astonished when Andreios had risen to become the commander of the Flight. Seamus had been the best soldier in the ranks, challenged by his peers countless times and overcoming them one by one. His prowess with the traditional rapier-like light sword of the Blacktalon house was unmatched. The only other person in the Tuuli Thea's service who could defeat him in combat was his childhood friend, Harper, who never used a sword if he could help it. No one else had even come close to beating him, not even Xavier Shardae, until Andreios. Seamus remembered the shameful details of that long-past day all too clearly…

Seamus had been practicing his sword work in the courtyard by contending with the other recent initiates. He was one of the few left-handed swordsmen in the command, but it had never made any difference when it came to combat drills. He was easily the best at swordsmanship in his year, and had even won against crows and ravens many years older than him.

That warm summer's day, Seamus had been involved in a particularly difficult sparring match with his best friend, Xavier. The young prince was talented in the art of combat and was never an easy opponent to beat. Since the last time they had faced each other, Xavier had trained harder than ever, determined to beat the raven.

To Seamus' disbelief, a crowd of soldiers and court officials had gathered around to watch the friendly match, and Seamus and Xavier's closest friends as well as both of their alistairs had also decided to support them.

Mara Shardae, Xavier's sister and heir to the Tuuli Thea smiled demurely at Seamus, and he felt his heart swell. He knew then just how badly he wanted to prove himself to the woman he had been sworn to. She was his faultless hawk; clothed in a modest blouse of warmest auburn, her loose golden curls flowing down about her shoulders. On Mara's right side stood Alisal, a beautiful pale-skinned crow to whom Xavier was betrothed. Next to the two girls were Graeff, Harper Ironwing, and Harlan Silvermead.

Harper Ironwing looked only vaguely interested, his messy black-brown hair nearly covering his entire face with its disheveled layers of varying length. His strange grey eyes were faraway as though his mind was elsewhere, which didn't surprise Seamus in the slightest. Harper, an eccentric crow, had grown up beside the other boys in Seamus' group but he had never quite fit in with them.

The Ironwing family had produced many generations of well-to-do merchants and musicians, and so even in his own house amongst his three surviving siblings and parents he was something of an oddity. He had ever preferred books and studying the old language to the fine arts of bartering and appraising goods for sale. Harper did have a great respect for music however, one thing that saved his parents further stress. Being a misfit was one thing, but overlooking the family trade entirely would have been too much for his parents to bear.

Harper was quieter even than the ever-serious Seamus, speaking only to ask questions to those he thought could teach him something. True, he had just as much interest in military matters, if not more, than the others, but recently when Seamus spoke to him he always felt as though there was a veil separating them.

Despite his bookish ways and silent demeanor, Harper had shocked everyone he knew when he demonstrated an impossible proficiency with a long bow and extended knife. He also had a way of unnerving people with the way he seemed to know things and how he could blend in and observe his surroundings without drawing attention to himself. People in the court had noticed right away, for his choice of weapons was consistent with that of the elite Fletcher's Guild, not to mention the fact that he seemed to be more at home in the shadows than in society.

He was the only one of Seamus' friends who didn't scowl and curse whenever the serpiente were mentioned, but his expression changed to one of distant curiosity. Seamus wondered if Harper actually considered the snakes as fascinating as he seemed to. Who could ever care to learn about a culture so vulgar it had led to the ruthless slaughter of Alistair so many thousands of years ago? Seamus, Xavier, and the others could care less about anything to do with the serpiente unless it meant expelling them from avian lands once and for all.

Harlan Silvermead, standing on Harper's left, shared that very attitude. He was of a slightly shorter stature than Seamus and slighter of body, with a short fringe of blonde hair. Harlan was not quite at the same level of skill as Xavier, Harper, and Seamus, he was an impressive warrior in his own right. His vehemence and yearning for battle made up for whatever he lacked in skill, and he was often teased for his passion, though the other young avian recruits all agreed with him.

The most junior of Seamus' companions was his cousin Graeff, who waved furtively to his Seamus; still too immature to take into account that an avian soldier was expected to show total control over his emotions and impulses.

Graeff Blacktalon had been forced to grow up faster than Seamus would have liked with the death of both his mother and father and alistair when he was still a hatchling. Graeff's mother (Seamus' only relative besides his father), and father had both been soldiers in the Royal Flight and fallen to serpent blades, while his alistair had been claimed by a sudden illness. Still, Graeff's indomitable spirit had overcome the obstacles life had hurled mercilessly at him, and he remained an eager pupil in his studies. He was light-hearted, but prone to shows of emotion that were troubling to Seamus. Graeff had passed the age when he could let down his reserve without it being unacceptable. Perhaps when he joined a flight he would learn how to control himself better.

He took one last look at his surroundings, noting the faces of his friends. They were the highborn, children of war heroes and royals. All steadfastly proud of their avian heritage, they would be the next generation of mothers, warriors, and rulers who would live or die for their family's legacies.

When the hawk and raven stepped into the ring, Seamus circled Xavier carefully, his sword held loosely in his left hand. His poise was relaxed but his steps were precisely measured as he followed Xavier's movements. The hours of exertion in the courtyard had paid off; the last of the youthful softness had left his body, making way for the taught muscles of a warrior. His stance was as that of a hunting cat; casually cautious on the surface, but underneath a machine of coiled muscle and strength.

The hawk prince laughed once before jeering at his friend.

"Come on then Blacktalon! Let's see what you're made of."

Seamus' expression remained passive; he hadn't even heard the taunt. The noise around him had been reduced to a dull hum. He was totally focused, watching the hawk and waiting for him to make the first move.

He was hardly even aware of the other men and women who had gathered around to watch their match, and when Xavier feinted and then slashed down quickly, Seamus was ready. He parried the move, beating Xavier back with two lightning-quick strikes of his own sword. Xavier looked shaken, but he remained resolute, keeping up a barrage of blows against Seamus. The raven reflected the prince's moves perfectly, letting the match be prolonged for his friend's sake. After all, Xavier wasn't the only one who had been practicing more.

They continued in the same fashion for a time, with Xavier looking for a nonexistent gap in Seamus' defenses. He was rewarded once when a tricky maneuver landed a scratch across Seamus' cheek. Seamus felt the blood blossom, and could hear the pounding of his heart and the steadiness of his breath more clearly than before. Xavier's breathing was becoming slightly labored and the glaring sun was beginning to take its toll on both of them. The two adolescent soldiers could feel sweat dripping down their neck feathers and underneath their armor.

Seamus knew it was time he used his most valuable asset to assure his victory. The light sword swung upward in an arc of incredible speed and slashed through the air. Xavier repelled Seamus' first hit, but it was followed up with another three in quick succession. It wasn't long before Xavier caved beneath the furious assault of Seamus' rapier and was forced to yield, dropping his sword to the packed dirt ground that made the ring.

Everything around Seamus came into sharper focus; he could hear again, and he could make out the features of the surrounding people. They all applauded his triumph and cheered as he bowed graciously to their prince. Xavier smiled sheepishly before composing his expression into one of dignity as he returned the bow.

"You've beaten me again, my friend. What a comfort it will be to have you on my side on the battlefield!"

Xavier was ever the cordial royal, with an overly expressive streak that might have been considered improper if he wasn't so young yet.

Seamus smiled politely to his friend, barely able to repress the spark of excitement that the word "battlefield" brought to him. Soon both he and Xavier would be dispatched to where the real combat took place, and Seamus would be able to test his skills against the best of the serpiente army. The thought of plunging his blade into a serpent's hide was thrilling even to him, the most serious of new recruits.

The other soldiers in the courtyard were still talking amongst themselves while two figures detached themselves from the crowd, crossing to where Seamus and the prince stood.

The shorter of the two was Graeff, who was grinning brightly at Seamus. He began congratulating Seamus heartily as soon as he was in hearing range.

The other figure, the one who drew Seamus' eyes at once was a man, to whom Seamus immediately assumed a soldier's stance upon recognition.

The man was tall and muscular, with a proud bearing that gave away his status in the Royal Flight. His skin was weather-beaten and tanned from seeing many days under a harsh summer sun on the battlefield. A long mane of shiny jet hair that reflected blue in the sunlight hung about his broad shoulders, something both Seamus and Graeff had inherited from the Blacktalon family genetics.

Roderick Blacktalon's piercing icy blue gaze rested on Seamus and the corners of his mouth turned up in a slight smile that was gone in an instant.

"Well done, Seamus. Perhaps you would join me in a stroll through the court?"

"Of course, sir."

Seamus nodded goodbye to Graeff and his prince before hurrying after his father, struggling to keep up with his lengthy strides through the market. They passed merchant's stalls and street vendors and finally came to a stop in a secluded corner, shaded by a few trees and bushes. Roderick turned to face Seamus, his expression stoic and unyielding.

"You fought well today, my son." Roderick's voice was so unlike what most people expected from a raven: smooth and quiet; calm, and level as always, betraying nothing of what he was thinking. Overall, it was a voice made to give commands on the field of battle, and never failed to make Seamus feel as though he were in the presence of a giant. He said the praise as though it was a mere statement, but Seamus flushed with gratitude.

"Thank you… father."

Roderick had always expected Seamus to use standard military protocol to address him in public so the other soldiers wouldn't suspect Roderick of favoring his own son. As the commander of the Royal Flight, he far outranked Seamus and he made sure the proper respect was used unless they were in private. Even then, Roderick was extremely strict about Seamus' conduct. Seamus' father had always taken his life as a defender of the Tuuli Thea quite seriously, but since the death of Seamus' mother he had gone to the next extreme.

Roderick Blacktalon was entirely dedicated to the good name of Domian's family line, and the destruction of the serpiente, something that he had had in common with his sister, Graeff's deceased mother. Both of the Blacktalon sons had been raised, from the time they had taken their first steps to hate serpents, and were always being instructed in new and efficient ways to kill.

Now Graeff, Seamus, and Roderick were the only Blacktalons left in Hawk's Keep, and it had taken its toll on the three soldiers. Night and day they trained, inimitable in swordsmanship by any in the Keep. Even the Fletcher's Guild, a motley assortment of avians who dedicated their entire lives to weapons, whether for war or for profit, had a healthy respect for the diminished raven family.

"Your progress has been exponential this past year. Perhaps you will be fit for command sooner than I thought," Roderick continued, as though he had not heard his son.

"You honor me," Seamus bowed slightly to his father, wondering what was coming next. Commendation for his abilities was a rare thing, and had become rarer still the more time his father spent away from the Keep aiding the war effort.

"Yes…" Roderick seemed to be speaking to himself now, staring at his son. Seamus felt as though Roderick were looking through him rather than at him, lost in his thoughts as he so often was.

"Graeff will begin training this year, correct?"

"Yes, sir. He will be joining alongside others of similar family status."

"That would include Andreios, the crow."
"Yes sir."
His father seemed to come back to the present then, and then said with an air of indifference, "I've heard that he's a fine swordsman, that one."

"Indeed, father."

"Have you challenged him yet?" Roderick replied sharply.

"No, I am two years his senior. Why would I?" Seamus asked in surprise.

"I merely asked you if you had, there is no need for that tone. You would do well to confront competition before it becomes your undoing."

"Forgive me, father."

Seamus was unsure of why his father had brought up the young crow. Everyone had heard the stories of Andreios' courage when he had protected Danica Shardae from a serpent's bite, but Seamus hardly considered him a threat to his ambitions.

Ever since he was a hatchling, Seamus had wanted nothing more than to become captain of the Royal Flight. To reach that most revered status would mean that he had finally fulfilled his father's dearest wishes for his son. He had worked harder than any other boy, and had seen the fruits of his labor in his remarkable sword work.

Besides, the position of captain was held by Roderick, and it was likely to remain so for a long time.

"Father, if I might be dismissed? My friends are waiting for me."

"Yes, very well. Seamus…" his father trailed off.

"Yes, what is it?"

Roderick looked as though he were on the verge of saying something; his brow creased in thought and his mouth still partially open. But he shook his head, and waved his son off. "Never you mind. Off you go."

Seamus saluted him in the typical avian style, grasping his right wrist with his left hand before turning away and jogging back to where he had left his friends.

Xavier, Mara, Alisal, Harper, Graeff, and Harlan were gathered in a small group, laughing and chatting, and they called out a greeting when they saw him. Xavier strode forward, seizing Seamus' hand and shaking it in a show of affection that was rare amongst avians.

"Nicely done, friend," Xavier smiled, and Seamus allowed himself to return the gesture.

"Thank you, prince. You honor me."

Xavier scoffed at Seamus' use of formality even when they were surrounded by friends, but didn't bother to correct him. Seamus was forever entrenched in tradition, but he came by it honestly.

Xavier turned his attention to Alisal, who was offering him comfort for his loss. At that moment, Mara strode over to Seamus. He felt his heartbeat accelerate and a feeling of comfortable warmth came over him. They had been sworn to each other as children and had grown up as playmates, and with time that relationship had grown into one of genuine love when she matured into a stunning maiden, and he a soldier in the avian army. He thanked the skies for his precious pair-bond every passing day.

She leaned into him and placed a hand on his forearm, her golden eyes shining with affection.

"Congratulations, my love. I take it your father was proud?" her voice never ceased to remind him of lute's music, and every time she spoke it was as enchanting as it had ever been to him.

"As proud as ever," Seamus answered, laying his hand on top of hers fondly. They shared a laugh at his father's gruffness, though they both knew how taxing Roderick's demanding could be on Seamus.

"I think they are already beginning to worship you," Mara said, teasingly and motioned towards a pack of people speaking animatedly to Graeff. He recognized the youngsters immediately; Danica Shardae, her alistair Vasili, Harlan's sister Erica, and finally Andreios.

Seamus was startled with himself when he felt a prickle of dislike aimed at Andreios. It wasn't like him to be jealous, but that was the only word he could think of to describe what he felt in that moment towards the crow.

Seamus excused himself from his alistair and approached his cousin. Graeff welcomed him enthusiastically and quickly began introducing him to his friends.

"Yes, Graeff, I know who they are," Seamus interrupted, amused.

Danica was like a miniature version of Mara, though she hadn't grown into her beauty yet. A bright, tenacious nature was already visible in the way she conducted herself.

Vasili was the son of one of Roderick's most trusted men, and in Seamus' opinion a worthy companion for Graeff. He was the most conventional out of all of his friends, except perhaps for Erica Silvermead. Seamus knew that the two of them had a promising future in the army, and found he was looking forward to the time when they would serve beside him. Both came from influential families close to his own, and in a world torn apart by uncertainty, it was good to know that nobles would always look out for one another.

"Good day to you all," Seamus inclined his head to the children and bowed to Danica.

Vasili returned the nod without a word, glancing with faint amusement at the way Erica and his alistair had a hard time not staring at Seamus. Danica smiled and congratulated him, while Erica remained as silent as Vasili, though her eyes were round with admiration. In spite of all the modesty Seamus' father had driven into him, it was hard to not feel a bit gloating after his victory.

And then of course there was Andreios.

The crow annoyed him already, though for what reason he couldn't say. He supposed it was simply because his father had considered him formidable enough to mention in conversation when he was still just a boy.

It also might have been from the way that Andreios already had the appearance of a boy who would grow into his strength. He was almost as tall as Graeff, which for his age was impressive. He wore his hair in a similar style to Seamus', though it was slightly shorter. His skin was already golden-brown from exposure to the sun, and his arms possessed hardly any of the gangly awkwardness of youth that Seamus' had when he had been that age. It was the way Andreios carried himself that bothered Seamus the most. He was collected and serene, like a soldier should be.

Seamus knew he had lost what remained of his family when he was a mere eight years old, but even then he hadn't expected the aura of balance the crow seemed to give off.

"Andreios," he turned his gaze to look him in the eye, and offered a polite but unfelt salute. "I've heard good things about you."

"And you, Seamus," Andreios returned the salute with an appraising eye. His expression held none of the fascination of his friends; merely an assessment. Something inside Seamus wriggled in frustration. He wanted the crow to look up to him, if only so that he felt like he had the upper hand.

Danica and Erica seemed unaware of what was going on between the two, and chatted amiably with Graeff about the day's lessons. Vasili was the only other person around who could sense the tension. He glanced between the crow and raven, and cleared his throat.

"Andreios, perhaps we should escort Danica back to the Keep. The Tuuli Thea did request she be home by sundown." He was being tactful, and in doing so kept his alistair and Erica from realizing what was going on before them.

"We have plenty of time, Vasili," Andreios overrode him.

Seamus wasn't sure what made him say it, but the words were out before he could stop them.

"Andreios, perhaps before you leave we could pit our skills against one another. I admit I've taken an interest in the rumors about you."

Andreios looked taken aback for a fraction of a second before he recovered himself enough to nod.

"Alright, why not?"