Chapter 22
"Dawn Breaks The Night"

Border of Apulia
Three weeks later

Day had come it, and it had passed: Apollo waved silent and unapologetic through the sky above, yet Haemon preoccupied himself with every minute detail of planning from the path they would take to the number of men he commanded to the distance they would traverse each day. He was meticulous, doggedly determined, a veritable commander of power and prestige before his men. But when night fell and Apollo's smoldering sun gave way to his sister's milky moon and Haemon returned exhilarated and excited to his tent, everything changed. He stepped across the threshold into a space that was theirs, and that dynamic had the friction to spark an entirely different side of the prince into existence.

This night at the border of Apulia the meeting between his brothers and Deidus' envoys occupied more of his attention than he had anticipated. By the time he stepped within his tent, there was only silence, save the pleasant crackling of the fire and the sound of the wind creaking through the forest, to meet him. The candles had begun to burn low, many having been snuffed out by the hour or the wind creeping under the edges of his tent. Only the dying fire and one oil lamp illuminated the interior and staved off the cool temperatures of late fall. The expectation building in his chest abruptly died, though he approached the small bed in the furthest corner of the tent and considered the straw-colored hair spread across a pillow. Her face was hidden beneath the blankets pulled up across her shoulders and around her face. Without him to warm her side, the damp chill had set in, and she hid beneath a pile of blankets.

"You would sleep without me, Princess?" he wondered, at once disappointed and amused, when every night prior she had awaited his return to their bed. It was often his only opportunity at selfishness each day, and he gladly indulged in her when given the opportunity. Since their conversation in Alba Longa nearly two months prior, a dramatic shift turned their relationship from tumultuous to dependable. They shared a bed each night. Aurora told him stories of her childhood, what fragments she remembered of her father, her brothers, her sister, and her mother. He told her of Hector and Myrina and his family's time fleeing Troy's destruction, or as much of the tale as he could bear to speak aloud. The prince discovered she had a knack for archery having learned from the huntsman who raised her; in fact he was nothing short of amazed to find that she was the better shot between the two—a fact she reiterated whenever possible to his chagrin. And although it stoked his ego at times, he could admit that he appreciated her burgeoning strength. It was as if they had been given the opportunity to meet one another again from the start in a manner more fitting their betrothal.

Tonight, however, Haemon turned alone to his barren racks for company. Mechanically, he began removing his armor to place upon the wood and recalled a tantalizing memory of their last evening together.

"Do you love me, Prince?"

Haemon abruptly looked up from where he had bent his head to kiss the crook of her neck. Now he found her blurry reflection in the mirror before them. The lines were too muddled in the metal for him to discern her expression, and her tone offered him little by way of what she expected for an answer. He massaged his hands along her waist, buried his nose against her temple, and confessed in a low voice, "Yes."

The blonde twisted in his grasp to face him, and he found no clearer answer in her expression. The look in her eyes was an enigma to him, and her tone remained steady when she pressed, "Would you fight any enemy for me?"

"Yes," he promised without hesitation, for this was an easier question to answer, but there was a notable pressure in his chest building under her watchful eye.

"Do you want to please me?"

He unconsciously bent his head nearer her own, straining to unravel whatever was hiding in her mismatched eyes. It alluded him longer, but he noticed a pleasant expectation growing in his gut. "Yes."

Aurora evaded his kiss to reach for his ear and prompt, "Show me."

Haemon had nearly torn her dress from her body to hear such a tone from this woman who had once been unable to look him in the eye. Even the memory of it stirred him, but he was distracted from his thoughts by a small voice.

"Come to bed."

He snapped to look up from where he was untying his chest plate and find the princess had emerged from her piles of blankets. Her face was nestled on her hair, and she considered him through dense, sleep-lined eyes.

Sniffing lightly, she added, "It's cold."

"It's nearly winter, Princess," he commented. He ignored his chest plate for the moment in lieu of stoking the fire to burn brighter and coax more heat into the tent.

"Mmm… Someone was too stubborn to wait 'til spring to wage war."

Haemon smirked to himself at her dry tone while he hurried to finish undressing. "I won't give Savas time," he said. "And we have the element of surprise in our favor." He slid his undershirt over his head, feeling the cool air nip at his naked skin, before removing his sandals and the material at his waist last.

When Aurora offered no objection, he discovered that the blonde had closed her eyes once more. The prince promptly found his place at her side, easing under the covers and against her frame. His arm slipped beneath the pillows cradling her head, and she immediately turned in his grasp to face him. Her nose was cold when it nuzzled beneath his chin, causing his grip around her to tighten. He pulled her deeper into his embrace, wrapping her in him, though he could faintly feel her shivering in his arms.

He rubbed her back firmly and admitted, "I thought you would be accustomed to the cold."

"I was," she countered lethargically, "but you've ruined me. How can I sleep in the cold when I know the warmth at your side?"

Haemon indulged in a private smile while he adjusted the blanket to cover her shoulders. "I should ruin you, or you may find another to warm your side once you're queen."

She exhaled heavily in his arms whether too exhausted or too annoyed by his teasing to bother responding. No matter the reason, the prince kissed her temple and forehead before stretching his neck to lay his head on the pillow above her. She eagerly nuzzled closer into the space under his chin. His grip on her tightened unconsciously before relaxing as he closed his eyes as well and succumbed to a deep sleep. Aurora likewise grew heavy and immobile in his arms. Gradually the tent lost its size and dimensions. She could no longer feel the sensation of the bed beneath her or Haemon's arms holding her near him.

Instead, she found herself in the halls of the palace in Barion. She stood in the atrium before the king's quarters. There were no guards standing sentry outside the space, and an overwhelming desire guided her to the main doors which she pushed open with ease in spite of their weight. She recognized the familiar layout though there was a lightness to the space she had not seen in years, and in the center a few paces ahead of her she recognized a tall frame with unruly chestnut curls.

"Haemon," she breathed in relief, recognizing in his presence how eerie the palace appeared without anyone to occupy it.

He turned to consider her, and only then did she notice he donned armor unlike she had ever seen. Far from the brown leather, scarlet, and cream layers of Haemon's armor, this regalia was royal blue punctuated by shiny bronze plating. He wore no helmet or sword, and she gazed upon familiar lines of a youthful face. The air about him was composed and strong. He struck the image of a man called to duty and loyalty above all.

"Hector…" she realized what felt like an eternity later, and saying a name she had only learned weeks prior to a man she had never seen felt strangely appropriate in this space.

He smiled. His arrival was at once confusing and alarming, and it abruptly occurred to her that the infamous hero must have returned to see after his eldest son.

She sought to assure him when she blurted out, "I love your son."

The ghost said nothing, so Aurora was unsure whether this fact pleased him.

"I will remain at his side. I'll guard him and hold him…," she persisted, "until one day years from now he may meet you again. I promise you this."

Finally the Trojan moved, but it was to approach Aurora. She shrunk unconsciously from him, overwhelmed by all he symbolized, and was startled when he took her shoulders in his grip. Without hesitation, he bent to place a kiss on her forehead. Aurora superstitiously held her breath. He bent lower near her ear and whispered, "Dawn breaks the night."

His words unlocked a deluge of revelations: They came in flashes of images, sounds and voices, emotions, and knowledge all at once. She saw her hand gripping the hilt of a sword. She heard the clash of bronze around her and howls of men. She felt a rush of purpose that drowned her fear. She knew her battle awaited her. There was blood on her hands, and she could taste the metallic liquid coating her mouth. A pain burned across her back with such force that it stole the breath from her. Haemon called for her in the midst. She spun trying to catch sight of him, while the pain continued to suffocate her and a blackness swirled around the picture.

Haemon was shaking her when her eyes burst open, and she sucked in a thick gulp of air.

"Aurora," he commanded forcefully. "It's a dream."

Her eyes fixed on his expression, searching for the familiar white scar in his beard and lines fanning out from his eyes to know that it was her prince and not a ghost haunting her.

"Haemon," she mumbled as a sigh of relief and instinctually burrowed nearer him.

He gripped her firmly in return, flexing those muscles around her and trapping her within his embrace. He offered protection before he knew what enemy attacked her in her sleep.

"Hector came to me in a dream," Aurora confessed into his chest.

This admission had the distinct impact to knock Haemon away from her. She timidly looked through her lashes up at his expression, anticipating the deep frown that would meet her. His voice was low, warning, when he asked, "What are you saying?"

It was an opportunity to revoke her wild accusation, but the princess knew what she had seen. Aurora wet her dry, cold lips before responding, "He was dressed as a soldier in armor I couldn't recognized. Blue and bronze. The chest plate was the most distinct with a symbol above his heart."

She was aware of her poor description of what she had seen, but in Haemon's abrupt pallor, she saw the significance of those few words. "He told me, 'Dawn breaks the night,'" she continued both nervous and excited by her vision. "I think it was a message that we will win this war."

Haemon released Aurora to roll onto his back and gazed emptily at the ceiling of the tent. He offered no reply, not even a look of derision that she would dare to mention the name of the man Haemon loved and hated most in this world.

The princess waited with bated breaths for Haemon's reaction, but when it became clear he had surrendered to his thoughts, she brought her lips to his chest and lined the muscles with short, chaste kisses. Still he would not acknowledge her. Chewing briefly on her lip, she considered another way to appease his inner torrent. "I told him that I love his son and that I will watch over him in his absence. He smiled when I told him that."

Silence met her candid admission, and she watched his profile for any indication that her words infiltrated his defenses. Painfully long moments passed before Haemon turned his head on the pillow to look at her.

The edges of her lips hiccupped in a nervous smile. "I love you," she repeated and realized she had never spoken the words out loud to anyone, not even Atlan, since her family died.

Haemon still would not speak. In his eyes she recognized the face of someone slave to their memories, but then he kissed her forehead and nestled his face into the crown of her head.

Aurora reached an arm across his chest to hold tightly to him and promised, "I'm your family."

In time, Haemon reached across to grasp her shoulder and wrapped his other arm around her back, allowing his hand to sink into her waist.

"I will bear your children, and they will love you," she persisted now feeling tears prick her eyes as she confessed the words aloud. "And you will live a long life, and you will protect us. I know this to be true, Haemon."

He squeezed her nearer to him before relaxing with a leaden exhale. Finally, he decided, "There is time for peace after war, Princess."

Aurora laid her head upon his chest and allowed those words to sift through her mind. She was reminded of the pain tearing through her body in the vision and the blood on her hands and in her mouth. For a reason unbeknownst to even her, she did not share this with her betrothed. This much she could protect him from.

‡‡‡

A week later

"A fine day for war," King Deidus of Samnium observed. His eyes squinted to keep out the pale morning sun. The expression exaggerated the scars cutting through his wrinkled flesh until his face assumed an odd transformation like a mask more than a man.

Haemon didn't allow his attention to linger for long on the king, knowing his sensitivity to prolonged looks, and instead he twisted atop his horse to gaze back across his ranks of men lined up and armed behind him. His brother Nereus led the archers on his left. Ariston stood with the foot soldiers and grinned proudly when he caught his older brother's attention.

"The gods smile on you and your wife, Prince," Deidus continued.

At the mention, Haemon narrowed his gaze straining to see the back of the lines where Aurora was safely guarded from Savas' sight.

"It is a blessing that the rains have ended, and the ground has dried," Ascanius agreed from his place on the other side of Deidus. "Is it not, brother?"

Finally Haemon twisted once more to face the empty field ahead of them but not before sharing a loaded look with his brother. Deidus did not know Aurora was among his men; the prince was far too paranoid to share her presence before their victory was secured.

"The soldiers will fair better without the mud," Haemon agreed shortly.

"Would Savas have us march on Barion?" the king wondered next. His impatience for battle was palatable.

"He comes," Haemon assured him while his horse pawed uneasily at the cold ground. The prince bent forward to pat the steed on the neck and smooth its black mane.

"You were wise to choose this site. Long years ago three kings met on these grounds and fought for the throne—my father and your wife's grandfather among them," Deidus continued and smirked when he caught Haemon's attention. "The earth will drink Apulian blood again, my friend."

The prince had no adequate response to this comment. Not only Apulian blood, he answered to himself. But Alban and Samnite as well… All would suffer so that order might be restored to these lands. By the end of the month he would have Aurora seated on the throne, or he and his troops would be bested by a terrible winter. He could not see that come to pass. Savas would fall if the Alban prince had to cut through the lines of soldiers alone and tear the false king limb from limb.

"They approach," Ascanius announced, voice tense and sharp.

Haemon held his breath, straining to hear the dull, distant march of an army approaching. The horses fretted at the sound like thunder approaching. The expectation built among the men, waiting, watching, hoping the gods smile on them this day and spare their lives… It seemed an eternity before the army emerged from the forest ahead of them and funneled out onto the field. The lines fanned out to reach twenty men wide. Banners crackled in the breeze. Savas and his captains rode at the fore of their men and continued their approach even after their soldiers paused at the edge of the field, ready and waiting the command.

The Alban prince likewise flexed his heels in his steed's sides, and with Deidus and Ascanius at his side, he rode forward to meet Savas halfway. He hadn't anticipated how facing the king would affect his temperament, but a wave of irrational fury tore through him to see Savas smile pleasantly at the three men. Such unassuming features that hid the malicious, conniving intent Haemon now knew the man capable of. He thought briefly of the trust and respect he held for the king, so much so that he had been led to believe Aurora was a mad woman rather than a survivor of a malicious scheme to wipe out her family. Savas was fortunate that Hector had taught his son not to reach for his sword before the battle began.

"It is not enough to steal my niece from my home," Savas began in a familiar, self-important tone. "You march an army against me now. What more could I expect from a family of thieves?"

"Grand words for a false king," Deidus quipped immediately.

It appeared only then that the Apulian noticed his other foe, and his eyes glinted dangerously under the morning light. "I thought you better than a hungry wolf licking its chops waiting for an opportunity to strike. This is not your battle, Deidus. Do not make an enemy of your neighbor."

"We've long been enemies, Savas," Deidus growled contemptuously. "You have stabbed all those around you in the back."

The king curled his top lip in a smirk. "You've lowered yourself to align yourself with wretches. Mercenaries parading as kings."

"Better a mercenary than a bastard," Haemon cut through the exchanges in a low tone.

Savas' attention darted back to the prince, his features puckering in insult. "You trample my name and make a whore of my niece-"

"Watch your tongue, King," the prince warned sharply before Savas could finish his condemnation. "Your lies won't hide you from me. I will find you on the battlefield and cut the crown from your shoulders." His features flashed with dark promise. "My queen demands it of me."

Without awaiting his retort, Haemon turned his back on the king and trotted toward his men. There would be no negotiations. This injustice would be paid in blood. Deidus and Ascanius followed his lead, leaving Savas and his men scorned in the middle of the field. Haemon was oblivious to their contempt. His steed gave way to a gallop, closing the space between himself and his soldier in short time. He could not spare the patience to wait. This day had been promised to him, and he would take it not for his own glory but in his woman's name.

"Mercenaries!" he shouted at his men. He guided his steed to ride before their ranks. "Thieves!" His men followed his advance with their eyes, faces hardened by years of serving beneath the crown prince. The resolve in them, the trust, bolstered Haemon's voice while he pointed back at the Apulian army. "Names that man has given you. A false king. A bastard. A coward. He dares to look upon you and gloat!" He twisted, guiding his horse to retrace the path before the soldiers once more. "We are Albans!"

His men abruptly roared their consent.

"We take what is ours, and we do not yield!"

The roar grew louder as the men beat their weapons against their shields.

"Carve your names into the land, brothers. Write it in Apulian blood. Let no one forget… We are warriors!"

The army's thunder was deafening to the extent that Haemon's voice crackled as he strained to be heard. Their power gave him strength, so that he turned to face the Apulian army, head bent and black eyes searching for Savas. Briefly he looked the part of the wolf Savas claimed threatened his lands.

Among the crowd roaring at his back, one soldier in ill-fitting armor staggered to maintain his balance beneath the weight of his leather chest plate, bronze helmet, and sword. The constant pressure on his shoulders was enough to drive his feet through the ground, he thought, but it seemed far more likely that his knees might buckle from nerves. Nereus glanced out across his archers, and the soldier promptly avoided his superior's gaze by preoccupying himself with his quiver hanging at his hip. A meager 20 arrows were in tow. He would then be left with his sword, and he dreaded to think how he would fare when that time arrived.

"Soon, brothers," a young soldier spoke up eagerly among them. "Soon we will grasp glory!"

The soldier looked up from his quiver at the young man who had spoken and past him to a tall, slender foot soldier with coal black curls crowning his head. Damian offered a serious nod to the young man and glanced to meet the attention of the small soldier trembling beneath his armor. The latter immediately looked away to avoid his gaze for he recognized the Spartan as the princess' betrothed, and Damian slid on his helmet without comment to either of them. In his armor, the Spartan blended into their ranks where none could know his heritage or curse him for his father's name. The anonymity and promise of a fight stirred his blood.

The call was sounded, and the foot soldiers took to a run with Haemon on horseback and Ariston on foot leading their charge. Arrows rained down on the soldiers. Bodies fell and were trampled, but the army did not slow its charge. They collided, bronze meeting bronze in a loud crescendo. Haemon's steed jumped further into their lines, and he cut through the men searching for Savas when all at once a group of Savas' men charged out of the forest from the left to cut off the Albans' advance.

"Brother!" Ascanius called out to gather his brother's attention, but the strategist had already caught sight of the maneuver.

"Ready!" Nereus yelled shortly, and the men mechanically strung their arrows. "Take aim!"

The quivering soldier suddenly found a focus to still his shaking hands. The muscles of his back constricted while he drew his bow to its full reach, arrow notched. Unlike his fellows, he aimed higher almost seeming that he might shoot at Apollo's chariot pulling the sun up higher across the sky.

"Loose!"

The arrows whistled through the air. Some landed in the ground near the Apulians, while others, the quivering soldier's included, met their mark.

"Ready, men!" Nereus commanded sharply once more, and the archers notched their arrows for the second time. "Take aim! … Loose!"

Another waves of arrows showered down on the contingent trying to rush the Albans from the left, and the bodies began to fall.

Without hesitation, Acanius led the cavalry of Albans and Samnites around to flank those soldiers and finish them off. The prince threw his spear through the back of a soldier charging his younger brother Ariston. Ariston instantly put his foot in the soldier's back and leveraged the spear out of it to stab at the enemies closing down on his men.

"Advance!" Nereus ordered his men from their position at the exterior of the battlefield. They began to march nearer the battle, close enough that the howls of men's deaths lifted on the breeze, a horrible song to haunt those who lived past this day. Bronze swords and shields clamored in fight. They marched past bodies of men who had been slain early in the day, all bloodied and trampled until they were nearly unrecognizable as men.

The quivering soldier avoided looking at these men, though the image demanded attention from the corners of his eyes no matter where he looked. He focused on the battle coming into focus. He scanned the lines of men engaged in combat. Almost miraculously his attention was drawn to one obscure area of the field no different than any of the others where the soldiers parted, and the king of Apulia was revealed if only for a moment. Without warning, the soldier broke off from his compatriots and ran in the direction of the king.

"Keep position!" Nereus barked at him.

The soldier kept running, hearing his breath echo haggardly within the confines of his helmet. The bronze jostled around his head, and he pushed it out of his eyes on more than one occasion. The leather chest plate pounded down on his shoulders, and with each step, he expected his knees would finally give out so that he tumbled to the ground. Somehow he found strength enough to keep his gait, and his helmet muffled Nereus yelling after him.

"Hold position!"

The soldier had gone too far to turn back. Enemies took notice of his approach, and one Apulian tore his sword from an Alban chest and ran to meet the soldier. The archer instantly notched an arrow and loosed it, sending it whistling into the slender gap between the soldier's helmet and chest plate. The tip ran through the soldier's throat, and his advance was suddenly stilled. He dropped his sword to hold the fletching of the arrow as blood spurted from the wound, and he fell to his knees fretting over the arrow lodged in his throat.

The archer kept running into the outskirts of the melee. He loosed two more arrows before an Apulian rammed his shield into the archer's side. At long last, the archer met the ground in a disruption of dust that knocked the air from his lungs. His helmet rolled from his head revealing pale blonde hair in the morning light. He rolled onto his back, feeling numb from the brief ricochet of pain that flared through him. Feminine features were revealed, and two mismatched eyes peered through her hair twisted across her face to watch the blade falling toward her. She put up her hands futilely as if she could block the blow.

In a flash, a man darted past her gaze to tackle the Apulian soldier to the ground. The pair landed inelegantly. Damian crouched over him and drove his sword through the Apulian's chest. He retracted the blade and looked over his shoulder with haggard, wide eyes that poorly masked his shock. Aurora shared his look, likewise stunned by her brief brush with Thanatos.

Damian was on his feet and grabbed Aurora by the shoulder of her leather chest plate to wrench her onto her feet. She was inexplicably grateful for his grip because even with her feet on the ground, she struggled to find her bearings. She stared openly into his black eyes while he bent near enough his raspy voice could be heard over the battle.

"Stay behind me, Princess!" he commanded.

It took a moment longer for the words to penetrate her numb shock. Long enough that Damian began pulling her out of the fight. She impotently tried to burrow her feet into the ground to stop him, but he had leveraged the weight of her armor against her. She was powerless to fight both the weight of gravity and the Spartan's strength. Two Apulian soldiers saw Damian's retreat and attempted to stall him. This forced him to release Aurora's shoulder in lieu of wielding his blade with both hands. He tore through one man's gut, spun to block the attack of the other, threw off his blade, and drove his sword behind him through the chest of the man trying to hold in his innards. He retracted the blade in time to block another swing, deflected it, and cut up across the man's chest. The Apulian soldier stumbled over his heels to land on his back, and the Spartan didn't hesitate to pierce his chest with his blade.

The two enemies disposed of, he turned to reach for the princess once more. The space behind him was absent, and he anxiously scanned the lines of soldiers, seeing the blonde head bob through the enemy ranks. Without hesitation, Damian charged after her.

Aurora resumed her path to Savas, and her focus was likewise restored. She drew her bow and aimed between the pulsing bodies of men. They parted, and she released the arrow, watching it fly through the slender gap, evading swords and shields along its path. It sailed true at the body of the treacherous Apulian king, but at the last moment, a witless soldier stepped in front of his king. The arrow lodged in his shoulder, and he yelled in pain. Savas' attention was drawn to the near hit, and he followed its trajectory to the pale blonde woman standing like a ghost among the lines of soldiers. His face made no show of recognition, but Aurora could feel the chill of his fury even from this distance.

The princess was distracted from her purpose by an Apulian who charged her. She held out her bow to catch his blade, but the bronze split through the wooden bow with ease. She watched its descent, near enough that it left a pale line across the front of her chest plate. Half a pace forward, and the man would have struck her.

"It is treason to attack the princess!" someone bellowed in an authoritative tone.

The soldier who had attacked her seemed to recognize the importance of her features as an afterthought, and he abruptly fell to his knees in front of her.

Aurora looked to the man who had spoken and realized the command came from an Apulian captain who had served under her father. Time had not been kind to him. The once virile man had been withered by age, but his pale blue eyes were acute in their attention staring at her. Still, his command held sway.

The Apulians and Albans around her abruptly stilled amidst their fight to stare openly at the sole woman punctuating the war of three nations. She flashed her eerie gaze at them and for once reveled in the potent power of her look as men avoided her stare. Wordless, she discarded the broken bow to the ground and drew her sword. She moved deeper into the battle and men parted for her without command. She stalked through their ranks like a queen.

"Princess!" Damian yelled futilely after her, but the leniency afforded to her was not shared with the Spartan. The Apulian ranks collapsed after the princess passed through and blocked Damian from following her path. He was forced to engage with them, trying to tear his way through the ranks to protect her. He thought of his crown prince and his vicious streak for vengeance: The whole world would pay if some witless soul hurt a hair on Aurora's head. The Spartan fought to keep that from coming to pass.

Deeper in the battle, Haemon had been knocked from his horse, and he was on foot among his men maneuvering closer and closer to the Apulian king. He watched an arrow nearly pierce the king's resolve had a soldier not unknowingly stepping into the path of the arrow. Haemon was relieved and thanked the gods that an arrow would not taint his glory. This was his fight alone. He sliced through another Apulian. As the soldier fell from before him, Savas twisted to meet Haemon's gaze and offered a cruel sneer. More soldiers funneled into Haemon's path to block his advance toward the king, and he monitored Savas' change of direction away from the prince and further into the melee without the reach to stop him.

"Coward!" Haemon growled fiercely to no avail. You cannot hide from me, he reminded Savas. By day's end I will bring your head to my queen!

The crown prince could not have imagined that the soldier who threatened to steal his vengeance was none other than his betrothed. The same woman that Savas had caught in his sights, and he did not hesitate to throw soldiers from his path as he closed the distance between the two. Aurora stood her ground holding her sword in the way Haemon had taught her in their time fleeing Apulia. She was suddenly grateful for his lessons. She would use the techniques well in opposition of this vile man.

Savas grinned in dark delight when his niece did not flee from him. He assessed her battle stance in a sweeping look of derision and laughed. "I will finish what I should have," he promised her. His powerful stride gave way to a steady jog, and Aurora lifted her blade to block his attack. There was no mercy afforded to her sex or her position. The attack rattled up her arms into her shoulders and chest. It wasn't until that moment that Aurora recognized how gentle Haemon had been with her in their lessons, how he had tempered his power for her. It had not served her. Savas' single attack knocked her onto her knees even as she held off his sword.

He didn't hesitate to release a hand and punch her across the face. His fist and rings collided with her cheek like a burst of raw pain. She fell over onto her shoulder with a short yelp. Her sword landed heavy on the dirt ground. Savas stalked around her paralyzed figure, outmaneuvered by one blow, and laughed again.

"How Lycaon would tremble to see his beloved daughter kneeling before me," he acknowledged, an excited staccato to his words.

In her mind's eye, Aurora saw Alix's lifeless corpse in the corridor of their home, his hands cut from his body so that he would be powerless in the afterlife. Give me strength, brother, she begged of him. Her hands gripped the blade with renewed vigor. She dug the tip into the ground to steady her as she found her way onto her feet and spun to face her uncle, still circling around her like a predator.

"Say it," she challenged. Blood dripped from the edge of her mouth when she spoke, and she could taste the metallic bite coating her teeth from his hit. "Say how your ordered their deaths!"

"Would that give you peace, dear niece?" he taunted. "To know the villain you feared has sheltered you all these years?"

She spread her feet and bent her knees, unconsciously rocking over her feet as she awaited the inevitable. Savas attacked her in a flash, charging at her with such force that he knocked her back into the circle of soldiers who had paused in battle to watch this fight. They caught her with their shields, and Savas' blade fell to slice open her thigh. The soldiers thrust her forward into the fight where Savas slashed up through the air. Aurora was fortunate that she was unsteady on her feet and stumbled, unwittingly avoiding the sweep of Savas' blade. It stung as it cut across her arm but missed her chest. Savas chuckled in amusement at the blood beginning to stain his niece's pale skin. She tried to return his attack, but he evaded it easily and drove his elbow into her back as she lunged past him. The princess landed clumsily in a bluster of dust. She quickly wriggled her way onto her knees, holding tight to her blade with one hand, but Savas drove his heel down on grip. She screamed shortly at the pain, feeling the bones crunch between his foot and the leather hilt. She released her hilt without hesitation and rolled onto her side to cradle her injured palm near her chest. This unwittingly opened her up to Savas' next cruel attack. His foot collided with her lower back, and she screamed violently at the pain licking up her spine. Her eyes senselessly swirled to consider the pale faces of her countrymen. They stood around her watching powerless as she was beaten by their false king.

"Savas! Face me, you coward!"

She recognized the angry roar of her beloved, but in his voice she could hear the distance and know Haemon was not close enough to protect her. I'm sorry… she wanted to tell him. But this is my battle, and I will take him to Hades even if I must join him.

Haemon's interruption distracted the Apulian king momentarily who laughed when he noticed the Alban approaching but still too far to intervene.

"Hold him back," he commanded his men, many of whom turned to face the Alban prince. "Let him watch what becomes of his whore."

"Say it!" Aurora charged suddenly, and Savas considered his niece at his feet once more. "Say it," she repeated, her eyes glowering up at the king no matter her place in the dirt.

Savas smirked and squatted beside her. Her gripped her face and wrenched her head up near his own. "Your father, the indomitable crown prince of Apulia…" he spelled out patiently, appreciating the nuances of pain quivering across Aurora's features. "My men cut his head from his shoulders. They tell me he begged for the lives of his children and his wife. But none were spared. None to challenge my rule." Here he paused indefinitely, his molten gaze melting across her features, and his hand unconsciously gripped tighter to her jaw like he could crush her skull between his fingers. The hatred he felt toward her was palpable in that moment. "None but you. You pathetic whore, selling your body and your lies to my enemies—"

All at once Aurora spit blood into his face, and Savas recoiled in disgust, his eyes clouded by her blood, and released her head with a short growl. Aurora was too weak to wield her sword with a broken hand, but Haemon had taught her the power of a dagger. She tore the one from the sheath at her waist and buried it above her uncle's knee. It cut through the flesh, muscle, and tendons with little fight. Savas howled like a wounded animal, blinded still by Aurora's blood in his eyes. With a speed that evaded her earlier, she tackled her uncle, pinning him to the ground beneath her. The dagger pierced his neck, his shoulder, his cheek… Aurora stabbed again and again and again until his blood foamed and gurgled from his ripped throat. It painted her features, stained her hair, and made her grip on her dagger falter. She only stopped once she lost a hold of her dagger and was left nothing but her voice. Instantly, she bent over him and screamed fifteen years' worth of frustration, heartache, and loneliness. Her lungs burned with the effort, and in the silence following her piercing shriek, she heard her name.

"Aurora!"

Haemon was nearer now, and she suddenly longed for him to steady her. It felt like she was waking from a dream again. The war was won.

"Aurora!" he yelled closer now.

She struggled to stand atop her feet, stumbling over Savas' dead body before she could find steady ground. The blood stung her eyes where it dripped from her brow, and she blinked trying to clear her sights enough to search the crowd of soldiers around her for her prince's face. She swallowed down a mouthful of blood and could vaguely feel her cheek swelling. Her lower back radiated a throbbing, intense heat. Her legs tingled with the onset of numbness. Her head was spinning. Her broken hand hung limp at her side.

"Aurora!"

The weight of her armor returned tenfold, and she could no longer stave off the pull of gravity. Her knee buckled first. Haemon burst through the ranks of soldiers and lunged for her as she fell over her knees onto the ground. No sooner had her head hit the dirt than Haemon scooped her up into his arm. His hands were shaking as he pushed the hair from her face. Tendrils stained with blood curled around her forehead and cheeks. His gaze darted nervously across her body trying to discern what blood was her own and what was not. His attention was unwittingly captured by Savas' mutilated corpse not far away.

"My love," Aurroa called to him, and his chestnut eyes darted to look upon her. The pallor in her face startled him, and she saw a cold horror wash over his usually calm, stern face. She smiled no matter his reaction and anointed him, "My king."

He shook his head, unconsciously rocking her in his arms. He could not bring himself to speak, less blink. The weight of a thousand armies crushed his chest.

Her gaze faltered and lost its focus. Her neck hurt from the effort to hold her head up and face her prince. With a long exhale, she relaxed her neck and allowed her attention to fade from the soldiers standing silent, witnessing the end of an 15-year war. Several removed their helmets in some show of solidarity and respect. She remembered a day long ago when he brothers chased her through the forest near their home. She had slipped on a mossy rock and fallen, rolling down the side of a long hill. Rocks, branches, and roots scratched her. The forest was smeared in her hair and her clothes. The pain had been immense for her young body, similar to what she was feeling now, and she remembered calling for her mother. She called to her now, asking that she come to guide Aurora home. She felt a warm hand take her own, and her eyes fell closed.

"No…" Haemon whispered dryly. He gathered more of her into his arms to support her neck with his bicep where her face would be on level with his. She didn't stir in his grip. "No. Aurora." His hands were shaking when he grasped her cheek and guided her face to look at him. Her lashes didn't part, and blood trailed out of the corners of her mouth. A heat and pressure built behind his eyes the longer her stared at her, and he shook her roughly. "Aurora!" he commanded in a sharp, hollow tone. She was limp in his arms. He could not tell if she was breathing.

All at once, Ascanius took hold of his brother's shoulders and tried to pull him off the woman. Haemon growled viciously and thrust his elbow back into Ascanius' chest. The latter heaved dryly from the impact and released Haemon who knelt again with Aurora in his arms.

He gathered her into his lap, arranging her arms and legs so as not to hurt her. All the while, he coaxed, "Aurora… Open your eyes. Open your eyes. Stay with me." She didn't respond, and he choked on a sob. Tears cut through the dirt and blood smeared across his face. He bent until his forehead kneaded into hers. "I need you," he begged. "Come back to me… Come back to me."

A silence fell across the field more powerful than the echoes of blades and armor and death. A battle of three kings was ended by the sacrifice of one lost queen.


Author's Note: The End... JK! I'm not that cruel to end it here, although I am cruel enough to leave this as a cliff hanger for now hahaha Oh, the power!

Thank you to klandgraf2007 & HPuni101 for the awesome reviews! I seriously can't believe anyone is still following and reading this, so I'm beyond grateful for the support.

klandgraf: Guess who's back back... Back again again... :D Hi friend! How are you? I'm happy I surprised you with an update some odd years in the making haha Also very glad that I could provide a steamy scene between Damian and Iliana as penance for the long wait. Worth it? I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well. I'm sad the story is coming to an end too, but I'm also determined to do it justice by giving it an ending. Let me know what you think xoxo

HPuni: Girl... don't act like you didn't start this! To be completely honest, I picked up the last chapter that I had been working on and off for a long time, and then I noticed I had a PM from you. You were hella diligent and keep me honest about my progress. Thank you for that. I don't know that I deserve it, but I'm incredibly grateful to have you as a reader. Honestly. I'm soooo relieve that you approved of the last chapter. Let me know if this one does the story justice too! xoxo