Christine walked into the old throne room of the palace. It was dark and only the sun that was rising in the distance lit the large spacious room. She noticed that the walls that once had been lined with mosaics were missing a few pieces here and there. The gold flecks on the ceiling were chipping and some of the stones that were lined in the ground were coming undone and wobbly. Pillars that held the ceiling had small cracks in them and traces of blood were upon them.

Her eyes settled on the throne itself. Nothing really separated it from everyone that would have been standing in the room, if it were full. It consisted of two chairs, one for the queen and another for the king. They looked exactly alike and the detailing in the wooden cravings did not differ. A long red rug led from the doorway to the two thrones.

Silently, she began to walk towards the throne on the red rug, imagining the room alive again. She saw people dressed in elegant clothes, standing, awaiting the news of something great. They chatted adamantly as they waited, and some noticed her walk in they nodded and waved. Her mind's eye then caught sight of her husband sitting at the throne which she was heading for. She saw him give a slight smile as Cecile climbed into his lap and also smile at her. For that brief moment, she was happy again, but it faded all too soon, when she arrived at the throne chairs and noticed no one was there, that it all had been a daydream.

Sighing to herself, she eased her way into one of the throne chairs and sat back lazily. She rested her head in her hand, which sat on the armrest of the chair and let her mind become blank and unworthy of a thought for the moment. Her whole being was tired, exhausted even. She could not sleep after she made love to Erik that night, knowing that he would be gone the next morning and might never come back. He was asleep when she left him to wander about the palace hoping to find some peace.

The army, she knew, was beginning to prepare for their upcoming battle. All those men, no boys, where preparing for what could be the last day in their brief life. She wondered if they knew of love, hope, and happiness. Yet at the same time, her heart filled at the way the army was ready to fight for her, a queen not well liked amongst the people of Borswan. She knew it was duty, but they could have resigned the army, so they must have cared to some extent. At the moment, though, all she could feel was dread.

"They fight for their family and honor, Christine." A voice, from the entranceway, said quietly. "They will fight well for the same idea."

"And you?" She questioned, lifting her head from her hands to look at her husband who was carrying his armor. "What do you fight for?"

"I fight for my people, you, Cecile, and everyone else that I protect." He strode towards her evenly.

"You are carrying much weight upon your shoulders."

"It is what a king must do." His shoulders moved slightly. "The weight is often bad, but I would not change it for the world."

"A king does not have to fight."

"A king that does not fight is considered a coward, and without honor."

"So it is all about honor now?" Christine let out a short, bitter laugh. "All you men think about is honor!"

"Would you want to be married to a coward? A man whose values are as low as the dirt upon which you walk?" Erik questioned, and she did not answer.

"You may not come back." She whispered, lifting her redden eyes to his.

"No," He shook his head. "The men that are fighting with me will not come back. I will."

"You cannot be so sure." Her breath came out shakily. "For if you are too sure then it will not happen and I could not bare to lose you."

"Christine." His hand held her hands and he kneeled before her. "You will never lose me and I know that I will come back to you. And on that night that I come back to you and Liren triumphs over Plante, I will hold you in my arms and I will not let go until you order me to."

"Just promise you will come back to me." She let out a small smile through her tears.

"I promise." And he kissed her.


Madame Giry noticed how quiet everything was around her. Cecile slept silently in her bed. The maids' gossip had slowed to almost a halt. The people were not rowdy, and the meetings in the House of Nobles were equally as quiet. She did not trust the quiet for the shadows are much more dangerous than the daylight.

Walking down the corridor she heard whispers coming towards her and she stopped, quickly she went in-between a crack in the wall. She held her breath and waited for the voices to come closer.

"That queen has our king wrapped around her little finger." A male voice complained. "She could tell him to allow women into the house and he will do it in a heart beat."

"I will give her her beauty, but I highly doubt anything else." Another commented.

"The king has to be pleased with her to rid of Arabella."

"Yes," The one man mumbled. "This woman has made him loose his senses. He is no longer a fit ruler!"

"I would not go as far as to say…."

"Can you not see it?" His voice rumbled within him, making Madame Giry shutter. "If this so called queen makes our king change the country's ways then we will go into chaos! This will damage our lands, people, and money, everything we hold dear! We must find a way to peaceful switch to a new, fit ruler."

"This is no longer my forte sir." The other man said gruffly. "Good day to you."

Madame Giry leaned against the wall, wanting to poke her head out to see the culprit responsible for such blasphemous words towards the royal family, yet she could not move in fear that she might be discovered. She knew that she had heard that voice before. She waited for a while, until the footsteps faded, and went to her quarters. She must tell the king and queen of this treason being spoken.


Christine still had not moved from the former throne room, as she rested her head in her hand, covering her closed eyes. She felt tired and yet she could not sleep. Her mind felt weary, but she could not stop the thoughts that flew in and out of her intellect.

In the distance, she could hear the battle cries and men being wounded. She shook her head at the thought that it could be Erik. True he said that he would come back, but would he come back dead or alive?

"Christine." A soft voice broke her from her disturbing thoughts.

"Yes, Kat?" She lifted her weary head from her hands.

"The wounded," The young woman started. "Where do they go?"

"Do you have the medical on call?"

"They are here, most of them from Borswan." She confirmed. "We just need to know where to place the wounded."

"Place them here." Christine shrugged. "Bring as many as we can to care for, offer them a pay of a thousand lin."

"Christine." Kat looked at her. "We do not have a thousand lin to give."

"By the end of the war." She stood. "We will. Now bring in the wounded and the medical. Oh, and Kat?"

"Yes?"

"Is Beatrice down in the field?" A small smile came to her face.

"Of course, Christine." Kat returned the smile. "Who else would we have sent to be down there?"

"That will not work either." Beatrice waved off another plan of the General Phillips' plans. Erik smiled in amusement, as his general seemed to be at ends with the petite blond, who was wearing men's clothing.

"Then, pray tell," The General, sneered. "What will work since you have deemed all my plans irrelevant?"

"Surround Plante." She said simply.

"That would be too difficult." He snapped. "They would spot us easily."

"Not during the night." Her voice never wavered from the sweet and innocent sound, but it held strength within it, which Erik admired for one so young and a woman. "Plante goes to bed at nightfall, they do not stay up latter than midnight. Their watchmen sleep while they are supposed to be spotting, that is why you were not attacked when you arrived in Liren."

"How long have you been observing them?" Phillips asked, impressed, but refused to show it.

"Since they have arrived." She nodded. "Liren likes to keep track of her enemies. But if we set up for attack during the night they will never notice."

"And if we run into a scout?"

"You will be able to kill them. Plante is also very bad at noticing who has died in their troops." Beatrice rolled her eyes. "They are not a very good army, and can easily be demolished. Although, they are excellent when it comes to the actual fighting."

"But an army must be well kept in organization." His eyes narrowed.

"I agree." She nodded. "Luckily Borswan has the advantage. This should not be a difficult war to win."

"So what are your suggestions for tonight's set up?" He asked as though he did not care.

"Well…" The remainder of the time was the details of how they would attack in the morning. Erik smiled to himself, noticing that perhaps change could move swiftly and silently without many noticing.