Chapter Five

A/N:

Tori: Sorry for the hiatus? Anyhow, I am responsible for this chapter and I hope you don't mind. By the way, this fic is going to be extremely long, if you haven't guessed. I believe it's up to 5,000 words and it's only been five chapters, so, yeah, it's only getting longer. I hope you don't mind, though and enjoy more Francis and Jeanne.

Jeanne sat in the bar with a few other women, a mug of mead in her hand. The drink was extremely un-ladylike. The men at her table would applaud and sometimes cheer for her whenever she downed a mug. The women turned their noses in disgust.

"So, mademoiselle, are you going to be in Se'alla long?" one of the men asked. He was one of the few who hadn't gone to see Français' speech. He was unlike the men she was acquainted with at home in Sona-ler and smelled potently of whiskey.

"Not really, no. I'm just a traveler passing through," Jeanne replied with a sigh, taking another sip of ale.

"It is dangerous for a lovely lady such as yourself to be galavanting around the woods at night unaccompanied. Perhaps you shall let me escort you to-"

Jeanne rolled her eyes and cut him off. "I don't need escorting, monsieur." She was starting to figure out a lot about this man just from drinking with him. "I'm perfectly safe with my traveling partner."

The man's eyes narrowed. "What kind of traveling partner?"

The Sona-leran shushed the old man loud enough so the whole tavern could hear part of Francis' speech. She let it continue for about a paragraph before announcing "That is my traveling partner, Français. And if you know what's good for you, you'll join his revolution. He promises equality to all and the end to all the disproportionate punishment we get for our crimes. A man born human has the same rights as a man born high fae. So, should you chose to join us, you'll be ensuring your future and the future for your progeny. So please, if you're not happy, if you're tired of being poor and never knowing where your next meal will come from, Français is working to help you."

The tavern-goers rolled their eyes.

"Mademoiselle, we've heard many eccentrics get on that stage and spout fantasy after fantasy about how evil the Blue Bloods are. Our town would be fine were it not for people like your friend bringing them were all the time," the old man growled.

Jeanne took a moment to study him closely. By the looks of him, he was a farmer, well-built muscles layering every inch of his body and bulging slightly through his clothes. The girl stepped backwards, away from him, with wide eyes.

"W-we really don't mean to bring the Blue Bloods here, monsieur. We just want to get our message out."

Her voice grew frantic as she slowly backed up towards the door, never breaking eye contact with the man.

"But you bring them here anyway and then Se'alla suffers greatly. This is your fault and this is his fault!"

Jeanne didn't react to this just listened to the utter silence that range throughout the town. That didn't make sense. In Sona-ler, Français had talked for much longer than that. If anything, this town needed much more prompting than her own. As quickly as possible, she turned tail and dashed out the door, grabbing a dagger concealed in a pouch under her tunic. The Blue Bloods had come. Someone had tipped them off to a revolutionary in their midst. Français was bound with his hands behind his back by a thick rope. Two Blue Bloods stood, grasping each of his arms tightly. The young revolutionary stared at the ground.

"Well, it's off to Zelyon with you, eh? You still gotta be tried, even if we caught you in the act. What's your name, anyway?" one of the Blue Bloods prodded.

The rebel glared up at them with piercing blue eyes.

"Come on, idiot, don't play dumb. We know you speak Zemlyan, no matter how much your people murder it," the other one prompted.

Jeanne looked around. There were only two guards and the villagers had all hid anywhere they could find shelter. It was the perfect crime.

Although she had been born a girl, destined to cook and clean her whole life, her father had taught her how to use his old dagger and she had inherited it after he passed away. Chances were, if Blue Bloods had a similar anatomy to humans (which most fae did), she could get away with this easily. All it would take was one well-placed stab in any of the places her father had taught her and she could save Français with ease.

"Remember, Jeanne, if you ever need to kill someone, a well-placed blow to the neck will do the trick. If their advantage is size, use your speed against them."

Grasping the hilt of her dagger and remembering her father's words, Jeanne advanced toward the two Blue Blood guards and plunged her dagger into the neck of one of the unsuspecting fae. As soon as she took it out, her knife was stained a deep, royal blue. The already-dead guard fell to his knees, revealing Jeanne's face to the other. He was more prepare and drew his sword, a rapier of elvish design, judging by the artful pattern on the hilt.

"Fae like to think they have power over you, but if you stand your ground when they advance, there'll be a split second where their guard drops. Make this second count."

He advanced on her, just as her father predicted, but the Sona-leran stood still, keeping her dagger steady. Français looked at her wide eyed as the Blue Blood guard dropped. She took the opportunity to take a stab at his neck, but her dagger blade only nicked the steel of the rapier. Fast recovery.

"Jeanne, always remember to be aware of both your enemy's arms."

The girl looked down at the fae's unarmed hand. It was headed right for the collar of her tunic! Gritting her teeth, she plunged the knife into the back of his hand, eliciting a scream from the guard. She took the knife out, causing a torrent of blue blood to pour from the new wound. He started at the wound in his hand, lowering his guard to the point where Jeanne could sever his aorta, sending royal blue spilling all around them.

Français stared at Jeanne with wide eyes as she cut his bindings.

"How did you learn how to fight like that?" he asked, staring up at her.

"My dad taught me since I could hold a knife. As I got older, the fights got tougher," she explained as the ropes were cut. "Also, don't step in any blood."

The rebel nodded as the two ran away, leaving town.

Back in the woods, Jeanne knelt by a river, washing the blue blood off her dagger. Her companion watched over her shoulder.

"Thank you. For that bit in Se'alla. I'd probably be done for were it not for you," he admitted meekly.

The Sona-leran girl smiled, the river water reflecting her expression. "It's no problem, really. I mean, it's the first time I've killed someone and they'll definitely be after us now, but at least we're both okay."

She grasped her ponytail and started to saw at the base of it with her dagger. Français caught her hand. "What are you doing?"

"The men I talked to in the tavern will be after a blond girl with long hair. If I cut my hair short like a boy's no one will catch me," she explained.

Francis thought she was crazy, but figured it wasn't his place to interfere. It was too bad that such gorgeous hair was going to waste...

Jeanne severed the ponytail and undid the twine, letting some of it catch on the breeze before dropping the remainder into the river to be washed away.

"Jeanne, I want to repay you for saving my life and I know this rebellion means a lot to you. Will you join me?" he asked after an extended silence.

The girl smiled brightly at her companion. "Of course."

A/N:

Tori: Sorry everything about this fic takes so long. Updates would happen a lot more often if people bothered to FOLLOW IT! I am extremely un-subtly fishing for follows, I know. Can I just say, I have probably the most annoying A/N's out of most of the writers on FFn. Sorry.