A/N: Yes, Mornhavon is Amberhill. Amberhill is Mornhavon. I own nothing, all belongs to Kristen Britain (except my darling Mathias Isleigh). This storyline is absolutely irrelevant and just for fun. This will never happen in the world of GR.

Before . . . .

Stevic nodded slowly, still clutching the message as he stared at the ground. Lifting his head wearily, he asked, 'Where you go? What will you do?'

Zachary's jaw ticked a fraction before he answered solemnly, 'Get her back of course.'

None of the individuals in the room were inclined towards conversation at that particular moment. Amberhill's eyes, or rather that of his host's, grew almost petulant with the lack of response on Karigan's part to his pointed barbs about her husband, or the ease in which the castle's defenses were breached.

Instead, the queen sat quietly in her chair, eyes watching the flames in the fireplace grate, but to that point she had offered no response to his impertinent remarks other than a steely glare or a careless shrug of her shoulder. Her maid saw fit to sit near the fire, carefully positioning her body between her queen's and the intruders; a gesture that made the corners of Amberhill's mouth turn up in amusement.

His men, if they could be called such, had draped themselves over various pieces of furniture about the room when they were not taking turns in patrolling the corridors. Occasionally, Karigan's eyes with drift to the heavy door, her expression blank as she took in the bloodied blades and sinister expressions. But she still kept silent, even when the body of her protector was dragged out of the room. Her mind had detached itself from the experience of witnessing Brienne's death, for with the exception of a few, she had not witnessed the death of an elite warrior, cut down in their prime. Seemingly with so little effort on her enemy's part, and with so little ceremony or dignity. Karigan swallowed the bile that threatened to rise in her throat as she thought of the trail of bodies that they had likely left in their wake. All

With a sort of exasperated snarl, Amberhill heaved himself off the plush bed and paced the length of the room. His eyes fell upon her battered Rider trunk and he slowed, taking in the scuffed leather straps and scratched woodwork. Turning back to Karigan he remarked, 'I would not think a queen would keep such lowly possessions in her position.'

Karigan's chin rose sharply and her eyes flashed, 'My experiences as the Rider have shaped the queen I am.'

'A queen that apparently is as helpless as the babe she carries,' he said idly, kneeling down before the trunk and casually flicking the lid open. She fumed at the comment, but wretched her gaze away as he rifled through her belongings carelessly, tossing aside her spare uniforms and books. Grasping the sides of the trunk, he stood back up and leveled a careful look at her back. 'Where is it?'

'Considering I have no idea what would interest a creature such as yourself, I think I need you to clarify what it is,' she replied icily, leaning back into the upholstery.

'Why, the source of your infinite experience and adventures,' he said in a deceptively pleasant voice, coming to stand before her chair. She averted her gaze and stared at the spot where Brienne's body once laid, but he reached out and forced her chin up with a gloved hand. 'That little piece of precious metal that has set you upon this path, I would not want you to return to your little tricks while you were in my company,' he hissed, leaning forward with his blood-red eyes trained on hers.

Sara let out a small whimper and clutched Karigan's hand, hiding her face into the arm of the chair. The queen squeezed her hand in response, an attempt at reassurance that ironically did not fit with the small gasp she emitted, nor the skip of her heartbeat as she stared into the depths of madness. She drew a calming breath and returned his hard stare.

'One would wonder why a queen has need of such a thing, especially in her new position,' she retorted brazenly.

The crimson eyes narrowed a fraction before he released her slowly, drawing back to regard her consideringly. After a few moments, his gaze flicked casually over to Sara, whose body was still trembling with fright. He smirked, 'Perhaps you need a few prompts to remember its location, Your Majesty.'

Zachary swung into the saddle and drew the now familiar green cloak about him, tucking his features back into anonymity as he glanced at Fastion, garbed in his former disguise. 'What is your estimation of our arrival?'

'Four days, riding hard and switching out mounts,' Fastion replied quietly, watching his king's countenance turned to granite as he digested the information. Zachary took up the reins and gestured towards the small group of Weapons dressed in various ensembles as refugees and merchants. 'And them? Are they necessary?'

Fastion did not dare voice out loud the retort that almost slipped, that if Mornhavon was able to slip so easily into Sacor City undetected, then the king himself was no safer on the open road. Instead, he nodded curtly, 'They are the bare minimum that I feel comfortable traveling with, sire.'

'Arrangements were made for the Lady Yolandhe I presume,' the king inquired, his hands running over his mount's grey mane.

'As soon as she arrives, General Isleigh will see to her comfort,' Fastion assured him, a tiny voice in his head voicing its doubts that she would be idle once she learned of the news.

Stevic, who had been quietly watching the group prepare, stepped forward to take the opportunity to speak but his face betrayed his angst and desire to be riding out on the same road. He laid a hand on the horse's neck as he looked up to the king's face. 'You shall need more men than this to take him down.'

Zachary shook his head, 'It would take more than mere men to destroy Mornhavon. That is why I ride to seek aid.'

Stevic gritted his teeth in frustration, 'And what of Karigan? If he should harm her while we delay?'

The blood drained from Zachary's face and he struggled for a moment to speak, but Fastion smoothly interjected. 'It would not make any sort of sense for him to hold her hostage, and then kill her. He is waiting for an audience, and he is waiting to get all the players together. She shall be safe, for the time being.'

Zachary regained his composure and redirected the conversation, 'Have you done as I asked?'

Stevic gave a gruff noise of affirmation, 'I have already dispatched men into the nearby towns and villages; the people there trust them and will inform them if anything is amiss. Corsa itself is refortifying itself and will be able to hold against any remnants of the enemy.'

'Then from here on out, I want you to send word to the neighboring provinces. Use the Riders I leave behind. While I can hope for the best, and trust that since we all have come this far we will indeed persevere, I do not wish for my faith to blindly lead us,' Zachary said grimly. 'Have them prepare for the worst. Take measures to protect themselves if Sacor City should fall. I have left written instructions behind in the event of my death and my heir has been named,' he finished, his eyes cast down as he uttered those last words.

The other two men said nothing in response. Stevic bowed his head and stepped back from the horse, his features set into stone.

Zachary exhaled through his nostrils slowly, a sort of pent up energy emanating from his body as he turned his mount towards the road heading back north, prompting the rest of the entourage to fall into a loose riding formation around him, seemingly a small party of riders journeying north.

Despite the sense of dread that pervaded the king's senses and the seemingly hopeless situation that had befallen the entire country, it happened that the collective prayers uttered by so many individuals, left that physical plane and entered another.

Of note, a simple girl asked for her mistress to be delivered safely from the hands of their captors, an aged guardian asked for the wellbeing of his charges, an older sister prayed for speed, and finally, a man asked that when the time came, his life be taken in exchange for that of his woman and child. The object of all their prayers was indeed a source of interest to the one who happened to hear their heartfelt pleas.

A glance into that world did indeed reveal a rather dire situation. And now, it was different. Something had gone terribly wrong. The source of so much evil and grief, was not supposed to leave Corsa unscathed. The slightly imposed cooperation between the Sacoridians and the magical beings of the sea was supposed to end this threat.

This would not do.

He would not be allowed to succeed amongst the mortals. For then he would set his sights upon higher ambitions. The unnaturally long life of the creature would have to be ended and the balance reset. Through the actions of others, the being who heard the mortals' prayers could once again come to the rescue of the Sacoridian queen.

For her, he could interfere.

I publish when I have the time and according to my own whims and desires.

That is all.