Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: There's danger in the north. Giants hunt for Narnia's Kings and General. Who will survive when hope is eclipsed?

A/N: If you have not read the first nine stories in the A Light in the Darkness main story arc (Awakened, Shadowed, Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, and Unveiled), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Twenty-Two: Oreius

"Come now, Kentauri, is that the best you can do?"

He fought hard against giving into a smile at the troublemaking minx's taunts. Instead, he raised his swords in silent challenge then growled, "Cease your flitting about and you will find out what else I can do."

She laughed, blue eyes dancing with bright mischief. "Oh I'm shaking in my boots. I'm starting to think you're all talk, though. What are you going to do about that?"

He reared then leapt forward, sweeping both swords down. She jumped up and to the right then lunged, swiping at his unprotected torso. He wheeled to face her, swords clashing against her twin knives, stopping her forward momentum with ease. His mouth twitched into half a grin as he locked their blades then he slowly stepped forward. Her eyes widened slightly and she frowned at him. "Not fair!"

A chuckle escaped but he didn't answer. Instead, he continued to slowly force her to back up. Their blades wavered once when she tried to push back but he didn't let up enough to allow her to either disengage or to push the blades toward him. She muttered, "You are going to pay for this."

"You began it. I merely finish it."

She looked up at that, a calculating gleam appearing in her eyes. "Oh really? You think so?"

She surprised him. He had to admit that she surprised him when she suddenly collapsed, her knives slipping free as she did so. She leapt forward and he had to give ground, backing away as she popped back up. Their blades clashed then she whirled away, graceful as any dancer, before she darted in again. He blocked her blow with more force than earlier in this game. One of her knives was knocked from her grip but she did not break off her attack. If anything, she became fiercer as she leapt and darted beneath his guard before whirling away whenever he blocked her strikes. He dropped one of his swords as she came near for another attack, aiming for his torso again, and grabbed her arm, turning the knife aside as he yanked her against him. Bringing up his own sword, he brought it to rest against her back and neck. "Yield."

"You first," she retorted. She moved her free hand and he felt the cool kiss of steel pressing against the bare flesh of his ribs.

He glanced down at her hand and then back into her eyes. Triumph shone there. No longer able to resist, he bent his head and stole a kiss, which he didn't break until she dropped the knife. He grinned. "I think we may consider it a draw."

Alambiel laughed. "It's always a draw. Unless you cheat."

"Or you."

"I never cheat, Oreius."

He raised an eyebrow at that. "No?"

"No. I only ever improvise."

"Ah I see. Then this is also not cheating." He grasped her about the waist and then threw her into the lake . . .

"That is cheating. Put it back."

Alambiel glanced at him then slowly returned the chess piece to its proper place. "I'm surprised you noticed. You've been paying attention to your paperwork all evening."

He lowered the report slightly then reached over to move a knight. "I have not been ignoring you. Check."

"All right then what did I tell you ten minutes ago?"

He needed to finish reading the reports. Perhaps he should allow her to win the game.

"Oreius!"

He grunted when a small pillow smacked him in the face. Setting the report down, he turned considering eyes to his minx of a wife. She looked entirely unrepentant as she boldly returned his gaze. "You were thinking about how to get me to leave you alone so you can be with your paperwork."

"Nonsense. I merely need to finish reading these reports and then compile my own assessment of the situation."

She gave him a skeptical look. "And just how long will that take?"

"No more than three or four hours."

"I see." Her attention shifted to the chessboard then she reached out and knocked his king over. "Checkmate. Go back to your reports, Kentauri. You listen better when you're not captivated by your paperwork."

He frowned as she got up and pulled on her boots then retreated into their bedchamber for several moments before returning with one of her heavy cloaks. "Where are you going?"

"Outside to build a snow fort and then stockpile snowballs until I decide who will suffer the pelting." Her reply was cheerful enough but he knew her better than that. She fastened the cloak at her throat and then tugged her gloves on as she added, "It's two days until Christmas, Oreius. See if you can find some Yuletide spirit, hmm? Because you are far too serious, love."

He watched her leave then gathered his papers and carried them into their shared study. He tried to focus but it was even more difficult now. With a sigh, he finally closed the report after reading the same page for the twentieth time and still not recalling what he'd read. He rubbed the bridge of his nose then went to the window. Thick snow was falling, covering the land and limiting his view. Alambiel was out there somewhere. He glanced over his shoulder at the desk covered with various reports that required his attention, however . . . However, it was only two days until Christmas. None of the reports were of such a pressing nature that he could not finish them after the holiday.

His mind made up, he left at a brisk pace. The snow was half-blinding when he left the shelter of the palace. Now where had his wife gone?

Working his way from the gardens, he finally spied the little minx in a snow fort she had built atop one of the smaller hills that overlooked the barracks and training grounds. It seemed she was planning to harass his soldiers . . . again.

She never realized he was there until she yelped as his snowball hit her squarely between the shoulders. She whirled around to face him, some of her golden hair escaping from the shelter of her hood. The look of amused annoyance changed to one of delight and then she turned and leapt into her snow fort. He bent down, scooping up more snow and patting it into a ball as he waited for the minx to reappear. She popped up, threw a snowball, and he threw his just before hers smacked into his chest. He galloped toward her fort, dodging most of Alambiel's attempts to fend him off. His steps slowed as he circled around the fort. He watched her stand up again, her back to him as she searched the snowdrifts, and then he leapt into the fort, snatching up two of her snowballs as he did so, and then pelted her with one. She spun around in time for the next snowball to hit her in the face.

He let out another laugh as she staggered back only to trip over the fort's wall and slide down the hill. Reaching her, he gently brushed the snow away from her eyes and then grinned. "I win."

"Not yet." Alambiel grabbed a handful of snow and promptly shoved it in his face . . .

"Oreius, you have to wake up."

He opened his eyes and the smallest sigh of relief escaped him as he took in the familiar sight of Cair Paravel. The lights of torches and lanterns gleamed in the summer night. Thank Aslan, he was home again. The patrol had taken longer than he had expected and it was already Midsummer's Eve. He could see people dancing around the large bonfire that had been built on the beach but he did not see the one he was most interested in finding. The Kings and Queens were there, of course. The High King dancing with his wife while King Edmund was content to sit at one of the tables playing a drinking game with several Black and Red Dwarfs. Queen Lucy was teaching Tarrin Peridanson the steps to a dance while her sister conversed with several Nereids and Naiads. But still he did not see her.

She must have grown bored. He would not find her among the revelers in that case. Most likely she would have retreated to their garden. However, he found her sooner than expected. Seated on a bench across from one of the fountains in the maze, she made a very pretty picture. Her hair shone beneath the light of a nearby torch and the flames were reflected on her golden crown. Her sea-green dress left her shoulders bare and the silk fabric was covered in silver beads although the sheer sleeves were free of adornment.

He bowed low as he rumbled, "Princess."

There was a pause and he watched her profile turn toward him for an instant before she turned away again. But, there was a smile in her voice as she murmured, "I don't care to be called that."

"Perhaps you would prefer enchanting or goddess or beloved."

"You're rather forward, aren't you?" She glanced back at him and he caught a glimpse of her smile. "I have a husband. He probably wouldn't appreciate your flattery."

"I am not attempting to flatter him." He came closer and added thoughtfully, "He does not deserve it considering he has been so neglectful that you sit here alone on a night meant for celebration."

"He has his reasons for being away. However, I have heard a rumor that he is to return at any moment. Therefore, you should probably go away before he catches you with me."

"You think he would be suspicious of you?"

She laughed softly. "Of course not, but he can irrationally protective sometimes."

"I doubt it is irrational, merely very intent." He leaned down and breathed warm in her ear, "And I do not think he would mind if we danced."

"Just danced?" came the soft query.

He slid his fingers along her jaw until he could curl them around her chin. He gently pressed until she turned her face toward him. Smiling at her, he leaned in close until their mouths were almost touching then whispered, "You would have a very foolish husband indeed if we only danced, my Bird of Paradise." Then he captured her mouth in a kiss.

She was smiling and her eyes shone when he finally broke away. "Ah, so we do know each other."

He arched an eyebrow. "Do you know me only by my kisses?"

"Hmmm, I'm not sure. Kiss me again."

Silent laughter shook him but still he obeyed her command. But something changed. He tasted salt and felt drops of moisture on his skin. "Alambiel?"

She still sat before him but now tears streamed down her cheeks. "Oreius. Oreius, please wake up."

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Oreius . . .

He could feel a gentle touch against his cheek as he dreamed of Alambiel calling his name again. Then he felt her lift his hand and press it against her heartbeat. He frowned, realizing she was afraid or upset, as her heartbeat was no longer steady; instead, it pounded rapidly, almost too fast for any emotion save panic to explain it. He could hear her call again, "Oreius, my Chuisle, wake up. Please, please, please wake up."

He shifted, trying to reach out to her but then the dream vanished as agonizing pain lanced through his body. He gasped and his awareness of his wife faded again. For a moment, he thought he saw her but he knew better. The injuries from his battle with the Giants had been severe, too severe. He was only hallucinating again. He grimaced then a low moan escaped. "Gone. Sorry. See you . . . in His Country. For- Forgive me."

Out of the pain, he heard her voice again. "Oreius. Oreius, shh, no, I'm here. I'm here, I promise." He imagined he felt her press a kiss to his brow then hot tears decorated his skin. She was crying. He hated it when she cried and it was a thousand times worse when he was the cause. He felt her lift his hand again and squeezed her fingers. "Oreius?"

He squeezed again and murmured, "Don't cry."

There was a sob of relief and then a sudden weight landed on his neck making him groan as he opened his eyes. The weight vanished and he saw her. She was leaning over him, her face pale with dark bruises beneath her eyes, which were shimmering with tears, and her white and gold hair fell in tousled, unbrushed waves around her shoulders and down her back. The realization struck him hard as he stared at her. This was no dream. It was no memory. He swallowed, his throat aching and parched, but still he rasped, "Alambiel."

She sniffled and then offered a tremulous smile as her hands cradled his face, fingers gently petting. "Yes." Her gaze searched his and then she gave a little watery laugh. "Oreius, I was so afraid I'd lost you. We were getting ready to give you the cordial."

Oreius frowned, trying to remember what had happened but all he could recall was those final moments from the battle when he heard her cry out before the waves of pain gave away to unconsciousness. He didn't think they were still in the north, though. Winter had been coming. He coughed then mumbled, "Where?"

"We're home, Kentauri." She pressed a cool cup to his lips and murmured, "Here, drink this. It will help ease your thirst, at least." He raised his left hand and wrapped it around her wrist, holding the cup in place as he drank. Alambiel was watching him with concern written plainly across her face as she worried at her bottom lip. "We're in our quarters. I persuaded Tuulea that you would recuperate better here than in the healers' wing." She took the cup away and then pressed a hand against his shoulder, keeping him from sitting up with laughable ease. "No, don't try to move yet. You're still broken."

He blinked as he echoed, "Broken?"

She nodded, a stern glint appearing in her blue eyes, as she repeated tersely, "Very broken. You, sir, have allowed those bloody Ettins to break or crack over ten ribs. You're lucky you have two sets, by the way. You have a concussion along with a dislocated shoulder. And your right foreleg is broken. It took us four days to get here and then you didn't react well to the travel. You have a long recovery period to look forward to before you'll be allowed to get up or even do paperwork." Alambiel paused and then said with a deadly softness, "Don't you ever scare me like that again."

None of what she said much sense in that moment other than the fact that he had worried her to the point that she was acting like a healer. His brow furrowed as he asked, "How did you bring me back?"

"Litter and then wagon."

His colts. Morfran had attacked his colts. "The Kings-"

"Are safe and in better shape than you." Alambiel looked away and muttered, "I should let Leeta know to inform Tuulea and Alithia that you're awake."

He grasped her hand and whispered, "No."

"Oreius, you need-"

"You." He squeezed her hand then lifted it so he could press a kiss to her fingers before he murmured fervently, "I need you to stay. With me. Stay with me." She started to withdraw her fingers but then she hesitated. Seizing on her indecision, he cleared his throat then whispered hoarsely, "Please, sweet."

Hope flared when she rubbed her thumb over his fingers only to wilt when she pulled away. She stared down at him and then sighed before she pulled the coverlet back and climbed into bed, lying down next to him. He stretched his uninjured arm out and tried to tug her a little closer, wanting to hold her, but she gave him a chiding look. "This is as good as it gets until your ribs heal."

A sigh escaped him before his ribs protested with a flash of pain and he groaned. Alambiel rolled onto her side and shifted a little closer as she laced her fingers through his. "Relax, Chuisle. I'm not going anywhere and you aren't either." She pressed her free hand against his shoulder as she whispered, "Relax."

It was almost impossible to ignore her, especially when she began to hum. Oreius felt himself begin to relax even as he kept a hold of his wife's hand. He turned his head when Alambiel's other hand slipped free of his shoulder. She tucked her forearm beneath her cheek and gave him a little smile as she kept humming. His gaze drifted from her face to the familiar trappings of their bedchamber then back to her. Her eyes were half-closed now. They were home, they were safe. He could rest.

He allowed his eyes to drift close but still clung to her hand, unwilling to lose the reminder that Alambiel was truly beside him again. That she was not another hallucination. The last hallucination had been heavy with child . . . "Alambiel?"

The humming stopped and he could feel the tension in her fingers as a touch of worry entered her voice, "Is the pain worse? What do you need?"

He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze in an attempt to reassure her. "No." He opened his eyes, gazing up at the ceiling, and continued in a very soft tone, "We need to discuss foals."

The pause lasted an uncomfortably long time and the fear bloomed that he was pressing her too soon. He continued staring at the ceiling instead of looking at her, wanting to give her the time she needed. Then he felt her shift a little closer and press a light kiss to his cheek. "As you wish. Now got to sleep, Oreius." She pressed another kiss to his cheek. "You're home. Now you can rest."

At least she had not told him no. He still didn't know if she was already carrying a little foal but it was time for them to discuss their herd and having foals again. He glanced up again and frowned. "Alambiel, did you paint the ceiling?"

She snickered. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Mainly because you weren't here to stop me." She squeezed his hand. "Now go to sleep."

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Alambiel breathed a sigh of relief when the Kentauri finally fell asleep. Moving carefully so she didn't wake him or jostle his injuries, she slipped from the bed just as the doors opened and Leeta peeked in. The Nymph's black eyes went to Oreius' still form then focused on her. "How is he?"

"He woke up." Alambiel smoothed the coverlet back over him and pressed a kiss to his brow. Straightening, she rubbed the back of her neck as she repeated, "He woke up, Leeta, and he finally noticed that I painted the ceiling."

"Why did you paint the ceiling, My Lady?"

"To see how long it would take him to notice." She smiled a little. "Although, I don't think he really registered the fact that I told him he was going to have a long recovery. Would you let Tuulea know?"

"Of course, My Lady. Shall I bring back supper for you and the General?"

She almost said no but then she checked herself. "Is there another banquet?"

"Yes, My Lady. The Gentle said that your presence would not be required tonight either. The Four will be very glad to learn that the General is showing signs of improvement." Leeta walked around her to the wardrobe and pulled out a plain but sumptuous velvet gown of rich midnight blue.

Alambiel stared at her. "Leeta? What is that for? I'm not going to the banquet."

"Of course not. You would have to wear a far different gown to the banquet, My Lady. This is for you to change into after you've finished with your bath. The General will appreciate it."

"The bath or the dress?"

"Both, My Lady."

"Thanks, Leeta."

"You're welcome, Your Highness."

Alambiel pinched the bridge of her nose. Why did sarcasm get ignored so often? It made things difficult for her. "Leeta, I think I can wear some other dress, like the brown one, without worry."

The Nymph put her hands on her hips. "You cannot think that the General would appreciate that dress over this one, My Lady."

"I don't think he notices as much as you think he does. And Oreius and I don't actually have a relationship that's like other couples."

Leeta sniffed. "I do not think that your relationship with your husband is as different in this particular matter from other married couples as you would have me believe."

"I have a retort for that. I'm just not going to say it right now. Go get Tuulea." She walked into the bath muttering under her breath about the trials of having a lady-in-waiting who would dare to play the husband card. Fortunately for the uppity Nymph, she decided it would disturb Oreius too much if she acknowledged the fact that she had heard Leeta snickering when she left.

By the time she emerged, wrapped in a thick robe and still drying her hair with a towel, Tuulea had finished changing Oreius' bandages and was sitting in a chair, waiting for her. Alambiel immediately scanned the Kentauri's face. "Did he wake up?"

"No, but I'm told he did earlier. How awake was he?"

"Enough that he noticed the ceiling and asked a question he wouldn't have if he hadn't been alert to some degree." Alambiel sat on the bench in front of her dressing table and picked up the brush. She let the towel she'd been using on her hair fall into her lap. "He should be out of danger now."

Tuulea didn't answer right away. "I do not think that he will need the cordial since he has finally woken. However, if you allow him to become too agitated or if he tries to do too much too soon, he would do poorly. Keep him calm, no matter how difficult your conversations might become."

She glanced at the older woman, wondering how much she had guessed, but only nodded. "I'll take care of him, Tuulea."

"You always do. Leeta should return with your supper in an hour. It would be good for you to wake him if he is not already awake then."

"Yes, Tuulea."

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"Oreius, it's not a big deal. Eat your soup."

The Kentauri clenched his jaw. He did not say a word, just clenched his jaw. Alambiel rolled her eyes and then carefully edged closer to him so she wouldn't spill the steaming bowl of soup everywhere. "Look, you are broke. You are also right-handed even if you do use two swords. You can't move your right arm at all if you don't want to mess it up permanently and you can't sit up because of your ribs. You know you don't have a choice right now. Stop being so stubborn. It's not like this is the first time I've fed you something either. Usually you don't mind."

He glared at her. "You were not treating me as an invalid then."

"You are an invalid." She held the spoon to his mouth. He turned his head away. "Would you prefer I summon one of the junior healers to tend you, Husband? If my care is too humiliating to be borne . . ."

"Drugged."

"It is not, O Paranoid Holder of My Heart."

He glanced at her, just a hint of amusement briefly flickering into his dark eyes, and then grumbled, "I am not paranoid."

She laughed. "But you would be more comfortable if I tried some of your soup first." Without waiting for his reluctant reply, she sampled the spoonful. "Mmm, not bad. You should like it." She waited for him to open his mouth to say something and promptly spooned it in. "See?"

Oreius glared but swallowed. "Too much broth, not enough meat."

"I'll make a note of that but soup consistency is currently Tuulea's domain and whatever she says goes." She raised the spoon again. "Right now, Tuulea says this is what you can handle. All you have to decide is whether you're going to be cooperative or I can tell Tuulea I was wrong and you will be moved to the healers' wing."

"I am hungry."

And that was grumpy Centaur speak for he didn't want to be moved. She ducked her head and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing as she fed him more of the too-thin broth. He was lucky it had any meat at all. Of course, he didn't last long. He had barely eaten half a bowl's worth when his eyes closed. She had just put the bowl on the table next to the bed when he opened them again. He scowled at her as best he could with his eyelids drooping. "Drugged."

"No, Chuisle, you're just tired." She smiled a little as he fell asleep before she even finished speaking. "Can't wait for the conversation we have when you're awake enough to realize just how long you're going to be on bed rest."

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It was an intolerable way of living. Days of sleeping then waking long enough to register the pain and sometimes speak to his wife before being unable to do anything else except sleep. He also couldn't remember the last time he had woken to an empty bedchamber. "Alambiel?"

There was no response to his raspy call, not even Leeta or one of the healers sticking their heads in to ask what he needed. It seemed he had been truly left alone. Oreius slowly propped himself up on his left arm. The dull ache in his ribs intensified but it was worth being able to do something other than lie still. He still couldn't move his other arm or his right foreleg but being somewhat upright helped.

"What part of lie still is so difficult for you to comprehend?" Oreius looked up to see Alambiel in the doorway. She frowned at him as she crossed to her dressing table and took off her crown. "Honestly, you do know better."

"Where did you go? I thought the Four have been releasing you from your duties."

"They have but I thought I should go to Edmund's birthday party. Long enough to make an appearance anyway." She came over to him. "If I prop you up with the pillows, do you promise not to try to move? Broken ribs, remember."

He nodded. Anything to break the monotony and the sense of helplessness being on bed rest invoked. Although, he didn't recall having as many pillows as Alambiel used to prop him up. "It is King Edmund's birthday?"

"No. This was just the belated celebration. We're a week into Stormfall now." She touched his cheek lightly. "Want a shave?"

"You don't want me to grow out my beard?"

"Umm, no." She disappeared into the bath then returned with his shaving kit.

"Alambiel, how long was I unconscious?"

"Nine days. Not counting the four days it took to bring you home."

He stopped talking when she set the razor to his skin. Mulling over everything, he could not help wondering about the one subject he most wanted to discuss with his wife. Alambiel glanced into his eyes and shook her head. "If you had died, I would have been alone." She moved the razor to his other cheek. "And that Rabid Radish is up to something. He's been far too polite and courteous by half. He's too . . . too perfect. Not one son of the Tisroc has been outside his influence long enough to not think of Narnia with anything less than avarice and malice. Oh and he's been extended an invitation through spring because of the weather."

"I am certain the Four are on guard against any mischief Prince Rabadash might be planning, Wife."

"I know his name, Kentauri. I just choose not to use it."

That was typical of his Alambiel, although he chose not to say so. She still held the razor, after all. He reached up to run a hand over his now-smooth cheeks then checked his proper beard. Still there. Alambiel raised an eyebrow, just a hint of laughter lurking in her blue eyes. "Satisfactory?"

"Very." He didn't say anything else until she had put everything away and then clambered back onto the bed. Reaching out, he wrapped his left arm around her waist and pulled her close before bussing her cheek. "We still need to talk, Sweet."

"I know you want to."

Her tone was far too soft and she was avoiding meeting his gaze. Oreius tightened his grip, ignoring the pressure it put on his ribs. "I think it is time we have this conversation, Alambiel. It has been over two years."

She paled a little but nodded. "I know. However, you are going to have to ease your grip or we're not going to have this conversation until your ribs are completely healed." She wriggled free of his hold but, thankfully, stayed close as she leaned against the pillows and slipped her hand into his. She still wasn't quite meeting his gaze. "All right, all right, where do you want to start?"

"Do you still want foals?"

"Yes." Alambiel took a deep breath and squeezed his hand. "Yes, I want foals but what if it happens again? What if it happens every time? Maybe I just can't carry a foal long enough."

"You do not know that it will. There is no reason to think that is the case. We were promised foals."

"Technically, you were the only one promised foals. No comment on whether I'm the one who gives them to you."

"Alambiel." He slipped his hand free of hers and cupped her chin. "Do you truly think I would marry another? I have faith that we will have foals, love. What I need to know is whether you desire for our herd to grow in the next year or so. We can wait as long as you wish but I need to know when you will be comfortable dreaming of that day again."

"It's not that easy, Oreius. You scared me a lot with this Giants situation. You used the promise of foals to give yourself permission to be suicidal." Alambiel pulled away from him, her eyes flashing with temper, and pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You decided that I was pregnant because you were going to die and then you turned suicidal. I cannot and will not tolerate such stupid behavior from you, especially you wouldn't tolerate from anyone else. And if I were pregnant, I still wouldn't approve of your recent trend in poor decisions because I don't want to raise a baby alone. I don't want any child of ours to have the same experience we did where we lost our parents early. I want my children to know their father. I want you to know them. I do not want them to know you only as a sword hanging above the mantle and a painting of your likeness. And by the way, you told me you were promised many foals. Just having one baby or a set of twins does not count as 'many'. I'm not going to agree to trying for another foal if you're just going to lose your mind and all sense of self-preservation as soon as I tell you that I'm pregnant. You can't do that to me again. It breaks my heart and I don't want that life."

He should have known that had been troubling her. "I- I have no defense for my actions, Alambiel."

"I know."

"Alambiel."

"My apologies, please continue."

Oreius slid his fingers over her wrist, tugging her hand close enough that he could press kisses to the tips of her fingers, her palm, and then the inside of her wrist. "Alambiel, I have no defense for my actions save for the fact that I did believe we had very few choices. The Ettins had already attempted to eat the colts. If the Harfangers lost control of the camp, they would have been tortured and then consumed. I wanted to prevent that from occurring. It is true that I took comfort from the promise of foals but it was never my intent to hurt you. I want to be there for you and for any foals we are blessed with for many years to come. However, I cannot refuse to fulfill my martial duties. When there is war, I must go. If there is a battle, at times I will be at the disadvantage yet I cannot refuse to fight in such a situation even if it appears to be hopeless."

"I know you are the General. I would never ask you to stop being and acting like a warrior. All I am asking is that you never treat your own life as having so little value again, as though you will not be needed. You will always be needed, Oreius. I want more than four or five years together. I want a lot more than that. I want you to see our foals grow up and I want you to see their foals." She placed a hand on his cheek, her thumb tracing patterns over his skin. "I want to have that life and I want to know that you will do everything in your power to come home again whenever you fight without me by your side. I don't want to have to worry that my husband will decide that he doesn't need to come home because he left a family behind. Can you promise me that much?"

"I cannot promise that I will return from every battle. There might come a day when I do not. However-" He pulled her closer then ran his fingers through her hair, enjoying the feel of the silky locks and wishing he could hold her properly. Oreius cleared his throat then continued, "However, I promise you that I will not resign myself to such a fate. I will always fight to come back to you. And, I will not rest until I explore all possible plans to find one that will allow me to return to you."

Alambiel gave him a small smile. "I can accept that promise."

"Am I forgiven?"

"For the most part. You still have to make up for being stubborn and foolish and scaring me twice, but I've forgiven you for choosing a moronic plan."

He chuckled then groaned. "How much longer before I may get up?"

"You'll be lucky if you're up and about by Christmas."

"And trying for foals?"

"That will take a while too. You're still broke."

"Alambiel."

She gave him a mischievous grin. "I am willing to try again, Kentauri. When you are healed."

Oreius tugged gently on a lock of hair, winning a slight laugh from his beloved. "It will be all right."

"You just worry about behaving yourself or you won't get to even hold a report until spring. Maybe your birthday if I'm feeling extremely gracious."

"Yes, Wife."

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A/N: Please Read and Review! All right, so there's only one more chapter left in this story. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.