In case you didn't read the A/N in the previous chapter, this story is under a rewrite. These are the new chapters that are being posted. The plot is pretty much the same but was very limited and not effective to what I plan to do in future chapters.

These new chapters are more detailed and more reminiscent of what I consider to be my writing style. If you haven't already, I recommend reading the "new" prologue before this chapter.

Anyways, sorry it took a long while and that this rewrite is actually happening. But I honestly believe that this rewrite will help in the future.

Enjoy:)

"When brothers agree, no fortress is so strong as their common life." -Antisthenes

Into the Mountains

"Mattie!" Alfred yelled as he uprooted a fully grown juniper tree and lobbed it towards his twin. "Incoming!"

"You're supposed to warn me before throwing it!" Matthew yelled back and jumped away as the tree crashed against the mountain floor in a storm of splinters and dirt.

"Did I get him?" Alfred asked excitedly as he made his way to his brother's side.

Matthew shook his head, brushing debris caught in his golden hair. "I don't think so."

The two of them stood back-to-back, waiting to see if their assailant would return. After several moments of listening for any unusual additions to the forest sounds, Alfred turned to his brother. "Looks like the poor sucker got scared off by my awesome strength."

Alfred let out a laugh as Matthew rolled his eyes and led the way up the mountain path. "He never stops, does he?" Matthew grumbled.

"You'd think he'd give up after nearly five centuries," Alfred replied.

From the isolation of Alfred's blacksmithing trade to the remoteness of Matthew's lumberjack profession, the twins have come to expect attempts on theirs lives on a monthly basis. It had began with Alfred receiving a rude awakening of a dangerously sharp blade pressed against his throat and Matthew bursting into his room. Since then, every month when the twins were alone, from their hunting trips to the mountains or the privacy of their home, the assassin would appear.

And every month, the assassin failed before disappearing in a cloud of colorful smoke.

Alfred and Matthew always fought back but never managed to harm the supposed assassin. It has been a never-ending cycle of trying to kill each other. And frankly, Alfred was getting tired of it. He was a bit pleased at first that he had managed to anger someone without even trying. But after several centuries, it tends to get old.

The mountains where they always hunted was where their mother had given birth to them. The very same one that served as the border between the western Kingdom of Spades and the northern Kingdom of Clubs, then spread into the other two countries. Alfred himself didn't keep up with the workings of the kingdoms—all he knew was that the mining kingdom of Clubs in the north were the largest country and had the most resources; the richest kingdom, Diamonds, was in the south; the most beautiful kingdom was the Hearts in the east; and the most powerful were the Spades in the west. He had also heard rumors of a temple serving as the heart of Deck in the center of the land but paid them no mind.

"So what are bringing home today, o' brother mine?" Alfred asked after several hours of silent hiking.

"Nothing if you keep talking so loudly," his soft-spoken brother answered.

Alfred snorted but said nothing. It was strange—there were no signs of animals around them. Not even a small bird or a rabbit, much less a great big buck that Alfred was hoping to bring to the market. In fact, the whole forest itself was eerily quiet. As they climbed higher, the wind began to pick up until it howled at them as if they were trespassers. Even with the heavy furs covering their bodies, the wind bit harshly at their skin.

"Let's go back down!" Alfred yelled over the wind. "There's more game closer to the foot of the mountain than here!" Matthew nodded his agreement and followed after him.

It was close to noon when they decided to turn back—Matthew had wanted to return hours ago but Alfred's pride kept them from doing so.

"We've never returned empty handed before," Alfred whined rather childishly.

"You're a blacksmith and I'm a wood-chopper. Hunting isn't really our job."

"Yeah, but we are the only one who would climb this high in the mountains. All the others are too afraid to."

"Have you considered that it might be because we would survive and they wouldn't?" Matthew retorted.

Alfred grunted. His brother was right—as usual. He had first noticed that he was different from the other villagers when he carried out the first delivery orders of his blacksmithing business. He had gotten strange looks carrying a dozen barrels filled with steel products that each weighed as much as a man. Later that night, Matthew had told him a similar story—the other lumberjacks gawked at him for single-handedly carrying a log as wide as five men on his shoulder as if it weighed nothing.

The next obvious sign was his aging. There was a time when Alfred, who is the definition of a social butterfly, made friends with a small village boy over a discussion about flowers. But the next time he saw the boy, after a period of secluding himself in his forge to fulfill orders, the boy had grown to an old man who was astonished to learn that his blacksmithing friend hadn't aged in his lifetime.

The twins, afterwards, drifted away from the villagers, making as little contact with them as their jobs would allow. They rarely left their cabin home. Alfred's forge was a small walk from their home and Matthew could leave his quota of chopped trees at a spot for others to pick up at any time. The only reason they would leave their home for any extended period was to hunt.

A pungent smell hit Alfred's nose. Born and raised in these mountains for the past seven centuries, he and Matthew knew every feature—from scents to sounds—like the back of their hands. This was something new to them. Something very much unexpected. Rotten flesh soaked in something heavier and far more sinister.

He followed his nose and pushed through the foliage until he stumbled upon a seemingly innocent clearing of Anemones. The small field would have beautiful—had it not been for the scattered carcasses of various woodland animals, from small squirrels to great stags.

"Mattie," Alfred whispered, his body and mind in full alert. "That's a lot of dead things." He remembered that his soft-spoken brother had a soft spot for animals.

Silence.

He whirled around. "Mattie?"

Alfred found himself alone in the forest—well, except for the dead animals. Why did the air feel so heavy all of the sudden? He was right here a second ago! Holy Hand, did the assassin get to him? "MATTIE—!"

"I'm right here!"

Alfred, six-foot-tall blacksmith and part-time hunter, let out a shriek—a heroic one, of course. Consciously clearing his throat, he found his brother kneeling beside a dead doe with his mouth covered by a cloth.

"She was pregnant," Matthew said. The cloth muffled his voice but not the twinge of sadness in it. Alfred felt anger begin to boil in his stomach as he watched his brother press his hand on the doe's swollen stomach. "She was due in a couple days, if not the next."

"It was quick," Alfred pointed out, opting to stay away from the corpses. He eyed the gash across the doe's throat—the blood still poured out it. The clean cut through her throat spoke volumes—a quick kill, a serrated knife about seven inches long, a straight line with no sign of struggle from the animal. As if she didn't feel her own death. This wasn't a hunt where death had a purpose, be it sport or survival. No, this was massacre. "And recent—"

"No, it wasn't."

Winter's biting cold was not an unfamiliar sensation to Alfred. But never in his seven hundred years had he felt a chill as mind numbing as the aura that seemed to emanate from his brother. There were several stories he had heard from his clients about the magical capabilities of immortals and how—Alfred shook his head, stubbornly refusing to believe such fairy tales. It was just anger. Matthew always had a cold and silent rage while Alfred had a loud and active one.

Alfred raised an eyebrow but Matthew didn't elaborate. He saw the evidence before him—a clean cut across the doe's throat and steaming fresh blood pouring from it—but something had his brother thinking otherwise. Alfred chose not to question him—it's not often that an enraged expression occupied Matthew's face. "But we do know who did this."

Within a second, the twins whirled around with their respective weapons pointed at a black clad figure who froze from its slow approach. Alfred held his bow steadily, but he couldn't ignore how Matthew's knife trembled slightly from what he knew to be barely controlled anger.

Instead of jumping into his barrage killing techniques, the assassin sighed softly and plopped down on the ground. This surprised the boys but did nothing to lower their guard even if the assassin had been unable to cause any significant physical harm to them.

"How long do you possibly think you can live in your pretty little mountains in peace?"

Now, this received quite the reaction from the brothers—Matthew flinched and Alfred almost dropped his bow. Yes, this was the first time that the assassin talked to them. Yes, it's the first time it actually acted like a human towards them. But it was the voice that completely threw them off. The feminine voice.

Her face, as always, was covered by a black helm, giving her a head an appearance of being comically round and big. She was wearing her usual shapeless tunic and robe, concealing any gender-defining features. She has always been short compared to them but the twins were taller than most of the other villagers they knew so this did not tell them much.

"I've been trying to kill you for centuries now—"

"Don't you think we know that?" Alfred yelled. Usually he was the more belligerent of brothers but he was the one holding back Matthew, enraged by the death of the deer, from charging the assassin. "And why the hell would you do that! We haven't done anything! Who are you and who sent you?"

"You were born," the assassin said as if it was an obvious fact. Is her breath becoming visible? "The fact that you exist is enough reason for me to kill both of you."

"What the hell—?"

A blast of cold wind knocked them down flat on the ground. Except for Matthew. He blew past Alfred and drove his blade towards the assassin's head. The assassin had slipped on the now frost-covered ground and barely dodged Matthew' attack by sheer luck.

Alfred swore and sent several arrows flying at the assassin's vital areas. However, she had enough time to gather her wits. Alfred barely managed to duck before several blades sang through the air where his head had been half a second ago. Those blades were faster than usual. Is she stronger? He quickly found his footing and used the frosted ground to slide down the slope of the mountain floor. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Matthew following the assassin towards the river.

With nothing better to do and refusing to lose sight of his brother, he struggled after him. The terrain grew more treacherous with the sudden appearance of a layer of frost. Ice covered the ground and crept up the roots of trees like silver ivy. Icicles formed from branches and roots, adding more danger to the forest.

Instead of the forest floor he was expecting to step on, Alfred's boot met with the slippery surface of frozen water. He fell hard on his backside then began to slide downwards to the river at breakneck speed. Windchill bit into his cheeks as he grappled for grip—which was nearly impossible at the speed he was going.

Alfred twisted his body, desperate to swerve around the tree that was racing towards him. But the merciless ice wouldn't let him. The air was knocked out of his lungs as his body impacted against a tangle of roots. A loud crushing noise filled his ears, and he desperately prayed to Hand that his ribs weren't the origin of it.

Ignoring the bitter taste of copper in his mouth, he clung onto the roots. He had concocted some sort of fantastical plan of sliding between his brother and the assassin, interrupting whatever fight they were engaged in, and saving the day. But the pain on his backside and the fact that he couldn't even stand on ice brought him crashing back down to reality.

"Screw it," he uttered to himself, his breath alarmingly visible. He spun on his back and planted his feet on a particularly flat side of a root. Mustering all the strength he could to his legs, he kicked off towards another tree. Sliding from obstacle to obstacle was a bit slower than Alfred had been going previously, but it did allow him a bit more control of his trajectory. Despite that, he was still flailing on his rapidly numbing backside until he heard the tell-tale sound of clashing metal.

On the bank of the roaring rapids of the river, Alfred could make out the battling figured of his brother and the black-clad assassin. He and Matthew were, by no means, amateur fighters. In fact, Alfred prided himself as one of the two best fighters in his village with Matthew being the other. But they were only able to fight off the assassin when they worked together.

The signs were nearly imperceptible, but Alfred saw them on his brother. Slight delays in his steps. Brief hesitation in this attacks. Small tremors in his stance. Progressive lowering of his hunting knife. Fatigue was slowing Matthew down but had yet to touch the assassin. An she knew it.

Alfred reached towards his back. He swore, remembering that his bow had long ago flew from his hands when he first slipped on the ice. Without a second thought, Alfred kicked off the next obstacle straight towards them. He turned to his stomach and braced himself as he collided against the backs of the assassin's knees.

A surprised yelp and a satisfyingly loud thud came from her as Alfred scrambled for grip to stop his slide. He found it on the broad rocks flanking the rides of the river. Bone-chilling water sprayed over him as Matthew suddenly appeared by his side.

"I think you gave her a concussion," Matthew panted, barely audible over the pounding of the river. He held grabbed Alfred's arm and helped him to his feet.

Alfred no longer saw any anger in his brother's eyes, much to his relief. "Let's go before she gets up."

Matthew nodded and ran ahead, hopping from rock to rock and skillfully avoiding any ice. Alfred took a moment to rub his sore backside before limping after his brother.

"Al, DUCK!"

Alfred was already flat on the ground by the time Matthew finished his name. Several oddly shaped blades flew past over him as he crawled on the river bank. He twisted around and grabbed a flat boulder nearly his height in diameter. With a grunt, he pulled the boulder from its perch on the river side and lobbed it towards her.

"Come on!" Matthew yelled as Alfred heaved himself to his feet.

From the light footsteps somewhere behind them, Alfred knew that the rock he threw hardly did a thing. The air around them became warmer as the currents picked up speed on the river bend. An idea popped into his head as they broke through the trees. "Jump into the river!" Not a very bright one.

Matthew gave him an incredulous look. "Into those monster rapids? We'll be dead in seconds!"

Alfred glanced over his shoulder. The assassin was sliding and slipping towards them. He would've laughed if she hadn't that dangerous looking blade in her hands. Where the hell did she pull that out of?

He grabbed his brother's hand and charged towards the riverbend. "Alfred, wait! We could get killed—!"

Alfred pushed Matthew ahead and bent down to pick up a fist-sized rock then launched it at their assailant. He bought them several seconds. There was a flash of color near her neck. Brown hair?

Around the river was a large rock jutting into the water that the villagers had used as a starting point for a dam. Large trunks nearly Alfred's height in width were carved into points near the top and tied together side by side and stood as a gateway for the water. It rose several feet above the roaring waters. On the other side was a small waterfall that was about a thirty-second drop. The waters seemed to pound harder as the brothers approached.

"We should dive behind the dam!" Matthew yelled.

Then she'll just follow us to the village, Alfred wanted to yell back, but a different sound had him swallowing his voice. His heart dropped when footsteps thudded beside him. He ducked just as a thin blade swung towards his face. He kicked at the ground, sending a wave of mud, rocks and twigs at her.

The assassin let out a very girlish yelp.

Alfred almost stopped to make sure she was okay, but Matthew yelled at him to hurry. His twin started climbing the dam and threw himself over. "Kumajiro!" Alfred heard Matthew scream as he fell.

"That stupid bear isn't going to hear you!" Alfred screamed then froze.

How did she get in front of me? Alfred's azure eyes were wide in horror as the assassin stood between him and the dam.

"You're the loud one, aren't you? The one that can give a better fight?"

"Mattie isn't weak," Alfred growled in reply. He could take a many insults that people have thrown at him but what he absolutely cannot tolerate is anyone insulting his own brother.

"No, he isn't," the assassin, replied, her lowered voice sounded unnatural, "and neither am I."

A strangled cry reverberated from Alfred's chest as she disappeared over the dam. "MATTIE!"

He bolted to the dam, cursing the hazardous terrain, and searched for his brother on the bank of a significantly calmer stream. The first thing that caught his attention was a big white blot and an almighty roar. Well I'll be damned, the bear did show up.

Kumajiro, Matthew's pet white bear who has followed them around since they started wandering about at the death of their mother, was stalking a circle around the assassin. The assassin herself was on the defensive. Alfred couldn't blame her; he would be too if he was facing a six hundred pound beast.

Then he saw Matthew. Good ol' Matthew with his trusty hunting knife was riding on Kumajiro, like an ancient arctic warrior—wait, is that blood?

Alfred rubbed his eyes and squinted. He knew for a fact that Kumajiro was a pure white bear. So why the hell is there a dark stripe going down his middle? The bear was moving normally—no limp was visible in its pace.

The river beside him was deafening but it was nothing to the tense silence on the other side of the dam. Until Matthew screamed. The knife flew out of his hand. Alfred didn't see whether or not it hit the assassin. He didn't care because the scream that he heard was not a battle cry, but one of pain. Because Matthew fell from Kumajiro's back and became a motionless heap. Because he can only see the red slowly surrounding his brother.

"MATTIE!" No...no...he can't...

That's when the assassin attacked. Even though the roaring of the river suffocated his ears, Alfred still heard Kumajiro's angry roar. He pushed down the rising panic from his gut and looked around for—

Are those people down there?

Sure enough, there were several carriages crossing the bridge not too far away from the dam. Trees kept them from seeing Matthew and the assassin. It looked like several blue carriages with blue flags. Could that be one of the Suits that I've been hearing about?

Alfred slapped himself and gazed at the scene directly below him. Kumajiro was over Matthew's unmoving form, no doubt glaring and growling at the assassin. Her blade glinted as she charged them.

"No!" Alfred cried. He won't let the assassin win. Not ever.

He jumped down to the river. Near the edge, the brutally cold water only reached up to his waist, but the rapids battered his body against the dam. Alfred found purchase by clinging onto one of the perpendicular metal rods holding the trunks together. The idea in his head was even more suicidal than the previous one but, with the image of his brother's unmoving body imprinted in his mind, logic and common sense be damned.

Gripping the metal rod, he pulled. It came off quite easily due to Alfred's inhuman strength as well as the its weakened and rusted state. The trunks wobbled a bit but stood firm against the hammering of the river. Alfred desperately clawed at the wood, squeezing his arms between the trunks. With the last of his strength, he pulled the trunks part. Ignoring the pains of both his shoulders dislocating at the effort, Alfred let out a scream and the dam replied with a mighty groan.

Then it fell.

"Kumajiro!" Alfred yelled. "You better know how to freaking swim!"

He clung onto one of the logs as it descended down the waterfall. His insides slammed against his spine as ice-cold wind whistled past his ears. To Alfred, the drop seemed to last years before he hit the wall of water below. The log bobbed to the surface and Alfred gasped for air. He caught a brief glance of Kumajiro somehow pulling Matthew onto his back before being dragged back into the river. The currents were strong and Alfred felt his lungs burn. The treetrunk that he had clung to in hopes of staying afloat with was torn away from his arms. Stings of the fresh cuts sang on his arms when he felt something pull on the back of his tunic.

Then his head broke through the surface. Alfred gasped for air but found it difficult with water splashing into his face. He twisted around and found himself face-to-face with Matthew's white bear. Kumajirou's powerful strokes were slowly losing the fight against the currents.

"W-where's Mattie?" Alfred managed to choke out. He caught a glance of black a distance behind them before it disappeared in the water. No matter how strong the assassin was, there was near impossible chance for her survive the river. Unfortunately, the same goes for them.

Kumajiro grunted as its powerful legs defied the direction of the river flow. The white bear growled and Alfred found himself flipping through the air and landing painfully on something. Something that happened to his injured brother.

"Shit!" Alfred lifted himself off of Matthew as he groaned painfully.

A red stain from Matthew side practically screamed at him. Alfred used his body to keep his brother from sliding off the bear's back. With one hand gripping the white fur, Alfred pressed his other hand against his brother's wound in hopes of stopping the bleeding. Black spots began to cloud his eyesight. His shoulders screamed in pain. His head pleaded for rest. His body begged for mercy. No, I can't pass out just yet. Not until Mattie is taken care of.

Praying to Hand that Kumajiro would be able to get them out of this mess, he clung onto the bear for both his life and his brother's. After what felt like a lifetime of being jerked around and toss from side to side, the violent surges and rocking gave way to a heavy trot then a thud. Alfred tumbled off of the bear's back and opened his eyes to see Kumajiro laying eagle-spread on the muddy bank of the river. He could see the rise and fall of Kumajiro's heavy panting. Its tongue stuck out of its mouth, its eyes barely staying open.

Alfred gripped one of his biceps, took a deep breath, and pushed his shoulder back in place as he exhaled a silent scream. Once in place, he let the agony pull a groan and a couple tears from him before bracing himself once more. He had another shoulder to put back into place. Another deep breath was followed another noiseless cry as his shoulder went back to where it belonged. Clinging onto consciousness, Alfred dragged himself back to where Kumajirou still laid. He leaned against the bear's shoulder, feeling its labored breaths shaking its body.

"Mattie!" Alfred shook off his sodden cloak. Turning his back to the river, he tore off the sleeve of his tunic and pressed the fabric against his brother's side. He untied the laces to his boots and tied them around Matthew's torso as a makeshift bandage. It was too cold to remove anymore clothing and see the full extent of the wound. Much colder than before.

"Al…" Matthew groaned. Glazed nearly-purple eyes found wide blue ones. "The…river…"

"It's o-okay," Alfred replied, forcing a smile. "She's gone. Kumajiro was g-great and—"

A loud cracking sound came from behind them. They were high enough to avoid the sweeping currents of the rapids but not far enough to see its terrible strength. Towering trees were uprooted and broken as if they were twigs. Large boulders were being swept away as if they were insignificant pebbles. The river became a cataclysm for anything that stood in its way.

And soon, that would include the village.

Before panicked thoughts invaded Alfred's mind, Matthew turned towards him and fell from Kumajirou's back, landing on his lap. He grabbed Matthew shoulder but was pushed away. "Mattie, what are you—?"

"Hiver gén—" Matthew rasped before passing out.

Alfred pushed his brother back on top of Kumajirou. He struggled to keep his eyes open. His mind and body were exhausted, pushed way past his mental and physical limits. A new heaviness began to weigh down on him, this time on his heart. The river wouldn't take long to reach the village. And if they survived the attack of the river, they will not survive the flooding that occurred in the spring when the winter ice melted.

Thoughts of possibly saving the village flew away when he turned and saw the river. He didn't even know if he could still call it a river. The waters were frozen. The currents were beautifully sculpted into sinuous lines. Trees and rocks were suspended into the clear blue ice. The glacier rose up above treetops and glinted in the afternoon sun. Cold mist wrapped around Alfred but his body didn't feel it. How could a whole river freeze instantaneously?

A deep groan rumbled up river. Alfred crawled towards the ice and found that only a small section of the river was frozen. It was currently acting as a wall for the unfrozen portion of the river. But it was temporary. Alfred could already see cracks forming in the ice. There wasn't enough time to warn the village much less build another dam. The situation was hopeless. He condemned their village and possibly several others to save his brother's life.

No, he did not regret the drastic measure he took to save his brother. He only wished that the consequences weren't as they were.

Something soft and cold nudged his shoulder. Alfred didn't hear Kumajiro pad towards him but that was definitely his nose. The bear nudged his shoulder again then grunted. Alfred painfully turned his head. Kumajiro shook his head then started to slump away, Matthew still unconscious on his back.

"I can't just do nothing!" Alfred rasped at the bear's behind. "Those villagers will be wiped out!"

Then Alfred saw where the bear was heading. It wasn't slumping away from the river but alongside it. Up ahead were several large boulders precariously perched on the edge of a small cliff—Alfred turned around—in the opposite direction was the village. Can they see it? Do they know that the dam is gone?

Alfred and Matthew were there when the ancestors of the current villages first thought about taming that river. When the air turned warm, the simple river would turn deadly with the melting winter snows from the mountain. For centuries that dam stood and saved the village from a watery armageddon. Nevermore.

Maybe they've all evacuated, Alfred hoped though he knew it to be false. There was no possible way that they could see river's status this far up the mountain. And even if they did evacuate, they had no where else to go before the water reached them.

Alfred let out a frustrated growl and scrambled after the bear. His body screamed in agony. Pain exploded in several parts of his body and simultaneously. Gritting his teeth, he struggled to his feet and trudged forward. He was a hero—his body could bitch all it wanted, but until the villagers are safe, it had better continue doing whatever Alfred commanded it to do.

By the time he reached the rocks, cracks had webbed over the majority of the ice. Large pieces of the tip of the glacier were tumbling down the sides. A deep rumble reverberated through the ice just as cracks grew in dimensions.

The boulders before him were near the end of the glacier. If they fall, they would land on the glacier and then tumble between the ice and the river, a sturdier layer to the makeshift dam. He eyed the giant stones. Grand and heavy as they were, Alfred braced his aching shoulder against the topmost boulder and pushed. His body cried out in protest barely having enough enough energy to stand. He kept pushing, ignoring the screaming complaints of his body. Large paws the size of his head pressed themselves on the rock. Kumajiro growled as he helped his master's brother. Years passed by until the rocks finally gave way. They tumbled into the water in thuds loud enough to be heard over the roaring of the water and Alfred, having no more strength left, was about to fall as well if Kumajiro hadn't caught his tunic again.

Alfred collapsed on the ground and stared at his brother's unconscious face. The ice below cracked and a ripping noise tore through the air. But Alfred didn't hear it. He was too exhausted. Too much in pain. Too close to hopelessness. Kumajiro laid down beside him, bringing Matthew closer to him. Hand, please save my brother. I'm the idiot here, not him. Please, let him live and I'll do anything you please. Anything.

"Aiyah!" A voice said somewhere far away. "Are you guys okay?"

"Nnnggg…" came Alfred's reply.

"You're hurt, aru!" The voice started to fade. Wait...save Mattie...

The last thing Alfred saw was the sapphire emblem of the Spades.

Poor bbys. It gets better eventually.

Questions? Comments? Concerns?

Review:)