Crimson Rain

by The God Slayer

Decades after the planet has finally known peace, through great sacrifice and struggle, something ancient and sinister stirs beneath the surface. A mad man rises with power the world thought was extinct and declares war on the planet, igniting a turn in history millenniums in the making.

9. Scared

Notes: n/a

Scared

Three days had passed since the ship sailed from the harbor. Emma only knew this because Wally was kind enough to tell her. There was no window in her cell for her to keep track of time. At first she tried to with her exhaustion, but she realized it was a poor method, as she was exhausted almost every moment of her waking moments. On that night, she asked him as he walked by, checking on security, how long it had been. He smiled at her sweetly and said three days. She dared not ask how much longer their journey might take.

On the fifth night, she had woke from a nightmare, shivering, and called for him crying. He ran in, frightened, and asked her what was wrong. She sobbed and sobbed, and it was only after he calmed her down did he find out that she was finally feeling the reality of leaving Figaro and her family behind. He soothed her down that height of anxiety and fear by distracting her with information about Roskovo, and other such things, and with sweets. He didn't tell her, of course, that he had spiked her drink with a relaxing agent. When she had drunk her fill of the tea, she was relaxed, almost into a tired stupor. And then she had fallen asleep, and he laid her to rest in her cot and left to his duty.

The sixth day had proved far more painful for Emma. She was waiting in her cell for Wally to come by with her morning meal when two soldiers came into the wing. She looked up from her cot, surprised to see them. It took only a second for her to catch their scent, to remember them. It was the two soldiers from before, that were not pleased with her. One of them, whom she recognized as Deravic, held a tray of food. He slide it through the port in the cell carefully for her.

"Your sup," he said, monotone.

Emma approached slowly, keeping her eyes down, and picked the tray up. There was a bowl of porridge and a small mug of what looked like warm milk. A spoon, which looked as if it had been dropped purposely in dirt, sat beside the bowl. She dared not look up at them, or ask. She went back to her cot and used her shirt to clean the spoon. The men did not move. She could feel their eyes burning holes into her.

One of them spoke. She remembered his voice. Deravic. "Did your mother inform you of what the enemy might do to you if your father fails to protect you from them?" it was enough for Emma to look at him, surprised. "If he can't hold them back, if they storm his failing encampments, and take you..." he clicked his tongue, clearly amused.

The other continued, trying to hide the laugh on the edge of his words, "That is right. If the Roskovian overcome the Figaro camps and capture you, they will take you as a slave." tears bubbled in her eyes, but the men did not think they succeeded in whatever it was they were trying to do.

"And do not think it stops there," Deravic said, leaning against the bars. "A female slave in Roskovo is no mere labor worker. Your owner will beat you every day for any error made, other days just because it tickles him right and when that doesn't fancy him, he will take you like those Roskovian princes did—over and over again. Simply because he can."

When she began to cry, the two started to laugh. It was short lived though, because a short second later Deravic gasped sharply as a bowl of porridge smashed into his helmet. Silence filled the prison wing. The soldier beside him even quieted, surprised, and turned his eyes to the princess. Her eyes were filled with tears, but to his astonishment, they were not the eyes they were just a minute ago. They were like coals.

Deravic swore loudly, tore his helmet off and began searching for the key at his side. The realization of what it meant snapped Emma to her senses. She got to her feet and took a few steps back, trembling. "How dare you, you little whore!"

"Deravic, come on, she's not worth it," the other one said, reaching to grab his arm, but the man shoved him away.

Emma, too terrorized to look away, stared right into his dark eyes. His hair had been slicked back, making his face look sharp and even angrier. He pointed at her. "This isn't over." and then he stormed away with the other soldier.

When he was gone, Emma sat back on her cot and hugged herself, still trembling. He had to be lying. There was no way her father's encampments were in danger of being overrun, and even if they were, there was no way she would be made a slave. There just had to be no way. Just because the princes of Roskovo were monsters, that couldn't possibly mean that their nation openly practiced slavery, could it? She hid her face in her arms and cried.

Mother...please, take me home.

Footsteps resounded down the wing. Alarmed, thinking Deravic was returning, Emma hurriedly got back to her feet and scurried behind the metal framing of a deteriorating storage container. She knew it wouldn't protect her, but fear had driven her, and she hoped that it would give her time for someone else to come and save her. As the footsteps grew closer, she closed her eyes. Please... she reached for the voice and the gods both who had abandoned her to this fate. Please, come back, help me. I don't know what to do.

And then he spoke. "Princess?" She peaked out from the container and saw Wally, who was now looking at the spilled porridge with confusion. There was a tray in his hands. When he looked up and saw her, hiding, he frowned. "Princess, what are you doing? Why are you hiding?" and so she told him what she did to Deravic as she came out of hiding, still trembling, tears still in her eyes.

Wally was greatly annoyed as he handed her the tray through the port. "You do not need to worry about Deravic, princess. He knows he can't touch you. You are under the protection of the king. If he, or anyone else harms you, they will face the death penalty under the Crown. If they do so on this ship, it will be handled by the commander."

Emma still could not get over what Deravic and his friend had told her though as she sat the tray down, looking at the eggs and bacon with disinterest. He must have noticed, because he asked her what was wrong. When she did not speak, nor touch her food, he pressed her. "Princess, you can trust me. I won't hurt you."

"They...they said..." she would rather die than face that again. Tearfully, she looked at him. "They said...they said that father wouldn't be able to p-protect me, that I would be a s-s-slave in Roskovo, t-that I would be..." she couldn't even say it. She looked away, letting her tears fall. "I...I c-can't go there, I can't."

He seemed to understand even without her saying it though. "Listen to me princess...do not listen to those fools. Your father is more than capable of protecting you. He is the man who has been winning this war since it began, isn't he?" she nodded, sniffing. "See?" he smiled, brightly. "Do not let them worry you. Now, eat up. Your mother said you must keep your energy up to stay healthy."

Emma smiled at him. "Thank you Wally."

He laughed. "It is the most I could do for the princess." he gave her a little bow, said goodbye and then left her to her sup in peace. Emma said her goodbyes as he walked away before she began to eat, feeling less alone with him on her side.

---

It had already been six days since Terra had sent her daughter off to Roskovo, to be with her father in her mock banishment. It felt an eternity. She spent every waking moment in terror and anxiety, awaiting letters or notices. Hals was doing the best he could making sure that the coasts were kept clear, and that the seas were patrolled and kept clear of any Roskovian ships—so far no sign of them—but Terra still suspected they might be sneaking by. After all, Thamasa was still in a blockade, all in design by Roskovo.

Celes insisted that there was no way that Roskovo had the navy capacity to function two blockades but Terra didn't want to give the enemy a chance. So they were put to continuous work.

And anxiety inducing as ever was Alexander's presence. He came by every day, numerous times even, to ask if there was news yet about whether or not Emma arrived—and, of course, if Edgar accepted whether or not he could be sent over to stay with Emma. Terra was getting rather annoyed with him, but mostly saddened. She was trying her hardest to keep her mind off of that, and he just kept reminding her.

"Terra, please, I just want to know if there's been any news—"

She had enough. She snapped at him like a snake. "If there was any news do you think I would be standing about, waiting for my commanders?!" startled, he could only stare at her. "If I get a reply, I will tell you!" When she realized her outburst, she calmed herself and, blushing, turned away from him.

"Terra, I didn't mean to push you. I'm just worried, and I want to..."

She sighed. "Alexander, the voyage to Roskovo takes almost a month. It will take long for them to carry the request to Edgar. It had to be this way to keep this secure...you must be patient."

Alexander lowered his eyes, and she thought she saw tears in them. She felt so terrible then. Did he truly love her daughter that much? She felt unsure. He had toyed with her so thoroughly, and yet on one hand he had been so kind to her, so caring. She wanted to trust him so much, but she knew that if he miss stepped again she would feed him to lions herself. There was only one way to be sure.

"Alexander, I'm sorry this is causing you so much distress," she said, trying to soothe him. "But this is a process that may...may take some time, time you may not be comfortable with."

He looked at her, confused. "What are you trying to say?"

"It may be years before my daughter can return," she told him. "If ever." his eyes widened. "Are you truly willing to wait for her, forever if you must?"

The room quieted. She watched his face carefully as he considered her question. Finally, he smiled. "Terra...I abandoned your daughter once before. I won't do it again. If she cannot come to Figaro, then I will sail to her...wherever she may be." he smiled, just a bit. It looked hurt. "Who would have thought..." he laughed.

"What?" she asked, confused.

Alexander smirked. "For the Antlion race...I had Claimed your daughter."

Terra was startled. That was long before Luke had come along. Did her daughter not know what Claiming meant? No, she had to have known, or else why ask in the first place? And if not, who could have told her daughter about it and why, and without telling her what it meant? If she knew what it meant, she was in accordance to ancient Figaro tradition (though, of course, not legal binding) betrothing herself to Alexander.

"I don't think she knew what it truly meant, though." he added, a bit bashful that he had admitted that like it meant something profound.

Terra looked at him, thoughtfully, now certain. This had been fate, one that had been so obvious yet so easily ignored. The gods had planned this all along, since the the annual dinner when the two had met. Terra's memory clicked to her daughter's worry being whether or not Alexander would be able to visit her if she switched academies, and she smiled. Her daughter had fallen for him then without even realizing it.

"No," she agreed. "I don't think she knew what it meant."

"I will hold her to it though, because a pledge is a pledge after all." he laughed. "My wife she will be."

Terra giggled. "I see now how you wiggled into her heart." he asked her what she meant. "Oh...nothing." she went to pat his arm. "Now, you go and get some rest. And Alexander," he looked at her, waiting. "I will send for you when word has reached me."

"Really?" he asked, to be sure, as she guided him to the doors.

She sighed. "Yes, Alexander, I promise."

He allowed that, reluctantly. "Alright...if you promise."

"I did," she said again, starting to get annoyed now. He stood in the door way, unsure. "Have a good evening Alexander...and be sure to go see your mother. She is worried about you." and then she closed the door. With a sigh, she went back to her seat—her husband's chair, in his now lonely study—and relaxed.

Edgar, hurry. Bring my children home. Please...

---

Emma had heard the trumpet first. It blasted throughout the ship as if she stood beside it. Ringing through her ears, she clamped her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes as tight as she could. She could only guess what it meant from her prior voyage—land. It blew in a succession, three times, until at last it died. When it was over, she picked herself off her cot and hurried to the bars, to peer down the length of the hall. The lights were dim, they hadn't been replaced yet, but she could see that there were no soldiers yet.

What if they had hit something? What if they were sinking? Terror seized her. She stuck her arm out between the bars and waved, frantically. "Hello!" she called into the dimmed hall. No answer. "Hello? Anyone?" a moment passed, and she peeled away from the bars and strained to listen to the noise above. Dulled by the thick wood, she could hear the men running around and indistinguishable words. It was clear though that they were excited, but by what, she could not tell. There were no windows, no ability to smell or catch a clear word of what stirred above.

If they were sinking...would they forget her in the panic? She trembled, terrified. There were thousands of other ways to die, some far more painful she was sure, but drowning...that terrified her to her core. She pressed her face against the bars, and glanced down the hall again. "Hello?!" silence. "Is...is anyone there? Please...please tell me what's going on!"

Finally, a soldier approached from around the corner, carrying a small lantern. Deravic. She immediately jumped back from the bars. His eyes seemed black in the dim light. "Will you shut your damn mouth already?!" he snapped.

"I...I just wanted to know what was happening."

"You aren't in any position to know," he told her. "You are a prisoner, you ignorant slut. When will you understand that?"

"I...I'm sorry, I just—"

"Fine," he said, lifting the lantern. "If you want to know, we have finally arrived at Roskovo." her eyes widened. "Once we dock, the commander will start preparing the party to tie you to the nearest tree, for the crows to tear at your flesh until there is nothing left of you but bone. Bone that the dogs will tear apart."

Furious tears burned in her eyes. "You're lying!"

He chuckled. "Am I?" he shrugged. "We shall see what fate awaits you here in Roskovo."

"Private!"

Both Emma and Deravic turned in surprise at the thunderous voice. Emma had never seen this man before. He stood only a few inches short of her father, yet filled his uniform out the way her uncle might have if he had worn one. His green eyes were fierce, stern, and his nose bent a bit, as if he had been hit and it was never corrected. Bushy brows of brown were furrowed in deep anger over his eyes as he approached.

Behind him was Wally, looking just as displeased. Two other soldiers of a lower rank filed in behind him.

Private Deravic went to attention immediately. "Commander!"

"Captain West has informed me of your behavior, but I had found it hard to believe. To see it, and my trust broken, is a thing I cannot easily forget." he turned to the captain. "See to it that the princess is fit for travel. As for you private," he turned his furious gaze back at the man. "You will be joining their company, to directly answer to the king for your behavior."

"Isn't that a bit harsh, commander?" the captain asked, but there was clearly a tone in his voice that suggested he approved in someway.

"The king won't have his head," the commander said. "But he deserves labor punishment for defying the rules laid out for this ship. I think the king will find a very fitting punishment for him." That made Deravic's eyes darken with rage. "Now, go prepare with the men." when he didn't move, the commander's glare deepened. "You are dismissed, private." with a small scoff, he walked away. The commander finally faced the princess. "I apologize for the private's behavior. I will be sure he is not on your duty from hereon." Emma mumbled her thanks, looking away from his eyes as she could only see distrust in them. "I thought it best that I come here personally to tell you this as well."

"T-tell me what?" she feared to hear what was next. The warnings, as vilely as their intent had been, from Deravic came flooding to her in that one second. She could barely breathe. Were they going to sell her to some farmer? Would she be forgotten here?

"No doubt that fool has told you we landed in Roskovo" he told her, missing that the color had drained from her face. "When we depart, you will be within chains. I am sorry princess, but it is mandatory. I hope you understand."

Of course she could. She had killed so many, and all loyal to her and her family. Still, understanding it did not make it hurt any less. She tried to keep her tears at bay, to not cry in front of this man or the good man Wally, but she had failed.

The commander looked at Wally sharply, perplexed, before speaking. "What is wrong with you girl?" Wally leaned over to whisper something in his ear and he oh'd. "Is that it then? You still worry over what the private said? Clear it from your mind. Figaro would never tolerant slavery, even to criminals."

"Commander Balon," Wally mumbled. "Perhaps we should leave her to digest this information while we prepare to dock?"

"Yes yes, of course," he cleared his throat. "We will send someone for you soon, princess. Do try and get some rest." and then he marched out of the prison wing. Wally hung back for a moment before hesitantly turning and marching out of the room too.

I'm sorry, she told the gods. I'm sorry for everything...just please, do not leave me here alone.

•••••••••••

The rest they suggested she take did not come. She could hear the muffled excitement on deck and all it could do was remind her of what was coming, of the terrible things she had done to be here. She hugged herself beneath the meager sheet they had given her and pressed her head against her knees. Any minute now her mother would arrive and whisk her back to Figaro, right? This all had to be a dream, a terrible, horrible nightmare. But as the cold bit at her flesh and the hunger hurt her stomach, she knew this was her reality.

Are...are you there? she asked her voice, but it did not answer, just as it didn't when she first woke up in the cells. It was gone. Please...come back. She sobbed and drew the blanket over her, to submerge herself in the darkness, in the comfort. What she would do to even have her company back.

Soon, the sounds above deck softened, and all she could hear again was the sound of the waves bashing against the hull. It was then that three soldiers, headed by captain Wally, returned. In his hands were chains.

"Princess, it is time to go," he told her softly. When she did not move, one of the soldiers asked if he should go in to get her. Wally cut him off sharply before directing the girl again. "Please, we must hurry princess." even then she did not move. She just wanted him and everyone else to go away, to leave her be. The captain sighed and opened the cell. "I understand." and then he approached, very gently, and took her by the arm to raise her to her feet.

She shoved at him, but he did not budge from his spot. "Leave me alone!"

"Stop this nonsense princess, please," he begged her, holding her with one hand and the chains with another. "I'm sorry it must be this way, but it can't be helped. Sit still, please, I promise everything will be alright."

"No," she wailed, fighting as much as she could. "No, no, please...!"

Finally, exasperated, Wally dropped the chains and grabbed both of her arms, to keep her from squirming and potentially hurting herself. "Private Retler, come here." a young man with a square face approached and Emma started to fight back harder. Wally warned her to stop because she was hurting herself but she did not. "Private, pick up the chains please and put them on."

"As you say," he knelt to pick them up and then began to lock them over the princess' wrists. "It is done, captain."

"Good work," he said as the soldier returned to his position, and then he let go of her arms and she flung back from the sudden lack of force and hit her head against the wall. Wally's face went white and he raced to help her up. "Princess! Gods be good, I'm sorry about that! Let me look at it, to see.." he hesitated when she scooted further back, away from him, and then he stepped away. "I won't come any closer then."

"Captain, we must be on our way," one of the men said behind him. Wally nodded.

"Of course...princess Emma, we have to go now. I'm sorry about the chains but it is something that I cannot control." before he reached for her, he turned to the men and told them to wait above deck. Then when he reached for her, she stepped away. "You can trust me, princess, I won't hurt you nor let anyone hurt you. I will escort you to your father...this I swear on my life." a trumpet sounded off above them, startling her. He insisted again, even gentler. "Please...let me help you."

She didn't know what to do, or who to trust. Deravic had warned her they would chain her to a tree, but the captain and the commander said not to believe him. Yet they had already put her in the chains. She knew her voice would tell her not to trust him, to get away, but there was no where to go. No where to hide. And if they did intend on chaining her to a tree, she could use the journey to try and escape. To try and... she hesitated. And what? she thought brokenly. She didn't know where her father was, nor did she think he wished for her company, not truly. She was alone, again, and forgotten. She could only hope this man was telling her the truth, that he meant her no harm.

Reluctantly she stepped forward, struggling very clearly with her chains. Wally smiled. "You can walk behind me if it will make you feel more at ease. I'm not worried about you running away." and so the man led her out of the prison. It felt strange not being behind bars, and she felt exposed, more vulnerable than before. When they made it to the deck, the sun burned her eyes and she drew back into the doorway, eyes closed tight.

Wally must have noticed, and said, "If it hurts, keep your eyes closed until you adjust. I can guide you." Emma did not have time to deny him, as he drew her chains up in his hands and started to guide her, keeping a distance she knew he meant for her sake. It only humiliated her. She was being herded, like some animal. "We are almost there, princess. Keep a safe footing, small steps."

Fearful of what could happen if she did not, she began to panic. What if she stepped off the ship and into the ocean, and the chains only made her sink faster? And yet she dared not ask, to put that fate into reality by word. The chains felt heavier every second, and soon enough she could not even keep them up off the floor. The dragging noise caught Wally's attention.

"Is it that heavy for you?" he asked, coming nearer. Without opening her eyes, and risking the pain of light, she nodded and hefted the chains up as far as she could. They dropped back down a second later with a thud. Wally remarked her with a laugh. "Then I will bundle the chains up for myself, to help you walk. You will be closer to me, so I hope that is acceptable."

Unable to argue, or else drag these chains herself, she nodded again. Then she felt the chains grow shorter, and the weight on her hands decreased. "Follow the chain, princess, or my voice. And remember to keep a gentle step or—" just as he said it, she tripped over something on the deck and collided right into him. He straightened her to her feet. "Careful now, girl.

A minute later she felt the hardwood of the deck vanish beneath her, replaced by something soft. The smell of the ocean still lingered heavily in the air, so she knew she was still nearby. A beach, she thought, opening her eyes just a bit to see if she had been correct. A vast beach opened up before her, beneath the burning light of the sun. It sparkled like diamonds. An enormous forest, with bark red and needles dark green. She could smell the verdure on the wind as it came brushing by.

A camp was set up near the forest limits, and she could spot at least a dozen men working at it. Approaching from the camp was someone of high rank. She could just make out the rank over his heart. A captain? No, she thought, confused. Another commander.

Wally stopped them short of the man's arrival and said, to her, "We will have company soon." he wasn't aware she had opened her eyes. The commander stopped in front of them, two men at his back. "Commander Ranly," Wally saluted. "I have brought the princess with me."

"Yes yes, Balon informed me of the situation," he grumbled, waving the captain aside. Wally moved so the commander could look at her. The moment his pale green eyes gripped hers, she looked away. "Ah, well it is clear as the sky above us that you are the princess. The hair doesn't fall from the father's line, but there is an air about you that speaks of your father." he quieted for a second before laughing. "That look, yes," he said, gesturing to her. She had begun to furrow her brows in anger, though she kept them down, at the sand. "Figaro royalty..." he sighed. "Well, let us be on our way. Captain, will you be accompanying us? I did not receive word of it from commander Balon."

"Yes, I am to accompany you and your men to the base, to escort the princess. I will promptly return to my ship afterward."

"Very good then. Take the princess to a tent and prepare her for the journey." he passed one look at the princess again, brows just a bit pinched. "To harbor a woman on a military vessel...it will bring us all bad luck." and then he turned promptly and left them.

Wally felt inclined to make her accept the commander, despite his words. "Do not think ill of him princess. He is very into superstitious things, as you can imagine. He means nothing of it."

It didn't matter to her if the commander liked her or not. It was all the same in the end, a path towards imprisonment. She was accustomed to others disliking her anyhow. "Anyhow...you must be tired, and wishing for a real bed, and perhaps even a change of clothes. I will dig through the ship for the box your mother prepared while you rest." he guided her towards the tents. As they approached, the other soldiers stopped their work to stare. It was clear some of them stared in fear, in anger. The others looked confused, perhaps even on what to feel. "Ignore them," Wally told her, as he opened the flap to a large tent. "They are just...lost."

The inside was well lit, and the comforts that of a lord. A large bed sat at the back, adorned with all sorts of pillows and blankets. Beside it, a dresser with a mirror atop it. At the center of the room, a table decorated with bowls of food and bottles of all sorts of drinks. The smell of it sent her stomach to aches. The captain gestured her further in. "This will be your tent until we depart. You can rest if you would like, eat even. I will return shortly with a change of clothes for you so that you may refresh yourself. In the mean time..." he unlocked the chains, allowing them to drop to the floor. "Enjoy a moment's reprieve princess." he bowed to her and then left her.

Emma could scarcely believe it. She walked to the food, nervous, and opened one of the bowls. Inside was a savory smelling stew, one that made her even hungrier. Unsure, she looked for someone in the room, thinking perhaps this was a trap, before picked it up and ate. She must have had at least four bowls before she felt the pain in her stomach quell. Warmth radiated through her, a comfort she hadn't known since before she woke up int eh cells in Figaro.

When she drank her full, she wandered around the tent. The dresser was empty when she opened it, except for one sock, which clearly belonged to a soldier. So whoever had owned the tent before her had left in a hurry. She felt even worse. She had pushed someone from their comforts, and surely that would stir ill among the men towards her. She sighed and closed the dresser before she went to lie on the bed. She sank into it, and smiled.

A moment later the tent flap opened and Wally came in. "I have returned with something for you to wear." he sat the bundle on a chair near him. "In the mean time, I will have someone draw up some hot water for you. The basin is just behind that false wall there." he gestured to the wall at the right of the bed.

A bath? She was astonished. Were they really allowing her even this comfort? She looked at him, confused. He frowned at her. "What are you waiting for?" there came a chuckle. "Go on. I will keep guard. Just call for me when you are done." he gave her a bow and then left. She could see his shadow standing outside the tent. Filled with apprehension, she approached the bundle carefully. It was indeed something from her chest back at her room. A pair of her favorite kind of trousers, which Gau had introduced her too, and a blouse of frills, which Emma was sure her mother had added some some sort of counter to the trousers.

Emma cried and pressed the clothes to her face, thinking of her mother, wishing for nothing more than to be home.

---

It was late in the morning when Edgar heard the trumpet. He waved it aside so he could focus on the battles ahead. It was every Amos that the men were brought letters from home, and he would not impose himself on them right now. They needed time to forget they were in war, that they lost friends and family alike in the previous battle. But what he hadn't anticipated was Suon barging into his tent, envelope in hand.

"Your grace," he held the letter out. "It was delivered with the rest."

Edgar accepted it and began to read. A slow but haggard smile appeared over his face. "They have made it to Roskovo. This was carried in ahead of their arrival, as a warning."

Suon took that in with a small smile of his own. "Shall I do anything else to help you accommodate your daughter, my king?"

"No, no...well perhaps a fine feast in preparation. Hmm." he thought for a moment and then clicked his tongue. "Ah! She loves ham, and we have a surplus of it, don't we?" Suon nodded, laughing. "Then let that be it, and potatoes and sweet pie." Edgar was lost in the thought of having his daughter at his side, so he forgot to ask it. "When are they expected to arrive, at their pace?"

Suon said, "Many of our men made the travel in just a few hours, but with a large party and your pallid daughter about, it may take until nightfall provided they do not halt for nightly rests to accommodate her as well."

Edgar agreed. His daughter was indeed sickly, he doubted a miracle came about in his absence to cleanse his little girl of her ailments. The party would no doubt stop numerous times to accommodate her weakness. He nodded, feeling a bit apprehensive about it. "Prepare for a further delay, my daughter is prone to weakness. No sense in cooking it hours ahead of her arrival, should it be the case."

"Of course, your grace."

"Suon?" he called to him as the man began to leave. "...don't forget the sweet pie, please." Suon laughed and closed the flap behind him. When he was alone, Edgar sat into his chair and put aside the map he had been working over for hours. He knew sweets and food would never make up for distancing himself from her after her assault, that he could not and should not attempt to purchase her affections. He swore to himself to abandon his fear when he laid his eyes on her, to talk to her, to explain his mistakes in full. And hoped with all his being that she could still love him.

Keep her well, he thought stiffly, thinking of the gods, though a large part of him hated them for even allowing any of this. You owe her that much...

---

The heat of the water instantly relaxed her. She submerged herself deeper in the water with a tired, comforted sigh. To feel the filth she had to endure over her imprisonment wash away was the sweetest thing she had ever felt. The water had been carefully scented, which surprised her. It was usually a woman's touch to do such a thing. It smelled of red berries and cedar, a charming smell.

She stayed in that water until it was too cold to take, and then she carefully lifted herself out and dried herself with the towels the good captain had left behind for her. She dressed herself only when she felt that she was completely dried, hating the feeling otherwise, and then put her dirty attire in a basket for collection. Oddly enough the bath had left her in such good spirits that she simply went to the bed and fell, exhausted, into its blankets. The rest of her problems melted away then, and sleep overcame her.

The next time she woke, she was being gently stirred by the captain. She couldn't see light outside, so she assumed she had been allowed to sleep until nightfall. Confused, as she thought she was going during the day, she rubbed at her eyes and sat up straight.

"I'm sorry to wake you princess, but I thought you would like to sup." behind him was a rolling cart, with an array of different food atop it. Her stomach grumbled and she blushed. He simply laughed. "Ah, so you are hungry...good. After you have eaten, the commander asks that you prepare for a short visit with him. He has something to discuss with you."

Afraid of what it could mean, and desperately not wanting to be alone with him, she stuttered out numerous reasons why she couldn't go, including not feeling well. The captain listened to them all patiently before smiling. "I'm sure after a good supper you will feel up to the company. Now, I will leave you to eat and come retrieve you after." he bowed and was gone once again.

Emma had eaten very slowly, wishing to delay the visit or to even cancel it, but soon enough she found the bowl of rice and chicken gone, and soon after the tall glass of water. She knew the captain would return any minute, so she thought perhaps if she were asleep she would be left alone. But just as she neared her bed, the captain entered the tent again. To her surprise, the commander was beside him. Caught off guard, as she had assumed he meant she would be taken to him, she shrinked away from them, trembling.

"Please," she cried. "I...I didn't do anything wrong."

The captain looked appalled, but didn't get to speak, for the commander directed her. "What are you talking about girl? Why would you think you did something worth punishment?" when it was clear she was not going to release her tension, the commander shook his head. "You may relax, princess, there is no ill intent towards you here. I simply needed to talk to you privately, it concerns tomorrow."

"W-W-what?"

"I know it was part of Balon's strictness that left you in that cell, and kept you in chains, but he did not mean you harm. He is a very strict man, especially when it comes to the law. If he could have had his way, you would have slept in his cabin and dined with him, as a noble ought receive. He was cornered, you understand, but he did what he was required to."

She in fact did not understand how if he was cornered, why couldn't he do those things, but she knew she deserved it. She had killed. She had ruined lives. "Does...does that mean I-I will be k-kept in chains?"

"Ranly's fierce eyes locked onto hers. "Gods be good...no. I am permitted to act on whatever I believe is correct. I do not see it harmful to let you roam out of those chains, nor do I see the evil they whisper about when I look into your eyes. You look nothing more than a frightened child. If it were my way, you would be held in Figaro at the highest comfort until a fair and just trial could be held for you. Alas, I am not the one who chooses. There are figures rising and falling in Figaro right now, and the only real authority is finally returning to the Crown."

She was even more confused! What was he trying to tell her? Frustrated, she wiped the starting tears from her eyes. There was no room for a trial in her case. She had been born a monster, a freak to be repulsed by, and finally that reality had landed her here.

"Since I cannot pardon you nor return you to a more lavish living style...I will do what I am permitted to do." he gestured to the chains, and for a moment Emma desired to run. The captain retrieved the chains from the ground and held them at his side. "Tomorrow, when we pack up camp to head for your father's encampment, you will not be dragged about with these things. You will not be bound, but you must therefore understand that you are not permitted to leave the side of captain West. Is that clear? It is the only way I can keep you out of the chains, girl."

"I...I understand," she mumbled, not sure where this kindness had come from but very grateful.

"Good. Then sleep well, for we wake at dawn." he gave her a small bow and left. The captain passed her a smile before following after the commander.

Relieved, Emma sat back on the bed. Perhaps Deravic had been lying to her. These men...they seemed to care. She smiled and thanked the gods for such company before crawling into the warm blankets.

In the morning, she felt incredibly refreshed. Without the fear of being chained to some tree in the wild, left for carrion, she used what time she had to search the tent for something to read. All that was present was the military ethics book, and another in a language she could not read. She found it fascinating though, and went through the pages, looking at the elegant writing of this foreign language. When that proved to be ineffective at keeping her attention, she dug through the other book. It was as boring as she suspected it would be. It had drills, exercises, quotes, ranks, battle formations and such. So this is what her brothers aspired to be, this cog wheel in a giant well maintained machine.

When she was through with it, annoyed that it was not fulfilling her need for entertainment, she put the books back where she got them and went about searching even further. She found absolutely nothing, well, besides a well polished sword that the soldier forgot. She could see her reflection in the steel, where it hung over the table to the right. She reached for it, intending to pick it up, when someone entered the tent.

"Princess, stop that at once!"

Alarmed, she jumped back from the sword and looked straight at the captain. He went over to the sword and removed it. "You should stay away from this sort of thing, it is much too dangerous."

"I'm...I'm sorry, I just wanted to—" she hesitated under his gaze and stopped herself from continuing.

"I understand that you might be bored, or perhaps it is your curiosity that drives you, but you must understand that I cannot allow you to put yourself in danger."

"It...it was secured, and I was only going to touch it."

Smiling, ever patient, he hid the sword beneath his cloak. "Be that as it may, it is far too dangerous for you. Oh, I almost forgot why I am here. We are moving out shortly. I know you haven't had a chance to break your fast, but you can do so on the journey. We have ground to cover, and quickly. Your current attire will have to do. Your father should have procured you more attire at his camp. It can wait until then, can't it?" She knew he was wishing for her to agree with him, so she meekly agreed. "Good! Heavens, and the other officers said you would be unruly and stubborn. I see a pleasant little girl." A harsh voice called out from outside the tent, asking if she were ready. The captain answered him affirmative and then asked her to follow him.

The outside light still hurt her eyes, but she found the pain more a comfort than discomfort. It was a reminder she was alive, that she was no longer in those cells. A little pain beneath the sun was acceptable to her. The captain noticed that she had stalled shortly out of the tent and ushered her to follow him quickly. Not wishing to upset him, she hurried after him the best she could.

She was taken to another tent, where five men were gathered. She could tell by the ranks on their chests that they were officers, but which they were she could not tell. As they approached, she saw the commander beside them. He watched them close in, and said, "It is a pleasure to have you with us, princess. Let me introduce you to some of the men here." he pointed to the tallest, with tanned skin and green eyes. "This is lieutenant Degarro. He will not directly accompany you, serving his purpose in the rearguard, but he is a fine soldier. Next is Captain Orrik and his officers, Danish and Sier. Captain Orrik will be leading the rearguard, with Degarro, Sier and Danish accompany detachment squads. The last is, I'm sure you remember, Deravic."

Emma caught his eyes, a sharp anger passed to her, and she took a step back. "I have heard of his actions aboard the vessel, and have been informed he is to fill in Captain West's ranks until he is relieved at the king's encampment."

Captain West said, "A travel group of ten is sufficient enough, sir. For the princess' comfort and to stop a scene before it happens, I suggest we reposition Deravic with the rearguard."

"Duly noted, captain, but I'm afraid it will not be done. Deravic will go to his majesty's camp to face a suitable punishment for his actions, and I trust no one else but you captain. Your commander was quite adamant about you leading it."

Wally tightened his jaw but nodded. "As you say, sir."

"Good. You will move out as soon as you have gathered food and water for the journey. You are all dismissed."

One by one the men began to leave, and unsure of what to do, Emma just stood there. The commander looked up from a few documents and straight at her. "What are you waiting here for?"

"I...I don't know where to go."

"Go shadow captain West," he mumbled, looking back at his documents. She faltered just a second before turning around and looking amongst the throng of soldiers for the kind captain. She caught sight of him walking towards the supplies. She hurried over.

When the captain noticed her, he smiled. "Your company brings a smile to my face, princess."

She wasn't sure if she could trust him, but if it was a lie, the lie was too sweet to pass up. "The...the commander s-s-said I should follow you."

"You should," he agreed quietly as he passed over a list of things to the logistics officer. "I will watch over you, don't worry." Emma stayed at his side for nearly an hour as the man gathered the needed supplies, and then she was told to stand by the supplies and wait for him. When he got back, he had his men at his back, and Emma could see the rest meant to be the rearguard readying themselves.

"Alright princess, we are moving out now. Please stay close to me, and if you should feel unwell, let me know immediately." she nodded. "Good, now let us be off. We have a rough journey ahead of us."

"O-okay." she followed him, quiet and fearful of what laid ahead of her.

The men were all in a line, waiting beneath the hot sun like statues. Every uniform was clean and pressed, and not a single rank was disheveled upon their chest or shoulders. They were the perfect representation of the grand Figaro military. If this had been any other situation, Emma would have been curious enough to poke questions at everyone, but the reason why the soldiers were needed kept tugging at her mind.

Commander Ranly was in the middle of explaining the journey to the men when they approached. He stopped and faced them. "It is in your hands now, captain. You know your way, correct?"

"Yes sir, I have been to the new camp numerous times."

"Good." his eyes went to Emma. "Behave for the captain, princess." she mumbled something, and the men turned and filed into two columns. "Then by your leave captain." he patted West on the shoulder before stalking off towards the tents.

Captain Wally directed Emma briefly. "This is it...are you excited to be able to see your father, princess?"

Emma didn't know how to tell him the truth in her heart, the fear that had alarmed Cadence, the only person she had told. She looked away without answering him, but he didn't take it wrong. He simply began filing the men out.

I don't know what I feel...

•••••••••••

Alexander had gotten the queen to promise not to exclude him should news arrive, but there was still this pit of dread at the bottom of his stomach. He knew the queen wouldn't make a promise and break it, she was no liar. There wasn't an intentional mean bone in her. And yet, something sat wrong with him. He knew it was insane to think there was something bigger going on, of which the queen refused to share. He also knew he didn't have the right to question her on it, should it be so. He had trampled their lives with his carelessness. And he knew privacy was something Terra would not tolerate being violated, especially now. So there was no snooping about for answers.

His only luck was to wait—wait either for Terra to include him or for whatever it was to blow up in his face.

It must have been obvious that he was in a dark place, because Cadence often came by to check up on him, keep him grounded. He appreciated it, but he hated it, for so many reasons. Cadence herself was stuck in a terrible place, of worry and fear and so much more, and yet she tried so hard to spare him from his own despair. He also hated it because it reminded him so much of the idiotic, hurtful things he said and did. At this moment he couldn't stand thinking about harming Emma. He knew he ought remember it every day, to strike his heart for the things he did, but whenever he thought of making her cry, of violating the trust she had put in him, he wanted to throw himself off the nearest tower.

At the moment, he paced his little room. He had moved out from his parents wing, to be even closer to the castle. It felt horrible to leave his mother, in particular, but he needed to be close, to act if he had to.

Cadence was sitting across from him, trying to calm him down. "Alexander, you need to trust in Terra. She wouldn't exclude you in something that important."

"I know that, I do," he mumbled, shortening his pacing. "It is just...I'm going insane just sitting here, waiting. I need...want...to do something to help her."

"You need to be patient," she told him, shaking her head. "Do you think I don't want to fight for Cambyses? To run and find him?" she sighed, and sat down. "I know I can't offer anything to that fight, that he wouldn't want me to. That doesn't mean I'm not...I'm not suffering, that I'm not alone."

"Cadence—"

She lifted her hand to silence him, and continued. "but then again, we aren't exactly similar, are we? In our situations, that is. You are a man, above all else, so you are stronger than me and, most importantly, you will not be discriminated against for what you are. So yes, it is true, you could probably do something to help with the war efforts. You could be shipped over and start fighting by the end of the month...but what will that do, for Emma? To put yourself in that sort of danger?" when he looked away, unsure, she said, "Do you think Emma would want you to do something like that?"

"No...of course not, but I can't just sit here."

"The best thing you can do is wait here, be patient, and listen to Terra. She will tell you what you need to know and even tell you what you can do to help."

Alexander wasn't content to stand and do nothing, though he knew in many ways Cadence was right. It may be stupid to risk himself, but it was worse to think about abandoning Emma. He looked at Cadence, gentle tears in his eyes. "I know there are things I shouldn't do, and things I should do...but this...this is something I feel in my heart that I can't ignore."

Cadence shook her head. "If you just charge out of here, into Roskovo, you could cause more harm than good. I understand you are in pain, that you want Emma to be safe, to b e home, but this is something you need to consider very carefully."

He held her closer, wishing it could be Emma here hugging her instead, and said, "I miss her..."

She soothed him quietly. "I know...I know."

---

The forest immediately became a problem for the princess. Every bramble, every branch, and every large defilade drew the girl's ire, and her apparent weakness. Captain West was struck with terror every time she stopped, practically wheezing and skin like milk. It always took a rather lengthy stop to recover her health, and as he reread the queen's notes, tons of fluids. The girl truly was as sick as all of the rumors had said. He casted so much doubt on them. He had leaned more towards the rumor that said the girl had been a bastard, a child of rape on the queen's part. And of who...he knew many circulating stories. A pirate or some such, an angered lord or lordling, or even a soldier that couldn't stand he didn't have her. The girl, after all, showed little to no resemblance to her supposed father.

Of course, that was all before he met the girl. Well, saw her for the first time rather. When she had arrived in Figaro. He was across the dock she landed in, and saw her. She certainly looked like her mother in many aspects, even her father. His belief in the rumors had stopped there. Now there were new rumors, rumors which seemed impossible to be true and yet the news of the hard evidence flew just as far as the rumor.

Captain West glanced over at the girl, trembling like a leaf in the wind. She was sitting beneath the shade of a tall fir, canteen resting in her lap. There was more of her parents in her now. It seemed so strange how much had changed in such little time. She used to be pudgier in the face, he thought, watching as she closed her eyes to rest. Now she has her mother's cheeks and nose, and her father's jaw and eyes. He sighed and leaned against a tree, and turned his eyes away. It was impossible now not to see her parents in her.

Someone approached from his side. "It has been nearly half an hour. We should press on."

"In a bit," West said, still looking away from the girl and now at him. "Let her rest for a while...she's not a soldier, just a sick kid."

There was a quiet, and then the other one said, "I understand that, and I feel sympathy for her, but we won't make it to the camp today if we keep stopping."

"Are you offering to carry her, Wilkner?"

Wilkner walked into view, smiling. "Hey...maybe I will if it'll get us moving fast." he chuckled. "I certainly wouldn't mind holding such a beautiful girl, either."

West shoved him back a bit, smiling a bit. "Don't let the king hear you speak like that about his kid. He'll be liable to tear you in two."

"I'll plead guilty of enjoying beautiful women's company, then," his smirk reminded Wally he was just kidding, but he couldn't help but wonder how the princess might take that sort of commentary if she were awake.

I have to keep her safe...from everything. "Alright Wilkner...alright. Give us another fifteen and I'll get her back on her feet, okay?"

"Roger," he saluted, clearly mockingly, and then marched off. When he was gone, Wally relaxed into a sitting position across from the princess and purposely dragged his feet when it came to waking her when the fifteen minutes ran by. By half an hour, he knew they needed to pick up the pace, so he leaned over to gently shake her awake.

The princess' eyes fluttered open, and searched him and her surroundings carefully, clearly confused. She rubbed at her eyes and stretched. "How...how long w-w-was I asleep?"

"As long as you needed to be," he answered her, standing. He knew better than to offer her a hand. "We must be off though, it is too late for my liking." when she struggled getting up, he furrowed his brows. "Are you well for travel, princess?"

She nodded, though there was a disgruntled look to her face. "Y...Yes, my back just hurts a bit."

He wasn't sure if he should march her like that, but he had no other choice. "Alright...well if you feel any worse, let me know immediately, do you understand?" she nodded again, this time more irritated, and stood straight. He could see the effort in it, but he chose not to say anything. "Good, then let us move out."

To his immense dismay, the walk stalled in the following hour. Wilkner stopped him and gestured behind them. "The girl again..."

The captain, determined to make good ground, resolved himself to carry the girl. He thanked the corporal and stormed over to the princess, just a bit frustrated himself. She was sitting with her back to him and the others about ten feet back, arms around herself. As he approached, he heard her sniffling and paused. "Princess, what is wrong now? We have too much ground to push for you to be stopping like this." He turned her to look at him, and she shrugged away, cheeks red. "What is it, then?"

"Just l-leave me alone," she cried, burying her face into her knees.

Frustrated, Wally crossed his arms and glared. "Now listen here princess...we were meant to reach the encampment by nightfall, but your little stops have significantly delayed us. If you don't tell me what is wrong, here and now, I will be forced to carry you the rest of the way. Even at my slow pace then we'd make better ground than this."

When she spoke, he couldn't believe what it was he heard. "I'm...I'm b-b-bleeding." She had whispered it, yet somehow it burned in his mind as if a shout. His cheeks reddened. Nature sure had the best timing. He looked away, unsure of what to say to her, to offer her. "I...I see." when she still would not move, he frowned. "Princess...I can see if we have anything to spare to help you and...this is normal princess, why are you so embarrassed?" when she recoiled further into her little spot, he said. "Okay, I'm sorry. I don't have a daughter myself, so I don't know what to do here." and then he remembered that his wife often complained of aches and pains, even headaches, whenever she was menstruating. "I know...I could fetch some wine. It won't help as much, I'm sure, as your mother's advice, but it should chip an edge off any pain and aches." when she didn't move he shifted on his feet, growing even further frustrated and impatient.. "What if I bring you the wine and find a place to bathe? Would you agree to get up then?"

"O...Okay."

It was promising! He smiled and turned, expecting her to follow, but when he did not hear her little footsteps, he turned back around. There she still sat, curled up, looking ashamed. "Come now, you just said..." the tears in her eyes suddenly made sense to him. He felt so ashamed for not grasping it, or being ready for it, but worst of all he felt terrible for her. Oh damn...don't tell me this is her first time... he sighed and knelt beside her. How cruel could fate be to one girl in such a short span of time?

"I understand...you don't need to say anything." he unlatched his cloak and handed it to her. "Use this, and I will see if any of the men have extra clothing to provide for you. I'll set up that bath for you, too." he stood. "Do you think you can make the trip?"

She nodded. "Y-yes...I think s-so."

"Good. Call me when you are thoroughly covered." he turned and went back to the rest of the group. The men were gathered around, waiting to hear what the issue was. "It seems our dear princess has..." he hesitated. "She is undergoing a monthly issue."

The men oh'd, some of them even chuckled. "If any of you have extra clothing, particularly as small as you can get them, I would ask for them. I'll also need two of you to help me dig a spot for her next to the river." Two men volunteered for that, and another came up with his extra clothing. Once the items were collected, he had the men dig the hole and then went for the princess.

"We have completed the necessary steps. If you would follow me, I will take you to where you may bathe in privacy." Emma lifted herself up and covered herself with the cloak, tears still burning in her eyes. He smiled. "Good work. Let us go."

The walk was quiet and slightly awkward. The princess huddled to herself at the center of them, still crying, but much more gently. West guided her to the little water hole the soldiers had dug up for her. She looked at him questioningly and he laughed. "I get the picture. You will have your privacy, don't worry. Privates, let us leave her be." they began to follow him away out of view, until the princess' soft voice called out for him.

"Captain West?"

He waved the men ahead and walked back to her. "Yes, princess?"

She began to twist her fingers together, eyes cast aside. "Do...do you think..." she stopped, and Wally thought she wasn't going to continue, until he saw tears gently roll down her cheeks. "Am...am I evil?"

Wally knew this question was loaded for so many reasons. He knew her actions were wrong, evil even to most people, especially those involved...but could he call it evil if she wasn't in control, if her intent was never to harm someone? "I...I don't know." he admitted after a moment, very gently. The expression on her face brought tears to his eyes, but before she could see them, he turned and walked away.

"Sir?" one of them asked, confused, as he approached wiping his eyes.

Wally glanced back and then said, "The princess requires privacy and she shall have it to an extent, but you two will stay here and keep a watchful eye on her." he adjusted himself and added, "I will return in half an hour. Do not let anything befall her."

They saluted. "As you say, sir."

Captain West left them at the edge of the clearing by the river and started back towards the rest of the soldiers. When he arrived, the group had done what he ordered efficiently and quickly. A small campsite had been constructed, with a fire at the center and bedrolls set up on one side. Appropriately, they had put one, all by itself, on the other side, beneath a collection of trees. He knew the men meant it for the princess and thanked them for their diligent work.

"It may be that we spend the night out here," he told them, pacing beside the fire. "The princess is very weak, and has encountered...nature." he struggled with how to convey that to them, so that they understood the delay, and hoped they got it. Thankfully, they did. Several of the men chuckled at his choice of words. "If that is the case, I will need rotating patrols for the night, as well as someone to scout the perimeter."

"I will do the patrol for the perimeter, sir." one of the men spoke up.

"Very well, but take someone with you. Do we have any volunteers?" when no one spoke up, he sighed. "Figure it out then. I need to check on the princess." as he walked away, he stopped to make it clearer. "I want this place secure by the time that I get back." and then he was gone.

The walk back through the woods relaxed him some. He had kept thinking back to the princess, and feeling terrible he couldn't even muster a lie for her. The poor child, he thought pitifully. He would have to make it up to her. Perhaps when they stumbled into the encampment, he could tell her father, and he could get her anything she desired. Anything that could distract her from her numerous problems.

The sound of voices carried to him and he paused, listening. He approached them, sword drawn. As he drew closer, their words became tangible.

"We are not obligated to do any of this." this voice sounded harsh, and familiar.

"I suppose that is true," another offered, sounding annoyed. "It doesn't matter though. We are obligated to follow command's directives, and that of the king. It doesn't matter if we don't like our orders. If it matters that much to you though, let's just get the job done quickly."

The familiar voice sounded angry when he responded. "Listen to you...you are ready to become a slave?"

"A slave?" the uninterested one repeated. "How could you compare the two? You were the one who signed yourself up for the military, now you have to live with it, even through decisions you can't stand."

"This is different though," he protested. "We're being forced to protect a monster...a murderer."

Wally didn't like what he was hearing whatsoever. This sounded dangerously like mutiny...like betrayal. He hurried his steps the best he could without noise and crept behind some shrubbery.

"Whatever...what will you do then when you are caught? Because it isn't about an if, it is definite they will find you out."

"By then we would already be across the military borders...we would be on the other side."

"The other side?" the uninterested one asked, alarmed. "So you don't only speak of treachery against the crown by capturing the girl for what you call justice, but you aim on joining the Roskovoi king?"

That was it. Horror struck him. These men were indeed discussing turning on the crown...on becoming turncloaks. He carefully drew his sword out of its scabbard, intent on catching them unawares.

"Yes, I do," the first said. "Why should I be forced to defend a monster?" he poked at the other. "The king would have us fight this war, to die in this war, for his harlot of a daughter. He doesn't care for the lives of his men anymore. That whore of a queen has wrapped herself too thoroughly in his mind, and convinced him that demonic offspring should live."

"Harlot?" the uninterested was angry now. "She may have killed those men, Tyrn, but we don't know the extent of her control. She isn't completely human, you know that. What makes you think it wasn't an accident?"

"The girl has evil in her, Dren." the angry one said. "And so many see it. There is a reason they sent that thing away when she was little, and now we know it. She turns and destroys lives."

"You sound crazy," Dren snapped.

"Oh...I get what this is," Tyrn, the angry one, said. There was laughter. "You want your chance at the girl...but listen to me Dren; a harlot isn't a good lay."

"How dare you!" Wally heard rustling, and peaked through the bushes. Dren had shoved Tyrn back. "Harlot? Harlot?! Is this how you truly speak about your princess? A little girl who was brutalized and raped?! She didn't ask for those scumbags to hurt her like that!"

"You don't know that," Tyrn said, calmly. "We only have her word, but what about the word of the boys she accused? Are we to believe she is right simply because she said it? It is more likely she opened her legs for them and decided later she didn't like it."

"You disgust me," Dren snapped. "Get out of my sight before I report you!"

Wally watched as Tyrn crossed his arms, feeling dread in his stomach. "What a shame...you are too soft. I thought I could convert you to our side, but I see it is too late for that." he turned from Dren and, as the man tried to stop him, someone came out of the trees behind Dren and shoved a sword through his back.

Fury and fear seared through Wally. He knew it was too late for private Dren, but thought of a prayer for him before turning. He had to get the men gathered and get to the princess immediately. If this insubordination hadn't reached them yet, that is. And yet, as he took no more than twenty steps, a man cut off his path. It was the one that had killed Dren.

Wally took a stance. "If I were you private, I would think long and hard on what you are about to do!"

"Ah...if it isn't captain West." Wally turned and saw Deravic and Tyrn approaching from the way that he had come from. Tyrn was tapping his fingers on the pommel of his sword, clearly amused. "Oh, is something the matter captain?"

"You were brothers of Figaro...how could you betray us like this?"

"Us?" Deravic laughed. "We have no intention of betraying fellow soldiers. We aim only for the girl."

"Say that to Dren then! You killed him!"

"Well...we couldn't exactly have him running off to tell you about our little scheme, could we? If you don't resist, we have no need to kill you. Stay uninvolved, captain, and you live."

"You involved me the second you spoke this vile thing...when you killed Dren!"

"You will die here, today, for that whore?" Tyrn asked, shaking his head. "You are just as lost as Dren."

"He wasn't lost," Wally spat at them. "He had honor!"

"Enough," Deravic said, crossing his arms. "I can't hear anymore of this nonsense. Secure him where the men can find him when we are gone."

And then, at once, Tyrn and the soldiers leapt at him.

•••••••••••

It had been close to ten minutes over the half hour he had given her, and still the captain did not return. She had finished a couple minutes prior, unwilling to antagonize her only 'friend' or any of the other soldiers by taking too long. So she quickly scrubbed herself clean and tugged into the oversized soldier clothes. The loose form of the doublet made her look unnaturally wide and short. The baggy trousers, as good as the air against her felt, dragged her down. She found herself constantly lifting them back up to her waist line, readjust the string belt integrated into the trousers and repeat again moments later. It simply would not do.

Emma paused in front of the reflection of the river, at her own face. The bruises from her rape had vanished, but the scars remained all too clear. The cut through her left eye brow, a cut on the right of her forehead hidden away behind her hair and the scar on her lip were the most noticeable on her face. With a puff of breath she reached up to brush aside the hair to look at the indented scar. She carefully prodded it with her fingers, never removing her eyes from the reflection. It was such a tiny thing...yet it pulled her attention like it was a burn across her entire face.

She wanted to believe the scars did not matter, that they were so tiny they could hardly be seen, but it was too hard to believe. Not when she knew for a fact the world was more shallow than she cared to admit. She wondered, then, if Alexander hated her scars, if he found them disgusting. I am my scars, she thought suddenly, fearfully realizing that if he hated her scars, in someway he hated her. What have I become?

A snap to her far left drew her attention from the reflection. A shadow rapidly flew behind bushes twenty feet away and she forgot entirely about holding her trousers up. Her eyes widened and she could not move or even breath, as if it would make whatever it was in the bushes vanish or take her someplace far away. Someplace safe. She swallowed slowly and found her voice to meekly ask, "W-West? Is...is that you?"

Out from the bushes came a tall man dressed in the colors of Figaro, carrying a spear. She eased instantly, reaching back down to tug her trousers over her waistline before she caught sight of two more people to the left of the previous man. Her eyes slowly drifted from the tall man to the others, noticing the captain was not with them, or the fourth soldier. "Wh-where is Captain West?" The man with the spear dropped the butt of his weapon into the dirt. The other two stopped when they were besides the spear wielder. Fearing that perhaps Roskovo had found them in his land, unprotected, she asked, "Is...is something wrong?"

"Aye, there is," the man to the left of the spearman said, stepping forward. "Do you know who I am?" She shook her head weakly, her fear started to build for reasons she did not know. "I am Tyrn Lacrest, brother of Torin Lacrest...a soldier of Figaro Army. He died."

"I—I don't—"

"He died by your hands," he said, tears suddenly in his eyes, though his face remained fierce. "Died by your monstrous hands!"

Emma looked away from them for a flat second to scan the area for Wally West, knowing where this confrontation of theirs was leading. "He isn't here, you harlot! Wally cannot protect you any more!"

"Finally," the other man said, to the right of the spearman. Emma recognized him. It was Deravic. "I've been waiting for this since we landed."

"Let's feed her to the animals," the spearman suggested calmly. "we can say they got to her and it'll be the end of any investigation."

"Except Wally knows our plan," Lyin pointed out coldly. "But it won't matter. Once we take care of her, we're joining Roskovo." he never removed his eyes from his friends even as he heard the princess trying to escape and said, "don't even think about it." and grinned when she immediately stopped. He turned back to her with a sick smile on his face. "Do you even think about the lives you destroyed, harlot?"

"N-No, I just—"

Her answer infuriated him. He charged toward her, easily clearing the space in seconds and slapped her so hard that he split her lip open. She tumbled away from him to her bum and covered her head. "That was my brother! Those were innocent lives you took away! They didn't deserve what you did! That painful death...you don't think of them?! Why? How could you be so monstrous?!"

"P-P-Please! I never meant to—to hurt them. P-Please!"

"Did they beg too?!" he asked, howling at the top of his lungs. "Did my brother beg you to stop?! Did the Queen!? Did anyone?!" he used his foot to shove her to her back. "Answer me!"

"I don't know!" she cried out. "I don't remember it...please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I never meant to! Please! Please don't hurt me!"

Deravic scoffed. "You think we believe that bullshit? You don't remember? Convenient!"

"Is this how you convinced the king and queen that those poor boys raped you?" Tyrn asked, leaning down to rip her defensive shield away from her head so he could see her tear stricken eyes. "Did you lie about that too?! Did you?!"

"No! No! No!"

Tyrn snarled. "Liar! You lied! You lied just like you always do! Harlots never tell the truth!" he let her arms go. "Harlots never tell the truth." he unsheathed a knife from his waist. "You will never lie again. You will never harm another again. I will see to it myself!"

A weird pressure startled to build at the back of her head and for a moment she completely forgot about her impending doom to foster this strange pain in her head, until the soldier stood above, knife held down toward her. Her vision flickered and she groaned, but she tried to hold on, to prepare to fight back her attacker even though she knew it was hopeless. He leaned down, knife gleaming under the bright sun above them.

As Tyin's blade touched the soft skin of her throat, enough pressure applied to draw a pinprick of blood, she closed her eyes shut as tight as they could go and screamed for the only thing she wanted, "Daddy!"

The cold steel dug deeper into her throat, cutting a tiny slice, rushing hot blood forward. Then it was over and she was on her back, with someone holding a hand tightly against her throat. There was shouting around her but she could not hear the words, only the desperate and angry sound of it. When she opened her eyes she was looking straight up into the face of General Suon. She hadn't seen him in for so long she hardly even recognized him.

He was looking down at her, expression hard, with soft blue eyes. Occasionally he'd look up for a second and then back down to her. It wasn't until the pressure in her head vanished that the sounds became audible. Suon was asking her not to move. "Keep still princess, do you hear me? You have to stay still." she nodded, wondering if the wound on her throat was truly that bad. He must have been wondering the same thing for he lifted his hand to look at the cut. He look satisfied and then looked away even as he rose to his feet. "Stay here Emma. We will be right back." and then he took off in a fury of blades. When she sat up, aware acutely of the fact that her heart was racing, she saw Suon and her father battling off the men.

•••••••••••

Edgar was handling a spear against the other pikeman, effortlessly, as if he was not a man of his age or had never taken such a long absence from battle. He pivoted to the right, spun his spear by kicking the butt with right foot, and sent it full circle to counter the other man's attack. Next he twirled the spear above his head, brought it down like it was a cleaving knife and then quickly drew it toward the left just as the man dodged him. It ripped across the right side of his body but did not stop him. The pikeman back stepped and jabbed forward, missing Edgar's left ribcage by mere inches. With a swift hand, covered in a thick glove and metal guard, Edgar chopped his hand down on the shaft of his opponent's spear and broke it in half before he finished his movement, grabbed the pikeman by the collar of his shirt and then threw him into the dirt.

The pikeman got a "wait, please!" before Edgar dug the blade of his spear through his chest. He quickly turned his eyes toward Tyrn, who was grinning from ear to ear at him, unoccupied and waiting to be challenged. Suon was finishing off the third man even as Edgar advanced toward Tyrn. He threw his spear aside and unsheathed his sword elegantly before he stopped ten feet before him.

"You look crossed, my king. Whatever happened?"

"How dare you raise a blade to my daughter." his hand tightened around the hilt of his sword. "I shall make you regret it."

"Then make me regret it," Tyrn poked, charging him even as he unsheathed his shortsword. Their blades met in a flurry of sparks and clings, in continuous and quick slashes that resounded angrily around them. Whatever ground Edgar managed Tyrn easily ripped away by changing his position in the environment around him. Quickly he managed to push Edgar into a corner where it made them equals, despite Edgar's clear advantaged in swordplay skills.

Edgar swung left and right, countering every move masterfully, but could not find an opening that would not leave his own defenses open to enemy strike. The onslaught of each other's attacks would tire them, he knew it, and at that point either was doomed to whoever won amongst Suon and the third Turncloak.

"Is this all you can do, old man?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his daughter watching with round, tearful eyes, a terrified expression ripping at his very heart. He knew he could not afford losing her, it would mean the end of the world for him. He couldn't let this traitor win, he couldn't let him harm his baby. With a furious swing he knocked Tyrn's sword clean out of his hands and then punched the man so hard on the nose that the crack was heard even from the distance Suon and Emma were at.

Tyrn was on his back, now trying to escape by moving backwards, never removing his eyes off the king. Blood gushed from his nose as it were a fountain all down his face and all over his beautiful Figaro colors. He babbled and babbled as the king got closer, slowly. "It wasn't my idea, m'lord, it wasn't! It...It was them! It was them!" he pointed a figure toward the dear pikeman and the man Suon just finished capturing him. "I had nothing to do with it! They threatened me, you see?! They said they'd kill my sister, don't you understand? Don't you understand?"

"Shut up!" he howled, discarding his sword. "Another word from you and your death won't be so swift."

"My king, don't do this! I am a victim! A victim!" he turned his round eyes toward the princess and then back at him, looking absolutely puzzled. "Why do you care for her so?! She's just a mon—"

Quickly, before the words could leave the Turncloak's mouth, Edgar dashed forward and put all his weight behind his punch, rendering the man unconscious through a spray of blood. It splattered across Edgar's smooth trousers, staining them. With a swipe across his sweaty brow, Edgar turned lazily toward his daughter. Suon was already tending to her, having the girl hold her head up so he could get a better look at the gash on her throat. Tiredly, he made his way over.

"Luckily it wasn't deep enough to cause any mortal danger." his gentle fingers touched the open wound and the blood deftly, as if this wasn't his first neck injury to tend to. "It will leave a scar, I'm afraid."

"I'm—I'm not g-going to die?"

Suon laughed, digging a potion out of his bag. He poured a generous amount into his hand, a thick green gel, and then rubbed a line straight over the injury. "You will be fine." he looked up at the king who had come to stand behind him. "Isn't that so, my king?"

She looked him in the eyes instantly and he could see the tears. "F-Father, I—"

"—I have you now. You are safe with me." It had been too long since he sat his eyes upon his beautiful daughter that he dropped to his knees and enveloped her in his arms, so tightly that she winced against the pain. Suon smiled brightly as he pushed up to his feet and went to tend to Tyrn and the other man. She wrapped her arms around him and started to sniffle against his chest. He rocked her back and forth, continuing to soothe her with pats and words. "Sssh now, I have you, I have you and I will never let you go."

•••••••••••

It had taken them only an hour to reach their carriage and group. Emma had fallen asleep during the drive, quiet as a mouse and leaning against her father's side. Silently he asked Suon to go look for the group that was supposed to meet them and waited until the General disappeared from view with twenty men before he had the carriage continue on toward their encampment.

During this tiring and long journey Edgar had the chance to study his daughter carefully. Besides the bandage over her new injury, she didn't look like she had been in some intense magical fight, let alone with natural masters like Terra and Celes. The only scars he could see were those that had appeared from her injuries during her rape. He realized that it was nearly impossible to tell that she never got hit because she lacked scars, because she could very well contain scars under her clothes or not scar from attacks dealt to her Esper side, just like her mother. But the change in her he could see was just how much she had grown since he last saw her months ago.

She was scrawny now—twiggy even compared to other girls her age—having lost her baby fat that once chubbied her cheeks and rounded her figure. He wondered, then, if that meant she had become a woman and desperately hoped that was not the issue. She was still so pale too, and so small. That same short little girl he had grown to love running about the castle. He sighed, lost in the memories of it. Suddenly, he felt tiny fingers wrap around his lower arm. He glanced down at her, smiling just a bit. He and Terra had created such an angel.

The study of his daughter only made him want to see her eyes open, so that he may look upon the eyes he and his wife had created, but he could not bring himself to wake her...not when she looked so tired. So when the carriage parked inside the center of the Figaro camp, he opened the door and took her up into his arms like she was still that toddler who fell asleep during a long story. In his arms, that twiggy appearance carried more concern with him now.

It made Edgar remember all too well just how much heavier his sons were at the age of ten, and by the age of fourteen. They were heavy little tykes. And he knew his daughter was not supposed to be the same in that regard, but he knew it was not healthy all the same for her to be so...so weightless. He took a deep breath. He would let her eat whatever it was that she wanted, so long as it put some meat on her bones.

Feeling frustrated suddenly by his thoughts, he hurried her into his tent and laid her gently down into his bed. Emma looked disturbed for a second by the sudden change but instantly relaxed into the lush fur blankets with a sweet smile. He laughed quietly, leaned down to kiss her forehead and then covered her.

Before he could do much else, a soldier ripped through the tent's door and stopped abruptly at the sight, realizing he had interrupted something private. "I'm sorry my king to interrupt you, but this is important."

"What is it?" he asked, never taking his eyes off his daughter.

"A letter from Suon. He reports he found the rest of the missing team, as well as Captain West. He reports they will be back by dawn."

"Thank you corporal...is that all?"

The soldier bowed. "Yes, my king. I will keep vigilance until their return."

"Good. Please tell the chef that I will require a full meal in the morning, around eight."

"Of course," he bowed and hurried away.

When they were alone, Edgar went over to his daughter and made sure she was tucked in. "Good night, my sweet girl...tomorrow will be better for you." he kissed her forehead and then closed the curtains around the bed before leaving.

•••••••••••

In the morning the princess woke to her father's bassy voice. He was leaning down beside the bed, searching her tired face even as she tried to recall what had last happened. He could see it in her eyes, her confusion about the events and why, or how, she was with him until the memories flooded her mind. Sitting up, she rubbed at her eyes, yawning tiredly enough to make Edgar reconsider waking her.

It was late in the morning, the sun was already on its way to a high point and the heat with it, but he could not have woken her earlier. He used that time, as much as he could, to watch her sleep, to try and remember this scene for what it was. "Good morning, my dear. I pray you slept well?" still disoriented, she nodded. "That is well to hear, but you must be famished." he stood and rolled in a cart. "I had something prepared for you. When you are done eating, I will return."

Her eyes went from the cart to him. It was clear she was upset by what he said, but he couldn't understand why that might upset her. He frowned back at her. "Eat Emma...I will return once you are done." he bowed his head to her a bit and turned away, quickly.

"Father?" she called to him.

He turned, hesitantly, to look at her. She began to say something, but he cut her off. "When you are done eating, Emma. I promise." he hurried out of the tent.

As Edgar left the tent, he saw Suon glance over from another tent at him. He had returned with the other men. Edgar joined them briefly, to ask how the men were. They were eager to prove they were fine, but sadden that they lost some of their own.

Captain West spoke up. "My king...how is the princess?"

"She is well enough," he said, feeling dread build in him for some reason. "You did well protecting her, captain. It isn't your fault for how it played out."

He looked away. "Yes, my king." a second later, he asked, "Have you spoken with her yet, your grace?"

The question paralyzed him. He swallowed back a tart reply to mind his business and turned away, practically fleeing.

•••••••••••

Emma had never known her father to brush his children aside, to disregard them. It hurt more than she thought it would, to be rejected by her own father. Tears burned in her eyes as she pressed her knees to her chest, trembling. Did this mean he really did set up her assault, to hurt her? To teach her a lesson? She screwed her eyes shut and cried. What did I do to him? Why...why does he hate me? Silence greeted her where once the voice in her head would speak. Silence which weighed so heavily on her shoulders.

I wish I didn't care...I wish I could forget them so it would stop hurting.

But she knew there was no amount of wishing, or praying, that could help her. Wishes were just words in the wind, and prayer was only answered by those deemed worthy. Perhaps if she had spent more time at the chapels, maybe then they would answer her pleas. There were so many things she wished she could redo, anything that would change the way people saw her...the way her father saw her.

If her father didn't love her, or wish for her, why did he decide to keep her when she was born? Why put her through that torment? Emma looked up and saw the cart alongside the bed. A jolt of anger charged her. She kicked the cart over, spilling all of the contents across the wooden floor. The seething rage in her heart did not relent. She wanted to tear through the tent, destroy what he cherished, and yet her body did not raise.

Quick footsteps approached the tent then, and the next instance she heard the flap fly open and knew who it was charging into the tent. "Emma?" she did not need to look up to know he finally saw the mess she had made. A scolding surely was a breath away. The small quiet quickly died, as he approached—carefully avoiding the spilled porridge and drink—to stand before her.

"Emma...what is the meaning of this? Why did you do this?" her refusal to answer did not make him leave as she had hoped. "Please don't ignore me, tell me why you did this."

Go away! She thought, tearing up. Go away...!

He sighed and knelt to start picking up the silverware and dishes. "Fine..." she peaked at him, astonished he was not screaming at her. It was something that became the average for her father. What was this? A new tactic? When he was done placing the dishes back on the cart, he stood. "I understand if you are angry with me Emma, but please...you must eat, to keep up your energy."

Fed up, she snarled, "As if you c-c-care!"

The look on her father's face was something she had never seen before. It was as if she hit him. He frowned at her after a second. "Why would you think that I do not care for you?" he tried to near but she turned away and he stepped back. "I have only ever done what I thought was right by you. I have only ever loved you and your brothers with all my heart."

"You are a liar!" she snapped. "You have only c-cared for Ben and Camb!"

"That is not true!" he yelled. "I would walk through fire for you, young lady! Stop this nonsense!"

"Nonsense?!" she was on her feet so quickly it startled her father. "You have only e-ever treated me like I never mattered! You let Camb and Ben make fun of me and bully me! You never even visited me when...when..." by this time her screaming had turned into sobs. "And..and all of t-t-those letters...you never cared, never."

"Emma...I...I never thought your brothers could do such a thing. I...I was blind. I'm sorry, I should have stepped in earlier, I should have stopped them. But it doesn't mean I love you any less than them." she hid her tears away from him. "And what letters are you talking about?"

Furious that her father had forgotten them, she leapt at him, pummeling his chest. "Liar! Liar! Liar!"

"Gods!" Edgar breathed, trying to hold her back, not because it hurt but because it was terrifying and worrying. "Calm down Emma, calm down!" when it was clear that she was not going to settle down, he took her by the shoulders and held her firmly still. "Emma! Stop this right now, before you hurt yourself!" Her breathing and eyes were wild, but she settled. "Now explain these...these letters to me."

She began to cry. "How c-c-could you forget them?" she asked, breathing hard. "Y-you...you..." finally she broke into tears.

•••••••••••

Edgar didn't know what to do. His daughter was having a panic attack, that much was clear. And over some letters he never sent! He tried to calm her down from her attack, but as soon as he touched her arm, she crumbled to the floor in hysterical tears. Horrified, he knelt beside her. "Emma, please, I don't know what letters you are talking about but..." and then it hit him. The fear sank into his heart. She meant the forgery, the one meant as a gift.

"That letter you received," she looked at him, sniffing. "It was not written by me, I swear to you." he could only hope she would believe him. "Suon was here when I wrote you your letter, the one truly meant as your gift. When your mother had that letter sent to me, to demand why I would write such horrible things, I was horrified."

"It...it had your hand writing."

"I know, but I swear I didn't write that to you." he thought to tell her who had forged it, but he declined. If she knew the father of the men who had assaulted her was pushing further to hurt her...he had no idea how she would react. "Since then I have written triples of everything I send, to ensure it doesn't happen again."

He could tell she was trying to hold back her tears. "I don't believe you."

"Emma, I..." he hesitated, and then sighed. "I have given you good reason to suspect that I am not being truthful, haven't I?" her eyes softened with surprise. "I allowed your brothers to torment you because...because I thought it was just good teasing, but then everyone was telling me that I needed to stop them because it was mean spirited and it was hurting you. By that time I didn't know what to do. I failed you so many times, and not just with your brothers, but for those kids who tormented you at Sunset and even at Cambidge back at Thamasa. I have no good excuse for why I chose to turn an eye to their behavior, or foolishly believe it was just something siblings did. I waited far too long.." he shook his head. "And how I treated you whenever you required punishment...I will never forgive myself for striking you that day—" this surprised her. "—I regretted it the moment I did it. I was only...only so afraid. I wanted you to understand that you couldn't do that again, but even so, that is not a justification...I had wronged you."

"I know no amount of apologizing could ever make up for it, and I know you have every right to be angry with me...I just hope you will give me the chance to make up for it all, to show you that I love you."

For a moment it seemed as if she would ignore him, but then, just as she began to speak someone barged into the pavilion. She immediately held her tongue and looked away. Edgar's fury was uncaged. He turned to face the soldier who had interrupted. "What do you want?!"

The soldier looked alarmed, but said, "Suon desires your immediate attention."

"Tell Suon I will be with him soon, he will understand."

Even so, as Edgar tried to speak to his daughter again, the soldier insisted, "Suon requests your immediate attention, your grace. He said you need to hear what he has to say."

Edgar, furious, shouted, "Tell him I will be with him in a moment!" this time the soldier did not stick around to prickle his king's anger any further. As soon as the silence enveloped them again, he looked at his daughter. "I'm sorry for the interruptions Emma...I won't leave here until we can talk about this."

The look she gave him then only made him hate himself even more. The fear and distrust...all from just considering listening to him. He knew his mistakes ran miles, that the depth of them was inescapable. "Please Emma...give me a chance."

She looked away from him. "O-okay..."

He smiled. Now he knew; she would always be that sweet girl. He remembered the mess she had made, and said, "Let's get you something to eat first...I'm terribly worried about you. I'll just go ask for a soldier to summon the chef again, but it will only take a moment."

Her eyes widened. "You...you will come back?"

He knew she was terrified, for so many reasons, but it was clear the idea of losing her father—of him hating her—must have been terrorizing her. "I swear, Emma. I will return."

•••••••••••

Her father was only gone for a few minutes, but in that time she had felt that strange fear surge again. She didn't know why she let the idea of her father hating her scare her so, especially after what he had did—though, of course, he swears he didn't. It felt stupid to even think about trusting him again, and yet she wanted to know he did not hate her, that he did not do those things.

When he came back, he was with another cart, overburdened with various foods. She felt embarrassed then, for having reacted so angrily and childish. She didn't know why her anger sparked so then, but she hoped it wouldn't happen again.

"I'm sorry it took so long," her father said, stopping the cart beside the table. "I wanted to be sure the chef prepared your favorites." he unveiled the food. It was all, indeed, her favorites, but even as hungry as she was, she did not wish to eat. He must have noticed something was wrong, because he asked, "What is it Emma? Is this not good?"

"N-No, that's not it. I...I just..." she sighed. "I...I want to know the t-truth."

His eyes softened. "Of course...I don't know how I can prove to you that I did not write those letters Emma, except perhaps having Suon as witness. If I could prove it, I would." So, she had to take it all on faith. She didn't know if she could do that. She looked away. "You must understand Emma. I would never do something like that to you or to anyone else."

Emma didn't know what to do, or say. This was a crazy excuse. How could it have not been him when it was his writing? His words? What's more, what she had learned in the manor still hurt her to her core.

Her father spoke again, and it stunned her, "Emma...why do you think I am capable of such hurtful things?" she tried to look at him, but all strength left her. She shook her head, but her persisted. "Please...tell me. I know that I have not always been there for you when you were bullied, and that is horrible I know, but is that a man you think would write you such horrible things?"

He looked so vulnerable, so scared and confused. It was almost believable...she wanted to believe it. Yet the war raged on in her heart. Every step he had taken pointed to his lies, how could she ever believe him? Why is it that even when I feel sad or angry, I feel like I'm wrong for it? she squeezed her eyes shut, and wished for that strange voice to return, to help her decide. All she had was herself again, someone she couldn't trust whatsoever. What is wrong with me?

Tearfully, she looked at her father. "Why...why did you have them hurt me then?" her father's eyes widened in confusion.

"What are you...who do you think I had..." the words stopped there, and his face drained of all color. The realization of what she meant crossed him. "No..." he pressed a hand to his head, trembling. "This whole time you...you thought I made them hurt you?" he took her by the arm then, and made her look at him. "Why?" he asked, and she could see tears in his eyes. "Why would I ever let anyone hurt you when the thought of you in pain sickens me?!"

She tried to rip her arm free, but he was too strong. "You're a l-lair! I heard them..." she broke down into sobs. "I heard them..." her father let her go, but did not move away.

"Emma...you mean more to me than you could ever imagine. I would never let someone hurt you. Don't you understand? Every step I have taken since you were born was for you, even if you don't always understand it or see it. You have been on your mother and I's mind every second of the day."

"They—they said that you..." she sniffed, and wiped at her eyes. "Why...why didn't you come see m-me then?"

Her father took her into his arms and held her as she cried. "Because I am a very stupid man. I didn't know how to talk to you, least of all about what happened, and...and I was afraid."

Sniffing, she mumbled, "A-afraid? W-why?"

"For so many foolish things. I thought that if I had come to see you, I would say something to upset you, to hurt you. I thought that...that I wouldn't be able to help you." he sighed. "I realized too late the mistakes I had made. And, here and now, I realize how irrevocable the harm is I had caused to you by not visiting." he let her go and took a step back. "But Emma, despite it all, I need you to understand that I love you and I would have never allowed such...such horrible things to happen to you. I would understand though if you never wished to see me again, and I wouldn't fight it because I know the pain I caused would lessen by not seeing my face again."

When he turned and began to walk away, Emma started to cry. "Do...do you mean it?"

He turned to look at her. "Every word."

She ran over to hug him and sobbed. "I'm sorry," she cried into his shirt. "I'm s-sorry!"

He held her. "No, my sweet girl, you have done nothing wrong." he held her even tighter. "Nothing at all."

•••••••••••

Edgar knew how much it exhausted his daughter whenever she had her emotional outbursts, whatever they may be, so when she finally settled from that high into slumber, he sat and watched her for a great length of time. As he watched her, he couldn't help but wonder how she could feel so unloved that she could believe he would have men assault her. And for what purpose? What sort of crime did she think she committed that he could do something so evil as punishment for?

He knew the only thing that mattered was getting her to understand he loved her, but the seed had been set before, and he wanted to avoid helping it grow again. He shook his head and reached to tuck her in. I will make them pay for what they have done to you, he thought as he stood. Every last one of them. He kissed her forehead and then left the pavilion.

The outside was chaotic. Soldiers were dashing around, trying their hardest not to make too much noise. Weapons and supplies were being moved around, and the outer perimeter of the encampment was being reinforced with larger and more spikes and trenches. The one overseeing it all was Suon, and at the moment he was standing atop a crate, so he could direct everyone within reach.

Edgar approached quietly. "How goes the preparations?"

Suon glanced at him. "As well as one could expect, given such short notice."

"Suon...am I making a mistake? I feel like I should have had her taken back to the shores..."

The general stopped to step down from the crate and talk with his king, more privately. "Your grace...even if you had sent her off immediately, they would not have made it to the docks in time."

Edgar looked out to the woods, feeling dread grip him. The army of Roskovo was out there, somewhere, blocking progress, preventing retreat. They were about to have the fight of their lives, and Edgar prayed to the gods that defeat would only be known to the enemy when it came to it. He had too much to lose here now. He had to protect Emma with all his might.

There was still so much they could do to reinforce the camp. He pointed to the northern approach, where the scouts had determined the enemy would assault from. "How far can you clear the trees to the east and west, so that they do not join the northern approach?"

Understanding what his purpose was, Suon smiled tiredly. "As far as reasonable."

"Good, have it cleared quickly Suon, I want it secured before the rest."

"Understood, your grace. When the task is through, should I have them lay the traps immediately, or wait until the morning?"

"I will leave it to your discretion."

He nodded. "Then while you are here, perhaps you can help determine the guard for the princess? Captain West wishes to be on the force, but I told him I needed to consult with you first."

The young captain that had made the trek with his daughter? He had heard quite a few things from the man, and from others. It seemed like he was a good captain, and an even greater man. He nodded. "Let him in, but run rigorous tests on the others. Have it done by tonight."

"Of course, your majesty." he bowed and then straightened to hurry to his next task.

With that done, Edgar made his way around the encampment, giving instructions or asking for something specific to be done around his pavilion. Everyone was eager to help, knowing that the princess was tucked away inside and needed to be secured further. He had a trench started around his tent, with water and spikes to be installed, and wooden planks to be brought near, to be installed inside for extra protection against projectiles. It was all he could think to do to make it safer, but wished for more.

It will have to be enough, he thought as he approached the pavilion. The thought of losing her was too difficult. He knew he would do anything to preserve her health, even should it be at his own risk. I will have to tell her sooner rather than later, but if all goes well this confrontation won't even happen. He took a deep breath and then entered the pavilion.

His little girl was still asleep. The sound of her breathing, gentle and rhythmic, settled the anxiety and fear in his heart. If only for a moment. He drew the flaps over the window up, bringing in the sunlight, and turned to stir his daughter from her sleep.

She woke rubbing at her eyes. "Good morning, m'girl." She covered her line of sight from the sunlight and mumbled her greetings shyly. "I realize the situation is not ideal, Emma, being trapped in a military encampment...but I would like to make the best of it."

"What...what do you mean?"

"I have had the men gather all of the literature between them—and don't you worry, they were more than happy to do so—and cook all of your favorites. I thought perhaps you would love some time alone, with your books."

Her eyes widened before turning away. "Am...am I a bother?"

"Heavens, no," he laughed as he knelt beside the bed. "Your mother wrote frantically about how long you had been secluded in the prisons back in Figaro. I just thought you had missed the feel of a page...and the taste of real food."

A blush appeared across her cheeks as she fumbled over what she wanted to say, "I...I t-thought maybe we...we could...do something."

Together, he realized, feeling shame for not realizing she might have wanted to spend time with him. It had been months since they saw each other, really, and even when they had...what did they ever do together? He remembered the attempt of his to take her out, to teach her to swim, and chided himself for never doing it.

"I would certainly love the company, but are you sure? I don't have much to do today, at least not anything you could find enjoyment in. I certainly don't," he laughed and rose. "If you are serious, then break your fast. I will return then, and we can go about the day together."

Emma smiled and scurried out of the bed to go about her morning routine. Edgar reflected on that smile, one that reminded him so much of Terra, before hurrying out of the tent.

•••••••••••

It was a strange thing, to be so close to her father now. Strange and awkward. She had told him what she believed he had done, and the anger—be it from suggesting he could do something so vile or anger for knowing he had—she thought he would display never came to be. Instead, she was answered in a calm, comforting manner. She couldn't remember the last time her father wasn't disciplining her or telling her how she did something wrong. It was almost unnerving not having him chide her for something, but it was certainly a welcomed change.

To her astonishment, there laid a folded stack of new clothes on the nearby dresser. She shuffled through them, and frowned. It was more male clothing, though this time they seemed to be truer to fit—of course, still large. She hesitantly held the trousers against her, and gawked at how much longer the legs were compared to hers. She sat it aside and checked the military blouse, a dark green. It would hang very loose, but at least not so much that she would have to tie it at the shoulders. She sat them aside and went to the back of the pavilion.

A basin sat behind retractable walls. A large faucet hung over the basin, attached to piping that drew out of view behind the tent walls. She knew her father had set this up specifically for her, and felt embarrassed for having such privileged preferences served in the middle of an encampment. She turned the faucet on and smiled as the water began to heat up very rapidly.

She was unbelievably thankful, though. She went back to grab the clothes that had been set aside for her and, behind the retractable walls, discarded her old attire into a bin. With a content, heavy sigh, she submerged herself in the hot water. The heat radiated deep into her being, easing the pain off her bones. She sat there for a moment, soaking it in, before she began to scrub and wash.

She did not stay very long in the basin. She knew time was pressing. She carefully lifted herself out of the basin. The cold burned against her wet skin immediately. She gasped, trembling, and went for her towel and clothes.

Thoroughly dressed—sadly the clothes still did not fit her—she peaked back into the rest of the pavilion. It was empty. All except a new cart of food. She frowned and went into the rest of the pavilion, looking for her father. When it was clear he was not within sight, she frowned. Of course...how could she expect their relationship to mend so easily? She lifted the top over the trays and stared into the bowl of fruits.

"I apologize for my tardiness m'dear." Emma turned, and smiled a little when she saw her father hurrying into the tent, discarding his overcoat to a small table beside the entrance. "Ah! Good, the food as arrived." he came to stand beside her and looked at the assortment of food. "I hope this is sufficient. I wanted our morning to be full of flavor."

For Emma, it was perfect. She sniffed back tears and reached over to hug him. Edgar chuckled and hugged her back. "Come, let us eat before it gets cold."

Their morning started with a truly fine assortment. There was bacon and sausages, eggs and ham, fruits and mushrooms, muffins and toast, and of course tasty blackberry jam. Emma had topped her plate with as much of the meat and eggs as she could and smeared tons of jam over the toast. Her father never said a word about the quantity of her meal, so she ate it all happily. Her father only helped himself to a small dish of eggs and ham, and barely touched it.

Emma was worried at first, but when he started asking her questions about her time at Figaro—before her attack on the soldiers—she had forgotten the worry quickly. Somehow the morning felt...normal. As if she had woken up back in Figaro, before the ball. Before Luke.

He asked her how her days had gone since he departed Figaro and such, and Emma felt foolish for the answer. She had almost entirely stayed in her room. Whatever she said though, her father listened intently and responded in kind. It was strange, and embarrassing, being here, now, and doing this. But she was so grateful. Even if it were a farce, it soothed many fears.

As she reached for her glass of juice, her father leaned into the support of his chair and knitted his fingers together, watching her. She hadn't noticed at first, but when he spoke up she looked at him for a second. "Emma, my dear girl...I have something to ask you."

She sat her glass down to listen. "I know you are so very young, and that you may not understand all of what I wish to discuss with you, but I want to have this conversation."

"W-what conversation?"

"You are nearing adulthood," he said, leaning out of the chair. "And I know, despite it all, you think about the future." She wasn't understanding where this was going. "Where do you see yourself in five, even ten, years?"

Immediately Emma thought of Alexander. In her mind's eye, there was a quiet little place of their own where no one could disturb them. They would just talk and read and listen, and spend the evenings outside and the nights at a fireplace. It was...home. She felt tears burn in her eyes. Would she have that dream now?

Her father noticed. "Emma, I do not mean to alarm you or distress you, I am just curious."

Unable to tell him about Alexander, she looked away, tears in her eyes. "Home." it was the truth, just not all of it.

He sighed again and dropped back into the support of the chair, thinking. "Yes...that is what I thought." he smiled, a fringe of a laugh on his lips. "You do not care for the things most do...you just want to be where you are loved, isn't that so?"

Blushing, Emma frowned. "Is...is that wrong?"

Happily, he laughed. "No, Emma, it isn't. For the longest time I had tried to force you to pick something to work on, to walk towards in life, but there isn't really one for you, is there? Your mother was right...you are smart enough to do whatever you want to. I regret so much how I handled raising you...I should have just let you be the kid that you were." he said, "From this moment on, I swear I will not impose my will over yours."

Emma offered her father a small smile before going back to her meal.

When they were through with their meal, and Emma helped to clean up the table and wash the dishes they had made, Edgar took her aside. "I know this is probably not something you wish to discuss with me, but with the absence of your mother I feel like I must step up." he seemed unable to look at her. She couldn't understand where this was going. Was he trying to confuse her?

"What do you mean?"

Her father, abashed, turned his head from her view. "It concerns womanly arts..."

Now she was even more confused. "Womanly arts?"

The blush that appeared over her father's face was clear as day. "You know...private things...between women."

"You aren't making any sense," she told him with a frown.

Edgar sighed and gestured back to the chairs. "I know...come, sit down and I will try this again." she followed him back to the chairs and sat down. "Emma, when you came here I was...I was informed of something that happened during your journey here."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Well, no, of course not. It is just captain West informed me that—that you had experienced..." he stopped himself and shook his head. "That you experienced b-bleeding."

Emma's cheeks reddened immediately. "W-w-what?"

"I just want you to know that it is completely normal for women to experience. It is a process that is important to your body and won't harm you." he still couldn't look her in the eyes. "Every month you will experience it, for some time."

"I—I don't w-want to talk about this."

"I know that m'dear, but you have to." he took her hand. "It is important that you know. Your mother normally would have told you, and before everything we had set aside a date to tell you, but it has been too long already and it needs to be explained."

Emma mumbled, "It is okay father...I c-c-can read about it."

"You shouldn't have to learn about these things on your own, through some book," he sighed. "Please, let me explain."

And so for the next hour and a half she sat patiently and listened to his explanation of the "wonders of being a woman", all the while looking away—at anything but her. Emma had some notion of it all already though, having read about it back in Figaro after her assault. Finally, apparently done, he finally looked at her. "Do...do you understand?"

Frowning, she nodded. "Yes, father."

He blushed. "Good, good..." he itched nervously at his neck and then cleared his throat. "Well then, I am glad that is all out of the way..."

Curious, she looked at her father as he scrambled to his feet again and went to the small sink. "Is...is that all you wanted to talk about?" she had wanted more time with him, and she would have taken whatever discussion she could. She would have even accepted being yelled at.

He faced her, brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

This time, she blushed. "I just...just thought we—we could t-t-talk more."

He smiled and sat aside the glass of water he had poured to come over to her again. "If you wish to talk more, we will. I will tell Suon to handle the encampment for me and we can do whatever it is you wish to do." and as quickly as he said it, he was off to the flap of the pavilion. Emma wheeled around in her chair to watch. Even though her father whispered, she could hear everything. He was speaking with Suon, telling him to take charge of everything for him. He had to spend the day with his little girl, he said merrily.

And then, just as quickly, he was starting toward her. Emma knew she was crying. "Are y-y-you sure?"

He smiled. "I am very sure, m'dear girl." and then he helped her up by the arm, carefully. "Now, let me know what it is you desire to do first."

Emma smiled.

•••••••••••

They had spent the remainder of the day together. Edgar was careful with his daughter. He listened to everything she said, and even paid very close attention whenever she was not speaking. He did not want to confuse her any further, or cause any more harm. If he were to make things better, it began with paying very close attention to her. Of course, as the day began to tire out, it became increasingly difficult. Soldiers kept coming by to tell him that Suon needed him, no matter how many times Edgar sent them away furiously.

He could not let his daughter know that the enemy had encircled them. How she might take that scared Edgar to his core and he wasn't sure he could calm her down from a panic attack. So when he was absolutely certain she had fallen asleep, he covered her and went out to find Suon. The man was overseeing the last of the pike creation at the far eastern side of the camp. The trench had already been dug, and the men who had done it laid about, completely exhausted. Their replacements were already digging the smaller holes to stick the pikes into.

As he approached, Suon motioned the nearest men to leave and frowned deeply at Edgar. "Your majesty...it is late."

He understood the tone he had used well. "Now, Suon...I told you I was not to be disturbed."

"I understand your desire to spend time with your daughter, to keep her out of this, but you must face reality and very soon. The Roskovoians encircled us, and it will only be a matter of time before they descend upon us like the hounds of hell. It would better if your daughter knew of the situation, so that she may prepare beforehand."

"If we are lucky, we will not have to let her know. We will fight them and send them back."

"It will be a costly, bloody battle," Suon said. "I'm sure that in the end we will win, but there are many of them. It will be impossible to keep them back until defeat sweeps them."

Edgar felt terror he had not felt since landing in Roskovo squeeze at his being. It was true. The battle would be a close quartered and bloody battle, and even should he know they could win in the end, he had no idea of what could happen in the fight—when they were all distracted. He could only pray her guard would keep her safe. "I understand all of the risks Suon, but unfortunately this is the situation we find ourselves in. I can only do what I can."

"Very well," he said. "Have you gone over the extraction plan yet, at least?"

"Yes, I have," Edgar mumbled, already fearing sending his daughter out of the camp without him. With forty strangers. He sighed. "I do not see how we could make it any safer, you did well Suon."

"I did only what any would in my situation." he paused. "How is the young princess?"

"Asleep," he said, tiredly. "And thankfully, at that. Suon...the things she thought that I had done to her," he shook his head. "I cannot imagine how she believe I had let those..." the words suffocated him. Suon put a firm hand on his shoulder.

"She is young and impressionable, Edgar, and was delirious from the pain. You mustn't take it at heart, you know your daughter."

"Of course, of course...I just feel like I have failed her completely, to have given her reason to have any faith in those fears." he rubbed tiredly at his neck. It would be better to get his mind off of it for a moment or two. "Have the scouts returned yet?"

"Yes, your grace. They reported that the hostiles are descending the mountains. It will take them a few hours to reach us with their current numbers and the tough terrain."

"Good. Once the trenches have been reinforced, be sure that Emma's guard understands exactly what it is they are doing and when, or if, they should escape with her."

Suon bowed. "Yes, your grace. I will do so now." as he began to walk away, Edgar stopped him once more.

"And Suon...please let the men know I would appreciate it if they kept the noise down while she sleeps." Suon laughed, nodded and was on his way. Edgar made his way back to the tent then, exhausted himself. He cleared away some of the mess they had made—paintings and books and the like—and fell into his rocking chair with a heavy sigh. He lifted his feet to a small container and relaxed. His intent was only to rest his bones for a minute or two, but soon enough the soreness drew him into slumber.

---

The descent from the mountains had proved more difficult than he first imagined. It drew his ire quickly. He had told his generals he wanted to encircle the camp by nightfall, but it had come and they were still only halfway down the treacherous land. They did not make break for the night either, he had demanded they keep going until they drop. They did not question his authority.

Making the journey all the more dangerous was the fact that they could not light torches to guide their way. Although Bertrand was certain that Edgar knew already of their intentions, Bertrand did not want the king to know the precise movement of the army.

At near dawn, the end of their plight came to be. The forest began to clear, and three miles down the hills and trees, they could see the large Figaro encampment. They had a defensible position, with the aid of a large ravine at their south eastern corner. There was no approach from that end.

Bertrand marched to the front of the line, scowling. It was obvious where the king of Figaro was entrenched within the encampment, and he knew. The girl was in there too. A smile crept upon his face. "Begin the assault."

The man beside him nodded. "Are we to still use the combustibles?

"No," Bertrand said, still watching the activity in the encampment. "We cannot risk the girl now." the man turned to make his way back into the army when Bertrand stopped him. "And Barkov...check on our guest."

---

The noise roared throughout the encampment. The entire body stirred, and was at their posts immediately. When Edgar first heard it, it startled him to his feet. He knew what it was immediately. Breathing hard, he raced through the tent—aware that his daughter just stirred to the noises and asked him tiredly what was happening—but ignored it as he charged through the flaps. Suon was already on his way, brisk and face covered in soot.

In the distance, a plume of fire soared into the dark sky.

"Your majesty!" Suon shouted over the howl of the soldiers and the siege equipment being led into better positions to fire into the hills, where the projectiles were currently coming from. "They hit the northern entrance. A large portion of the palisade has been destroyed."

Edgar knew it would happen, but their enemy would not risk setting aflame the rest of the palisade—it would only make their advance more difficult, if not impossible. A short funnel was better than being attacked on all sides at once. "Before anything else Suon, my daughter is all that matters."

Suon nodded. "Of course. I already sent word that the guard is to form at your tent."

"Good, then let us show these hounds what Figaro is made of!" he let Suon go before he turned back for the tent. It was impossible now to avoid the discussion with his daughter. As soon as he entered the tent, he caught sight of her sitting upright on the edge of the bed, eyes wide with fear and confusion.

"Father?" she whispered, standing hesitantly. "What...what is happening?"

Edgar approached her. "The Roskovoi have begun an assault on the camp, but you needn't worry. Suon and I will handle it."

Frightened tears appeared in her eyes. "Please, w-w-we can just run!"

He had seen terror on her face before, and he knew just how easily frightened she could get, but the expression she wore now was of a fear he would never understand. He took her into an embrace, one he hoped provided comfort. "If I could whisk you away, to safety, I would...this is not how I wanted any of this to go."

Tearfully she hid her face against his chest. "Please...w-w-we don't have to s-s-stay here."

He held her tighter, trying to fight back tears of his own, for he knew how that might upset her further. "We are in no position for retreat Emma, not yet...but I will keep you safe, no matter what I must do." the noise outside grew louder, and she trembled in his arms. "Emma, listen to me..." he held her back and knelt, so that he could speak with her and see her little face. "I must go out there and help, but I need you to listen very carefully." she sniffed and nodded. "Good, good. I have set you up with guards, they will keep you safe in my stead. You will stay in here until I have called for you, or in an unlikely case, the soldiers need to retreat with you. If that comes to be, you will be taken out of the campsite and rushed to safety.

"W-w-without you?"

He sighed. He knew she would have an issue with it, but he needed her to understand there was no room to argue. "Yes, m'dear, without me. I will find you later, when it is safe to follow."

"But—"

"Emma, you must listen and you must obey. This is not something you can fight, do you understand me? This is serious." he brushed a hand over her cheek. "Promise me...promise me you will listen this one time. Promise me." She nodded, still crying, and hugged him again. "I love you Emma, with all my heart." she mumbled it back, muffled from his shirt. He held her closer to him.

•••••••••••

The encampment was almost thoroughly encircled. Tents and outpost towers were aflame, and some Figaro soldiers raced around to deal with the spreading damage while others fought on desperately to counter the attack. Arrows flew over head from both sides, and booms resounded angrily through the sky as mortars and explosives went off.

Bertrand rounded the small hill that overlooked the encampment and paused along the side of the mobile siege equipment. A soldier hurried to his side, breathing a little hard. "Your majesty, the enemy holds the more defensible position. General Barkov requests permission to pull from the front line and lay siege to the encampment on the northern face."

"Let him know that he has permission to redraw plans, but that they must not include the usage of siege equipment."

"Your majesty, general Barkov commanded me to stress to you the important of the siege—"

Bertrand silenced him with a short gesture. "I have made myself clear. Any caught disregarding my commands will be dealt with severely and promptly. And I expect that to be known among the men." his eyes were still on the burning encampment when the soldier turned away from him nervously, and back into the fray, to wherever Barkov was.

And yet, not five minutes later, one of the trebuchets fired. The aflame rock flew right over his head and smashed through the eastern reaches of the encampment, tearing through the back side of camp. It bounded over the ledge in which the camp was set against, so close to the royal pavilion that the air from the rock caused the tent to flap angrily.

At first the thing that soared through him was ease, for the object had missed the one area he wished to remain intact, and then fury mounted his heart. He turned on his heels and stormed toward the siege engines. The middle trebuchet had fired. He tore the operator from his spot and strangled him. "You damn imbecile! Have I not made myself clear, time and time again?! If you had hit that fucking tent, I would have you flayed alive right here and now!" the man gasped and kicked. "If you fire one more fucking time," he dropped the man and looked around the faces. "I will put you in them next!"

"Y-yes your majesty, I'm so sorry!" the man was rubbing painfully at his neck when he began to unload the other equipment.

"Who ordered you to stop?!" a voice cut through the crowd. Bertrand, enraged to be challenged, turned and saw that it was Barkov that had ordered it. That had openly defied him. There was a thin wall that kept him from having Barkov killed there.

"You disobeyed me, Barkov," Bertrand's voice was calm, but his eyes were like a raging storm. "Have you forgotten what it is that we are doing here? The purpose?"

Barkov had clearly not expected to be greeted by his king, or be cornered on his disobedience. He stopped mid step. "Of course not your majesty, but there will be no breaking of that encampment if we do not crush the perimeter."

"To use our siege equipment would be accepting additional, unnecessary risk to our target." he beckoned Barkov to follow him back to the hill. "She awaits there, Barkov, within sight, just out of reach."

Barkov snorted, clearly disgusted. "I still do not see why you need a Figaro whore, but even I cannot reach her for you if the defenses do not crumble. They out number us and they maintain a better position. They could wait us out, long before we could break through. We couldn't even besiege them to run them out. They have reinforcements by the thousands patrolling our seas!"

"We do not need to breach their walls, nor do we need to wait them out," he said, smiling. "Tell me, Barkov...what do you make of the Figaro king?"

"I do not know him myself, only of him." Barkov started. "But from what I have heard, he is a coward who hides behind the skirts of women, who lies with the stock of demons, breeding abominations."

"And that is why you will not fell him or his army." he said. "I could respect him for his courage and his skill, if he weren't so lost." he shook his head. "He is a strategist, a skilled combatant, a genius if you will...but even with those strengths, a man can be broken by just one weakness."

"And what is his weakness, my king?"

Bertrand smiled. "His family."

•••••••••••

Edgar was with general Suon, organizing the group leaders when the explosion rattled through the camp. Edgar swore and ran out of the little underground fortification to asses the damage. The eastern portion of the camp was nearly wiped out, and that which remained was aflame. Men were shouting, running back and forth, with buckets of water or stumbling away, injured. At the far end of the camp, a giant hole ripped through the palisade.

"Damn it!" Edgar turned to Suon, who had been right behind him the entire time. "The scouts did not mention siege engines!"

Suon looked equally surprised, and angry. "No, they didn't. I will go oversee what we have, immediately." but a soldier approached, stopping them. He sweating and covered in mud.

"Your majesty! They are approaching from the east!"

"Damn it all!" he snarled. "Suon, see to those engines! You," he grabbed the lad by the arm. "Find captain Ars and make sure he is with my daughter!" the lad ran off in a hurry. Edgar made his way to the east, as far as his feet could carry him.

When he arrived, a good portion of the wall was shattered inward but high enough that the men outside could not break in. Along the parapets, his archers were firing down at the men. On the ground level, a group of soldiers were trying to lift up wood to reinforce the hole.

"Heave! Heave!" a soldier shouted to the ground workers. "Come on now, heave!"

Edgar hurried up the stairs to the parapets and slowly approached the edge. Standing outside of the tree line were hundreds of soldiers, and to their back, a catapult. Strangely enough, they were not reloading it. Edgar watched uneasily as the force took to a stand still and began to part way to provide view of the catapult. Sitting atop a chocobo at the foot of the siege engine was a soldier, holding up a flag. The hoist was white, and the fly was black.

Alarmed, Edgar ordered the soldiers to stand down. The rider approached rapidly, but his army remained in place. The rider stopped just at the trench line, pacing his bird back and forth, never removing his eyes from Edgar. The helm he wore was opened faced, revealing a wide smirk and pale eyes. The rider planted the flagpole into the ground and began speaking. His voice was booming.

"His majesty Bertrand Maçon, first king of Roskovo, desires a momentary peace to negotiate."

Edgar felt the eyes of his men on him as he answered, "Tell your king that Figaro will not treat with tyrants."

The smile grew. "His majesty commanded me to make it clear that it would be in your best interest to take this negotiation offer." he glanced back at his men, atop the hill, before looking at Edgar again. "He commanded I tell you that you will not wish to see what happens if you do not comply."

Growing furious, Edgar leaned over the parapets. "Tell your king he can fire at us all he wants, that he can fight until dawn if he so wants, but Figaro will not bend to his desires."

The rider laughed heartily and lifted the flag pole. "Would you risk siege fire in your camp, little lion?" he asked loudly. Edgar began to feel sick. "His majesty thought you cared more for the safety of your daughter." terror seized Edgar. How did he find out? Fear of a mole began to grow in his heart. "It is for that purpose that his majesty desires a time of peace, to negotiate, so that nothing befalls your little girl. He, above all else, recognizes the importance of family."

Gritting his teeth, Edgar leaned back. "How could I trust him to his word, with all the evil he has done to me and mine?"

The rider hung the pole over his shoulder and gave the Figaro king a look. "You do not have a choice. If you will not negotiate, fire will resume immediately, and we will not attempt to miss your little tent."

By now Suon had caught word of what was happening, and appeared at Edgar's side. He glanced at the rider with unease and whispered to Edgar, "My friend, do you truly intend to treat with the likes of Bertrand?

"He knows she is here," he mumbled, never taking his eyes off the rider. "If I do not, he will fire indiscriminately. I cannot risk her, Suon."

"We needs only a distraction to get your daughter out," Suon muttered. "But if this is not possible..."

As before any of them could move or speak, the rider threw a fist into the air and the siege engine near the tree line fired another round. Edgar, not fearing for his own safety, turned around and watched as the fiery rock collided with the western half of the camp. It was too close to his tent for his comfort.

"That is a warning," the rider shouted. "To prove that he can but won't, to be the gentleman! You will not get another warning shot!"

"What do you think?" Edgar asked his friend.

Suon sighed heavily and shook his head. "I am against dealing with his like, but for this...perhaps it is not the wisest decision. To reject is to place your daughter in immense risk."

Knowing he had been backed against a wall, that he could not risk his little girl no matter what, he took a breath. Gods...let this not be a mistake. "Fine," he answered the rider. "Tell your king that I will sit with him."

The rider turned without a word and sped off on his golden chocobo. The wave of soldiers parted to let him through, and then retook their position. After a few minutes, a line of soldiers rode forth from the army. They stopped halfway and waved the flag several times. Edgar sighed and went down the wall.

As they approached the half way mark, Edgar had the soldiers around him fill his guard. As it was done, he heard several of his men whispering prayers of protection for themselves and death on their enemy. Edgar could not take his eyes off the force before him. If there were any gods out there, how could they allow this to happen?

Suon reached over to pat his shoulder "We will take it all in strides, my friend." Edgar thanked him. "It is an evil business to treat with this man, but let the unrest in your heart fade. You do this for your daughter."

"Aye," he mumbled. "I can only hope there will be nothing of this."

A bugle resounded from outside the gate, announcing their arrival. Edgar gestured to the gate keepers, to signal to open the gate. A force of twenty in all stood in front of the gate when it finally rose. Standing at the head of the party was a broad shouldered man, with a head of long dark hair pulled back into a knot. To his left was the rider from before, helm between his arms. He was a rather tall man, standing at least several inches over the other.

As a guard went out to walk them in, Edgar leaned toward Suon. "Be on your guard. If something happens, we take him out first." there was no need to specify who he was talking about.

After a moment, the Roskovians stopped several feet in front of them. The gate slide close behind them. The two men at the front approached slowly.

Edgar waited until they were near. "I take it that you are Bertrand," Edgar eyed the shorter one. "Speak and be gone from my sight."

The shorter one, Bertrand, stared at him for a long moment. His eyes were just like that of Lucas, and it brought a deeper anger to Edgar's heart. The very eyes that had looked him in the eyes and betrayed his trust...the very eyes that had looked into his daughter's eyes as he violently beat her and raped her. All else of this man seemed average, though vaguely familiar.

Bertrand cupped one hand with another and bowed humorously to him. "You were wise not to test me further, Edgar."

He narrowed his eyes. "If this is to be a legitimate negotiation, you will be respectful."

"Of course, of course...your majesty," he allowed, mockingly. "I was gladden to hear that you accepted my offer to speak. We have many things to discuss, great and important things."

"And what would that be?" Suon demanded.

"I am speaking to your master, dog," Bertrand snapped and then continued. "We have been at this for months now...skirmishes here and there, pettiness and half serious warnings elsewhere. It is tiresome, don't you think?"

"If it tires you, you can surrender."

Bertrand laughed. "Why would I do such a thing when I hold the advantage?"

Edgar did not like the tone in his voice. "Let me remind you that Figaro has yet to lose a battle, that we hold your ports and major cities. That we are mere hours away from reinforcements."

Bertrand waved his hand, to disregard it all. "Yes yes...but I am sure you were taught that a war could be won without battle, or through one monumental victory." he began to pace a short line, amusement glistening in his eyes. "It is true that you have won every battle we have engaged in, but how do you know it wasn't allowed?"

"What are you talking about?"

"The battle as Crestov, for example," he pointed out. "A seemingly sweeping victory for you. I lost...what was it?" he asked the rider.

"Two thousand," he answered, amused.

"Two thousand men from that battle. Crestov was lost, but only because we walked away."

"And why would you do that? It is one of your major port cities."

Bertrand's smile grew. "Why...to understand you." he gestured toward Edgar. "I needed to understand how the aged lion does battle. It proved most efficient. I learned that you will not unnecessarily risk the lives of your men, that you put caution in every move that you make."

"And what of Ysteva?" he dared to ask. "Or Pordova?"

"Ysteva was a means of securing something I needed," he waved his had. "We retreated immediately. If I wanted that city, I would have had it, or shed Figaro blood for days to try and keep it. And poor little Pordova...well, I should think the reason for that is obvious enough."

Edgar's eyes widened. "My son..."

"Yes! Yes!" he laughed jollily. "The route your foolish pup attempted...now that plan was executed with far more finesse than I had originally hoped."

Finding it more and more unbearable to keep his anger aside, Edgar asked, "Then if it were all such brilliant successes, why have you stopped now? Surely the life of my daughter would not steer you from victory."

"Ah, but that is where you are wrong." he stopped pacing, and crossed his arms behind his back. "Let us get to that in a moment...first I would like to know how you see this battle going."

"It doesn't matter, it will not end well for you."

"Let me answer for you then..." he revealed his hand again, digits up, so that Edgar could see them. "There are, at least, five ways for your defeat, regardless of your position or your reinforcements. The first would be as simple as firing upon your camp with such ferocity nothing but ash would be left." he brought down one finger. "The second would be to set myself upon it. You care for your men, but I do not. I would storm your walls, shedding as much blood as I possibly could, until I breached them. Despite what numbers you think I have, I have far more, and your soldiers-while truthfully, better trained-would hold us off for some time...eventually I would make it through and I would secure your little girl." he lowered another finger. "The third is far more entertaining in my opinion. I would employ explosives into the ground that holds you afloat. Though of course, what good is a victory if I cannot witness the look on your face when it occurs?" another finger lowered. "The fourth would be to wait you out. Starvation and fear on a soldier's mind...I am sure we have both seen that before. Eventually, they would tear the walls down for me, provided I paved a path of safety for them. And I would." the last finger remained. "The last option I could employ..." suddenly he stopped, and smirked. "...well that would be to force your hand into surrendering, without so much as a single man spilling blood."

"You can try all what you want," Edgar snarled. "but I will not bow to you, nor will my men. Try us if you dare, you will fail."

"Never, you say?" he chuckled. "Well then, let us test that theory." he snapped his fingers, and from behind the men someone was dragged forward by his arms. A bag was covered his head, and he was dressed in tattered clothing. The soldiers stopped beside Bertrand and drew their swords to the stranger's neck. And then the bag was removed, and the world seemed to stop for Edgar.

Hanging by his arms, beaten into a bloody pulp, was the crowned prince of Figaro. Bruises and burns seared his body, yellowing his flesh and purpling it in other places.

"Cambyses!" Edgar cried, just as Suon shouted out 'my prince!'. "You...! How dare you!"

Bertrand did not rise to the man's outburst. Instead, he crossed his arms back behind him and looked down at the slumped form of the prince, with a look of pity. "Don't worry," he reached over to pat the prince's head, with hard pats. "He is perfectly...alive."

"Release him immediately and I won't have you hung from the damn walls!"

"Now now!" Bertrand smirked. "There is no need to be so crass."

"Release him," Edgar could barely contain the venom in his words. "Release him Bertrand or I swear I will bring hell upon you and yours."

"All in its own pace," he replied, simply and calmly. "Tell me...what of your daughter?"

Startled by the sudden change, and uneasy that he had brought up his daughter, Edgar knew there was something wrong—something sick—in the air. "You do not get to speak of my daughter."

"Humor me," he mumbled. "What has become of your little abomination?"

Edgar's eyes widened. Abomination... "She is tormented every day by what you had your sons do to her." he told him, tears building in his eyes.

Bertrand rolled his eyes, dramatically. "That isn't what I meant, as I could care less what some woman feels, even less so of an abomination. I have heard what occurred in Figaro though. I am honestly excited that such a pretty little thing can be capable of the horrors she inflicted on those poor men, but I am certain your people are less inclined to turn an eye to her actions, even should they promise to provide her mercy and understanding. She is nothing short of a monster, after all."

"Monster?! You don't know her," he spat. "You won't ever know what your sons have ruined, the gentle soul you have helped to destroy."

"Oh, but she is a monster." he waddled a finger at Edgar, dismissing his statement. "But let us not argue on that. I would like to present you an opportunity, your grace."

Breath came to him in painful draws. "And what could that be?"

"Why, to save your son of course." he glanced at the limp prince in question. "All you have to do is provide me the girl."

Edgar knew he had gone pale all over. "You are mad! Why would I ever accept such a thing?!"

"I have no use for your boy anymore," he answered quietly. "And I do not keep useless things. If you will not accept, I will cut him down here and now, before your eyes."

Frightened but trying to remain strong, Edgar laughed. "You wouldn't dare. There would be nothing left in this world for you to hide behind, to negotiate with."

"Oh?" he seemed amused by that. "Tell me Edgar...when did you last check on your little abomination?"

Immediately Edgar turned from the Roskovian king and looked toward his pavilion, heart beating so fast it hurt. He looked back at the man, trying very hard to hide that he was trembling. "No...there is no way you could have reached her."

"I was hoping to avoid this little game," he mumbled. "I can recite to you what she wears, size even, or tell you that I know what she looks like, what she last ate...what she is doing now. It doesn't matter. That alone would never convince you, so," he smiled. "So I will skip the games." as soon as his words left his mouth, there was a loud scream from behind him.

Without thinking, Edgar turned away from the Roskovians and ran for his pavilion. Suon was startled by it all, but quickly took over the situation. Just as he had his men encircle Bertrand, he tsk'd them loudly.

"Press us, and you will see what becomes of your prince." at that, he stepped out of the way and two soldiers pressed swords to the lad's neck. "Do not test me, dog."

•••••••••••

Her father had left quickly, after kissing her forehead and promising to return. Emma had gleaned four soldiers outside when the flap of the pavilion opened. They looked frightened, and exhausted. She watched until the flap sealed behind him, and then sat down, trembling.

She drew her knees to her chest and squeezed her eyes shut, against her tears. Please, let me wake from this nightmare. But when she opened her eyes, she was still in her father's tent, in the middle of a battle. I'm sorry, she thought, thinking of her voice. Please, come back...don't leave me alone. And yet, despite her pleas, the voice did not stir.

Stealing her from her thoughts, the ground began to shake violently. For a flat moment she fearfully held onto the bed posts, but suddenly she was thrown from the bed. She landed face first onto the ground, biting her tongue and scraping her chin.

She held a hand to her chin as she shakily made her way to her feet. From outside of the tent, she could hear screaming and the roar of a fire close by. Emma knew what this meant, what was happening. She began to cry. "Father!" her cries went unheard. "Father, please!" but yet he did not come. She ran to the exit of the tent and opened the flaps, but the soldier standing outside hurriedly shoved her back in and closed it behind her.

She fell hard onto the floor and hurt her arm having landed on it. She gave a broken cry as she trembled to her knees. She tried to turn her arm but it hurt too much. Crying, she held her arm close to her and got back to her feet to walk towards the back side of the tent, where a small alcove existed between her father's dresser and a large box. She snugged herself in between them and hid her face in her knees.

Please, come back father, the tears would not stop. Please.

There was suddenly a loud, painful shout outside the tent and Emma tensed, listening. The noises were dulled from the battle, but she thought she heard a man's voice. She pressed herself closer to the pavilion wall, further out of view, heart racing. The next thing she heard was a tearing noise and heavy foot steps. There was at least four of them, by the sound of it. Emma dared herself to peak around the box.

Five men were searching through the pavilion, and she knew immediately by their uniforms that they were not part of her father's forces. She quickly drew herself back into her hiding spot and squeezed her eyes shut, against all the fear in her heart. Let them go, she thought, terrified. Please, let them just go!

But they were drawing nearer, tearing through everything in the tent, searching for something. She feared she knew what it was they were looking for. Her heart began to race so fast it hurt. Father!

"Come out, come out wherever you are," one of them said, in a mocking sing-song voice. A round of laughter came from the others. "Let us see that pretty face of yours." she covered her mouth, afraid even that noise could be heard. "Now now...don't you want to be with your papa?" she tensed so much that her muscles began to hurt. "We have your brother, you know," the man continued, growing closer. Their footsteps softened, in what she could only guess was their attempt to sneak up on her. "He's outside, with your father right now. Don't you want to see them?" Suddenly her foot skid out from under her, muscles sore, and before she could do more than cuddle back into the safety of her little hiding spot, they were on her.

A cruel, pale face appeared before her, smiling. He yanked her out by her arm, laughing. "There you are!"

She started kicking and struggling, and screamed at the top of her lungs for her father.

•••••••••••

Edgar raced through the soldiers with all his might.

When he made it to the tent, he saw his daughter's guard, slaughtered and lying in a bloody heap outside. Before he could rush into the tent though, several men filed out, swords drawn. Edgar reached for his sword immediately, but stopped when the last man came out with his daughter. Her mouth was covered by one of the man's hands, and the other held a dagger to her throat.

Edgar took one step forward, trembling with anger and fear. "Let her go this instance!" his daughter's eyes were wide and tear stricken. "I said let her go!"

"I have my orders," the man replied, smiling. "So if you wish for this little cunt to live, you will lead us back to the negotiation. Now."

Edgar looked at his daughter. She was hanging one of her arms at her side, cradled by the other. She was hurt. Did these men hurt her? He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if they had. Gods...why, he looked at the man. "Do you swear that you won't hurt her?"

He smirked. "Lead us back safely and not a hair on her head will be displaced."

He gave his daughter one look, one he hoped gave her strength, and agreed. The soldiers around him, having saw, parted way for them with wide, terrified eyes. Let me get her out of here, he thought as the negotiation party came back into view. If it must cost me my life, let her be safe and far away from here.

When Suon turned and saw him and Emma, his eyes widened. Bertrand simply laughed as they fell back in line. Edgar stopped the captors from moving forward though by having his men encircle them. He turned his eyes to the Roskovian king, menacing. "You truly have no shame, no honor," he was trying very hard to maintain the rest of his anger. "To use a child, a little girl no less, to pressure me."

Bertrand smiled. "Only the naïve think there is room for honor and shame on a battlefield. You had to learn that painfully today."

"Tell them to let her go," he demanded.

"And why should I do something so monumentally stupid?" he asked Edgar. "I have you against the wall. I possess so much that you hold dear. Victory is all but mine."

"She's just a child!" he snapped. "She has nothing to do with this war!"

"You are a fool!" Bertrand howled. "Why do you think I had my boys fuck her in the first place?" Edgar's eyes widened. "Now you stand before me, broken and without any other options but to deal with me."

Suon reached for his sword, and it was clear he was going to jump the men holding his daughter hostage. Edgar waved him down, eyes filling with tears. "You cannot expect me to hand my daughter over to you."

Bertrand turned to the prince at his feet and unsheathed a dagger to press it to his neck. At the same time, the man holding Emma behind Edgar shoved her to the floor and pressed a dagger to her throat. Emma started to cry. "You have no choice," Bertrand started, pressing just enough against Camb's throat that drops of blood released. "You must decide, here and now, which spawn you will save. If you do not, I will have them both executed on spot."

Edgar glanced back at his daughter. The man was pulling her head up to hold the dagger against her flesh. One of her hands dug into his arm, desperately trying to break free. "Decide," Bertrand repeated, more angrily than before. "I will not ask you a third time!" and to show he was serious, he signaled to the man holding Emma. He pressed the dagger harder into her throat, drawing blood.

"You can't expect me to pick between my children! What sort of monster could do something like that?!"

Bertrand laughed. "You can either let them all die or pick one." he handed the dagger to another man, to take his spot and approached Edgar slowly. "If it would help you...think of it like this. Your daughter has been exiled from your land, for heinous crimes. She is no human, she is just a monster. An abomination. What future could she possibly possess now, after all that she has done?" he turned halfway back and gestured to Cambyses. "Now your son...he is your heir. He is cherished by your people and he has a life, and a woman he loves—a woman who could bear him children, and keep your line going."

Edgar's sight filled with tears. He closed them. What a position he had put himself in. Why hadn't he seen that this was all a trap? His ignorance would cost him his children. He opened his eyes, tearfully, and looked from his son to his daughter. He looked at Bertrand. "Can I have a moment alone with them, first?"

Bertrand extended his hand toward Cambyses, smirking. "Of course."

Edgar went to his son first and knelt beside him. He touched his boy's face, mostly to make sure he was okay, and then lifted his face into the sunlight. He was beaten so terribly. "Cambyses, m'boy..." his eyes fluttered but he remained unconscious. He let him go and stood.

"It was as I said," Bertrand said. "He lives, for now."

Edgar turned away from him without a word. He knew if he spoke he would break. He would do something stupid, something that would hurt his children in the process. When he approached his daughter, the man did not relent the dagger to her throat but he did let her go, so that she could see him. Her eyes met his, and they were full of tears.

"Emma," he reached to take her arm, and she grimaced. He had been right, she was hurt. The man with the dagger slowly repositioned it to her lower back.

"F-father," she was trembling like a leaf.

He felt so sick as he knelt before her. "My sweet little angel...you mean everything to me, more than you will ever know." he reached to brush tears from her cheeks. "You have grown into such a wonderful, beautiful young lady...I often forget you are that child I chased around the castle so long ago."

She sniffed. "C-can...can we go now?" she was trying to whisper so that the man behind her could not hear, but he had and chuckled.

"It isn't so simple," he told her painfully. "There are...there are things that prevent us."

"What t-things?"

He knew honesty was the only way forward from here, that she deserved to know. "They have your brother," he told her. "Just across from us."

Her eyes widened. "Is...is Camb okay?"

Her love for her family would never cease to surprise him. He said, "He lives m'dear, but for how long I cannot say."

"What do you mean?" she mumbled.

"The..." he hesitated. "The man that has your brother will not let him go. He will kill Cambyses if I do not agree to his terms."

Her eyes widened. "W-w-why won't you agree?"

Edgar lowered his eyes. "Emma..."

"Father, you have to save him," she whispered, letting her tears fall. "Please."

"You don't understand what it would cost," he looked up and cupped her face in his hand. "The decision is not an easy one...it is a painful one."

Now she was frowning, and he was certain she was anxious. "What does he want?"

Edgar finally allowed his tears to fall in front of her and it seemed to be all she needed to see to know what he meant. Her flesh had gone so white that it looked as if she were ready to faint right there. The tears that fell were quiet, and she began to tremble violently.

She held his eyes, and it surprised him so much. "...no."

"Emma, I—"

"No, no, no," she cried. "Please..." her tears came rapidly. "Please...don't give me to them."

Edgar took her by the shoulders, crying. "Then tell me to let him go," he said, sternly, wanting nothing more than to be given the excuse not to be the one who decided this. To face the horrible outcome of either decision. "Tell me to pick you, to abandon him."

Instead of the escape he had prayed for, her eyes looked so full of betrayal. "Why?" she asked, voice trembling. "Why do you h-hate me so much?"

It hurt to have her question his love for her, but hew could understand it easily. She would never understand his fear though, his love. If could walk away from this moment with even the slightest chance he could have another morning, waking to see her face, without losing his son, he had to take it. He loved her that much that a future without her was unacceptable. He brushed hair from her face, crying.

"I could never hate you," he whispered. "I love you so much the thought of losing you sickens me...but I cannot walk away from here without deciding. If I do not, I will lose you both."

"I don't m-matter to you," she mumbled, as if she stumbled into some revelation. "I...I never did."

"Don't say that," he gripped her shoulders. "The day you were born was the happiest day of my life. It is for that reason that I must do this...I will come back for you, I swear upon my life," he wanted to hug her but the man behind her would not relent. "But your brother will not survive unless I pick him."

Her eyes had filled with such malice it startled him. "I'm so stupid," she then looked away. "You will never pick me..."

"Emma, please, I..." he stopped suddenly. "I am picking you, you just do not see how." he stood. "I love you, my dear."

He turned from her and went back to Suon and the others. Bertrand was smug when he arrived. "I take it you have had your goodbyes?"

You bastard, he thought, wishing to tear the man from limb to limb. "How do I know you won't attack the moment you have her? Or that you will spare my son?"

"I suppose you don't," he answered. "but do not let it be said I wasn't a reasonable man...if you let mine through with the girl, I shall let your own through for the boy." he snapped his finger and another soldier ran up to lift Cambyses up. "Now, your end of the bargain, dear Edgar."

Suon took him by the shoulder. "Your grace...think about this carefully. This man is a snake. Even if you trade your daughter, he will attack!"

"I have no choice Suon," he told him. "He will kill them both if I do nothing...and I can see it in his eyes he is serious." he held back a sob. "And I am nothing without my children, Suon."

The general nodded. "I understand Edgar...I understand." he stepped back and allowed Edgar into a small throng of soldiers. He picked one mindlessly and brought him back to the front lines. The soldier, fidgeting all of the way over, stopped beside the prince.

"It grows late," Bertrand snarled. "And I grow impatient!"

Edgar turned and signaled for his men to move out of the way for the man holding Emma. The man wrapped one hand over her mouth and kept the other at her stomach as he walked. The entire time over she was kicking and clawing desperately at the man's arm. Halfway over, the Figaro soldier was allowed to grab the prince by the arm and begin his return to his friendlies. As the prince passed the princess, she lurched to the side to grab at him. The man holding her snarled and yanked her forward. Her muffled cries drove another stake into Edgar's heart. He forced his eyes away from her, to his approaching son.

The Figaro soldier gently laid the prince at Edgar's feet and stepped away, before looking back to the princess being dragged to the Roskovian side. The soldier hurried back into the throng of soldiers, to hide. Edgar held his son against him and touched his face. "Cambyses, my son...can you hear me?"

His eyes fluttered open. "Father...where...where am I?"

"You are safe now," he said. "You are safe."

Suddenly his son's eyes widened. "Father...no," he winced at some pain. "don't...don't give her to him, she—" he began to cough violently. Edgar looked to Suon and the man hurried off to fetch a medical officer.

"Quiet now Cambyses, save your strength."

Cambyses tried to speak again, but his strength left him and he fell unconscious again, mumbling quietly in his sleep. The officers arrived and carried his son off just as Edgar rose to look back at the Roskovian force. The man holding Emma, now at Bertrand's feet, tossed her forward and sheathed his dagger.

Emma did nothing more than look up before Bertrand back handed her. She collapsed into the dirt in sobs. Edgar felt his anger swell and he took a step forward.

"Now, now," he said, watching Edgar with an amused smile on his face. "I was only repaying a small amount of kindness I bestowed upon your son." Emma, still trembling and cradling her arm, could not stop crying. Bertrand snapped and took her by the hair. "Quiet you insolent wench or I will rip that tongue out of your head!" but she would not stop. "Ah! Take this whore out of my face!" he snapped at a soldier, who immediately ran forward to drag her into their line.

Edgar took another step but stopped himself. If he tried something now, it would surely cost Emma's life. He watched as the men dragged her, with all her fighting, behind the line of soldiers. Her screaming did not stop.

"Please!" he closed his eyes against the sound of it. "Father! Please! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

Bertrand laughed and began to turn into his men.

"I'm so sorry," he cried as the Roskovian force began to retreat back into the hills. "I'm so sorry Emma..."

•••••••••••

Emma tried so very hard to twist out of the soldier's arms but it was as if iron held her. She kicked and twisted, and screamed, but he ignored it all. She screamed for her father until her throat felt roar and her eyes burned from the crying, but he did not come for her. She was given away, forgotten.

"Stop struggling," the soldier mumbled as he adjusted her in his arms again. The hill against the tree line, lined with soldiers and lights, was just several feet ahead of them. "Please, you have to stop." but she did not. "If he hears you—" it was too late.

Bertrand stormed passed him, seething. "Do not let me hear her again!" and then he vanished into the men ahead by the hill. The soldier stopped them there and twisted the girl around in his arms to face her.

"Please," she cried, tears running down her face. "Please..."

The soldier sighed. "I...I tried to warn you." he struck her across the face and she fell back out of his arms and onto the cool, morning grass. She covered her head as he struck again, this time so hard it rattled her. Her hearing popped and she collapsed completely into the grass, disoriented. The early morning sky glowed above her, darkening and darkening as she lost the battle to stay awake.

Unable to keep her eyes open, she fell into that painful slumber, wishing for her mother.

---

The Roskovian force had retreated as Bertrand insinuated would happen at the conclusion of the trade. They retreated with quick pace. Edgar wanted to make sure they could not be attacked at any moment unawares, so he had a scouting party run out to search for them. He came back several hours later, reporting that they were making their way back through the mountains. It was then that Edgar decided to move the forces out, to get his son to safety.

He had Suon wrangle the men together swiftly, so that they could depart for the coastal city of Crestov, their first major victory, and they now controlled the entire city and the surrounding towns and farms. It would be safe for them there, and it was only two days journey to the south.

On the ride over, Edgar had to discuss the importance of the cities and ports they held. It was easy, it seemed, for Suon to understand what he was trying to say. He smiled.

"Your grace...you know I will stay. You do not need to ask me."

He sighed. "I hate to ask so much of you Suon...you are a good friend, but what's more, you are a great man. You sacrifice so much for Figaro...for my family."

"It is as you say," he reached over to pat the king's shoulder. "We are friends...but I am just as much a man of Figaro. I could not stand aside and let our hard work run through our hands and back to that bastard of a man. I will stay and keep our victories secured, and your way back to her."

Edgar covered his eyes, to hide his tears, and all of his shame. "Thank you Suon, thank you."

When they finally arrived at Crestov, it seemed as if all the city already knew of what transpired by the gloomy, forlorn glances his way. It took all of Edgar's patience not to chew them out, he knew that none of this was their fault. Every step taken had been by him, and every mistake was of his own fault. And he could never forget them, nor forgive himself for it. His daughter had suffered so tremendously due to his lack of judgment, and—all because of one decision he made—it lead to having to hand over his child to a monster.

What a fool I have been, he thought as soldiers carried his son carefully onto the ship. He glanced over his shoulder towards the mountains the horizon, anger building in his heart. But I will return to this gods forsaken land and I will bring her back home...or I will die trying.

"Your majesty," a voice cut him from his thoughts. A soldier came down the platform and bowed. "The captain is ready to depart at any moment."

Edgar thanked the lad and hurried onto the ship. A moment later the ramp was pulled in and the sails were unfurled. As the ship fled from the Roskovian port, Edgar made his way below deck and to his son's side. The medical officer on board had finished tending to him, and promised he would recover just fine. Now all of his bruises and signs of torture were hidden beneath bandages and cloth.

He took a seat beside the bed and hung his head, tears in his eyes. How many children of his need be in this condition before the gods were satisfied?

"Father...?"

Edgar looked up, surprised. His son was awake, and watching him, confused. "Cambyses, my son...you need your rest."

He looked around the room and something burned in his eyes. A realization, perhaps. Then they filled with tears. "No..." he started to cough. "W-where is she?" he demanded after a moment, letting his tears fall. "Where..." Edgar looked away from his eyes. "No...no." the prince closed his eyes against his tears and cried.

---

You probably noticed as the chapter came to a close that a rather major piece of the story was removed. It is because I felt, upon the rewrite, that it would feel more authentic and powerful if the people Emma had killed remained dead. I thought it cheapened the depth of her inability to control herself if they had come back to life, but what's more, I thought giving Emma an easy way out of her mistakes/problems was just as cheap. I changed the structure quite a lot, and offered a different path forward that prevented Edgar from choosing his daughter outright, or none of them—if that makes sense. Hopefully this will present a more convincing story than the older version.

Thank you as always for reading and sticking with the story all these years. You guys are the greatest! :)

Remake completed as of August 4th 2020.