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.

13. No Quarter

No Quarter

Emma looked into the mirror with a frown. Her hair fell down her back in curls she could never maintain, lacking the brilliant shine it used to have. Her eyes were encircled with exhaustion, but it was no longer so bad Bertrand made cruel comments about it. Her skin was still pale, and no matter what she took from Johl, it never seemed to get better. He kept insisting that she was just deficient, severely so, and so it would take time but she wondered about that.

She reached up to brush some loose hair from her eyes, brows furrowing, and sighed at the sight of herself. She prodded the scar over her eye gingerly. There had been a time when she cared for how she looked and when she hated the scars left on her after the manor, but since arriving in Roskovo, she had come to forget about them. Lucas and Bertrand found them repulsive, though the former insisted he could get over it because they were reminders for her. To never forget her place again. Bertrand always insisted she was pretty beneath them anyhow, and what she could offer him in bed and in power mattered far more than what scars made her look like.

"Are you ready yet?" Lucas called from the main room. She was in the washroom, having just gotten dressed from her bath. Thankfully he was too preoccupied that morning to join her, so she had a moment of peace all for herself. "I must hurry to the war meeting." he refused to leave her in the morning if she had to be someplace. He would walk her first. Always. It made her angry. Today though...there was a bit of room for patience. If Lucas had not lied, she was going to see Sherra. After having waited a grueling week for Bertrand's permission, of course.

Emma frowned but turned away from the mirror and went into the main room. He was already dressed in his military attire, which he wore almost every day except on days he considered holy. It never seemed natural on him though. He smiled. "You look lovely. I shall have you at her room quickly, I promise." She still doubted this supposed promise come true, but she would keep her mouth shut for now. To wait and see.

They left the room a few minutes later, after Lucas had insisted that she wear some shoes (it was getting too cold, he said). From there, the journey took only half an hour. They stopped a lot when her legs gave her trouble. He never grew angry with her or annoyed, which only made it worse for her. She hated it when he showed her gentleness, as if he could hide the monster beneath. She was determined though; she would not forget the beast nor would she let him forget it, even if she could not do so directly.

When they finally reached the wing where Bertrand was quartered, Lucas stopped them at a door nearer the stairs. "We are here," he said quietly, reaching to brush a strand of hair out of her face to tuck it behind her left ear. She winced. It still gave her pain. He frowned. "I'm sorry, I had forgotten about that..." he said. "I will try to remember to be gentler with you from here on out, I promise." another promise, one she was certain would never be kept. "Well, we are here. I will walk you in before I take my leave." he knocked on the door curtly before entering. He had one arm around her to help guide her and keep her up, but Emma was sure she would have preferred the chance of falling to his closeness.

"Is that you Johl?"

Emma felt so happy to hear the woman's voice, she struggled out of Lucas' hold and stumbled further into the room, using the wall to keep her up straight. When she rounded the small corner into the main room, her eyes filled with tears. The kind woman's eyes held her for just a second before she gave a cry. "Emma! Oh Emma, you're here!" Lucas had come in behind her and tried to help Emma, but she was already moving toward the woman.

They embraced with cries. "I've missed you!" Emma whined, hiding her face against the woman's neck. "I've missed you so much!"

Sherra wrapped her arms around the girl and squeezed as hard as she dared. "And I missed you, my sweet little dove." Sherra kissed her cheek and gently held her back. "How have you been? Have they been taking care of you?"

Lucas frowned. "Of course I have, mother. She is getting all of her supplements and medication, three times a day. I've had to listen to father complain about the food too, because he thinks she is going to get fat."

Sherra ignored him and cupped the princess's face to bring it up into the light. "You have grown so much these last few months...it is strange to look upon you now. A strange thing, but certainly something to take pride in." and then she smiled. "Tell me Emma...would you like to meet my newborn son?"

"I..." Emma drew in the fumbling words she was about to give and nodded. "Yes, I...I would love that." Lucas made a noise and then turned and left them.

The woman laughed and then sat up to lean over the side of the bed. A large cradle stood beside the bed, just an inch or so away, and covered with a silken cloth to keep light out of the babe's eyes. She brushed it aside, revealing the babe within. Emma's eyes widened at the sight of it. He was far pinker than she thought he would be, and very chubby. And wrinkly. A patch of pale hair sat upon his head, but even that was barely there.

He was a son of Bertrand and a part of her immediately detested him for that alone. For how could any child of that monster be anything but? And yet, the longer she stared, the more that evaporated. This tiny thing incapable of defending itself became more and more a human in her eyes.

"I named him after you," Sherra said quietly, so as to not stir the babe. Emma looked from him to her, confused. The woman smiled. "His name is Aden."

"He's wonderful," she whispered, staring back the slumbering babe. She reached a hesitant hand toward it and then paused. No. It was not right for someone like her to touch this babe, not when she was corrupted to her core with such atrocious deeds. Sherra noticed the hesitation immediately, but misunderstood it.

"You won't hurt him if you touch him, especially not you. You are the gentlest person I have ever met."

Emma looked back at the squishy little thing with unease. When she was younger, her guardians had told her she was too rough, though they promised it was not her fault. Emma couldn't remember being rough, but she couldn't remember a lot of things from her childhood. Who was to say she wasn't? Would she hurt little Aden? She swallowed back a harsh no and took a deep breath. She could do this...she could.

With as much care as she could manage, she reached into the crib and touched the soft, warm skin of the baby's cheek. She gasped and pulled her hand back, sharply. Sherra giggled. "Oh dear, I promise, you will not hurt him." she shifted up more and reached to scoop the baby carefully into her arms. He squirmed a bit but remained asleep. "Here, hold your arms open...no, like how I am doing it, see? Yes, there we go. Now keep your arms firm and here we go..." she deposited the little thing in Emma's arms without so much as a moment to adjust.

Emma gasped. He was quite heavy! Were all babies this heavy? With her hurt arms and his weight, holding him quickly began to wear her out, and her arms began to tremble just enough for it to be noticeable. He woke then and two, round nearly all dark eyes roamed blindly for just a second before he burst out into tears. Emma paled. "Did I hurt him?"

Sherra shook her head. "No, he's just fussy because he's hungry." she took him then and let him suckle. Emma watched in wonderment. Little Aden quieted immediately, pleased.

"Is that all he wanted?"

"Well, sometimes he just wants to be held or he's got an upset stomach, while other times he's just fussy for no reason at all. That is just how babies are though."

"He's so...squishy," she whispered, watching that fat little face intently.

"Well, all babies are when they are first born. Even you were."

Emma considered that for a moment before smiling. "I can see why you had so many...they are very cute." she reached to gently touch the babe's chubby belly. "And very warm."

Sherra said, "Yes...the joy of children. It cannot be properly described. One day, when you hold your first child in your arms, you will understand the love immediately. There won't be a thing in the world you wouldn't do to protect him."

That had made her think of the 'deal' she had made with Lucas and shivered, disgusted. No. Nothing ever made like that could be good. Not ever. She had agreed to it to spare Sherra, and that was all. If a child was made between them, Emma would hate it. If it was with Alexander... she thought, looking at the cozy little baby's face with longing. One she knew was impossible and stupid of her to still think possible of her, of course, but one she found she wanted so bad. She looked away, before the sight of the baby could make her cry.

"Do not weep," Sherra said, gently. "The creation of life...it is a beautiful and sacred thing."

Emma looked at her, for the first time ever, annoyed with her. "No, it isn't."

The woman understood exactly what she meant and said, "How it came to be isn't sacred, of course, but life itself has or will begin in you Emma. And that is a beautiful thing." she shifted, as softly as she could to avoid stirring the babe, and added, "If this is not something you want anymore, you need to tell Lucas. Of all the things wrong with him, and all the things I could say about him, in this I do not think he would force you to keep going."

You don't understand a thing... I don't want this! I'm doing this for you. And the longer she went without providing success to their agreement, the longer Sherra was in danger.

"You have never told me why," Sherra said after a moment. "Why you have agreed to...to bearing them a child."

Emma knew that if the woman knew why she was doing it, she would go out of her way to prevent it. Perhaps even bring it up to Bertrand, risking the deal Emma made with Lucas, which secured security for the only thing she loved in this forsaken land. No. This was not something the woman could know, not ever. "Does it matter?" she asked. "It...it doesn't seem like I can give them what they want anyway, so it is for nothing."

Sherra frowned. "You are young, and malnourished, and often worked to the bone and beaten. It doesn't surprise me in the slightest you haven't been able to conceive, but I know it is because of that. If you are intent on this, you should let Lucas know."

There was nothing he could do anyhow. The beatings, training, malnourishment and the like were all from the hands of the king, and he would never grant her mercy. In any regard. How would she get Sherra not to intervene, without telling her why? She considered it for a moment, desperately. The only way was to give her some of the truth. "Sherra?" the woman looked at her and hmm'd. "You m-must not bring it up. To anyone."

"Bring what up?"

"What...what I am doing. About the baby." thinking it was terrible, but saying it was much worse. As if speaking the words made it truer than it actually already was.

"Why in heavens not?"

"Because Bertrand might get angry." Please, she thought, watching the woman's eyes. Please believe it, please...

Finally, the woman sighed and nodded. "Aye, that he might. Alright, I promise I won't bring it up." just then little Aden began to fuss about, kicking his little legs and whining. "Once I have this little thing off to sleep, we will make a day of this. If you feel up to it?" she said it with a smile, a smile that reminded Emma of home. Of her own mother. Of a world she could never return to.

Emma smiled back. "I...I would like that."

---

It had taken them considerable time, but at last, they had come into the Stengrad region across the mountains. The capitol would be further to their west, but finally within a distance that would not take them months. And a week into reaching the region, their company's training increased. They spent a week at a small village just going over opening procedures as initiates, and after that, when they reached a larger town, spent two weeks there at the barracks doing training with the local guard.

When they were finally back on the road again, Alexander would stay up a little longer every night and would watch the horizon, as if he could stare his way to the capitol faster. Robert would pester him to get sleep but something drew him to it every night. And whenever he did lie down to sleep, his dreams were filled of nightmares or dreams of Emma. He would wake and still hear her cries, or her laughter. And it tortured him.

It only drove him to move faster and train harder every day.

Every stop drew them closer and closer to the capitol, too. Soon enough, Robert had come to him to tell him that they were a week or so's hard ride from the capitol. Alexander had to be stopped because that night he wanted to flee the soldiers and go on the rescue. Robert convinced him not to though, after explaining to him that he would never make it into the capitol alive. That the only way—the only safe way—was as a soldier.

"How much longer then?" he asked one night after they had settled into their barracks, exhausted from the day's training.

Robert looked at him with a frown. "It will be much longer than you will be comfortable with, but if you want a secure way into that castle to your girl, this is the only way to do it."

Alexander looked away then and at the ceiling with a fear in his heart. "What...what if we wait too long?"

His friend sighed. "That's possible, I won't lie, but can you risk a chance like this for an opportunity you know will fail just because it's now?"

He let the quiet grow again. That was right of course. How could he risk a secure way of reaching Emma just because he wanted to try now? No, he knew if he charged the capitol now, he would only die in vain and she would continue to suffer there, alone. He felt tears burn in his eyes at the realization that he could be months off from reaching her. The guilt nearly drove him to his feet then. No, he told himself angrily. This is not about me. This is about Emma. What I feel or want is irrelevant. All that matters is her. And I won't risk anything that could save her...

"You're right," he whispered at last. "I can't risk it."

"Then we continue on," he said quietly. "I promise that this will lead you where you need to go. You only need to trust me."

Alexander took a deep breath. "I trust you."

"Then get some rest," he said, rolling over. "We're going to need it."

---

"Your majesty, your honored guest has arrived. We have prepared him one of the chambers in the Royal Wing as you had advised."

Cambyses turned from the table, where he and his council was gathered, to look at the man-servant bowing toward him. "Good. We have concluded our business here. Please bring him in." the servant bowed his head again, took several steps back and then finally turned and left.

"Should we leave, your grace?" Hals asked. Celes crossed her arms and raised her brows. Cambyses cleared his throat. Even if he wanted her to leave, he knew she wouldn't.

"No, you all may stay. This is a negotiation after all, and I will need my council present."

Just then the doors opened and in strolled the servant leading their honored guest. Cambyses straightened and bowed to the man approaching. He was a tall man, late into his twenties at the least, with wide-ish shoulders and with dark skin. His hair, the color of chocolate, fell about his head in messy curls, but was kept out of his face by a red rope. He was the third son of the Veldt, making him fourth in line for throne of the Veldt-should something dire happen to the Seventh Son and all other brothers.

"Grand Prince Idris, it is a pleasure to have you with us today."

Irdis was much taller than the other brothers Cambyses met, though certainly not as tall as he or his father. The man approached with a deep frown and reached out to straighten Cambyses from his bow. "You needn't bow to me, king of Figaro. I do not require it."

"It is my way of respecting your station," he said simply, smiling.

"A king should never bow to another, not even a prince." he said, looking from Camb to his council. "Are these men and women your wisest?"

"They are both my wisest and my most trusted, yes."

"Good. Then I do not need to waste any further time." he reached into his heavy, bright orange cotton shirt and retrieved a rolled parchment. "I am here on behalf of my father and the Seventh Son, the Prince of Dawn. You have given him your answer on a union between your house and that of his, and the denial has broken their hearts." he held the parchment out and Cambyses reluctantly accepted it, feeling the icy glare of Celes Chere on him.

"I am sorry to have denied his request, but you must understand, it is my little sister. I could not..." he hesitated.

Idris frowned. "Is it normal that the women make the decisions in Figaro?"

Cambyses frowned. "It is normal we consult them, yes, and even moreso that we take their feelings and desires into account before we arrange something like marriage. We believe union should only be reached in mutual trust and love."

The Veldtic man gave a loud, burst of laughter. "You Figaro men! You will never cease to amuse me, but alas, today is not the day we sever our historic bonds." he gestured to the parchment. "Please, read it, king of Figaro." he bowed his head and kept it lowered as Cambyses did as he was bid.

The parchment was short compared to most.

To the king of Figaro,

You have denied a marriage match between my Seventh Son and that of your sister, and this stings immensely. My son does little else but talk of her, and it has crushed him. However, even when I do not understand your refusal, the Seventh Son does. In this, I am accepting, but it does little to quell the grief in my heart. Our families could have been one at last, and we could have seen how beautiful the children would have been had the match been made. I write to you not to withdraw support, but to tell you that we accept your counter proposal. If you will grant the Seventh Son an audience with your sister, to ask for her hand himself, you have our aid regardless of her answer. We will bring our navy south first and rid your Thamasan allies of their fleas, and then we will bring our warriors to Figaro to scalp those who dare fight you. Let this alliance be one for the ages, dear king.

Cambyses smiled and looked up from the parchment to the Grand Prince. "It...it is not what I expected."

"You expected an unreasonable man in my father?" Idris asked with a bright, white smile. "Ordinarily, he would have. He cherishes his Seventh as dearly as one ought to, after all, but he has been a long friend to Figaro and my dearest brother holds great sway over our father."

Cambyses bowed. "We are grateful. I am grateful."

"No need for that," he waved it aside. "I would like to see more of this place. My brothers speak of it well, if not strangely. And...and I would know more of this girl that has captured my brother so thoroughly that is worth war over."

That alarmed him. To have it put so directly...it made Cambyses uneasy. Was it wrong to outside eyes that they waged war for a girl? He shook the thoughts free. No, even if it were wrong in their eyes, he knew it was the only right decision he has ever made in his life. He sighed. "My general will walk you around if you prefer, or gift you a different guide if it pleases you. Once you have seen Figaro and her beauties, you may either retire to your room for the day and we can pick this up in the morning, or meet me in the foyer." he bowed again, forgetting once more that the Prince did not like it, and watched as Celes guided the honorable guest out of the room.

Hals shook his head. "I still do not see how you convinced your parents to even allow this."

Cambyses frowned. "It took work."

Hals said, "And what happens when you rescue your sister, my king? We are both aware she will never agree to his proposal. Where will this leave Figaro and the Veldt?"

"They were promised only a chance to ask her," he grumbled. "They know there is nothing else between us or to build this alliance off of. They know and they accepted."

"And if they feel burned by her rejection?"

Cambyses closed his eyes. "I will cross that bridge if or when we get to it, Hals." he walked towards the doors. "Come, we have a lot to do today. I will seek my parents out and you still need to go over the walls' preparations."

"Of course, my king."

---

"That's cheating!" the girl whined, crossing her arms and furrowing her brows. "It's no fair!"

"I didn't cheat," Eric said, laughing, as he revealed his cards. "I wouldn't even know how to, anyhow."

She puffed angrily and threw her cards at the table. "I don't want to play this s-s-stupid game anymore!"

Eric laughed and leaned over to recover the cards. "Alright then, that's perfectly fine. What would you like to play next?"

Emma instantly perked up. She got up and raced as quickly as her body could allow her to toward her smaller crate where she stored her 'toys' Bertrand and Lucas allowed her to have. She dug for only a minute and then came right back with a box of chess. It was an old board and one of the black knights were missing but she had substituted the missing piece with a piece of wood she hand carved a horse face into and had painted black. Eric exclaimed. "You want to play chess? I'm no good at it, though..."

"Please? Please? Just one game?"

When she looked at him like that, with those irresistibly kind eyes, he could not say no. He had a hard time believing any normal person could. He sighed and shook his head. "Alright Emma, let's play a game." she smiled at him warmly and quickly went to setting the board up. He picked the white side and she picked the black side. "Ladies first."

"You can go first," she said, never taking her eyes off the board, as if an intense battle was already raging across the surface and looking away meant defeat. He smiled.

"Okay then, then I'll start like this..." he moved one of his pawns straight and she mimicked him. Great, he thought, she's going to obliterate me. Next he moved the pawn beside the one he just moved and as expected, she copied him. Then he moved his bishop only her response was to clear way for her bishop and knight. Confused, Eric moved another pawn forward in an attempt to create a barrier or deter straight onslaughts. He brought his own bishop further out the next turn and then his knight. She moved her bishop out and then tightened the security of her king. "...if you leave all your good pieces around the king, they will fall with my rooks and knights."

She smiled at him and moved her rook forward into A1, one straight line away from his king. Hurriedly he pressed his king into E2. And then she giggled and moved her bishop diagonally across the checkers to block his king. He glared at the board for a minute, realizing she had sealed his king to his doom with her knights and rook. He gave a disappointed sigh and leaned away. The game lasted five minutes. She took his expression as a 'done' and said, "checkmate!"

He could tell she loved the game just for that, or maybe she enjoyed systematically conquering someone. He couldn't tell. He laughed. "You got me. For the billionth time. Why do you even like chess?" She shrugged as she gathered the pieces of the board. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying you shouldn't like it, I'm just curious."

"I don't know...I guess I just like it." she closed the box and looked at him with tired eyes. "Now what?"

"We played every game you own and read every book you have that isn't for learning...why don't we go outside for a bit?"

Her eyes widened in terror. "I...no, I can't. Bertrand said I had to stay inside because I didn't—"

He stopped her there. "I know why, I remember..." please, do not speak it aloud. "I could ask him though, since it is my day. He might allow it, especially since you still need your physical therapy."

She looked away. "I...I would rather stay inside, please."

Letting it go, he watched her put the board game away and wondered if now was a good time to ask her more about herself. He knew the months from his forgiveness was short but he was curious now and his curiosity could hardly be quenched. "Emma?" she hmm'd him. "Who taught you how to play chess?"

She was clearly bothered by his question but she replied, "My father taught me." regardless. He couldn't place the tone. Fear? Sadness? Anger? Disappointment? It had to be because of the exchange deal Bertrand and her father came to agreement about. He couldn't think of any other reason. And in these short months they have gotten to know each other, she never spoke about her family. Not once. That led him to believe the problem was deeper than her father's exchange deal. It had to be.

Wanting to know more, he pressed the issue. "Is he good at chess, too?" she made a slight gesture with her shoulders, too bothered to even shrug right. "Have you ever beaten him at chess?"

"No," she whispered. "I played with him only a few times outside of tutoring..."

"I see...do any of your other family members play chess? What about your mother?"

"They never played in front of me," she answered, turning to look at him. "Why...why are you asking?"

He shrugged. "Alright, so...I would like to know more about you and your family. If that is too much, please, forget I even asked."

By the look in her eye, he knew it was. It was sometimes the easiest thing in all the world to decipher her and yet other days she was like a constantly changing page in a nameless book. In this, her anxiety and fear, it was often hard for him or others not to see it. The quiet settled between them then and was only broken a minute or so later, when Emma looked at him with a small smile.

"I...I would like to go outside a-afterall."

He returned the smile with one of his own. "Then I will go talk to my father."

•••••••••••

"It has been months and yet no child grows within her." Lucas snapped at the two doctors, whom kept their gaze down. "I do not want to hear your excuses. I want this resolved."

"In all due respect your majesty, life is the one thing science cannot control." It was Alveri who said it. "Yet."

"It will, or I'll control yours."

Johl cleared his throat. "There could be a thousand reasons why seed cannot quicken within her, my prince. She is routinely deprived of food and water, vital to the growth of any person, but is beaten and experimented upon regularly. All of this could make conceiving impossible."

"Impossible?" he asked, furiously. "Are you telling me she cannot ever bear me children?"

Johl frowned and looked away. Alveri offered a reply. "It could be that what we have done to her has left her infertile, or it could just be as simple as providing her a nourishing program and leaving our experiments and training behind. We will not know if we do not try to rule these things out..."

"If it were up to me, it all would stop here and now," Lucas said. "It is not though. You must convince my father it needs to end."

"There is no convincing the king of anything," Johl told him. "He will never abandon his pursuit of power just so the girl can give you a child."

Alveri nodded. "I am in agreement with my fellow colleague. It will never happen."

"Our deal was—"

"Your deal was set about conceiving during these circumstances," Alveri cut in. "He did not promise you to stop so you could try. You must work around it."

"I cannot force her body to do something it is uncapable of doing!"

"There is nothing else we can do," Johl said.

"We could try to improve her chances, but it won't help much if her situation continues." Alveri added in.

Lucas paced a line before them, arms crossed and brows furrowed. "What sort of physical activity would deter life?"

"If there is one thing you could stop that would help," Alveri offered. "It would be the beatings."

Johl agreed, and added, "If you are set on this, you must convince your father to stop somehow, or find a way to avoid it altogether."

Lucas sighed. "She has come a long way since her transformation...very rarely she has to be hit now."

"It still happens," the good doctor said quietly. "And that is enough." Alveri nodded in agreement, quiet.

"What am I to do then?" he asked them, voice trembling. "I cannot control him, not the way that I am right now."

"You do not have to control him, not yet," Alveri mumbled. "All you need to do is convince him this is for the best."

Lucas looked at him then, eyes dark. "Then I will make him believe it."

•••••••••••

Eric had received permission to take the princess outside only because it was his time with the girl. His father had snarled and threatened him though, telling him never to ask, but to take. Eric did not want that though, to do anything that could make him more like his father and brother.

I will never be like him, he thought angrily as he walked beside the princess. Her gait was still strange, a byproduct of what had been done to them, but she had made the stride in recovery enough that she could work some distance with aid. Johl and Alveri assured the Crown Prince that with physical therapy, she could regain mobility, it would just be severely hindered. Still, it was better than nothing, and Eric was glad she could even regain that. I would rather die!

It was then that he noticed her shivering and pinked. How had he forgotten? He quickly took his jacket off and put it on her shoulders. "I'm sorry, I forgot you are not quite used to our winters even now."

Emma huddled into the jacket. "I'm s-sorry, I will g-g-get better, I promise."

"This is not something you have to apologize for, and you do not have to promise me anything. It would be unreasonable even for my father to demand you not to feel cold." she looked away at that. "I realize that is probably of no comfort to you. The asinine workings of his mind are probably only revealed to you..." he sighed. "I just hope these little walks or our time together makes it easier for you to bare it all."

Emma offered him a tired smile, and even that had the capacity to break hearts. He wondered at the sight of it how life might have been if Lucas had the strength to deny their father, if he had actually fallen in love with this girl and she with him. How would the world be now? Would there be an alliance between the old blood of Figaro and the new blood of Roskovo? Well, he supposed, if wishes were made of gil, they would all be rich. He sighed, catching her attention.

"Is...is something wrong?"

"No, I was just thinking but it is of no matter. Let's just enjoy our evening outside." he guided them toward a stone bench beneath a shedding tree and helped her to sit. The stone was ice to the touch though, so he took off his over shirt too and laid it down for her. She tried to fight him on it though. "No, no, I insist. You are easily prone to illness. I won't let you freeze." with that, she stopped trying to argue and sighed peacefully at the relaxed posture the bench granted her. The relief to her legs, he was sure, was immense too.

For a long time, they sat in quiet, listening to the rustling wind shift through the bare branches above them and through the bushes and flowers, enjoying the scent of late fall on the wind, and the crystal blue sky. Eric watched her mostly. He did not harbor any feelings for her, but it was foolish of him to deny just how pretty she was, or how pleasant it was to be in her presence. It was like a soothing salve after a long day's work. She was gentle and compassionate, considerate to the point of deterring self-interests, and cunning. In many ways, she represented all of the things he wanted to be and struggled to be, and for that he would always respect her.

"You know..." she looked at him, the rings around her eyes appearing even more stark under the direct sunlight. "...I know you did not want to marry Lucas—" that made her eyes widen and turn to search the garden, for prying ears. "—but I am glad because...because I finally have a sibling that I love and have no regrets in wanting to protect." She met his eyes and they were full of tears. "I know...that probably is not a consolation for having to marry someone you don't love, let alone despise, but I...I just wanted to be honest with you. I think you deserve it."

"If...if there is some good," she mumbled. "It's that I have you and Sherra."

He smiled. "I don't deserve it, but I want to try to."

"There you are!"

They both turned sharply to the source of the voice. Charging toward them with a scowl and several soldiers in tow behind him was General Barkov. Eric stood immediately, warily, to act as a shield and Emma froze completely. "General, I...what are you doing here?"

Barkov passed him a look of seething disappointment. "I am here for the girl. She was supposed to be at training hours ago."

"You're mistaken, Barkov. My father has set days aside for me to share with her, however I please it, and today is such a day. She is to do whatever I desire, and nothing else, and no soul is permitted to punish her for it, either."

His eyes widened. "This trickery will not work on me, young prince."

"Barkov, if you do not believe me, fine. You can take it up with my father."

The man's eyes darkened and then passed from him to the girl. "We shall see." and then he turned and stormed away. When he was gone, Eric sighed and turned to her.

"He will be back, I'm sure, and angry that he was wrong. It will be best for us if I take you back to your room. He wouldn't dare intrude within the Crown Prince's quarters, not like that." that had been something that had not been dared by anyone other than the king and queen, for now that the Crown Prince was married to the girl, impeding upon their personal quarters unannounced was border line a crime.

"We only just got here," she whispered, though she allowed him to lift her by her arms gently.

"I know. I will inform father of his behavior and see if I can be compensated for the time, if not, I will ask for an extension next time." he tucked his jacket further around her. "Come on, let's get you back to where it's warm."

When they returned to the Grand Prince's quarters, Eric helped her out of his jacket and toward the seats beside the window. Then he stoked the fire until it roared and promised her that he would be back soon, and that he would send food and drink ahead of him.

Next, he marched his way to his father. When he found his father, he was in the foyer with Barkov. The general's eyes said more than any words could. The discussion was already brought up, and he had learned his mistake. Eric bowed to his father quickly. "Father...might I have a word?"

Bertrand gestured at him. "I have already heard. Barkov has been informed of the situation. It will not happen again."

Eric was thankful for that, but there was more he needed to say. "Thank you, father, but...may I ask for an extension?" his father's eyes widened. "I know it is much to ask for, but general Barkov, he—"

His father raised a hand, to silence him. Eric sealed his lips. "No." he rose from his seat. "You would ask me of more time with that useless whore so you can, what? Braid her hair?" Barkov smiled; a snicker close to his lips. "It would be one thing if you were man enough to take the situation to its fullest advantages, but you do not. So tell me...why would I allow you more time?" Eric lowered his eyes, feeling that familiar fear grip at him. What was he thinking? "You would do well to leave my sight before I reconsider even granting you this time."

"Yes...of course, father." he bowed again and turned to hurry his way out of the foyer. At the door, his father stopped him.

"If you see your brother," Bertrand said. "Be sure to let him know that she is to be at the labs tomorrow."

Eric swallowed back a cry. "Yes, father."

•••••••••••

Eric had never returned.

Emma did not fault him for it. It was obvious something had happened, that he had ultimately failed in what he went to achieve, but even in that Emma was not surprised. Regardless, where did she get off thinking she deserved more? Better? That he should do this or that for her sake? She was nothing. An eye sore. A broken pawn. And such things deserved nothing but what their masters said they deserved. And with visitation to Sherra returned to her, she wouldn't risk breaking the fragile ground she stood on.

At night, she would remind herself of her only purpose, when the nightmares tore her awake. When she contemplated nothing more savory than the idea of taking one step out her window or diving beneath the quiet water of her basin. When she remembered what lied beyond her waking thoughts and what crept in the shadows around her. She lived every day, forced breath into her lungs, for Sherra and her baby now. And she would perish making sure they were safe.

That night Lucas had returned later than usual, and was too exhausted to go about their deal. In fact, he washed himself and then climbed into the bed without saying a word. Emma had never seen him behave that way before, and it worried her. Whatever had happened, it was enough to silence him. She knew it couldn't have been her—at least, how could it?—so her thoughts went to the king. Was something said? Done? Refused? Emma did not find sleep that night beside him, worried that if she had, she would miss a demand or his attempts to talk.

In the morning, he rose just as quietly as he had entered their room the night before. Emma sat at her position on the bed watching him warily the entire time he dressed himself. There was an unsaid anger to the way he moved, but for once, she knew this was not because of her. And that terrified her more. In all the time she had been in Roskovo, his anger was always divided between his father and mother, and her. What sort of pain and misery could he push on others with this new anger?

He reached for his coat hanging on the nearby chair and caught sight of her staring in the mirror. He turned to look at her and she quickly adverted her gaze. "You should be resting..." he said quietly, and she could still feel those eyes on her. "You will have a long day ahead of you." she startled when suddenly he was beside her. "You will not fight them today...will you?" he asked, lifting her gaze to his. Her eyes faltered under his direct stare. "I think you are beyond that, but I must be sure you won't. It will be rather routine if you will allow it to be."

She could barely find her voice. "Okay..."

He smiled and leaned over to kiss her cheek. "I will see you tonight, if you are feeling well." and then he left her without another word.

Emma watched the door for a long moment, expecting him to return and in turn give out the lashing brittle temple he normally wore on his sleeve, but after a few minutes, it was clear he had actually departed. That left her even more confused, but she knew what today was, and that meant she needed to be ready for it. It made enduring a little...easier. She struggled out of her blankets and weakly stumbled her way to the wash room.

Her day-to-day routines were made so much more complicated and painful since her last...adjustment. She could barely hold up her own weight anymore, and walks that went longer than a few minutes required many stops to rest, and something to support her. It always felt as if her knees were ready to pop, and right now was no different.

She stumbled into the side of the basin and lowered herself to the floor, trembling. The sound of water splashing into the basin drilled into her head but the aching in her legs would not let her concentrate on it. She knew she had to wait it out, to regain the strength to climb into the basin, but she wanted the soothing heat of the water now. She rested her head against the basin and exhaled heavily and then inhaled as much as she could, only to repeat herself several times. All in an effort to calm her mind, to trick it, into forgetting the pain.

Try as she might though, the pain was always going to be one step behind her. When the minutes rolled by and the water was getting colder than she could tolerate, she undressed from her spot beside the basin, too afraid to test the strength of her legs right now. When she had finished with that, she climbed her way into the toasty waters. She lowered until her shoulders sank below the water and closed her eyes, to listen to the water gently splash to her slight movements.

The thoughts to dive under and not resurface trickled into her mind again, but the thoughts of Sherra made her open her eyes and sit up above the surface with a frown. No. There was no room for her to rest, not yet. With a sigh, she washed herself and carefully dragged herself out of the water to pat herself dry. Her legs felt much better, but the sore ache in them now just meant any further extended use would make it worse.

Since she was not permitted crutches or a walking staff by Bertrand's orders—Lucas had said he thought it came as an order to keep her from getting better, so that she might never run off—she had to make do with muscle and brain. She reached for the nearby chair and lifted herself up straight, placing her hands on the back part where the head rested over. It would not serve as naturally or easily as a crutch or staff, but it was enough. She used it by carefully pushing it forward, taking diligent, small steps with it.

It took a few minutes, but she made it to the main room, where she had forgotten her new set of attire on the bed. Dressing was always the most difficult part of her new routine. The upper part of her body was considerably easier, but bending her legs and trying to put on under garments or kneeling to pull on a skirt or dress was painful. She couldn't imagine trying to pull on trousers or something, and for that she supposed she was grateful the choice was taken from her long before her newest injuries. When she was finally through though, she laid flat against the bed and turned her head to stare out the open window to watch the dull grey sky.

Now there was only the wait. The wait until she was forced to the labs, and then to the training yard where she was forced to transform into her monster side.

I'm ready, she thought dully, though her heart screamed that she was not.

When the soldiers finally came by, she let them take her by the arms and drag her. Sometimes she got men who understood her injuries and pain, and would move her with all the ease in the world, but most days...most days she got men who couldn't care one way or another if she was hurt. Today was somewhere between—one of the men was gentle and the other not. It felt like she was the rope in a game of tug-of-war. She was adamant though not to cry out or complain, because doing so might mean a more grueling training session or more hours in the labs.

The labs were first. They always were. Emma wished it were the other way around, because after she left them, she would be sick to her stomach, her head would be aching and her eyes would feel like there was fire behind them. It made concentrating and putting effort into her training all the more painful.

Johl was the one to greet her at the doors, with a warm smile of understanding and patience. "You are looking well," he said quietly, and even Emma could hear the lie in the tone. "I shall strive to make this go quickly for you. Men, would you please set her gently on the gurney over there for me? Yes, that one. Thank you, that will be all for today." the men let her go, bowed to her—startling her—and then hurried out of the room.

The good doctor caught her expression and frowned. "Your husband informed the soldiers and help that they should show you respect or face punishment."

Emma knew where this would go for her. "No, I...I can't have that, I can't."

He frowned, understanding. "I know, but you are now their Crown Princess, it is only fitting."

"Bertrand, he will—"

"Yes, I'm sure he will be quite furious with it," Johl mumbled, coming over with a large tray of assorted tools and bags and jars. "However, there will be naught he can truly do short of enforcing his own will on the people, which he might do. That shouldn't come down to you though, I think. He will know this to be the work of his son."

As if that ever stopped the mad man from taking his anger out on her. She looked away, remembering the last time he had gotten annoyed. The things he made her do... she trembled, sick. Johl reached to touch her shoulder. "I know the fear you might be feeling, but Lucas—in all that is wrong with him—wouldn't let what happened last time happen again. In this, I trust him, at least. I am not saying you have to, gods I would never, but I truly do believe you won't face any response to this."

The things Johl and so many others could never understand. Pain. Disgrace. Shame. Guilt. These things could not only happen under physical torture. The worst things Bertrand could ever do to her, outside of hurting Sherra, was to not hurt her at all. To make her form to his wishes, to make her malleable. She would take the days where he hit her to the days he made her touch him the ways he desired.

"At any rate," he said as he sat the tray down beside her. "Let's take this day one step at a time, hm?" Alveri entered the labs then, from the back door, preoccupied by a large box of something to notice them. "I will draw some blood first. Let me see your arm." she offered it without a word. He took it with gentle, warm hands and prodded the crook of her elbow with expertise and ease. When he was pleased that he found a suitable spot, he went to the tray and uncovered a large tubular instrument and then attached something to it. The needle. She blanched and turned her head away as he stuck it into her arm. She winced. "I'm sorry, I try to do this as gently as I can..." after a few seconds of drawing blood, he looked at her and frowned. "Have you eaten yet? You look famished."

She didn't have the courage to tell him she hadn't eaten since the day before, just a bit passed morning. She kept her gaze out of his sight, but he seemed to understand it regardless. He sighed. "You need to eat to keep up your strength. I cannot have you waste away, Emma. I cannot and I won't." her silence only pressed him. "If you will not eat, I will be forced to have someone come by and make you eat. Is that what you want?" She shook her head. "Then why?"

"No...no one came over so I..." she let that go, afraid to complain that Lucas and Eric both failed to provide food—even though she was banished from doing it herself. It was Bertrand's efforts to make sure she did not get "fat".

"I see," he mumbled. "I shall see to it that it doesn't get forgotten again, okay?" he said, taking the needle out. The syringe was full. He carefully put it aside in a little glass tube and then produced another needle, empty. She paled further. He noticed and chuckled. "Do not worry, this is the last one I need. After this, you can lie down while Alveri and I bring up your injections." she pinched her eyes shut just as the needle touched her skin. The pain was sharp, but it barely even lasted a second.

By now Alveri was near, with a new tray of phials and such. Emma recognized the black liquid immediately and felt the sick in her stomach worsen. He began to prepare the injections even as Johl recovered the second needle from her. "There, we're finished with this part." Alveri moved to grab her arm but Johl stopped him. "Give me a minute Alveri. If we do it now with no food in her, she'll be unable to do her training."

"Now, we should—"

"Do you want her throwing up on all of your equipment?" he pressed, and with this the mad professor scoffed and turned away mumbling. He turned a moment later with a bowl of stale looing bread. Johl looked at him squarely, a little surprised.

"This is food, isn't it?" he asked the man, after seeing the stare. "Here little one," he shoved the bowl into her hands. "Eat up and do so quickly." Emma glanced at Johl for permission and he nodded. Emma looked at the bread in the bowl. It looked as if it had been out for days. She poked one piece and it was crisp and hard. She frowned and lifted one up. It almost sounded like paper under her fingers. "Quickly now!" Alveri said in a sing-song voice. Emma bit into it and made a face. It certainly tasted horrible. Food was food though, right? She ate three slices before she could bear no more. She knew they would make her hurl sometime soon, the way it unsettled her stomach. "Good, good, now we can start. Lie her down Johl, and be sure to strap her in. I would hate for her to hurt herself."

Johl did as directed, though not because he had to obey, Emma knew. This was both their task. He was careful with her though when he buckled her arms and legs to the gurney. When he got to leather strap that would go across her forehead, he knelt and smiled. "This should be over relatively quickly, I promise." and then he tightened it in place and Emma could not move.

Emma knew better than to struggle when the injections came, even if it were just her body naturally responding. It would hurt more. Far more. She gritted her teeth and pinched her eyes shut as they started the process. Johl took her hand and held it as the liquid filled her veins. She jerked hard, even though she tried not to, and nearly bit her tongue in half. The pain was unbearable.

"Hold through it," he whispered, tightening his grasp.

"Araaagh!" she tightened her hands into fists as the pain seared through her. It felt as if someone was trying to tear her stomach out with just their bare hands. Her head began to throb and her heart raced.

"Just a little longer," Johl said soothingly.

But those seconds felt like years. She gave a sharp cry and then bit down on her lips, struggling. Blood poured steadily down her chin. In her peripheral vision, she saw shadows splitting and splitting into figures without faces, smoke raising off their heads. She closed her eyes against them, her breath stifling to hoarse wisps. She jerked again but this time it hurt more than ever. It always seemed to, at least, when it came to the end.

She collapsed to the gurney, trembling, feeling sick. Sweat beaded heavily on her skin. Her vision was darkening. She could barely see Johl standing beside her, frowning, sad. Beside him, the shadowy figures. They had no eyes, but Emma could feel it. Feel their eyes on her. She closed her eyes and let out a winded sigh before exhaustion and pain swept her away.

Emma was not sure how long she had been out, but when she was stirred awake, she felt even worse than she had before. Johl was standing above her, eyes widened and flesh pale as milk. Even Alveri was there, staring with as much concern as he could afford to grant anyone. Emma was certain it wasn't for her.

"You're awake! Thank the gods!" A splitting headache burst behind her eyes at the volume of his voice. She groaned, feeling weaker and weaker. "Take it easy," he said quietly and she could feel his ice-cold hands on the skin of her shoulder. She recoiled. "You went out for a bit there, and we couldn't wake you." he explained, and Emma could hear the fear in his tone. She had come close to it, hadn't she? She could almost taste that sweet after taste of it. Of peace. Of death. She was resentful it hadn't come, and yet grateful to live long enough to ensure Sherra's safety. "Can you hear me?" he asked, pressing fingers against her shoulders that felt like ice. She winced under that touch. "You're going to be okay; I promise."

And, unable to keep her eyes open or hold off the exhaustion, slipped right back into slumber.

Emma woke later to the murmur of discussion, sick to her stomach and with a headache that drummed angrily behind her eyes. She tried to sit up, but her arms would not support her weight. She crumbled back into the hardness of the cot beneath her and tried to focus her blurry eyes on her surroundings. The voices were growing louder. No. Closer. She turned her head to the direction of it and blinked until she could make out the shapes in the distance.

Johl and Alveri.

She groaned and closed her eyes for a few seconds before reopening them. They were still engrossed in their hushed conversation. Johl's expression was hard, angry, and Alveri just kept shaking his head. The room began to form into familiarity in her mind, and she realized she was back in her room. It was only then that they stopped their heated argument and turned to see that she was awake.

Johl's expression softened immediately and he walked over. "Emma, you're awake. Good. We were worried about you." Alveri approached with far more ease, staring at her in a way that made her very uncomfortable. "How are you feeling?" She could not find her voice to speak. He sighed. "I understand. Do not worry, you are through for the day."

Alveri smirked. "The injection had adverse side effects. We couldn't possibly continue with you in that state."

"Enough!" the other man snarled. "You are scaring her for no good reason." he turned his smile back to her. "You are well. You have nothing to fear. Your body just needs a bit more rest than usual." she tried to speak again, but it seemed as if there was a vice grip over her throat. Her words came out strangled and completely intangible. "No, no, don't try to talk. You just need rest." she could feel his icy fingers grip into her hand and winced. "Sleep child, sleep."

And Emma found it too difficult to deny the permission. When she closed her eyes, she was fast asleep.

•••••••••••

Lucas watched her sleep for a long while in silence. She had been brought in earlier, by men from the lab, with Johl leading them. Another terrible reaction to the new line of serum, it seemed. He wondered how far he should let this go, but every time he thought that, his mind wandered back to the deal with his father. And then vanished. If she had to suffer a few more months for the chance at lasting peace, he had to let it happen. Even if it sickened him. Sometimes though, when he caught her crying or whenever he caught her struggling to do her daily routines, that piece of him faltered, if only for a few seconds.

It brought back memories always, of his time at the academy. When he'd catch her studying all alone with such intensity the world all but vanished around her. Or when he'd watch her try and try so fruitlessly to squeeze her way into the social groups around her, and not even truly understand when the other kids were being cruel to her, only when it became very painfully obvious. Those moments were often the hardest part of forcing himself to stay away, because there was no way she was their lesser. The only moments he could spy for himself, was when he would watch her from the sparring grounds while she ate under that tree on the hill, or when she would hum quietly while she swept and cleaned the class rooms because one of the professors had asked her if she would like to help and she didn't seem to understand how to say no.

That had driven him forward back then, knowing there was more of her he could learn about, to have. The time he had spent after that night at the manor was unbearable. He had counted the days eagerly, almost feverishly.

Whatever will I do with you? He thought as he leaned over to tuck the blanket in around her. He brushed hair from her face. You hold the very core of my being hostage, he thought, watching her face twist gently in her dreams. You will be my oblivion...won't you? And yet, the idea of it seemed oddly fitting. She felt like the other part of him, and if he had to meet an end, he would favor it if it was done by her hands or her heart.

He had of course been trying to bump into her from the start, it was his whole purpose of being there, but when he had actually 'accidentally' walked in while she was cleaning the chalk boards, he felt it. That connection. That feeling as if she represented the other side of his mind he kept guarded. It was frustrating when he realized she did not immediately understand what was happening when he started speaking with her, having never had to deal with attention of others, let alone boys. But in so many ways that had relieved a greater part of his concern and jealousy. He would be her first experience, and her last.

And one day, it would only be them. Together. Always.

He knew that the only way for that to work though, was for her to continue. To endure. To train. So that when the time came, she could use her power to break free of his father—to set them free. Yes. She would need to get stronger and stronger, until she could stand against his father and all the threats surrounding them. And only then could they be free.

Lucas leaned forward to kiss her forehead. "You are doing well, my love."

---

There's nothing to it, Cambyses told himself. Just ask him to help speed up the reinforcements...there's nothing to it, right? Cambyses adjusted the tightness of his collar nervously before he walked into the solar.

He was immediately greeted by the sight of his father sitting a seat across from their honored guest—the heir immediate to the Veldtic throne. The man hadn't changed at all from the last time that Cambyses saw him. They rose to greet him. "Please, retake your seats. I pray this will be a swift matter, and we can all be on our ways."

Qudin smiled. "I should hope not too swift. I do enjoy visiting this kingdom of yours."

Cambyses laughed. "You can stay as long as you desire, your grace."

"Whatever was the matter that we were called upon?" Edgar asked.

Cambyses took a seat opposite them, and waited until they were reseated. "It concerns the Figaro-Veldt Alliance." that made the prince's eyes widen just a little. "It is with great appreciation and gratitude that you have deiced to accept the Alliance, especially on so little. We truly are grateful, in ways that can never truly be described."

"It is true," Edgar said, nodding. "To have the hope we can rescue my daughter is only achievable thanks to your aide."

"I wouldn't have heard your plight and turned you aside," Qudin said quietly. "It is not within my nature to do so, least of all to someone I consider family. Friends." he hesitated. "What is this about, then?"

"I..." Cambyses knew this was going to sound ungrateful. "I have called you here to plead with you to discuss matters with your father."

"What matters?"

"The speed of deliverance," he answered. "I understand this sort of thing will require time, but every moment we tally, my sister suffers or...or worse."

Qudin nodded. "I see...you want me to convince my father to speed up the process."

"Yes," Camb admitted. "I know this sounds ungrateful and it shames me to have to ask this of you, but...but she's my sister."

"My daughter," Edgar added in quietly.

Qudin took a deep breath and then rubbed at his knuckles, nodding. "Yes...I understand your plights well. It must be torture, knowing where she is and what she endures, and have to wait for the power to help."

"It hurts more than anything I have ever endured," Edgar told him. "I would give myself up if it meant I could return her to her mother's arms."

"I would give you anything," Camb added. "Anything in the world that I can give...my sister excluded."

Qudin laughed, startling them. "You do not need to convince me. I know the depth of your love for your sister and daughter," he passed a quick look to each of them. "If you did not love her, you would have given her hand to me without a second thought. It is your character that I respect so, and it is because of that character, that I did not hesitate to accept the Alliance against the judgement of my crown. Of course I will help."

Taken aback, Camb frowned. "You will? Just like that?"

He smiled. "Whatever could I do then? Deny your plea, knowing a little girl suffers at the hands of some lunatic?" he stood. "No. I would never be so petty as to ignore your pleas. I was serious when I told you," he turned his eyes to Edgar. "That I am in love with your daughter." that made Edgar visibly uncomfortable. "I meant every word I said to you back then, your grace. Every word. And I will mean it until I have taken my last breath. And my match being denied will not change how I feel, or the commitment I have in securing your daughter's safety and freedom. Even should I never have the chance to call her my wife."

Cambyses was at a loss of words. This man truly loves her, doesn't he? He wondered what happened that day to seal such affection in a man's heart, even beyond being denied her hand. It made him realize that his sister was more special than he realized, and that the world was the bigger fool for turning her aside so often. Cambyses got up and then went to kneel to Qudin. "You have the gratitude of an entire family...of an entire nation." he pressed his head to the floor, shocking the man. "I will forever be in your debt, Qudin of the Veldt!"

Edgar joined him next, placing his forehead on the floor as well. "We will forever be in your debt!"

Qudin knelt and laid a hand on their shoulders. "Rest easy, my friends. We shall have our victory yet and you will have your beloved family back with you. I swear it upon my honor."

---

The area was quiet around her as she stood in the center of two dozen soldiers, staring into the eyes of her reflection on the smooth wall in front of her, into the eyes of a thousand different hers. Her heart was beating loud, each thump like thunder in her ears. Something loud and piercing went off behind her, but she did not flinch, not even when all of the soldiers started running toward her all at once. No, she kept her eyes her reflection, kept the gaze of her other selves.

At once the soldiers collapsed on her, swords drawn. She moved against them with unnatural fluidity, of a training that was burned into her flesh. She deflected every strike with her own sword, even though her claws were far more deadly, and with each strike thunder rippled around her and the men crumbled away like frightened mice. Even as they shirked away, she pursued them, slashing and kicking with wild abandon, her snarls and screams an echo of her innerself; just as lost and confused and broken, and yet far more demanding.

Men at her feet one after another, some dead, some dying more slowly than others around them.

Her claws tore through the jugular of the last man standing and as his blood dripped off her, the loud speaker burst to activity around her.

"That is enough for today." Barkov's voice.

She turned her head towards one of the speakers and pointed a finger at it. A beam of fire shot out and destroyed it. Another speaker started. "How dare you defy me, you monster!" She turned to the next speaker, smirking, and she fired off another beam of fire, destroying yet another one. She started to cackle. "Enough! I said enough! I demand you stop!" The command and tone worked. It burned through her and within seconds. She was stiffened into inaction. Her mind was raging against the commands, screaming and trying so hard to break free, but ultimately unable.

"There we go," Barkov's voice continued from one of the last speakers. "Obedient bitch after all." there was static for a long moment, and then, "Let your transformation go." with a snarl, she dropped her hold and the fur burned away back to cold, pale flesh. Emma fell to the floor with a cry, exhausted. "Get up, beast." Emma struggled back up, but it was too much too soon, and she couldn't remember what had been happening so it left her even more disoriented. All she could remember was a brief moment standing in a circle of men, waiting. "I said, get up!" the fiery pain of the command found the energy she couldn't. After half a minute, she was trembling on poorly healed legs. "Transform." it took a second, but her body responded. Her scream stalled in her throat, but as her skin burned back to fur, it broke free. "Release the state!" again, her body did as it was bid and she crumbled back to the floor, shivering, thoughts spacing further and further apart.

Although she did not remember going into this 'transformation' they kept demanding of her, she knew her inability to recall could only mean whatever they wanted, was happening. Otherwise, what was happening to her?

"Hmm," Barkov mumbled into the speaker. "You take far too long to transform. His majesty wants you trained to the second it is said."

Sweat drenched her and her body felt ready to fall apart there. Emma looked up towards the wall where the glass was—where she knew Barkov was standing. Watching. "Very well. I suppose we have been at this long enough and not even I cannot deny the progress you have made the last few months." more static before a sharp cut off. Emma practically dropped to the floor, breathing hard, relieved. Every inch of her hurt, and she couldn't even remember why.

After a few minutes, just when she was about to fall asleep, the doors opened and someone clamored towards her. "Come now. Get up. You are to head back to your quarters and wash yourself." when she did not move, he kicked her arm. "I said, get up!" this time, she could not deny the command or tone. She struggled up and then fell immediately back to the ground. Barkov snarled. "You are a useless bitch." he snatched her by her arm and yanked her up to her feet and then started to drag her behind him. It was all she could do to keep up and not crumble down behind him, and get dragged completely by her arm.

It took only a few minutes for them to reach her quarters, but once they were there, Barkov threw her into the room and she landed onto the floor. "You have an hour to get cleaned and dressed. If I return and find you have not done as bid, I will thrash you good. Do you hear?" and without waiting for a response—though she would not have given one unless commanded—he exited by slamming the door after him.

All alone, Emma knew she could not do what was demanded of her by herself. She could barely even move. But she knew that if she did not, Barkov would come through on his threat. A part of her wished that Lucas was here to help her with this, but that thought immediately made her cry and feel disgust. Instead, she had to do this herself. She practically clawed her way towards the base room and filled the basin.

She didn't have time to warm it, and let it run cold. If she got a cold, it would have to be suffered. It would be worse to arrive at the demand of Lucas or Bertrand and be 'filthy'. They hated that. So she saved her energy for when she had to climb in. And when she had, it hurt and exhausted her so terribly that for several minutes all she could do was shiver within the cold depths of her basin, but thankfully her energy returned enough to wash as the water turned lukewarm.

Emma scrubbed as quickly as she could, and harder than she liked to. She could not any sort of chance of being called filthy, so she scrubbed until she was red and washed her hair three times through, and only then did she decide she was done. She drained the water and sat there until it was empty and until she had the energy to get out and back to the main room.

There wasn't a lot of clean attire left for her in the dressers or chests, and she hoped that what she had would please Bertrand and Lucas. It was one of their favorites for her to wear, at least, and didn't mind whatsoever that she wore it even in the cold temperatures like today. It was a white, lacey dress that stopped at her knees and dipped low down the collarbone. It took her much longer than her wash to get dressed, as bending or twisting her arms up hurt so bad that she would drop and lie back down against the bed, and fight back sobs.

Once she was finally done, she laid there and waited, soaking in as much rest as she could.

Barkov's return was as loud as his exit. She had been in that stage between lucidity and sleep when the door slammed shut and drew her awake in a startle. "You are lucky you did as you were bid, girl. It would not have been pretty for you otherwise." Emma sighed, and that only seemed to irate him further. He yanked her up by her arm. "Come then. Your king awaits you."

Emma tried to keep her head down and her noises of pain to a minimum thereon to keep him from losing his temper. "You best behave yourself today," he snarled at her. "If you upset his majesty, you will receive my undivided attention." she knew what that meant and took a breath to steady herself. "If you behave..." he gripped her arm until she squirmed. "...I will go easy on you with your next session." Was this some sort of trick? He shook her hard. "Acknowledge me, you worthless sow."

"I...I...okay."

"Good." he stopped them outside of Bertrand's solar. "Do not fucking disappoint me." And then he threw the doors open and dragged her into the room. Emma's eyes widened at the sight of Bertrand and all of his military leaders. What was going on? Barkov introduced them with a bow, and then forced her into one herself. Every bone screamed in pain during the forced movements, but she dared not voice it. "Your majesty, we have arrived."

Bertrand's eyes moved over to them and Emma fought so hard against the desire to look away. "We were beginning to wonder if you had gotten lost, Barkov."

"No," he said gruffly. "It was the girl delaying me."

Emma gasped. "W-what? No, I—I was ready and—"

"Quiet!" Bertrand howled, and she shrunk back. "You dare question Barkov's honesty? You?" he scoffed. "You will apologize to him this instance."

Emma looked up at the man standing beside her. He was glaring down at her with those pale blue eyes, waiting. She almost failed to find her voice. "I...I am sorry, Barkov"

"You do not get to use my name so wantonly!" he backhanded her and Bertrand simply laughed.

"Now now, Barkov," Bertrand said. "She does not know any other name in which to call you." Emma pressed a trembling hand to her bleeding lip but kept her eyes down. Don't anger them. Don't anger them. She squeezed her eyes shut. Please...I am trying so hard. "You cannot help some part of your ignorance, can you girl?" he sighed at her silence. "Whatever am I to do with you? It simply cannot do if you will not obey me to your fullest."

"I am!" she cried. "I am, I swear! I'm—I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

Bertrand tapped his lips thoughtfully. "Are you truly apologetic, I wonder?"

"Yes!" she cried, laying her forehead to the ground before him. "Please! I am sorry!"

"Hmm..." he approached. "I suppose I can believe you." Emma relaxed, shaking now from the evaporating fear, thankful. She still kept her forehead to the ground, prostrating herself before him as he so pleased. In the way that subdued the greater parts of his wrath. "But Barkov did raise a very important matter, did he not?" she tensed for the onslaught, but instead of a kick or a shove, he turned from her to look at his fellows. "How would you gentleman respond to this creature speaking of you by name?"

Most of the men were quick to respond with how it would disgust and infuriate them. Barkov especially. "As I thought. It is only fitting a creature speak a man's name in the most extreme situations, to distinguish one from another in conversation, for example. For the most part..." he went back to her, and demanded she look at him. When she raised her head to him, he stared down at her without anger or amusement. There was only that stone-cold knowing that he was about to do something to her. "I shan't word this as a command, as that would remove the purpose of the desire. You must know it in your heart, and practice it from that. I and my sons shall be known to you as 'Master' unless you require to distinguish between us within conversation." he even spoke calmly, so as to not carry command with that alone. "As for the rest of my men here, the gentlemen gathered here—" he gestured to them. "—'lord' shall suffice. Men?"

There was general agreement, but Barkov glared angrily. "I would rather the creature not address me whatsoever, even should the voice comes from a pretty little face, but I see the requirement. It will suffice for me."

"Then we have resolved our unforeseen issue," he said, clapping pretentiously. "Now, onto the priority in which we were called here." he made his way back to the table, and shuffled through a pile of documents. "General Barkov has informed me that the training for our forces has given us exceptional results, and better yet, the training of our most valuable asset—" his eyes turned to Emma. "—has gone smoothly. She will be the means in which we will sunder Figaro."

"However so?" another asked. "The last time this thing stood before us, it could barely control itself."

What?

Barkov took a few steps forward. "It is true. The last time she stood before us, she was barely able to transform. And it is true she still cannot do so via her own will, but once ordered, she transforms relatively quickly. And although her efficiency needs drastic work, I have trained her to sustain it longer and longer. The last record I set, was about three hours, in which she can do extensive magicks."

"Extensive?"

"She obliterated three dozen men in less than a minute," Barkov continued. "And I had her sustain a burn for an hour straight and exhaustion was but a drip of what sort of energy lies beneath."

"An hour of straight magic use?"

"Aye. I ordered her to fire and not stop until precisely an hour has passed. She stood still as a stone and did as was bid, and only upon that hour did she seem to scarcely grow tired."

"Are you implying she was capable of longer?" Bertrand asked, eying Emma with a glint of lust in his eyes. Lust for the chaos she could cause.

"Certainly, but exactly as you might take my meaning." he answered. "I only bid her stop the last test so that might do more testing elsewhere, which proved just as fruitful. As I previously mentioned though, her efficiency is clearly insufficient. Just a little beyond that hour, her body seems to grow incredibly exhausted and she has consistently dropped back into her...human...side within seconds. Sometimes it can prolong a few minutes more, sometimes far less. It seems as if..." he rubbed thoughtfully at his chin. "...it almost seems as if her transformative state not only draws upon its own energy expanses, but that of the base form too. I have already informed Alveri of this theory, and he has already begun to test whether it has merit or not. What this means, is that if ordered, she could kill herself extending energy without even knowing it and being unable to stop it because we had ordered her to do so. We must be extremely careful proceeding, or we risk losing our strongest asset."

Emma couldn't make much sense of what they were saying, except for what the implication of 'human side' meant. That was the final nail in the coffin that she needed. She was, in fact, not human, but a monster. Whatever doubts she had mustered before then were immediately quelled. Whatever she was, it was the reason for her difficult life. For all of the disgusted looks and treatment, and all of the foul words and insinuations. She was not simply born different looking...she was not born human.

"...then we are in agreement?" he asked the men gathered. They nodded. "Good. You will start the process immediately. I want to be able to depart by the end of the month." the men gave their bows and goodbyes, and began to depart. Barkov lifted Emma by her arm to try and clear the room with her, but Bertrand stopped them. "A moment." he approached next, and lifted her face so he could look upon it. "I would have her stay behind."

Barkov immediately released her. "Of course, your grace." he said. "If you require me again, I shall be down the hall." he gave a bow and then left.

When they were alone at last, Bertrand's eyes hardened with that familiar look. And Emma knew what he was going to demand before he even said it. He moved his hand down her face, and the movement was possessive and hard. There wasn't an ounce of warmth or affection to it, and it made Emma shudder in disgust to think that even Lucas' touch had more warmth to it than this man's.

He chuckled a second later. "Your disdain for me shines through your eyes so vividly. It is amusing." she knew better than to try and look away, to hide that she had been thinking that way. "You often remind me of your father..." his voice was quiet, but there was unreal tension in his voice. Pure hatred. "Those eyes of a stubborn, cowardly dog enthralled to a beastly whore of no value." he leaned down then, and angrily took her lips with his. She stood still. She would never give him the satisfaction of doing what he wanted of her own will. Never. He smiled against her lips. "You think it displeases me when you deny me this?" he whispered. "No...it displeases my fool of a son. For me, there is no greater pleasure than your defiance when I want you." he leaned away, though his hands were still gripping her arms possessively. "And I will savor it for so long as you draw breath."

•••••••••••

It was nearing afternoon when she was called to her husband's personal quarters. It was obvious without even seeing it as to why, as well. And Sherra was no fool. She willed herself to see what it was she was about to see and pushed the door open. It would be the first time she has left her newborn son, and she just wanted it to be over with, so she could hurry back.

Inside the room, she caught sight of Emma sitting up on the bed, buttoning Bertrand's shirt with trembling arms. His back was to her, but he knew who it was. "Ah...wife. It is good you are here." he reached up to stop Emma's hands with s sharp touch, irritated suddenly by her help. "You did well by not testing me arriving late," he said, fixing the rest of his buttons before turning to her. Sherra's eyes went briefly to Emma; she did not appear to have any new bruises or the like. "You are to prepare for a journey."

"A journey?" she asked, surprised. "To where? Bertrand, we cannot be bringing a newborn around."

"I did not ask you for your input or your permission," he snapped. "If the boy takes after me, he will be strong enough to weather any condition."

She withheld a tarter reply, and said, "You would have me risk our son? Truly?" she shook her head and placed worried eyes on the princess. She wasn't look at any of them, but instead her hands curled up on her lap. "If something happens to him Bertrand, I will kill you."

He laughed. "Sometimes, I am reminded why I took you as a wife. I cherish your fire, woman, but remember not to overstep." and it was without a doubt he turned around and kissed Emma to directly infuriate and anger her. Not because she was jealous, no, but because he knew she did not like the girl to be touched or abused in such a way. "You have your orders woman. Take this girl with you and start packing. We are to leave at the end of the month and I do not want to hear any complaints about how you need this or that." and with that, he walked away without another word or glance at either of them.

Once they were alone, Sherra hurried over to the girl's side. "Are you well?" she lifted her face to inspect her carefully. "Did he hurt you? Beyond...beyond, well..." the words always seemed so impossible to say, as if voicing it aloud made it even worse. Emma shook her head. "That is good, considering all else. Here, let us head back to your quarters. I'm sure Lucas has already been informed of our leave, so we shouldn't press our luck with him." as she knew her son, and how easily angered he was by things. Especially if the matter concerned Emma in any such way.

Sherra helped to draw her to legs and gasped when the girl nearly dropped to the floor. "Okay, okay...hold on, love, let me..." she took a second to position one of Emma's arms around her neck and then wrapped one of her own arms around her waist. "I think this should help, but if your legs to trouble you, let me know immediately." it took them half an hour to reach their destination, stopping many times to give both of them a rest, but when they finally arrived, they were greeted by the eldest prince.

"Where were you?" he demanded of them. "I sent my men out for you nearly an hour ago."

"She was with your father," Sherra spat, and that was enough for the young man. He did not relent the anger though, only now it was shifted towards his father rather than his unwilling wife. "Now if you are done complaining, help her to the bed." Lucas grumbled something but took over the job of maneuvering Emma carefully to their bed.

"Are you well?" she heard him ask Emma a moment later. Sherra listened for the girl's remark, but whatever she said was so quiet that she could not make it out. "I will have Johl come by and give you something for the ache, then." and then he knelt to kiss her cheek. "I will speak with mother for a moment, you just rest." he helped her to lie down before walking over to Sherra. "Father doesn't seem to have hurt her, at least not that I can see. I dare not demand her tell me though."

"Why?" she demanded. "Growing a conscious? No, of course not..."

His eyes narrowed at her. "I promised her I would be careful with my demands, if you must know."

But that you would still make them regardless, she thought angrily. "Oh, how saintly of you."

His face hardened with anger. "Why have you come here? You could have had a guard take her to me."

"As if I would entrust her with any other," Sherra said, annoyed. "Has your father informed you of our apparent journey?"

"Aye..." he grumbled. "He sent Barkov to me this morning to inform Eric and I."

"Do you know where we are going?"

"What does it matter to you?" he asked. "You will go where father bids it and keep your mouth shut, if not for your own safety, for that of Emma's and my little brother."

"How dare you...!" she tried so hard to hold back from slapping him. "As if you care about her or your brothers."

"Just because I do not overtly express emotions for them publicly, does not mean I lack concern and love." he glanced back at his wife and looked away when he spotted her asleep. "If you must know, it is no secret. We are making course for Figaro, though it will take some time to reach."

"Figaro?" she repeated, horrified. Now she understood Emma's quiet and disinterest in what was happening around her. She had learned that her home, and family, would be attacked. "That...that cannot be. How are we fit enough to fight them?"

"We outnumber them greatly," he said.

"It doesn't matter when one of their soldiers outclasses twelve of our men together."

"You throw enough men at something, and it will eventually become a solution mother. I cannot say I approve of father's rush, I certainly do not, but with our men and..." he hesitated. "...and now with Emma, there isn't a person out there that can stand up against our might."

"Emma?" Sherra hadn't even considered that! It had only been half a year since that fateful transformation in that room. Did Bertrand truly think her strong enough, trained enough, to fight? "Surely you don't mean..." Lucas held her gaze. "No...she's in no condition to even walk!"

This time his eyes softened and Sherra was astonished to realize that what she was seeing looked...genuine. "I know that as well, but there is naught we can do. She will be made to fight, because in her other state, she is well enough to."

Sherra looked over at the girl lying on the bed and felt her stomach dropping. Gods help her...gods help us all.

---

The castle stood against the horizon so starkly that Alexander couldn't quite believe it at first. A large city grew wide outside its massive black walls, and the towers looming over them were black and red under the burning light of mid-day. He had expected to see a hobble of a capitol, but what stood before him was infuriatingly beautiful and immense.

Robert noticed him staring at the towers and stopped beside him. "They say the red comes from rubies."

"It's...amazing."

Robert smiled thinly. "I'm surprised to hear you say such a thing."

Alexander side-glanced his friend. "I'm angry, not blind." he sighed. "She's in there..."

"Yes," Robert said. "Somewhere, but most certainly. There's no way a prisoner so valuable would be kept anywhere else."

"Where should we search first?"

Robert rubbed thoughtfully at his chin. "You will not like what I suggest..."

"Just spit it out."

"The slavery quarters or the concubine wings."

Alexander furiously took him by the collar of his shirt. "Don't you ever say that again!"

Robert slowly untwisted the hands gripping at him, never removing his eyes from his friend. "You asked." and in some way, that lessened his further and Alexander let him go and stepped away.

"I'm sorry Robert, I just...I cannot imagine that. I can't."

"I understand this is painful for you, but it is something you need to ready yourself for. The things that happen here..."

Alexander knew his friend was only trying to be helpful, in his own way, but the thought of it sickened him. It was idiocy that he desired to storm that castle and see that they had her locked in a nice room in one of the towers—he knew it was—and yet it was something he hoped for with all his might. The fear he had that she was being regularly tormented was almost too much for him to bare.

"I...I understand. I do."

Robert clapped a hand onto his shoulder a moment later, assuredly. "Do not bring yourself down with those thoughts, though. We are here now, and we will save her." half a heartbeat later, a bugle resounded behind them and a man's voice cut through the air to issue the command to move again. As the company began to march towards the capitol, Alexander stood in his ground and stared at its immense, foreboding design with anxious fear.

---

It felt like so long ago that she had stepped foot on the ship bound for Roskovo, and now she was to leave again. And although she was not bound to return to Figaro, not for any reason she desired, there was a strange part of her relieved to be leaving the icy kingdom behind. Sherra assured her that the travel would be warm, at the very least. And in those days leading up to their departure, she had spent them praying and praying that their voyage would be stalled somehow, or even destroyed half-way through.

"Wherever did I misplace it?"

Emma glanced up from the little trunk she was packing with the assortment of attire the woman helped her pick out earlier. "Where is what?"

"Your medication bag," she answered as she dug through a smaller box nearer her feet. "I would hate to draw upon Johl for another." for her, it would be a great thing to not have to take her medications, but Emma knew that it was for her benefit, and she needed to be well for Sherra and her newborn son. "Ah, here it is." she found the large bag in a box near the door, one set to come with them. "Good. It's well packed. Johl will be sending another to the ship ahead of us, so that we are well prepared for the journey."

Emma did not take medications more than once a day, at least not anymore. The only things she took multiple times a day were her supplements, and one for when she had seizures. Though that had thankfully grown to be a more dormant thing these last few weeks. It was not a well-researched field within medicine, Johl had told them, and he could only speculate that her supplements, continued use of medicine and lack of severe physical abuse could be contributed to it. Alveri had his own explanations, but nothing that strayed too far from the other doctors' speculations.

"Which reminds me," Sherra said as she walked over towards her. "You haven't taken your medications today. We mustn't neglect it now, when you have come so far." she made a face even as the woman held out ten little capsules, most of which were her supplements. "Come now, don't make a face. This is for your health." but she hesitated and stared at the little pills with disgust. Sherra laughed. "Alright, fine. If you take them, I promise I will bring you desserts. Anything you want. Do we have a deal?" Emma smiled and took the pills quickly. "Heavens! You are such a glutton, I swear."

"I want fruit pastries! With caramel and chocolate too!" she said with a smile after she opened her mouth to show that she took the pills as she was supposed to.

Sherra giggled. "Oh, I suppose I did promise. After we have finished packing though, okay?"

They spent the next hour carefully going through all of the packed boxes. Most of it was not to come with them, but to be stored in the cellars. It was decreed by the king that not much of her things were to come with them, beyond the necessitates, but in that she was at least not alone. Everyone was ordered to pack light, to keep the departure and travels fast. Emma was of course allowed to pick two sets of clothes separate from nightwear or what was demanded of her, by direct permission of the king.

It took her some time to decide. There was a lot she liked to wear on her own, mostly for comfort, but she had to think about the temperatures too. The days she had spent on sea-faring vessels, it had gone from icy to hot at the drop of hats. With that in mind, she opted for one of each, which she could mix around. A heavy sweater with thick winter trousers and boots for her winter set, and pair of burgundy shorts with a white blouse. With it and her required attire, she would have plenty of options.

"I will have the guards come by and haul it off to the shipyard," Sherra said when she noticed that Emma had finally finished with her task. "I forgot a box of your things back in my quarters. Would you watch Aden for me while I am gone?"

Emma was more than happy to watch the chubby little boy. She carefully drew herself up from her spot at the end of the bed, using the bedframe to hold her upright. "I wouldn't m-mind at all."

Sherra burst into a small fit of giggles. "You wouldn't be planning on waking him with kisses and hugs again, would you?" She blushed. She had intended to peck his chubby little cheeks with kisses, yes. That only made the woman laugh harder. "When he wakes, you can dot on him completely dear, but for now he needs his rest."

"Okay..."

"Don't sound so devastated," she said with a smile. "He'll be up before you know it and if he wakes while I'm gone, I left a warm bottle in the pan on the table." and before she left, she pressed a kiss atop Emma's head.

As soon as they were alone, Emma gently lowered herself down between the cradle and her bed, and peaked in.

The young princeling was fast asleep, warm beneath his mother's home-made quilt. His flesh was pale except where his cheeks were ridiculously red, and was that sort of chubbiness that one might always want to pinch. Looking down at his restful little face, she wondered if Lucas was ever like that. The thought suddenly sickened her. Why should she care what he was like? She knew she shouldn't, but how could someone be born that way? It made her shudder to think about, people being born to a fate and unable to change it. If Lucas had been created to always be what he was...what was she born for? To be a murderer? A slave? A repulsive monster? No, that couldn't be. Why would life be a thing if one had to simply submit to the designs of others?

Well, she thought as she reached down to brush a finger down his little cheek. Whatever is true, I'll protect you and Sherra, no matter what it costs me.

"There you are." Emma glanced up quickly at the sound of Lucas' voice and tried to get to her feet to greet him as he desired it, but he waved her to remain where she was. That's when he noticed the crib, the annoyance faded from his expression. "I see, watching my brother. Where is my mother exactly?"

She nervously thought of all the ways she could present the answer quickly, so she could find the words that would anger him less. "S-she went back for a b-box, master."

His eyes tightened at her words. "I have already expressed my distaste of that term, Emma. I wish you would stop."

"I...I can't," she whispered. "I...I was told to."

He approached without another word. She stiffened when he joined her on the floor beside the crib. He ignored her presence for the first few seconds as he peered into the crib at his little brother. "Do you love my little brother?" She fearfully glanced at the door, hoping Sherra would arrive, before nodding. "I love him as well," he said. "Ever since his delivery, I have spent almost every moment away from you thinking of nothing else..."

"...of what?"

"Why," he finally put his eyes on her. "A family of our own. A son who could inherit after me...daughters who look like you." unsure of how to respond to that, she kept quiet. "Alveri has informed me that you started your monthly bleed?"

"I'm trying." She said, with great fear, and it was the truth. She did everything he asked, even the ridiculous local cultural tricks at conception, and everything Alveri prescribed her or told her to do. It was embarrassing, all of it, but if it stayed Lucas' anger, she'd go through it. "Please...I'm trying."

His eyes softened. "Yes, I know that, my love. It is unfortunate how things are proceeding. However, if you continue to offer no resistance to father, I should think the beatings will stay a thing of the past. And in doing so, we can open the way for our future." I deserve far worse than a future with you, she thought as vivid recollections of all the murder and torture she had done by Bertrand's demand came flowing back to her. "...and so I was thinking we might keep that going forward, as our own sort of tradition."

Oh no. She had not been paying attention. "I...I'm sorry, master. I didn't h-hear."

He inhaled sharply and she braced for the strike, but instead, he exhaled just as dramatically. His jaw became set with anger though. "I really would wish you would stop calling me that."

"I-I can't," she said. "Master Bertrand said that if I don't, I will be hurt and—"

"I could always demand it of you," he pointed out.

Her eyes filled with tears. "Please...please don't. He will be so very angry with me."

"I am your husband!" he snapped. "Not your master!" Little Aden began to cry loudly then, startled awake by his brother's shout. Emma went to try and soothe him, and Lucas snatched her hand to keep her in place. "I am not through talking to you."

"But—but your brother, he is—"

"He will be fine," he insisted as he stood and took her with him. "You and I are having a discussion."

"But he's—"

"I said he will be fine!" he gripped her arm harder until she squirmed back to her knees. "I will ask you one last time never to refer to me as master."

"You will do no such thing." Emma was released from Lucas' hold when he turned to owner of the voice. When she lifted her eyes, she saw Bertrand standing in the door way. "I told her to and I will not have my orders questioned."

Lucas' expression darkened. "I will not be referred to in such a manner, not by my wife."

"A wife is but another form of slave," he snarled. "And if you press the matter and I found out she is not doing as I requested of her, I will break our deal and then consider how best I might go back to breaking her."

That was enough for Lucas. His fists tightened at his side. "One day father, you will regret pushing me so." he turned half way to glance at Emma. "We will talk later." and then he stormed right by his father.

When they were alone, Bertrand stepped further into the room and searched it briefly for someone. "You did well in denying him." it was praise, and she was never to ignore that. She meekly mumbled a thank you. "Where has my wife gotten to that required leaving my youngest son in the hands of a crippled abomination?"

"I am right here," Sherra announced as she entered the room, sparing Emma the need to answer. "I only stepped out for a few minutes to organize a few things for our departure. She is more than capable of watching our son, Bertrand."

"I will be the judge of who is capable around my son, woman." that made her quiet down. He refocused his eyes on Emma. "You will be in the foyer in two hours. We must discuss our first course of action and it will heavily involve you. Do not anger me by being tardy."

"I'll be there, I promise master." He hmpf'd and with that, turned and left the two women alone. When they were at last alone, Emma grew afraid by the lack of response and centered her gaze on the woman who had come to love her despite all her flaws just as she reached down to pick up her whining baby. "Do...do you t-think m-master's mad at me?"

Sherra, still soothing Aden, returned the stare. "My sweet girl, he is always going to be angry."

"But...but I d-did good! I did what he wanted."

She sighed. "I don't want to alarm or scare you Emma, I'm just trying to explain that no matter how much you obey, it is never going to be enough. If it will relieve your worries, I do not think he intends to harm you for anything that could be construed as disobedience. You did as you were bid, and that has temporarily relieved him of his anger."

It was clear that her worries, her anxiousness surrounding her masters, gnawed at the woman that cared for her. It showed every moment of the day, and grew worse with each passing. The pain of having to deal consistently with the injuries and torture, and the sexual abuse, was not something any person could stand to see or experience. Emma had come to understand this from seeing the other women Bertrand kept for his pleasures, whether they be for violence of sexual gratification, as they tried to avoid each other's suffering because it reminded them of their own pain and that, ultimately, there was nothing any of them could do to get out. That same sort of grotesque pity and disgust that reflected in Sherra's eyes the last few months had burned in each and every one of their eyes, and more than once Emma had seen it turned to her by most of his other play things. Because she had become the favorite, and the favorite got the worst of it and the best of it. And they all knew, at one point, what that was like.

Emma would often wonder if Sherra had been subjected to the same sort of brutality and deplorable treatment and abuse, and prayed with all her mind the pain started and ended with a few hits or some such. To think that such a kind woman could go through that sort of thing hurt Emma more than her own troubles. The only good that could come from any of this was that Sherra was the king's wife and mother of his sons, and it would never be taken too far with her, and thus the woman would be able to stay around. And be Emma's only reason to press on through the pain and humiliation. But this was Sherra and she would never leave Emma, as she had promised so long ago.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, unwilling to press herself any further on the woman than she already had.

Sherra passed her small smile. "Now, you know you do not ever have to apologize with me. Come, let's sort out the last of this mess before you head off for the foyer."

It took only an hour to finish up the last of the boxing. Sherra took a small break to feed and sooth Aden to rest before intending to help her start a bath, but the woman had fallen asleep. Emma did not want to disrupt her, so she painfully made her way to the wash room and began her routine herself. Once she was through, and satisfied that Sherra was safe to be left alone to rest, she began her journey to the foyer.

There were only a few soldiers making their rounds when she walked through the castle, and thankfully not a one of them stopped their work to pay her any attention today. There were times when one or two would harass her by blocking her way or forcing her to trip, or making crude gestures towards her from the times they had witnessed her in those moments with Bertrand where she was nothing but a thing of pleasure. It used to sting her to hear them remark on what Bertrand made her do, but she had grown used to it long ago. Now whenever they gestured at her or made lewd or cruel comments, she ignored them. Sometimes that worked and they would leave her alone, other times they'd harass her further.

"You're early," a soldier said at the door of the foyer, looking worried. He was a common and generally friendly face this part of the castle. "I was told to let you in when you arrived, so I suppose there's no helping it now." he reached over to push the door open and passed her quick look. "Good luck."

Emma collected her thoughts quickly before entering the room. As soon as she saw Bertrand and Barkov, her heart dropped. If it was just the two of them, then it meant this was no war discussion. She could only assume she had done something wrong to infuriate the man, whether it was that day or not. He loved to delay punishments to keep her guessing. Her eyes fleetingly halted on Barkov before lowering to the floor as she paused before her master and king.

Barkov snarled. "We are in the middle of a discussion, your majesty. Why is this beast here?"

"If we are to discuss her role within our campaign, it will serve us to have her here to hear it herself." the general only grumbled, annoyed. "Do you have objections, then?"

"If you believe it is for the best, I will respect it."

"It pleases me to hear you say so," Bertrand said with some oddity to his tone. Emma couldn't place it. "When we were cut off, we were discussing potential points of interest?"

"Ah, yes." Barkov crossed his arms. "I think it would be best to concentrate the assaults relatively together."

"However do you mean?"

"I would suggest keeping the beast near," his voice was filled to the brim with disgust. "If you move on Albrook, you could send her ahead of the main host."

"Of course. That was given from the start."

"I do not suggest keeping her just one step ahead of you though," he continued. "Albrook will just be your means of a base of operations as you begin moving the rest of the navy outward."

"Are you suggesting I set harbor there and send her out to other points of interest well beyond the United Islands?"

"Yes, your grace." he nodded. "However, I would suggest hitting everything within distance of Albrook before moving on and repeating the process elsewhere. I believe this could greatly secure destabilizing Figaro's control on various regions."

Emma tried to keep from reacting visibly to their plans. She was going to be made to attack cities? She took a breath to still the shaking that started to creep up. No. Even if it was possible to send her, surely her father's armies could deal with her? Yes. That was it. She would be sent to Albrook and then killed, as she deserved. No one would have to suffer further at her hands. No one.

"...it should suffice to allow you time to draw them from the capitol, too." Bertrand acknowledge with a tone that was bordering a laugh. "Edgar will never allow his people to suffer. He will respond to each and every assault."

"He is no longer the king, remember that." Bertrand pointed out. "Now it is his fool of a son, which plays better for us. He will ride out into every battle with his all, and further drain his resources." Emma wanted to shout out a furious response about underestimating her brother, but she bit down on her lips to contain herself. It would be worth the beatings to say, certainly, but not worth them actually acknowledging that she might know that better than them, and then heed her warnings. This way, there was a potential they would underestimate Cambyses and walk right into a trap. "I rather expect him to greet me on the field if I were to present it to him," he laughed. "His pride is worse than his father's."

"A pup has no business leading others," Barkov said with a frown. "He will run to his mother's skirts the moment he tastes real battle."

Suddenly Bertrand's eyes were on her. "What say you, girl?"

No. No. No. No. Please don't ask me...gods... "About what, master?"

"Of your brother," he snarled, annoyed. "What is your insight into him, as his sister?"

She swallowed back a cry. This was it. She would try the lie anyway, and if it failed, it would have been worth it. "I...I don't know much about my brothers, master. They...they did not like me."

His eyes narrowed and then he laughed. "That does seem to be the case, doesn't it?"

Barkov cleared his throat. "I shall take my leave then, your grace. There is much to do before you set sail."

"Wait but a moment, my friend," he said as he gestured for the man. "I cannot leave this discussion without trying again. Whatever reason could you have to desire to stay here moving forward? You are the best within my counsel, and I trust no one more than I do you."

"If it must be said..." he took a breath. "I do not desire to go for multiple reasons, your grace. Firstly, my wife is with child, our second. It has been tremendously difficult for her to conceive, and I wish to be near when the child is delivered. Secondly, and I do not mean this to disrespect you, I cannot abide this creature's presence more than I have to." he side glanced Emma, and all the disgust in his words burned in that glance. "Thirdly, I still intend to train your other son into a man. There may be naught I can do, but I would try it regardless, for your sake. And lastly...I would rather not risk my father's vessel. It is the only treasure I have left of him, you see."

"I cannot very well venture out into this war without you, Barkov."

"I am sorry, your grace, but I have my reasons."

"I could always order you to go," Bertrand said.

"You could." Barkov agreed.

"I won't," the mad king said after a moment. "If only because I respect you too much and have already asked the world of you, to demand more."

"I appreciate that, your grace," he bowed.

"Tell me what it would take to convince you," Bertrand continued, causing the man to straighten and stare incredulously. "I will give you anything you desire, provided it is within my ability to provide."

"Your majesty, in all due respect, I don't think—"

"Please, indulge me," he said with a thin smile.

Emma watched as the general's eyes focused more intensely on his king. "I would ask for too much, because only too much would justify me abandoning or giving up what I named earlier."

"What is too much?" Bertrand pressed. "Whatever it is, let me hear it. I can provide you with more titles, more riches, women, power..."

And, almost as if he was testing his king's honesty, Barkov said, "Aye, more titles would be a great start. The duchy of Isten for one."

"Granted." Barkov hesitated, clearly not having expected that. Bertrand raised a brow. "What else?"

"I..." he paused for half a second and then steeled himself. "I want all of my children, born or not, to have their educations fully paid for as well as a title of their own, so that they will not ever have to know discomfort."

"Granted."

"I would like the honor to retire from my military position once we have finished this war."

"Is that all?"

"No, your grace. I would also desire the crown to permit me a second wife, in the circumstance that my current wife cannot provide me a male heir. I do not want to rear bastards for titles, or else I would put my seed to any whore about."

Bertrand smiled. "Do you perhaps not care for bastards, Barkov?"

"That is not the case, I only do not want my life to die to bastards. The country views them distastefully, thus I must work in the parameters of the law to ensure that my line goes on."

"I have a counter proposal for that, then," Bertrand said with a growing smile. "I have made a promise to my son—" something about this was not sitting well with Emma. "—that I will abandon my plans involving the girl," her gestured to Emma offhandedly. "should she become with child. Any man's child."

"Your grace?"

"I propose an addition to your last desire," he continued. "You will have your second lawful wife, no doubt, but what say you to trying to sire a bastard upon the girl before then?" The room quieted around them, and Emma felt her stomach dropping. No. This couldn't be happening! She had been good! She listened and obeyed!

"Would this bastard be mine beyond blood?"

"Unfortunately, that I cannot give you, as she is still my son's wife. Why should you care for it, regardless? Your seed will be legitimized through the Figaro crown, and would grow on to be a prince or a princess, and you would still have whatever comes through to you with your second wife. Isn't that a success for your line, to know it not only grows at your side but across the seas on a foreign throne?"

"And you would want me to do this, behind your son's back?"

Bertrand laughed. "I don't care how you do it. You can have her right in front of him, if that is what you want. There is no need to hide it. Lucas knows full well the deal. Any child's man was agreed upon."

At that, Barkov's eyes went to her and she could see the same lust in his eyes that burned within his master's eyes, and that of Lucas. The same look that degraded her to her core. "Very well," he said, keeping his eyes on her. "I find all the terms acceptable."

"Then I will have you ready for departure with the rest of the host." he rose from his seat and crossed his arms behind his back. "Get over here girl." Emma hurried over, keeping her gaze down as she did so. "You will go with Barkov for the remainder of the day."

She dropped to her knees before him and bowed her head. "Please master...I...I have been good. I...I have obeyed."

"There is no denying that. You have been obedient. This is not to punish you for a wrong, girl, but a punishment to my son."

"Please, master..." she continued, crying. "Please don't make me..."

He moved aside the table and knelt before her, and then forced her to look at him. "If you must blame anyone, blame your husband. I would rather your breeding wait until this war is over, but to burn him, I will have every man I can find try to make you with child. And when he has had enough of other men taking their pleasures with you, when you have revolted him and he has agreed to break our deal, only then will it stop." he stood. "Now go. Oh, and girl?" she looked up at him. "You will do well to please Barkov, or else risk my temper."

•••••••••••

There was nothing she could do right, under the eyes of any looking. There was always some mistake, some disobedience, that would steer their anger towards her. No matter how hard she tried, how much humiliation and pain she endured, there was never going to escape. Emma knew that completely then as she followed behind Barkov quietly, eyes down as they passed others because she knew they could understand what was happening without even a word being said to them.

"Quicken your pace," Barkov grumbled back at her as they drew into a narrower hallway, leading to the military wing. Emma quickened her steps as much as she could. The change in pace immediately began to make her legs and hips ache. After a moment, the arrived at a double-wide steel door. There weren't any soldiers about to guard them as there were for the royal family. He threw the door open and walked in without a word. Emma followed quietly.

The inside was warmer in design than she expected, and completely surprising her, she saw a little boy lying on his stomach, doodling, in the next room they walked through. At first she didn't know what to think, but when Barkov approached him and knelt to pick the boy up to his feet, the realization hit her. It was his son. The boy couldn't have been any older than six. Barkov suddenly turned to her and his eyes burned with malice.

"What are you gawking at, you worthless beast?"

Quickly she adverted her gaze. "I...I'm sorry, my lord."

He scoffed. "I doubt that." he ran a hand through his son's hair and then narrowed his gaze. "You will make yourself useful beyond what lies between your legs. Take my son to his room and help him to bed. And should I even suspect a hair misplaced, I will have no mercy when I deal with you. Have I made myself clear?"

Emma swallowed back a cry and nodded. "Good. Now go. When you are through, meet me in the room to the right." he gestured at it before leaving her with his son.

When they were alone, Emma turned her eyes to the boy. He was a very thin child, sickly even she realized as she drew closer. Although his skin wasn't overtly pale, it was enough to know something was wrong with him. His eyes were bright though, and as much as she hated it, he looked like a sweet little boy. She held a hand out to him, unsure of how to proceed. His eyes widened and he reached for it almost eagerly. She glanced around, not sure which doorway led to his room. Unwilling to delay, and infuriate Barkov, she asked the boy where his room was. Of course, he was still a child, and might not want to speak or even know where his room was. But when he pointed a chubby finger towards a hallway, she accepted it and walked him forward.

After a moment, she came across a series of doors. The first two were open and although the first revealed a study of some sort, the second made her halt. It was a master's bedroom, and lying asleep on the bed inside, was a rather young woman. The lights were off, but Emma could see her perfectly. Her hesitation made the boy look, and he smiled. "...can I stay with mama?"

Emma tore her eyes away from the woman. This woman was without a doubt Barkov's wife, and yet he still planned to cheat with his wife and their son just rooms away. Emma wasn't sure what disgusted her more; that he would do that or that she was the object he was committing that act with. And yet despite this, the little boy's eyes sparkled with love, unaware of what was happening. Emma wiped at tears forming in her eyes and shook her head before dragging him away.

At the end of the hall, she found the boy's room. It was hard to miss. There were toys littered everywhere, after all. Emma helped the boy into some sleepwear and then tucked him into his bed. He demanded stories and unwilling to anger Barkov by denying his son, she found a few books and sat down to read to him until he fell asleep. The entire time through, the boy held her hand, only letting go when he slipped into slumber. When she was sure he was asleep, she quietly went to fix up the room. In part, she wanted to delay returning to Barkov, but she also wasn't sure if he would be mad if she saw it and didn't clean it.

It was only after she was done cleaning his room that she reluctantly made her way back to Barkov. She tried to control her rising fear and anxiety with deep breaths, but it did little to help. When she walked into the room and saw him adjusting something on a table near the back, her heart began to race. He didn't turn to her when he spoke. "You were beginning to irate me with your tardiness."

"I...he w-wanted me to r-read to him, my lord, and...and his room was..." He turned to her, and his brows were furrowed at her. She lowered her gaze. "I'm sorry."

"At least you had the wit about you to do that right, at least," he snapped. "Well, do not just stand there. I haven't brought you here to stand about." he gestured for her to come nearer, and when she stopped a foot or so away from him, he reached for her shoulder. The touch was strangely delicate, and it alarmed her so much, that she stiffened. His fingers dug into her flesh then. "His majesty might not mind it when you do that beast, but I do. I won't hurt you unless you give me reason to."

Reason? And what could be a justifiable reason to him? She tried to force herself to calm down, to relax. "I'm s-sorry, my lord."

He scoffed and released her. "It makes no matter. Do as you are told, and there is nothing to fear."

"Yes, my lord."

"Good. Now hurry and undress." he said as he began to unbutton his shirt. When she hesitated, his eyes locked to her. "If I repeat myself, you will not like the outcome." with a staggering breath, she did as she was bid. This was not a command, not one she had to follow against her will. That only worked with Bertrand and Lucas, but it had burned in her all the same to never disobey an order. She had long given that up, to never know the hell of the true pain her masters could inflict upon her for her defiance. She had already lost true use of her legs and arms, and her hearing on one side, and did not desire to see what else they could take from her in a fit of anger.

When she stood before him, nude and shivering, he brandished her with a long, appreciating look. The disgust that ordinarily burned in his eyes when he looked at her was replaced by the same look that came with Lucas and Bertrand whenever they forced her to do these things with them. She wondered briefly then what happened to his hatred of her, if hurting her like this erased that disgust so completely, and wondered how that could be. If she was disgusted by someone—and she was, by quite a few—the thought of touching them in anyway or seeing them like this made her want to vomit. There was no part of her that could appreciate this, and yet, her tormentors all seemed to possess it; hatred one moment, and then lust the next. Sometimes, they even co-existed.

"You are undoubtedly beautiful," he finally spoke, his voice quiet. "And yet what lies beneath that exterior is something beyond monstrous, something so clearly an abomination." As hard as she tried to fight back her humiliated tears, they gently rolled down her cheeks at his words. Wasn't it enough to make her do this? Why did they all have to torment her with their words, too? What sort of satisfaction could they get from it? Wasn't it enough that she knew what she was? Her tears only seemed to amuse him. "Your attempts to imitate a human are amusing, beast. You cannot cry because you do not have the emotions of a human." he reached over to lift her face and smiled a little at the sight of her. "Your little charade may work on the Crowned Prince, but it will not work on me. You are here only to satisfy me and to give me a bastard in the Figaro line, and that is all. Do not mistake being here as me acknowledging you as anything but a monster." he squeezed her cheeks. "Do you understand me?"

"Y-yes, my lord."

He let her go. "I am not cruel, though. If you do not give me reason to hurt you, I will not, simply because I will not debase myself with you in that way. So if you try me and I am forced to strike you, I will make it hurt worse for making me do it in the first place." she hoped her silence was answer enough. "Good. Now, let us start. I would have you back with your husband before the day is over."

---

The anxiousness he had felt upon entering the capitol seemed trivial now, with his heart racing as they marched in formation towards the military barracks, stationed just outside the main castle wing. It was a sub-base, established for the royal family's safety, and just one of many constructed in key parts of the capitol. On the walls, stationed in almost every direction, were artillery and siege weapons. There was even a reinforced trench running thirty or so feet away from the walls, where a platoon was currently training under the furious gaze of their drill sergeant.

Alexander did not expect to see such dedication and training in the enemy. Robert had told him they were not the savages the north thought them to be, at least in their skill set, but to see it in action left him angry and annoyed. If they were so well armed and trained, how was he going to single-handedly free Emma? What's worse, his thoughts pressed him; if Edgar and his well-trained military could not get out of their encampment safely with the princess, how did he expect to?

No, he thought as he forced his eyes away from the soldiers training and on the back of Robert in front of him. I will save her, even if I must expend my own life to do so. Someone shouted a command from the front of the column, and at once the men began to file out. Alexander hurried to the spot beside Robert at the end, so that they could converse if need be. A man waltzed before them; arms crossed as he glared each of them down.

"I've seen shit tougher looking than you lot," the man snarled as he finally came to a stop center of them. "I am not impressed! Why should I be, when you stand before me like sullen dogs?" their silence seemed to infuriate him. "We do not look for nor enlist mice to positions of men! When I speak to you, you will respond with a simple 'yes, sergeant! or 'no, sergeant'! Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, sergeant!" the line shouted.

"We will see," he said. "I will call out names. If your name is called, step forward." he began to call out names, and the ninth and tenth were that of Alexander and Robert. "Those called forward, head to northern gates for your station. The rest of you, to the barracks to your east! Move!"

Another sergeant started to shove the men called forward, snarling out vicious threats and demeaning comments as he did so. As he made his way toward them, Alexander hurried into the line, just after Robert. It would not due to draw unwanted attention to themselves, and her wasn't sure how he would react to a thug like that shoving at him and pressing his buttons.

As they drew near the northern gate, Robert glanced back at him. "Remember...you follow my lead."

"Once instead, we find her, right?"

Robert scowled. "Just shut up and do as I said, got it? If you blow up inside there, we will not get her." he paused when they got too close to others, and then resumed as the distance grew again. "Do you understand? If you fuck this up, we will die. Your girl will stay here, alone." Alexander felt sick just thinking about leaving her here all alone, especially when they have come so far to save her. "I said, do you get it?"

"Yes," he managed through a stuffed throat. "I...I understand."

"Good." he glanced back again; his expression softer. "Trust me." and just a few minutes later they arrived at the northern gate and were lead through in two columns. When Robert was put in the other column, he started to panic. If they were separated, there would be nothing he could do. Just as they were about to be sent off in two directions, one of the sergeants stopped the columns.

"Wait a moment, sergeant Gian." the man speaking turned his dark eyes down the column to Alex's right and stopped on someone. "We are to keep the squads together, remember?"

"General Abron ordered they be split and divided by post, and—"

"I'm well aware," the other said shortly. "I was there. They will be divided, but they will remain in the squads they had been previously assigned. A team works better when they know the other already." he snapped his fingers at Alexander's column, impatiently. "You four," he pointed hastily at three men, and then him. "Move to the right column. You four, move to the left." once the columns were reorganized, the sergeant identified as Gian gestured for the left-hand column and snapped at them to follow close behind.

The right-hand column remained until the other was out of sight. When they were alone, the other sergeant re-focused his eyes on them. "You all are here for a very simple reason; you were just slightly better than the other recruits. Some of you even a little exceptional. This does not mean you are free to do as you please, or slack on your duties. If I catch a single one of you doing so, your first infraction will lead you to the whipping post. The second will return you to that post for a week of it, with no food and water. The third infraction will be your last. I will drop you into a pit of ravenous dogs. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sergeant!"

"That makes this infinitely easier, then. The lot of you are to report to the eastern barracks for your assignments." as the men filed away, Alexander tried to follow, but the sergeant stopped him. "Not you two. It is customary, after all, for the highest scoring recruits to be shifted into guard detail for the royal family." he paused a moment after saying that, glancing over his shoulder to see if the other recruits had disappeared, before smiling at them and then bursting into laughter. "And I don't envy you whatsoever. The elder prince is a royal prick, and the younger one is like a rice cookie."

"Enough of the prattle, Ard," Robert mumbled, taking his helmet off to rest it between his arm and chest. "We're not here for games."

Alexander gaped at his friend. "You know this man?"

"Of course I know him," he mumbled. "Ard, my friend, we're pressed for time."

"I gathered that from your message," he said quietly, scratching at his chin. "Venik wouldn't have sent it to me otherwise."

"It is crucial we move through this as quickly as possible."

Ard nodded. "Alright..." he gestured for them to follow him into another hallway when three soldiers walked in through the door. Once they were alone again, he shook his head. "Tell me what has driven you back to our accursed shores and quickly. The nation has grown even more distrustful since you were last here."

"It isn't for me," Robert said, as he reached over to lay a hand on Alex's shoulder. "It's for my friend, here."

Ard turned his pale eyes to him, expectantly. Alexander cleared his throat. "I..." could they trust this man? "I'm here to rescue the princess of Figaro." that made the man's eyes widened and his face go white as milk. Somehow, that look said so much, and fearfully the message of 'I know what you're talking about' terrified Alexander.

"Why...why would you want to save that...that thing?" he asked, voice low and trembling.

Alexander's temper snapped and he nearly tackled the man, had Robert not stopped him. "Don't you ever speak of her like that again!"

"Calm down, god damn it!" Robert hissed, shoving Alexander back into the opposite wall. "Calm down! You swore to me that you wouldn't do this!" That worked. Alexander took several long and staggering breaths to try and control his mounting fury. He kept his eyes on the man's fear stricken face the entire time. "Are you in control?" he asked after a moment, hand still holding him to the wall. Alex nodded. "Good." Robert released him, and then turned to Ard. "Forgive the fool. He's in love."

"In love?" the man repeated, shocked. "As in...with...with the..."

"Yes," Alexander said through gritted teeth. "In love with the 'thing'."

Ard's eyes widened. "I'm sorry, I am, I'm just confused..." he swallowed hard, nervous. "How could you love something so...so monstrous?"

Robert suddenly gripped at their arms. "This is not the place to have such an open conversation." he glanced around quickly. "Ard, do you have a place we might have a conversation in private?"

"I...yes, of course. Follow me."

The sergeant gathered them into a single file and led them down the halls. No other soldier or castle staff so much as glanced at them, far too preoccupied by their own tasks to worry about why a sergeant did what he did. On the walk, Alexander was astonished to see just how many children filled the staff. Little boys no older than ten were shuffling through the halls carrying baskets of coal and other such things or tailing tiredly after soldiers, while little girls scrubbed the floors or did other cleaning tasks alongside the women.

"Mind yourself," Robert reminded him, not even glancing towards the children as they walked. "You will save no one by acting out."

And as much as it infuriated and disgusted him, it was the truth. Even if he stormed towards the kids and tried to save them, they would never make it out of the capitol and what's more, more would just replace them by the end of the day. There would be no lasting change, no lasting help, in his immediate reaction. The only way to help these innocent people was to dismantle the powers in charge, and that started with the bastard kind and his wretched offspring.

Once they were gathered in a small storage room at the end of the hall, Ard locked the door and hesitantly turned to them. "Are you going to do anything that will directly link me to trouble?"

"I wouldn't put you in danger like that, Ard."

"And yet you're here for that beast, are you not?"

Alexander said, "Why do you refer to her like that? How could a girl terrify you so thoroughly?"

"A girl?" Ard repeated, eyes wide. "I have seen my fair share of girls! I think I should be able to tell the difference!"

"Quiet down, both of you," Robert snarled. "Ard, explain what you mean. Why do you think the Figaro princess is some sort of beast?"

"I have seen 'her'," he began. "At first, we all thought her a meek thing and...and I suppose in some ways she still is, but there's a monster in her. The things she has done, the things she still does, for the king and his crown. It is beyond cruel...beyond evil! She kills indiscriminately for her masters, but when she turns into the creature, it is as if hell has spilled from the gates into our world."

Alexander's heart began to slow painfully. No. No it can't be.

"Creature?" Robert frowned. "What do you mean?"

"She turns into some sort of red demon with a lust for blood! She even attacks our own soldiers. I have buried many friends and allies because of her."

"You are mistaken," Robert tried. "The girl we seek is just a normal girl, a princess of Figaro. You are confused."

"I am not!" he was red in the face now, from anger and fear. "When she is in her human disguise—" that made Alexander cringed. "—she has green hair, yes? And—and two different eyes?"

Robert immediately looked to Alexander for confirmation, and all he could do was nod. There was no doubt now. This man had seen Emma, and by the description of this 'demon', Alex concluded that somehow Bertrand had managed to figure out her lineage. And now Emma was being made to transform and kill on the demand of others.

"That settles it then," he said. "I know you are afraid of this girl Ard, but the Figaro kingdom is actively aiming to rescue this girl. I know you hold no favor for Roskovo and clearly you hold nothing but contempt for her as well...why not help us take her from here?"

Ard shook his head. "Even if I wanted to help you, I cannot."

Alexander tightened his hands into fists. No, he thought. My anger will only distance him from us. "Please..." the man looked at him with a frown. "I know you think you know this girl, but I am telling you; the princess of Figaro is the gentlest person you could ever meet. The things you have witnessed her doing, the thing you have seen her become—that is not of her own will power. I do not know how he is doing this, but your king has done something to her. Emma—the girl that I know—would never willingly hurt someone."

"That may well be," he allowed after a few seconds of quiet. "But I cannot help you. Do not mistake me though; it is not that I am able and deny you. It is that I cannot."

"However do you mean?" Robert asked.

"I am not staffed to her wing. She and her lord husband have long since moved to their own wing, adjacent to the royal wing."

The world stilled around him at the choice of words the man had used. Her...her what? A rising fear began to cripple. "What?" he mumbled, trembling. "What did you just say?"

Ard looked at him, frowning. "She's no longer on the royal wing."

Alexander's temper finally snapped. He shoved the sergeant into the wall. "Before that! What did you mean by her 'her lord husband'!"

The man's eyes widened fearfully. "I...I...she's married!"

Robert was trying to pull him off, but something greater than fearing discovery powered his anger. "Who?! Who did she marry?!"

"The prince!" Ard cried. "The crowned prince! Lucas!"

"You...you are mistaken!"

Ard said, "I'm not. They wed some time ago, perhaps a year ago at most. She's seen everywhere with him now, when she's...when she's not at work."

"Where are they?" Alexander demanded, even as Robert finally plied him away. "Tell me, damn it!"

"As I told you..." now the man's voice was softer. "...I cannot help you. No one here can. She set sail a month ago with Bertrand and the royal fleet."

All of the energy started to burn out of him with such rapid pace, he fell to his knees. This can't be happening. He squeezed his eyes shut, against tears. I'm sorry, he thought, as the tears finally began to burn down his cheeks. He was too late. She had been subjected to unimaginable horrors; forced to kill and maim for Bertrand and forced to marry her rapist. He would never live this down and if he ever faced her, he knew his guilt would break him. Robert was kneeling beside him, trying to coax him out of his despair, but it was all that Alex could feel. Emma... he started crying at the thought of her smiling face. I'm so sorry!

---

Sherra nervously peaked into her son's room and spotted him standing before his window, staring into the early morning sky. The room was pristine, as always, and lacked any personality. He had been afraid since childhood to display anything that could irate his father, or give presumptions about his 'manliness'. So, to avoid his father's wrath, he simply stopped in everything. It didn't work of course; something was always found that brought fury upon the lad's head. All it did was further isolate him, and she knew her son was lonely and afraid. It hurt her to know there was nothing she could do to appease his troubles. He was just another child in her care that she could not truly help.

"Eric?" slowly, he half turned to look at her. "My love, what are you doing here? Your father requested you nearly an hour ago."

He sighed. "I know." he went back to gazing out the window. "What purpose will I serve being there? I cannot stop him or this stupid war...I cannot save anyone, not even my mother."

Sherra walked over and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Listen to me Eric," she turned him back to her. "You are not responsible for any of this, and you are certainly not responsible for me or your brother and father. I am the mother. It is my duty to protect you."

He looked down. "What kind of man am I that I cannot do that one thing right?"

This time she took him by his shoulders and shook him until he looked at her. "Do not think like that! Whose measure do you weigh yourself to? Your father? Your brother? You are more of a man than both of them combined! You are gentle and sweet, compassionate and strong and—"

"Strong?" he cut in. "I am not strong. I stand aside while my father beats on my father and cheats on her like she is nothing! I stand aside while my brother and my father beat and rape a defenseless girl! How am I strong, mother? How?!"

"Because you endure under your pain and suffering," she said sternly. "And you do not let their torment change you. You may not be able to do anything here, for me or Emma, but that doesn't mean you aren't strong Eric. You are. You are so very strong and so very perfect."

"I just want to do one thing right," he was crying now and was trying very hard not to let her see. "I just want to be able to look at myself in a mirror just once and not feel ashamed and disgusted by what I see."

Sherra lifted his face up and brushed his tears away with all of the motherly affection one could give a child, and smiled. "You are my son. My everything. You have done right, in your refusal to hurt others, in your compassion and love. Please, do not think so lowly of yourself Eric. If you do not trust my input on the matter, you know that Emma also thinks highly of you. You are just in no position to help, no one is. This isn't a fault of your character, but that of others around you."

He sniffed and rubbed at his eyes. "I wish I could go with you..."

Sherra smiled. "I am thankful you do not follow me into war. It took a great amount of effort to convince your father it isn't the place for you, after all." he glanced at her, confused. "Worry yourself naught, my love. You are to stay behind, where you will be safe from your father and brother, and the war that follows them." she brushed hair from his face and kissed his forehead. "I need you here anyway, as I can trust only you with this."

"You do? What for?"

She moved him further into the room, glancing back at the door nervously before speaking. "When I have left with your father, you must escape."

"What?" he turned as pale as milk. "You know I cannot! I have guards on me all of the time!"

"I understand," she tried to soothe him from his terror with gentle touches. "Several of your guards work for me, my love. They will help you escape to Crestov."

"Without you?" he asked, shaking his head. "No. I...I won't leave without you."

She tightened her hand on his shoulder. "Listen to me, my love. I will be fine. I will see you again, and soon, but you must do as I say. You must." He sniffed, and nodded. "Good. Now listen carefully...when you arrive at Crestov, you must demand to speak with General Suon. Do you understand? It is important that you name him. If they still do not let you in, tell them that you have vital information on the princess of Figaro. There is no way they will deny you then. Repeat what I said." once he had repeated her words, she smiled. "Good. The day when you leave will not be immediate. We must not give them cause to return to Roskovo, because if they even suspect that the enemy has infiltrated this place, they will abandon their assault on Figaro."

"Wouldn't that be for the best?"

Sherra shook her head. "No. It would not. They must attack Figaro, because only then will Bertrand's hubris bring him down."

"How will I know when to leave?"

"A guard will come to you. Until he does, you must act as if nothing is amiss."

"Yes mother, I understand." and then, like a frightened child, he took her into a hug.

She returned the embrace. "You must be brave, my love."

Eric held her tighter. "I will be brave."

---

Robert did not know how to respond to the way his friend had become in the last hour, as Ard hurried out to do his rounds so as to not draw attention. Alexander was sitting across the tiny room, head hung low. He hadn't spoken a word since learning what had happened to the princess of Figaro.

"Alex," he said after a moment of observing him, and finding the quiet unnerving. "You need to pull yourself together. It's not over yet." Alexander shook his head, dismissively. Robert knew the only way to put fire back in the man was to push every button possible. "So is that it, then? The girl is forced to marry her rapist and that's enough to dispel your affections for her?" when he saw his friend stiffen with anger, he pressed on. "Or maybe you decided she's not worth the effort anymore, now that she is a 'monster'."

Alexander stormed to his feet and shoved at Robert. "Do not fucking test me, Robert!"

"Well?!" he snarled. "Where is your resolve? The resole that pushed you through the last year? Through those early months at sea? Now I see this sniveling baby, giving up on the girl he said he loved, because she's what? Married? Or is it about her being tainted?"

That was enough button pushing. Alexander punched him so fast that Robert barely had time to react. He was knocked into the wall and before he could raise his defenses, Alexander took him by the collar of his tunic and pinned him there. "You don't know anything!"

"I know you've given up!"

"Not another word, Robert!"

"You've given up on her, Alex! Admit it!"

"I would never!" he slammed Robert into the wall again, tears burning in his eyes. "Do not speak about me as if you know what I'm feeling!"

"You have! You would rather sit here and brood, than go rescue her."

"Fuck you!" he howled, shoving him into the wall again before stepping back. "I...I could never give up on her."

"Then why?" he challenged. "Why have you given into your despair, to sit here and mop?"

"What else am I to do?" he cried. "I have failed. I was too late and now...now she is gods know where, out of reach, suffering. I..." his tears began to run more easily down his cheeks. "I...I couldn't save her."

"There's still time," Robert said, reaching out to grip the man's arm. "There is. You can still save her."

He shook his head. "How? They have set sail and neither of us knows where, or how to even give chase."

There was a creak then, a door shutting, and they both turned to see that Ard had returned. "I think I can help you with that." he closed the door and approached. There was something between his left arm, a leather bag of some sort. He sat it down on a table and faced them with a searching gaze, one that showed all the distrust in the world one could possess. "I must know I can trust you two first."

Robert frowned. "Ard, you know you can trust me."

"No," he said, glaring. "I know you are a good man and you would never directly put me in harms way, but I don't know what you'd be willing to risk to save this girl...everyone else be damned."

Alexander was clearly struggling to maintain his anger, and impatience. Robert quickly responded. "I will do whatever I can to assure we do not put you or others at unnecessary risk."

Ard glanced at the leather bag and shook his head. He laughed, a little dryly. "No, you will, but how can I can ask you two not to, when it is someone that is loved?" He sighed. "I will give you my trust, but only because I see you as an asset to those I desire to help." he gestured to the free seats. "Please, seat yourselves. This is going to be quite a story." Robert glanced at Alexander to see if the man was going to do as bid before following suit. Once Ard was seated, he crossed his arms. "Let me preface by saying that I am under the employment of the Queen herself." that caused them both to jump to attention. "I am not doing this for the money, do not misunderstand. I use this term, 'employment', to simplify things. I work with an underground network that has been fighting to dismantle the regency for almost two decades now. The queen is part of this network too, though she is not in charge. No one knows who, so as to keep it safe, but she does run the operations and intelligence within the capitol for the leader."

"The queen?" Robert pressed. "She's married to Bertrand."

"Do you think that was something she did willingly?" he said, frowning. "The women here...you know how they live, Robert. Why is it so difficult to believe she also had no choice?"

Alexander crossed his arms. "I'm sorry, but I don't really care about Roskovo. I am here only for Emma."

Ard passed him a seething glare. "You've made that quite clear. It's only because I have been instructed by the queen to further any cause that might destabilize Bertrand's rule that I will help you." he leaned back and gestured to the leather bag. "These are documents and other such intelligence we have been gathering over the last few years. As you can imagine, when the king received the girl, the intelligence grew." he said. "We have many in higher up positions, so we have been regularly fed information, but a few months prior to their departure, that intelligence stopped. We suspect it is because all attention had been turned towards the naval campaign and not because we were caught. Here, if you would..." he opened the leather bag and produced something after a few minutes of searching. He held it out to Alexander, who took it hesitantly. "That was the last report we received from the labs."

"The labs?" Alexander repeated, looking through the documents. Robert watched carefully as he scanned over the papers, until at last he flipped a paper and his eye's widened.

"What is it?" Robert asked, curious.

"There's..." his eyes reflected grief and pain before he shut them. "There's no way."

Ard sighed. "I have personally seen her do it." Robert reached to take the papers and looked it over. When he read the text, he frowned. It was a report on Emma's casualties during some sort of training session. The names were well over two hundred long, spreading down the rest of the page. "Those are the lives, just a small fraction of it, that have been lost throughout it all. There have been more before your princess fell into his hands, and there will be more if she is not removed from his possession."

Alexander shook his head. "She's not something to be possessed, to be talked about like that."

"You must face reality," he said. "She is nothing but a weapon to him, and for whatever reasons, she does what he bids without hesitation. She murders, tortures, and even follows him around like a shadow without so much as a word."

"You know nothing about her and yet you hate her so much."

"I am not trying to offend you," he replied. "I am simply stating a fact. I do not want her here anymore, no one does, even should I believe that she could never do these horrific things of her own will. We have suffered enough. So tell me...what will you do to take her from him, when she is such a loyal dog?"

Alexander gripped at the arms of his chair, trying very hard to restrain himself. "You think you know everything...!" he rose. "You sit there and plea for the sake of Bertrand's wife—" Robert could see the fury rising in his friend's eyes but knew that this was something he had to get through himself, or else have this anger follow him forward and ruin his every chance at rescue going forward. "—while you condemn Emma for these things without the same sort of benefit of the doubt. So you want us to believe that your queen was forced in this and that, but you cannot accept the fact that Emma also could be forced into this?"

"I doubt it because she has the power to deny him, and does not."

"You are pathetic!" he snarled. "So everyone else can be victims, but not Emma, because she's killed for him?"

"Exactly."

"So then, what about you?" he demanded. "Do you seriously expect me to believe that you have never been forced to hurt someone to convince your king you are loyal? Or that any other in your precious rebellion haven't also hurt someone to keep their cover?"

"Are you insinuating that us protecting the cause that will save millions is the same thing as your monster-girl killing to appease her master without even being asked to?"

"Enough, both of you," Robert cut in. "This isn't productive at all. Ard, we will save the girl and that will keep her out of his hands, but we need help to do so. Is it at all possible you can put aside your anger and hatred for her to help us?"

Ard leaned back into his seat and crossed his arms. "Of course. That's why I'm here. I just wanted to understand why you risk so much for someone who kills so carelessly." he slid the leather bag closer to them. "When I left you earlier, I met with my contact and he provided me with this. It will have intelligence on your girl gathered the last half year or so, including campaign maps." he said. "The first of navy's stops is not within the documents, but I suppose it won't do well to withhold such information. Their first stop is the United Islands. You should be able to use the documents to help determine where to go next."

"How did you figure that out?" Robert asked.

Ard said, "As I said, I spoke with my contact and they are very interested in pushing your cause. They have even agreed to get you on the next ship departing, if you are up to it."

Alexander took the leather bag and looked at him suspiciously. "Why would you want to help us, when you hate her so much?"

The man stood up, slowly. "Because in the end it doesn't matter if I hate her, as helping you and helping her, is the right thing to do."

---

Emma peaked through the starboard windows and out towards the chain of islands known as the United islands of Albrook with great unease. They had arrived at the islands two days ago and for some reason, kept a distance. The meager militia at the Islands had spent that time fortifying the best that they could, but Emma knew that nothing was going to save them from her in the end. Bertrand reminded her of that every day, as he gazed out to the islands with a smirk. But he was merciful, he had told her. If the citizens did not try to stop him, they would be spared. He had even given her the command to spare any that put their arms down and pledged themselves to him and his crown. She didn't know if she should be grateful for that or not.

"There you are..." She turned from the window slowly, and frowned at the sight of Sherra standing in the doorway. "I was beginning to wonder if you steeled yourself to go above deck." when Emma did not respond, the woman walked further into the room and closed the door behind her. "I understand that you are worried," yes, but not for herself. "but you must not let Bertrand see that, or he will latch onto it and make you do far worse."

"I know," she mumbled, as she stepped off the little stool she used to peer through the window. "I was just..."

Sherra shook her head. "You must hide any vestige of defiance or anxiety about this, Emma. You must."

"It's hard t-to not care."

"I do not expect you to not care," she whispered, coming over to take her hands. "I just want you to be safe and hide your feelings on it, because if Bertrand even suspects that you will defy him in this to save someone, he will hurt you, far worse than he ever has." the woman gripped her hands, hard. "Promise me you will try."

Emma adverted her gaze. That was a promise she wished she could make, but she knew it was not possible of her. Every night when she laid down, her thoughts burned with the memories and images of those that died at her hand. Every waking moment, thinking of the blood, of the way life left their eyes...their pleas. The hardest had been the children, when they cried for their parents or tried to run from her. Nothing would ever hurt as much as that. It was not something she could ever forget, and not a single part of her was capable of acting like it didn't afflict her greatly.

"I...I can't," she admitted after a moment of quiet, sniffling. "I'm sorry."

"Okay," Sherra allowed softly, letting her hands go. "You must steel yourself for what may come then, my love." Emma always expected the worse, always expected pain. It made living just a little easier, to know peace was never there to touch that she might never feel the fragile hold of futile hope. As if on cue, there was a hard knock on the door. When Sherra did not turn for it, Emma understood. She had come as a warning. The woman noticed her expression and frowned. "I wish I could deny them...gods, do I wish I could keep you far away from them, to keep you safe."

"It's okay," she mumbled. "I'll be fine." and she had to be. There were too many people relying on her not to be.

•••••••••••

In the month and a half since his father set sail with the rest of his family, and the enslaved exile of Figaro, Eric had come to know a peace and quiet he had never experienced before. Although he cherished it, he also held great contempt for himself for feeling that way. Why should he know it, when others could not? When his mother and the princess of Figaro suffered? Those thoughts tortured him daily, but he held on, determined to wait for the chance his mother said would come along. He did not take his new freedom and safety for granted in that time either, and remembered his mother's parting words well by helping the rebellion where he could. He took advantage of being the only royal within the capitol, and had the capitol guard distribute food and medicine into the streets. It received a lot of push back from the remaining council and generals, but they could not deny him in the end.

It relieved some of the turmoil of the people, but at the end of the day, he knew he could be doing more to help. He spent every waking moment he had free thinking of ways to do just that, but everything always seemed out of reach for him. The true power still remained with his father, and his brother the crowned prince, so the allotted permissions he had were thrown back at him at every attempt. It was beginning to feel as if he had already lost. The generals fought him more and more, and the council began to back them, leveraging their power and influence to subdue him.

Eric spent the last three days trying to navigate the murky waters of the power void left behind that he only seemed to exacerbate with his rookie attempts at taking control. His way of navigating was to just avoid all of altogether. He spent that avoiding in his room, or far out into the gardens whenever he could. It helped a lot. Eventually, the soldiers and council and stray generals alike began to forget about him and trying to control him. They realized he was, essentially, useless to their schemes.

It was beginning to feel like his mother had placed her trust in the wrong person. What did she expect him to do? He couldn't even convince his father to leave him be!

He kicked a rock off the stone path and into rose bushes before sitting with puff of breath on a nearby stone bench. The late afternoon chill was almost unbearable. He shrunk into his fur-lined cloak and looked to the sky, to watch the grey sky. His thoughts strayed to his mother, and even to Emma, and he sighed.

I mustn't give up…or I am as useless as they all say that I am. I have to keep trying…for mother. For Emma.

"What are you doing here, young prince?"

Eric glanced up and then immediately stood at the sight of general Harok, a man late in his fifties. He was a year or so from forced retirement, and took every day since doing everything in his power to do as much as he could before his power could be revoked. He didn't seem to Eric as big of a lunatic as most of the others in his father's council, but he feared that was simply because the man barely said or did anything in front of others. He was known as a very private man.

"I…I'm just trying to take a moment to breathe, that's all."

Harok nodded. "You're not brooding, then?" that made his cheeks pinken. The man laughed. "You brood a lot, but I am only teasing you." He glanced around quickly. "Where is your escort?"

"I asked them to stay inside the castle. I do not want them around."

"You know that they are there for your protection."

"I doubt that," he said with a shake of his head. "I do not trust them, not a single one. You cannot say there is much love, if at all, for me within the council and surrounding government. They have all wanted me dead since as long as I could remember."

"That is true…" the man allowed quietly. "But you forget that even despite how despicable your father is as a person, he loves you and wouldn't tolerate another harming you. They are all too terrified to lift a finger to you." That much was true, even though it infuriated Eric to know. He wished his father hated him enough to disregard him, to let him leave, but he knew that was not possible. He was stuck in the family until it took his life. "You also do me a great disservice when you roam about unguarded."

Eric said, "I disservice no one, sir. I am of no value. I do not need the resources wasted on me."

Harok approached to take a seat on the bench. After a second, he corked a brow. "Are you going to sit or must I ask it of you?" that made him take a seat. "Ah, good. I'm not as young as I used to be, you know. All of the standing hurts the knees."

"Sir…what do you want from me? I mean no disrespect, but I would rather just be alone right now…"

"To be quite frank with you, young man, I do not care for what you want. I made your mother a promise to keep you safe and I will not have it be broken, not by anyone. Not even a prince."

That drew Eric to alert immediately. "What?"

Harok smiled a little. "Did you speak with your mother, before they departed?" dumbly, he nodded. "Then I trust she imparted you with certain information?" the meaning was clear. Again, Eric nodded. "Good." He rose slowly, groaning at the ache in his knees. "I trust you will not speak a word of it to anyone?"

"Of…of course I won't."

"Excellent!" he glanced around again before leaning toward Eric. "I will have someone fetch you when you return to your room, precisely an hour after. Pack only what is essential to you, nothing more than a pack of contents. Food would be preferrable, but if there is something you cannot leave behind, be sure to grab it."

"Sir, I mean general, why…why now?" Harok only smiled. "Okay…" he sighed. "I will be ready."

Without another word, Harok gave him a bow and walked away. In the distance, Eric saw a dozen men file out from behind the twists and turns of the garden. His security. Eric sighed and glanced up at the sky.

One day…one day I will be strong enough. For both of you.

•••••••••••

Emma kept her head down even as Bertrand and Barkov discussed various plans on assaulting the United Islands of Albrook. Most of them of course utilized her, but some had her acting only has a backup, in desire to keep her hidden. This would be her first official mission as her monster, of course, and needed to be treated with immense care.

Eventually it was agreed upon that the might of their assaults worked off of Emma's powers, and that showing her now in such a surprise attack would greatly undermine Figaro and her sense of security. It took only minutes for them to shift from that planning stage, to her and what she would be doing, or at least commanded to do.

Bertrand looked her in the eyes when he had given the commands, brightening that smile of his when he gave her the issue not to spare anyone that refused to back down and accept Roskovo. Including children. Emma gave her prayers immediately, for the people to submit peacefully, and to grant peace in death to those that would inevitably fight her.

After the plans had been crafted in detail, on which city to attack first and where to even help set up camp after, she was sent off ship to await on shore. She tried to ask for a moment to speak with Lucas before leaving, because she knew he would be furious with her if she didn't try, but Barkov was quick to threaten her with violence if she did not move.

Her walk off ship was excruciating. She was not allowed any sort of assistance and was expected to keep pace with the sturdy, tall man the entire time. She was of course unable, and was pushed and shoved and dragged until they made it to the site where their first camp would be installed.

When she was finally allowed to stop, she collapsed at the back of the gathered forces, sweat beading heavily on her skin and her legs aching so terribly they felt ready to break beneath her weight. She knew that this prolonged use of her legs was going to make the damage worse—Johl and Alveri had been very clear on that—and knowing that when she could not stop it made it so much worse. Her mobility was the last thing she had. She could not imagine not having even that anymore.

As she laid there on the sand, staring tiredly up at the stormy grey sky, she could faintly hear the thunderous voice of Barkov screaming over the gathered forces. She wasn't really paying attention to him—there was really no need—so when she felt the nearness of some soldiers disperse suddenly, it was almost immediately companied with that strange feeling that came with her commands. Her body moved on its up, lifting itself up even when she had no energy to do so, even though it hurt so bad.

The soldiers were staring, in expressions she largely couldn't determine, but all staring nonetheless. This would be the first time the public forces would see her transformation. They were all told prior to making the journey, but none of them could believe it. A monster-girl in their midst, so powerful it could destroy cities without much trouble at all? Even Emma had to doubt it, even though she was the creature in question.

Barkov's command to transform went through without hesitation. Her body began to burn, and as she fell to her knees in pain, her body started to shift. Soldiers hurried back and away, terrified, as her limbs grew and bent into their strange new proportions.

The last of her awareness left her soon after that, as it always had for her transformations. But the last few transformations, something had begun to change. She tried to prescribe it down to the last treatment she had, when she had seen those terrifying shadows, but ultimately, she had no idea. Before, she would transform and not remember the actual act, but still retained her memory of her experiences as that monster. She would still know it was her body that was doing all of the atrocious acts her masters demanded of her, just that she lost control of it to them.

Now…now things were different. Worse, even.

When she was aware again, she was standing before Barkov. The pain was gone, but with it, her own consciousness. Her control. It was so strange, feeling trapped within her body in every sense of the word, not understanding how this felt so strange and different to when Bertrand or any other gave her commands to obey but knowing that it was regardless. It was almost as if it wasn't even her to begin with, this dastardly creature of death and ruin. It felt foreign in all senses of the word.

The terrified gazes of the men around her pierced her to her soul, but whatever was in charge of her transformations…it never seemed to care. She wondered then, as Barkov commanded her to take flight and lay out their plans on the first city, if this was just a part of her she never knew she had. This burning hatred and fear that took relief in its own way in the murder and bloodshed of others. And if it were, how much of a monster she was even when she was not in this state.

What is wrong with me?! She cried as her body flew off into the sky with that lust of blood raging like a storm within her. I do not want this. This is not me! Every part of her being was screaming that it was, though, even if she loathed it. No. I could never want this. Not ever.

As she landed hard at the center of the nearest town, causing a panic immediately, a thought crossed her mind. How similar was this alien feeling…hadn't she felt this before, just to a lesser extent? Her mind was racing. Yes, yes she had. She remembered now. That voice that had once accompanied her, that raveled in the pain of others to hide its own. The one that had often made her rebuke, but on the other hand, gave her such comfort at times.

Oh.

She remembered now.

The feeling that had coiled up within her back in Figaro, when she had fled the garden. When she had witnessed Alexander kiss Cadence. That mounting fury that wanted to burn everything else up. That was all her, every ounce of that pain, hatred and fear. It was mirrored by her voice though, and she could not remember anything else when she had returned to her room. Yet this feeling felt so much like that…

Are you there? She asked as her body moved and her voice came thunderous into the fleeing crowd to put down any thought of resisting and join the Roskovo crown, but no answer came from the fleeing citizens or her voice. There was only that feeling driving her body forward, and that was enough to know that at least somewhere, deep inside, that the voice was there. Please… I know you are there. I…please, don't hurt anyone if you can help it. But the raw anger only resonated harsher to that, and she knew it was ignoring her on purpose.

The city's guard appeared then and tried to stop her. As commanded, she gave them a warning to put aside their weapons and submit, before decimating them when they pressed on anyway. Men were screaming as they were burned to death, or torn apart as if they were made of paper. Blood was flooding the street, and the stench of burnt flesh thickened the air, and despite all of this she pressed on. Stopping only long enough to issue warnings, before continuing her bloodshed.

Please! Emma cried into the void of her mind. Stop it, please! There was no stopping it though, she knew that despite the pleas. Once commanded, it was impossible to disobey. And soon, as she tore through half of the town, the only thing standing between her and total annihilation of the city, was the thirty or so Figaro trained knights that had hurried from their garrison to answer the call for help. They were just as easy to decimate when they refused to surrender.

How could you do this? You didn't even try to stop! And although she was talking to her voice, a part of her wondered how she could let it happen as well, why she didn't even try to fight the command. But that wasn't true. She did always try to fight; it was never possible.

There she stood, in the carnage of her rage and the desires of her masters, fur soaked with blood and stinking of smoke from the buildings she had set on fire in her tirade. She paid no attention to the corpses scattered around her as she slowly turned and flew off for the smaller town just south of the city.

This town offered little resistance when the mayor refused to surrender. She tore through it like a tornado, killing any person with a weapon without hesitation. A man had holed his family up in his farmstead and faced her in front of them, refusing to surrender. Emma's commands had her kill him, before setting the farm on fire.

Emma was screaming, trying so hard to make her body obey, but nothing worked. Stop, please! I don't want this! Please! They're just children! But it did not matter how much she begged, there was nothing to be done. With this town subjugated, she went on for the next, ignoring the screaming children inside.

There were three more towns or coastal villas she had taken for Roskovo before returning to the camp, all of it being done within three hours. Barkov was ecstatic how quickly she was able to move to each point and promised more for the rest of the week they remained at this camp, as every other major point was within her reach now.

When she collapsed to the ground, reverting painfully slow back to her human side, all of the exhaustion from her monster side compounded with her own. She couldn't even lift her head to look at the man screaming at her that she was to see the king, not laze about. When it was clear that she was incapable at the moment, and that pushing her beyond this state might cause irreversible damage, he let her rest. In the wet sand where she had dropped. Emma was so grateful and just so tired, that her thoughts drew her away immediately. There was no time for her to think even over what she had done, her body had given in.

The rest of the week carried on to her masters' will. Every town or city that she was ordered to assault was left broken and subjugated, and any person left that defied her masters were promptly dealt with.

There was only one place left to take control over—the port city of Albrook itself. Emma feared it. As far as she knew, there was always a huge naval presence from Figaro at Albrook. One of the world's largest naval bases for the kingdom sat just north along the beach. What would the response to her assault be? How many more of her father's subjects would she have to kill?

Emma wasn't paying attention during the briefing with Barkov. Her thoughts were difficult to keep that evening, spinning so wild and out of control. She wasn't even sure if she were awake, most of the time.

"Are you listening, monster?" She looked up from the sand to the man standing on a small pedestal across the staff sergeants and sergeant first classes taking notes. They were all staring at her. When Barkov saw her eyes focused on him, he scoffed and continued the briefing. "At zero-five-hundred, the beast will begin its final assault on Albrook. It will be accompanied by two platoons, advancing behind it as it presses forward. Your job will be to secure what the beast does not, and to capture any high-profile targets, and to make sure the idiot doesn't kill them. We no reason to believe they haven't heard about the others by now, so expect fierce resistance."

The SFCs began their questioning immediately, but only one stuck out to Emma. "General, what are we to do with the children of those who resist?"

Barkov looked the man square in the eye. "You will treat them like you would any other, and offer no quarter." That quieted the men, and even Emma knew they were struggling with that information. Children. Defenseless babies. To be struck down… at least now they would begin to understand the turmoil she was exacting on so many. Perhaps now they would stand up and say no…

As the men began to file out and prepare, she tried to walk back to her little tent, only for Barkov to stop her. "You will be our best asset out there on the field, monster." She only stared. I'm not a monster to you when you force me to touch you, am I? "You best not screw this up, do you hear me?" How can I? she wanted to ask him, to point out the idiocy of his statement, but nodded instead. "Good. His majesty has informed me that if today goes smoothly, you may have the rest of the week to yourself."

That caught her attention. Bertrand was never so generous, not unless he desired something. "It is only if you do a good job. Do not go thinking you are anything more than what you are. After all, even a slave gets a reward every now and then, just as a behaving dog does." She hesitated before thanking him and Bertrand for the generosity. That only made him scoff. "I do not need to hear gratitude from a whored-out monster. Now make yourself useful and patrol the perimeter." He gave her a side-long glance of disgust before walking away.

Emma stared after him, wanting nothing more in that moment than to tear the man in half.

"Hey…" Startled, she turned to the sound of the voice and gasped at the sight of three soldiers. She took a few steps back and lowered her gaze, unreasonably afraid that they might have heard her thoughts or seen it on her expression. "You're the princess, right?" one of them asked, and all the others nodded, to show they wanted to know too.

Remembering her lessons, she shook her head. "N-n-no, I'm a nobody. I'm…I'm just a slave."

"A nobody can't be married to the prince," one of them whispered.

"P-Please, I don't want any trouble…"

"We're not here to give trouble," he continued. "We just…we just wanted to know if you would help us."

"Help?" she mumbled, glancing quickly across their faces. Did they think she was stupid? This was a ruse, most likely employed by Bertrand or Barkov, to catch her in it. And punish her for it. She shook her head. "No." she never fall for this again, if only because the humiliation was too much to bear. To have to watch the smug expression on Bertrand's face as he ridiculed her for thinking she could actually get away or the like. And if it wasn't a trick…they had no idea she was commanded to snitch on deserters or anything suspicious. If they continued to speak, they would all be at risk.

"No?" the other said, frowning. "Why? You haven't even heard what we need yet, why—"

"No." she said it with a much firmer voice, and watched as the surprise on their faces was replaced with anger and disgust.

"You're just as much of a monster as they say you are," one of them said, spitting at her feet while the other glared before following the other away. The last to stay watched them go before looking back at her.

"You want to help, don't you?" Emma hoped the answer showed in her eyes clear enough. The man frowned. "I'll take my chances trusting in you. We do not want to kill any children." That made her hesitate. "If you find any, please, leave them to us and we will get them to safety so that they are not hurt." No! Why did they have to say this to her?! She turned to walk away, quickly, but the man scurried in front of her. "Please! I'm begging you! Do not hurt the children, please!" he stopped her by holding her in place. "Please…I know there's good in you…despite everything they say…I can see it in your eyes."

"You don't—" the words suddenly choked in her throat. The pain was unbearable. She tried though, tried so hard to warn the man what was done to her, but her commands kept them secret. Kept her enslaved. Instead, her tears ran down her cheeks. The startled the man. "I…I can't."

His eyes widened a little and he stepped back. "You can't help because… they did something to you, didn't they?" but without even trying to answer him, she hurried away, before something could give her away—before it could be construed as her answering him and the pain of her commands burned through her.

Why?! She thought as she hurried toward the front of the camp, to await the assault. Do they think I like this? Why? Just because I…I look different? That somehow means I want to hurt people? She felt the familiar warmth of her tears rolling down her cheeks. I hate it! I hate it more than any of them could ever… she paused and squeezed her eyes shut, so tight it hurt. No…if I was stronger…I could fight it, but I'm not! And in just a few hours, she would be out there again, taking the lives of innocent men and women, even children. And there would be nothing she could do to stop it, nothing at all.

Emma dropped to the sand and engulfed herself with her arms.

---

Just as the general had said, men arrived at his room precisely an hour later and hurried him about leaving. Eric did not have anything worth taking with him, as everything here did not matter to him and could easily be replaced. But as he turned to leave, something made him pause and he glanced back toward his dresser again. He stopped and went back, picking up a small picture he had recently taken. It was of him, his mother, his baby brother Aden and Emma. This was his family. This was all that mattered to him. He smiled and tucked the picture into his jacket before falling the soldiers out. At least with nothing packed, it would look less suspicious to be roaming about with his guard when he ordinarily refused them.

"This way," the lead soldier said as they pressed down a northern hallway branching off into one of the barracks. "When we arrive, do not speak to anyone. Just follow behind us and no one will question your presence. Understood?" Eric nodded, and so they walked into a large, square room filled with shuffling soldiers swapping patrols. A few men glanced up at them, completely uninterested, before continuing on with their tasks.

Eric's heart was racing. He knew that if they were stopped, everything would fall apart. The worse part was that he knew he would be safe—even if they all found out he was trying to flee Roskovo—but the men trying to help him? They would ultimately be tortured to death. They were risking everything, and for what? For who? He knew most of their reasons stemmed from the intelligence Eric could offer, and prove, to the Figaro crown, but some part of them was making these risks for his benefit.

They filtered into a smaller room at the back, and when a soldier locked the door behind them, the lead looked at him expectantly. "Beyond this point, the dangers become much greater. It will not be so for you, but for those getting you out of Roskovian controlled territory."

"I understand, sir."

"We will take a shorter route through the mountains to Crestov, but the path will be treacherous and the weather inhospitable." he reached down and picked up a large leather pack. "This is what the bulk of your supply will be." he tossed it at Eric like it was nothing, but when it crashed into him, it felt like it weighed sixty pounds. He stumbled back a foot or so at the shift in weight. "Any food will either be purchased or hunted, do you understand?"

"I...I don't know how to hunt."

One of the men tried to hold a snort back. The leader's face didn't change expression. "You will not be going alone, remember? Your guide will function both as your guide and provider while you are en route to Crestov."

That would certainly help, he knew. There was not much that he could do on his own. He studied martial arts and swordsmanship all his life, but no matter how much he applied himself or how much he learned, he never seemed to get anywhere. Or, at least, his father thought he couldn't find any backbone to apply his teaching in any meaningful way. Eric knew that struck close to home. He hated fighting, hating hurting people. It reminded him too much of his father and brother.

At least soon, he would be far away. He would be closer to freedom. To safety. To a life where he didn't have fear every second of his life. "When do we leave?"

"We will depart tonight. We have a man waiting for us that will walk us through a safe exit, leading north-west outside of capitol grounds." he sent two men back out, and another two forward through another door hidden behind a shelf. "For now, you will get all the rest you can get, because you will not be stopping for the next few days." the man then gestured to a corner where a small cot was set aside. "Now."

Eric said, "Thank you sir, for...for everything."

The man frowned. "You should never thank someone until the job is done. It is considered a jinx, boy."

---

The city of Albrook sat thousands of feet below her, shimmering beneath the fading sunset. The people within unaware of what was about to happen to them and their beautiful city.

Emma could not tear her eyes away. It had been half a hour, but she had not descended yet. She knew she had too—that if she delayed it too long, there would be a beating upon her return—but she wanted to give the civilians time to notice her, or for a survivor that might have fled from before to convince them all to evacuate. But she knew there was nothing coming to help them. In the distance, she saw the advancing army and closed her eyes momentarily, to pray one last time for a miracle, before descending.

When she landed gracefully at the center of the city, where the most people were gathered, she created a momentary swell of silence. People were staring, not entirely sure what they were looking at or what to do. When she started to speak, most people understood immediately to start fleeing, but those who stayed watched with wide eyes of terror.

"Albrook is now territory of the Roskovian crown. Submit yourselves to the king and you will be spared. If you resist, you and everyone you love will be executed." as she spoke, she lifted a hand and created a ball of fire. That seemed to break them from their stupor. People started to screaming and fleeing, so terrified that they just shot in whatever directions they were facing. There were a few men and women who dropped to their knees and pleaded mercy because they were submitting, and so she turned her eyes from them and headed one direction towards a mass of fleeing civilians.

They would get just a few more warnings before she started to cut them down. She landed in front of a smaller section of the fleeing crowd and tried her hardest to convince them to submit by breathing fire into the sky above them. They began to stop, bumping into and knocking down each other. "Submit! Submit or you will die!" Almost all of them did as they were bid, but two men had tried to get away and without hesitation, her commands took over. She pointed a finger at them and within seconds, they fell to the ground, burnt to a crisp in mere seconds. That act solidifed those kneeling into their submition.

Emma spared them one look, one last warning not to test her, before flying off. By then, the Roskovian army arrived at the city and she could see them marching through, securing buildings, exits and any people they found. She worked her way through the city. She found hundreds of people hiding together in larger buildings, some even in basements and attics, but not a one of them could really hide from her. She could hear them, hear their breathing. Smell them and their fear. No matter where they were.

One by one, she cleared houses and shops, forcing all of the people outside to officers so that they could be made to submit, or die. For hours she worked, until every inch of her ached. Her commands kept her going, even through the point where her body wanted, needed, to collapse for rest. She would not be done until her masters deemed it. And just as it seemed like the end was near, there came shouting from behind her.

Emma took to the sky, flying over the soldiers blocking her way and when she arrived at the source of the commotion, she hesitated. A man was blocking entry to his house, sword in hand as he swung at the soldiers and swore. The soldiers from earlier, that had tried to seek her help, were the ones trying to get him to submit.

"Please sir, you do not want this," the man from before had said, holding a hand out to him. "Please, surrender. You and your family will be safe. I promise."

"If you come any closer, I'll drive this sword through your chest!" the frightened man howled, swinging again when one tried to near. "Get back!"

"Surrender!" the soldier pleaded again, but the man swung once more. A sharp pain crept up from the back of her head. It was so intense her eyes began to hurt. The command. She landed heavily in front of the frightened man and when he screamed and swung at her, she caught the blade with her hand. She never even flinched as it dug into her flesh, releasing blood. The soldiers all startled, but not for the man's actions, but because of her. The man stared wide eyed at her, terrified, until she yanked the sword from him and discarded it. When it landed on the ground, the steel had melted where she was touching.

"If you will not submit—" she said, grabbing him by his throat and flying him into his house. He tangled and cried the entire way. "—then you will be executed." she tossed him into the building and closed the doors. The soldiers were screaming for her to stop, but she couldn't even if she wanted to. She sealed the door with the earlier sword and then put one hand to the house. Within seconds, it was ablaze. At first, it was only the man's screaming that could be heard, but within a minute the screeching terror of a woman and children joined him.

The solider from earlier rushed her. "What are you doing?! Let them out!" he was shaking her by her arm, but she just watched the flames grow. "Let them out, damn it! There are children in there!" but still she did not respond. He snarled and tried to open the door himself, but she grabbed him by his arm and yanked him back.

"You will not interrupt his majesty's justice, or you will join them."

The soldier glanced toward the building, when the wailing got worse, and then screamed as he charged Emma. Her orders prevented her from harming subordinates unless absolutely necessary, so she just stood there as he tackled her to the ground. He hit her three times before she caught his fist for the next strike. Before he could do much else, she kicked him off of herself and stood. He gaped stupidly when she lifted a hand to burn him alive. He screamed for half a second before he dropped.

The rest of the soldiers were staring slack jawed, terrified. When the wails from inside the house finally died down, and the building began to crumble into ash, the soldiers reacted. They began flinging things at her, anything that they could find. Rocks and helmets were the first things to be tossed. All while they roared about how monsterous she was—that she was a demon.

Emma watched them with tears in her eyes. She didn't want to hurt anyone, not ever. They could never understand the position she was in, and all of the pain and self-hate. They could only judge, never understand. When a rock hit her face, breaking skin, another soldier pushed through the line. She recongized him. The man from earlier, that she had run from.

"Stop! All of you stop!" he shouted, coming to stand in front of her.

"Get out of the way, Sid! It's a monster!"

"You don't understand," he howled. "Even if this girl wanted to, she would never be able to help you. To disobey!" the men started, confused. "It is not with her own hand that she does this...the king forces her every move!"

"Convenient!" another cried.

"It's the truth!" Sid said, causing them to hesitate. "You all have heard the rumors from the capitol, about...about reconditioning." Emma looked away. No. If only it were as simple as that... "This child has no will of her own anymore. She wanted to help, but...but she cannot."

"Even if that's true, why do we let it live?" a soldier came out from the crowd. "It would be a justice for the world to end it now, and a mercy for it to be free of that control." Emma looked up suddenly, feeling both fear and hope in that. No. No one here could ever harm her, not with her commands in place. Passed a certain point, she would react with lethal force. "I say we end it now, to spare the world."

"If you try, you will be killed," Sid said, stretching his arms like a barricade in front of her. "I have seen what she is capable of. You have seen it. If you fight her, you will die. You will be giving your life up for nothing. You must turn around, and do as you were told...if only to spare you and yours the same sort of fate." one by one the angry mob began to dismiss themselves, dropping their weapons or backing away. The man turned to her, a frown rested on his soot covered face. "Your work here is done; you should return to camp. We will have the city squared away."

Emma spared one last look at them before taking off. The sound of the family screaming carried with her the entire way back.

•••••••••••

It was becoming very real to Lucas just how little he was able to control, now that they were thousands of miles from Roskovo and he was separated from any familiar allies. His father was pushing every button he could when it came to Emma, and it was starting to infuriate Lucas to a point that it was a struggle to control any outburst.

Today was one of those days.

"I was not consulted for this," he snapped as his father flipped through maps with disinterest. "She was not ready for something like this!"

"I will determine if the whore is fit for my schemes or not, boy."

"You are a fool," Lucas said. "You think just because you demand or want something, reality bends to it. You're so far up your own ass you can't even see it."

That made his father look up from the maps. His brows were furrowed and the seething rage in the man's eyes told Lucas he had hit a sore spot. "You will do well to remember who controls that whore's life, before you say something you regret."

"Oh, bullshit," Lucas was not in the mood for these baseless threats. "You would never destroy her, not in the ways you keep threatening to. Because without her, your war is nothing. You are nothing."

Bertrand laughed and slowly stood. "It is true, I will never kill the bitch, not at least before my use of her is fulfilled. You are, however, wrong on one account." He went around the table and stood before his son; eyes restored to their eerie calm. "When I threaten her to you, I do not make the threats with the intention of murder. I made them under the assumption you were smart enough to understand that if or when I am made to, I will hurt her so thoroughly you will never mistake your place to me again." Lucas swallowed back another angry retort, one that might backfire. "I hold back so much when it comes to you…my oldest. My heir. I'm starting to realize that I made a grave mistake. You are still too young, too fool hardy, to understand what is going on around you."

"That has nothing to do with this," he said. "I want you to consult me when it comes to my wife! To the woman I love! How is this so difficult for you to understand?"

Bertrand sighed. "That is precisely the problem. You have fallen for an abomination and cannot even see that she is a tool, a monster, not a woman for which you should place your adorations. She is a creature of death, boy. You debase yourself into thinking it can be like us, that it deserves your love or empathy. The sooner you understand this reality, the better off you will be."

This was like any other argument they had when it came to Emma, or even her family. Lucas still did not fully understand his father's raging hatred of the hybrid women of Figaro, but he had his suspicions, most of which stemmed from a wonderment of whether his father had feelings for the hybrid queen before the king did and felt scorned by the result. It was the only thing he could think of that could explain away the man's lust for Emma being mirrored by his disgust and hatred. After all, Lucas had seen that kind of emotion in other men, especially within the government.

Through it all, Lucas now understood one thing; his father was never going to let Emma live peacefully, not even after the war. Her future was locked to her prison of pain and forced prostitution. And he was forced to witness her journey through it all.

"When is enough going to be enough for you, father? Even if you cannot see the humanity in her, shouldn't you just respect that your son does? Why does it sting you so to know that someone in this world could love her, despite what she is?"

That caused his father's jaw to tighten. "It is like you want me to hurt her."

"Why can't you just answer? I know you hate her father, I understand that, but why the women? What have they done to you?"

"You will be quiet." That almost sounded like fear.

"I will not," he snarled, feeling strength return to him at the sight of his startled father. "Tell me now, or I will take Emma and we will sail right back to Roskovo. We shall see how far your control is over her, when she is a thousand miles away."

As if someone he said brought composure back to his father, the steely eyes returned and he straightened with a small chuckle. "So…you love her, despite what she is?"

Without hesitation, Lucas said, "Yes."

"Does she love you?"

"Yes."

The smile on his father's face grew. "Is that so? Well, those in love tell each other everything, do they not?"

"…yes, of course."

"Has she told you yet how many times she's whored herself out to Barkov, then?"

Lucas gritted his teeth. It was certainly true she had not brought it up to him, but he knew that she was being sold off to his father's men to secure loyalty or deeds for some time. It fostered his anger so much that he was afraid of what would happen when he cracked. To hear who had been included in that activity though…that was fanning the flames of his fury.

Of all the men his father had to sell Emma to, it was Barkov? That man was often the reason Emma cried lately, because he pushed her so cruelly in training and beat on her at the slightest sign of perceived disobedience. Even when she had escaped the cruelty of Bertrand by offering him no resistance, she found a new man to appease and was failing miserably at the adjustment.

What's worse, his father knew that there was a feud between Lucas and Barkov. Why?

"You wouldn't dare…"

"I did." Bertrand said. "To secure Barkov's fleet, and his support in our assaults."

"Do you still want to lie with her, knowing that?"

"Shut up."

"So sweet a monster you would debase yourself with another man's whore, is that it?"

"I'm warning you!"

Bertrand remained on course, staring with those cold, calm eyes. "How about knowing that what your beloved little monster craves the most, is another man thousands of miles away?"

"You are wrong," he snarled. This was not something he was going to hear, not again. Emma loved him, not some man-child half-way across the world. She had said so. She promised him. For his father to try and snake into their relationship to undermine it because of past troubles was beyond pathetic, and unacceptable. "She might have thought she loved another, but it is different now. She has given her heart to me, she said so."

"Did you command her to say it?"

"No, of course not!"

Bertrand smiled. "How do you know she didn't say it to appease you, then?"

"Enough!" Lucas' voice raised so high his throat burned. "I will not hear any more from you! Where is my wife?!"

Bertrand shook his head, clearly disappointed. "She is within camp, boy, where she has been ordered to stay until we depart for Tzen, so as to discourage any would-be attackers."

Lucas passed his father a seething glare before turning and leaving the cabin. The ship had been docked for a week now, and his wife's assault on Albrook had come without any indication from his father to him, so when he arrived back to their cabin and found her missing, his worry and fury bounced to the ceiling. A week of fighting. He hoped that when he finally found her, she was well, that she had been given time to rest.

The camp was active when he arrived. Some portion of the men there were packing things up, readying their move to the next target, while the rest mained active and on guard. There wasn't sight of his wife anywhere. He stopped several officers to question them, but not a one of them knew anything about her location, except for one that said he saw her fly in an hour or so ago. Beyond that, the men were largely useless to him.

The lot of them would better serve as fodder, he thought angrily as he tore through camp. Some men knew better than to look at him, those who did not were sent terrifying glares and orders to leave at once. Who does he think he is, anyway? As if he understands my wife's heart better than me! The fool can't get anything out of her unless he orders it... pathetic excuse for a man! I'll show him. One day. He will eat every word he said against me...against her!

"My Prince? What in heavens are you doing this far out of the inner camp?"

Lucas looked up sharply, ready to tear at the fool's throat, but stopped when he saw it was an officer. Perhaps this fool... "Have you seen my wife?"

The officer looked surprised, most likely from being ignored so quickly, but then frowned. "Yes, I have. She's on the eastern side of camp, near the river."

He gritted his teeth, annoyed by the openness this man was displaying in being near another man's woman. "And what were you doing with my wife, exactly?"

The officer paled. "Nothing, of course! I was there to issue commands to the remaining forces. She...she just arrived and—and wished to rest by the riverside. I swear it, my prince, I swear it!"

Lucas scoffed and shoved him out of the way to get back on his journey. The man scurried away quickly. As if I need to be jealous! He chided himself. There is no other out there capable of bearing the vigor of her fire. I hold it and I love every burn...but others? He tightened his jaw. They could never withstand her as she is, truly.

And, as he arrived at the river and spotted the pale green hair of his wife sitting upright by the stream, it expelled every ounce of anger and doubt within his heart. How lovely she looked, beneath the sun's gentle caress, hair almost platinum in beneath the radiance. As he drew closer, he could see that she had already finished with her washing routine. She sat wrapped in a large towel, and hung back just a little, eyes shut as she drew in the warmth of the sun.

Lucas swallowed hard, trying to force back useless compliments. Of course she knew she was beautiful. Everyone within the kingdom knew that. Every man looked at her with lust in his eyes, and every woman with scorn and jealousy. And he couldn't blame a single one of them. She was a creature beyond word. And he had won her heart.

His foot crushed a few leaves and she startled upright to the sound. When her eyes, encircled with dark rings, froze on him, he offered her a small smile. "Emma, my love...I was so worried about you." Her eyes quickly went to something in the distance before resting back on him. He could see the worry in them easily. "Whatever is the matter?"

"N-Nothing, I just...I just t-t-thought I was alone." he caught the way she looked disappointed in not being alone, but how could he blame her for that? She had spent the last week doing the bidding of his father, waging war on their enemies non-stop. A minute alone would be what any sane person would want after all of that.

"I will give your time alone, my love," he said, as he came to sit beside her. "But I would requet some of your time before I do."

"I..." she began that nervous tick of hers within seconds, twisting fingers through each other, unable to look him in the eye. He knew what that meant or rather, the many things it could mean. She did it whenever she was nervous and afraid, shy or unsure...sometimes even while she talked to Sherra. He reached out to take her hands, to stop her. That only seemed to make her nervousness worse, though.

"You do not need to stress yourself out, Emma. I am not hear to ask anything of you, not like that. I know you are exhausted. You deserve your rest." his words swept most of her uneasiness away, but he could still see the embers of it in her eyes. "And Emma, please, I only wish for honesty. You will never be in trouble with me for sharing that. Never."

"W-W-What?" she was trembling now. "I—I didn't do anything, did I?"

"No, of course not, at least not like you assume," he took her hand in his. "My father informed me that you have been keeping a secret from me." her eyes widened. "Fear not, you are not in trouble for keeping it, I promise you. I just desire to know why you did not tell me."

"I... I don't even k-know what I did..."

"I speak of Barkov." he said simply, and that registered in her eyes. "Ah...so you have."

"Y-you don't understand," she cried. "I...I didn't want it! I didn't!"

"I know that, my love," he spoke softly as he reached to bring her closer to him. She was suddenly cold as ice, despite the sun burning above them. "I know that." he kissed her forehead, hoping it would calm her. "I just want to know why you felt you could not share that information with me. Do you fear to tell me the things my father forces you to endure?" Emma looked away from him, but he saw the tears in her eyes before that. "Emma?" he squeezed her hand, a little too tightly, because she winced. "Please, the truth." but she was quiet, and that was trying his anger. "Emma..." he sighed. He did not want to do this. "Answer my questions. Now." the look of anger in her eyes was clear to him. He had promised never to use the commands against her, unless absolutely necessary. He understood, but what other choice did he have? She would not speak with him! "Now, tell me...why did you not tell me about Barkov?"

The tears in her eyes were the only sign she could control herself to reveal how she was feeling. "I was ashamed."

That surprised him. He leaned away. "What? Why were you ashamed to tell me that?"

"Because I hate being used."

Lucas frowned. He hated making her talk. It never really sounded like his Emma when he did it, but there were times when it was necessary. "I would have done something, had you told me." she brought her dainty little hand to his lips. "I would do anything for you, don't you know that? Did you think that I couldn't, is that it?"

"Yes."

He had not intended that to be commanding, and his cheeks reddened at the undesired truth hit him. "What?" he ground his teeth. "What do you..." he forced himself to take a deep breath. No. This was not the appropriate response. He had not been careful. This was his fault. And if she couldn't feel safe with him, he couldn't blame her. He couldn't stop his father from doing whatever he wanted with her. She had every right to be doubtful about that. He took another breath, letting it ground him. "No, you're right. Of course. I...I have not done a very good job at protecting you, have I?" he brushed a hand across her cold cheek. "I love you though, with every piece of myself. Isn't that enough between us, our love?" this time, his question was more indirect in its tone, and so she just sat there, barely holding his gaze. "I told my father as much. He thought he could use what he's made you done against me, against us, but he is wrong. There is nothing in this world that can stand between us, between our love. He is but a jealous, bitter old bastard."

"You..." she hesitated, still trembling. "...you won't t-t-tell m-master I told, w-w-will you? I don't w-w-want him angry with me."

Lucas' eyes widened. In all that he shared, in that he brought to the open for her, that was her chef concern? "Will that matter?" he demanded. "Why do you always care for what that old bastard thinks? What he does?"

"I—"

"I'm sick of hearing about him, and yet I must endure it even from you? My wife?"

"Please, I only m-meant—"

"Oh, I know what you meant!" he howled, getting to his feet, nostrils flared and veins bulging on his neck. "Every time I try to have a discussion with you, something I share naught with another in all my life, you bring up other men!" he knew his anger was racing ahead of him, and that he couldn't wrestle it back this time. No. Not this time. He was sick and angry of having to hear the names of other men on his wife's lips—sick of it! "Why? Why do you scorn me so? Why do you love every other man that touches you, but revolt for me? Have I not given you enough? Must I spill my veins for you, too?"

Emma couldn't hold her tears anymore. "Please...you promised...you promised."

That made him hesitate, but not for long. "Yes, I did promise. I promised you I wouldn't get mad over why you did not tell me. And I'm not angry over it." why did she act like this was so impossible to understand? "Am I not allowed as your husband, as a man, to be angry over things? Do you think that you should just walk through our marriage doing as you please, constantly disregarding me? Is that it?"

"I'm sorry Lucas! Whatever I d-did, I p-promise I won't do it again. Please," the tears were begging to break free. "Please, I'm sorry."

"Whatever you did?" Lucas slapped her, knocking her into the grass. She gave a little gasping cry, "Whatever you did?! You don't even know?! I do not need you placating me like I'm some infant, woman! I need you to obey and to do your duty as my wife!"

"Why?" she asked, still trying desperately to hold back her tears when she sat upright, hand to her cheek. "Why d-do you enjoy h-hurting me?"

That surprised him. In the years she had been with him, she had never once engaged a question with him that he did not provoke in some form or another. "W-what?" he leaned away, startled. "Why would you ask me something like that? I don't enjoy hurting you! You make me do it!" she lowered her eyes, letting her tears fall, once more quiet. "And you..." she glanced up hesitantly. "You think you can ask me that when you take so much pleasure in tormenting me?" he scoffed. "You still call out his name when you sleep, despite how much you know it hurts me. So how dare you ask me that, when you love doing so yourself." her silence returned, and it frustrated him. "What, no more honesty, my love? No. You don't get to just close up on me after dropping that comment."

"I don't hurt you, Lucas." her voice was soft, pained. It made him feel ever so regretful for even saying it, but it was true that she did. She hurt him every chance she could. What human being could hold against such treatment forever, without response? He deserved better!

"You don't?" it was challenging not to break his temper for her ignorant behavior.

"No," she said, with more strength. "I...I don't hurt anyone."

He laughed, short and bitterly. "Is that so? What of all those people you have murdered?"

"You..." he saw the way her hand gripped at her towel, in her own attempt to restrain herself. It amused him. "Master makes me do that. I don't want to."

"That is besides the point," he snapped. "You still hurt them, even if it is not your real intention to do so. Why is it so difficult for you to understand that your behavior, regardless of intention, can still hurt those around you?"

"What do I do that hurts you?" she demanded so suddenly he startled back. "I do everything y-you want! Everything!"

"Everything?" he challenged. "No, you do not! You can't even love me, despite my begging!" and in that, he had found the sorer part of his anger. The words his father had said weighed on him more heavily than he realized. He knew, despite everything, there was a part of Emma that couldn't let go of her love for her family, or for that man. That she rarely, if ever, revoked her love. She would always share a part of her heart with her previous love. Always. And it burned at him so. He wanted her all to himself, every inch of her, every thought of hers to be on him, as his were of her. Why? Why couldn't she give him that? Why couldn't she see how painful it was to be denied it, over and over again? "Can you tell me why you are so distant to me? Why you refuse to give me your love?"

"Because I don't love you," she told him so honestly, so freely, that he was at a loss of words. "You...you will hurt me for saying that, but after today, after what I've done, I...I don't care anymore." she stubbornly wiped tears away. "Kill me...have me tortured...do whatever you want. I killed children today. Children." she was crying now, as her anger was quickly evaporating. "You all have done your worst to me."

Lucas felt every nerve in his body burn. You don't love me? He thought, feeling that anger slipping from his control more and more. "You are ungrateful!" he snatched her by her arm and pulled her forward, roughly. "You think he's going to come back for you, is that it?" he shook her when she wouldn't look at him. "He is never going to look for you, Emma! He doesn't love you! How could he, after everything you have done? They will never accept you for who you are! Isn't that what happened to you before? They scorned you! Treated you as if you were nothing! But with me...with me you are loved, just as you are! Every perfection and every imperfection!" he squeezed her arm so hard she gave a cry. "And yes, even after you have killed and you have slept with every man on this fucking continent, I still love you! But will he?" he twisted his grip and she tried to break free from him. "Will your precious fucking Alexander want you even then?!"

With more strength than he ever anticipated, she pulled away. There were tears streaming down her face, but he could see the anger behind those tears. That irresistible anger that drove him mad. "No! He won't!" her admittance to that couldn't even be responded to, she was so angry. "But I don't care! I'd rather die than ever think of loving you back!"

Lucas gave an ear-piercing scream of frustration and got to his feet. "You are ungrateful!" he howled, pacing, shaking so much it was if he leapt right into an ice bath. "Ungrateful!" how could she be? He gave her everything! Did everything for her! He should beat the sense into her! Why couldn't she move on from that wretched excuse for a man? It was he she shared her first kiss with! Her first time with! He who cared for her and loved her every second of the day! Where was this Alexander, if he loved her so much? But as he paced and screamed, and his thoughts raced, he began to realize something that made him ill.

She was right.

How could she love him, when he couldn't even stop his father from hurting her? Or from others taking their pleasures with her as if she were nothing more than a cheap whore? What did he do for her, beyond words of love or promises of more? What had he given for her, since the manor? There was only the painful truth that he was inadequately equipped to protect her. What benefit were his proclamations of love, if he stood by, too afraid of outcomes to help her?

Lucas took a deep breath and faced her. She looked ready to face whatever punishment he thought of, but he knew in this instance he could not raise a hand to her. "You are right," when he first spoke, she jumped a little, expecting more. "What have I given you to convince you of my love? How is it fair that I demand your love when I let so much happen to you?" he shook his head. "After that manor, everything between us has slowly crumbled, all largely to due to my father's meddling. I have sat beside you for years and allowed his abuse and exploits, and that has caused your love for me to wane..."

"I don't—"

"No. No more. You needn't hurt my heart further with your words. You have earned your anger and your righteous disappointment, but I will not stop Emma. I love you and I know, deep down, you still love me. I can see it in your eyes." there was only one way to bring back that love, he knew. And although it pained him to think about, it had to be done. "Tomorrow, I shall return to Roskovo."

Her eyes widened. "W-what?"

"I am of no use to you here, watching as my father hurts you more and more. I can serve you, serve us, better from the capitol. If I must upend every root of my father's influence and power to protect you, I will do it. At least with you far away from me, he cannot use it as a reason to kill you. He will try to use you against me of course..." he sighed and knelt in front of her, taking her hands again, despite her attempt to pull away. "...and for that, I have one last command of you my sweet." he leaned forward, to whisper in her ear. "You will never speak of this conversation to anyone, not even my father, no matter how he presses you with his own commands. Tell him we argued, if you must, but nothing of my plans." he kissed the side of her face, longingly. "Forge yourself against him, my love. I will come back for you, and you will be free at last."

With that, Lucas got up and walked away, resisting the urge to rush back to her and take her into his arms.

---

Whoo! Remake for CH13 has dropped, wahoo!

Okay, so delays were because of life. It's been slapping the shit out of me for a really long time, but I think it's moving on track now. Going forward, I think you'll probably find a lot of the story is changing, becoming more coherent I would say. But I hope you guys like it! Thanks for reading!