Despite having informed Arielle of Eden's death, Dorian stomped about his residence in a vengeful frustration, his anger not dissipating. Arielle watched in her sorrow as his anger actually grew and turned into a blind fury that even a demon would be envious of. The nobleman had somehow learned that it was most likely a Hospitaller that had helped Eden escape and he had surprisingly decided to confront the Order about it. Dorian called for an audience with the Grand Master who refused to involve himself in a petty, personal affair. Dorian ended up meeting with a small chosen group of Hospitaller knights, one of whom was Lawrence. The noble spewed and spluttered his grievances with such rage that one of the knights almost thought him insane. Dorian demanded that the supposed culprit within the Order be handed over to him so that he could stand trial. The Hospitallers heard him out, but refused to fulfill his unfounded demands and asked him to leave in peace. Dorian left shouting curses and vowing to destroy the entire Order if he had to. While the other knights laughed the nobleman off, Lawrence sensed a half-crazed, yet quite real threat in him and he went to see the Grand Master with his suspicion.

It was a tense time in the Order. There was an unusual growing activity of bandits and mercenaries near Jerusalem. The Templars that had first noticed it and monitored it until the bandit numbers began to grow worryingly high. They finally let the Hospitallers know and both Orders were kept on alert. The closer the bands came to Jerusalem, the more nervous the Orders became. The bands would roam one way to only turn around and go another, keeping the Orders unable to figure out who the bands were exactly, who they fought under, and why they were there in the first place.

Both the unusual, potentially hostile activity outside Jerusalem and the fact that the enraged Dorian had his own forces at his disposal made the Grand Master decide for Lawrence to alert the Order of the Holy Sepulchre and the King of Jerusalem. He also ordered that no knight Hospitaller walk around the city without weapons and that brother knights should walk with an escort in case Dorian decided to make good on his threat in a more underhanded manner.

After Lawrence had alerted the Order of the Holy Sepulchre and the king, he himself was suddenly paid a visit back at his quarters by a certain quite specific Templar knight of fiery blond hair and slate gray eyes.

"Lawrence! It's always great to see you!" the Templar said, approaching the Hospitaller and extending his hand.

"Always a pleasure, Garrett." Lawrence replied, gripping his hand and shaking it firmly.

The two knights smiled at each other, however, they both knew it was all partly superficial. Garrett was nearly everything that Lawrence was not: short tempered, aggressive, stubborn, somewhat egocentric, judgmental, and proud. Lawrence had to admit that Garrett was a fearless knight and talented swordsman and commander, but he was almost ill at times of peace. Yet, the thing that stood in between them most was Garrett's interest in Eden. Lawrence thought he was infatuated with her, Garrett thought he was in love with her, and Eden thought that he was completely crazy. Garrett had tried for what seemed like forever to win over Eden, each time with greater or lesser success. And although Lawrence never gave any demonstration of romantic interest in Eden, Garrett still remained intensely suspicious of him and jealous.

"So to what do I owe the pleasure?" Lawrence asked, folding his arms over his chest.

"Oh, I just heard the latest news..." Garrett responded offhandedly, "though I really don't know why Dorian is threatening you when really he should be the one looking over his shoulder."

The Templar rolled his eyes and let out a bored sigh at the slightly confused expression on Lawrence's face.

"He and that bride of his betrayed a guardian. And not just any guardian, but Eden. That can't just go unpunished, surely you see that... And if you don't see that, then I'll just make sure they're brought to justice myself." Garrett explained, ending with a shrug.

"I think you have more pressing matters than that."

"Oh, those bandit movements outside the city? Yes, it's a slight annoyance, isn't it?" the Templar replied, waggling his hand as if they were talking about chasing butterflies, "But no need to worry. We'll be there."

"What a relief."

Garrett's eyes darted up to the Hospitaller and a sly grin crossed his face at the sarcasm.

"You know," he said slowly, "I would think that you would take more of an interest in bringing to justice the one who hurt your... friend."

"My interest is no interest of yours." the Hospitaller replied calmly.

"Oh, you always get so hostile around me." Garrett noted, pretending to feel offended.

"Imagine that."

"I'm beginning to think, my dear friend," Garrett drawled as he slowly walked up to Lawrence arrogantly, "that you might be jealous."

"I think, my dear friend," Lawrence answered with a smile, "that you might have me confused with someone else. Namely, you."

"Lawrence, you break my heart, you truly do." the Templar said, putting a hand over his chest, feigning pain, "It makes me almost think that we're not really friends."

"It seems you think too much." Lawrence replied, getting tired of the silly game of intimidation, "Something I would hardly ever accuse you of."

"Aren't you the clever little one?" the Templar snarled, losing his bantering mood abruptly, "I will bring that pig shit and his bride to justice, with or without you."

"First concentrate on the bandits." the Hospitaller offered, keeping his composure, "I think that they're connected."

"Really?" Garrett said, taking a step back and having his mood suddenly change again. "Well, that's interesting."

"They started to appear when Eden got here. They grew in number and rode closer when she was imprisoned. And now..."

"Well... it seems that you may have a point... as much as I hate to admit it."

"If I'm right, it might end up that you'll be able to take Dorian on in battle."

"Well why didn't you just say so in the beginning?!" Garrett cried cheerfully, slapping Lawrence on the shoulder, "I wouldn't miss this opportunity for the world!"

"We probably won't have to wait long. Dorian's nearly gone insane with anger."

"Fantastic!" Garrett said with a wide grin and started to make his way out, "I'm going to go spread the good news! See you on the battlefield, dear boy!"

Garrett was out the door and Lawrence leaned against the table. Like every time they met, Lawrence remembered all the reasons he had never liked the Templar. He also wondered how Eden could ever talk to him for longer than half a minute without lopping his head off. It was a thing he would probably never understand. The Hospitaller was worried about the Templar's involvement. Garrett had no idea that Arielle and Eden had been friends and would not take it lightly. His stubbornness would make him pursue the bard until she was punished as he saw fit. And you could accuse Eden of a lot of things, but leaving her friends behind was never one of them. Lawrence let out a long breath. Oh, I sense trouble...

Ever since Dorian had given her the bloodied, black cloak, Arielle hadn't been the same. Any sign of cheerfulness in the bard disappeared. She ate very little and said even less. The bard's nights tortured her with reoccurring nightmares. She saw Eden in her cell, beaten severely, crawling on her knees toward the bard, pleading for her to save her as blood spewed out of her wounds and from under her torn cloak. The blond would awaken with a cry in the night, trembling, her limbs cold as ice but her forehead hot and damp. And after each nightmare she would lie back down, stare at the ceiling and begin to cry until she fell asleep with tears cascading from her eyes until the nightmare returned and she woke again. And every night was the same. She knew there was only one thing that would make the nightmares go away, but that one thing was gone.

Aldric watched the bard gradually disappear as if she was turning into a shadow of herself. It was like someone had doused the flame within her and a dark shroud began to envelope her and pull her away from the colorful and living. The steward tried with all his might to keep the hope alive within her, but the bard would have none of it, determined on hanging herself on her guilt.

Rather surprisingly for Aldric and Arielle, Dorian didn't seem to suspect them of planning Eden's escape. The nobleman knew that they probably had something to do with it, but never that they had actually planned the entire thing. Nevertheless, he was so absorbed by his rage that he had almost forgotten about their existence entirely. The marriage had been postponed to an unknown time in the future for which Arielle secretly thanked every saint she could remember. The bard had even begun to fall into a gray routine of being ignored when Dorian stormed into her chambers one day.

"If I couldn't watch Eden burn, then I will watch the whole world drown in flame!" he shouted with such fury that it made Arielle jump up from her table.

"You killed her. Eden's dead." the bard noted coldly to the pacing nobleman, "What else could you possibly want?"

"I want to see the flames and the fire. I want to smell the smoke." he hissed, approaching the bard and grabbing her by her shoulders, "And you will raze everything to the ground with me. First the Hospitallers. Then the Templars. And anyone else that dares stand in my way."

"You've gone mad."

"Do you think that you are free here? Do you think that they will only want my head for the warrior's death, hm? Oh no, my sweet, they are going to post your empty little head on a spike as well."

His words, actions, and touch sent frigid shivers down her back. Arielle didn't want to go with him, she didn't want anything to do with it. She tried to stop his madness the only way she knew how and implored him to the point that she dropped to her knees, grabbed both his hands in her own, and begged him not to start any wars or battles. He glared at her with utter disgust.

"You pathetic, sniveling tramp!" Dorian shouted, slapping Arielle so violently that she fell back, "You will do as I say because you have nothing else left!"

"You're evil!" Arielle finally screamed, holding the side of her face.

"Have you just noticed that now, you worthless idiot?" he snarled into her face, grabbing her tightly by the back of her hair and shaking her, "You will do as I say, my little whore of a bride, or I will carve you up into pieces and throw you to the dogs to chew up and spit out."

Dorian crouched near the blond, pulled out his dagger, and pushed it menacingly against the bard's chin until a thin line of blood appeared. She saw the wild look in his eyes and it frightened her. Yet, it also just didn't seem to matter anymore.

"I've already died." she said in a whisper.

"Then I'll gladly kill you all over again." he growled.

He quickly got up, put his boot in the bard's face, and kicked her away with such force that she slid across the floor and hit the side of her head on the wall. The nobleman spun on his heel and stomped off, leaving the bard lying there. Aldric soon appeared and knelt down next to the bleeding blond.

"I'll kill him someday, my lady." he growled, wiping away the blood with a handkerchief.

"No," Arielle said quietly, holding her head, "I deserve this. All of it..."

The unfortunate reality of her betrothed's words sunk deep into her heart, making it pound in agony. She had run out of options, there was nowhere to go, there was no one left to save her. She began to think that the only real choice left to her was to either continue to struggle and be miserable in the process or simply succumb. She didn't see the point in fighting for anything anymore. And she began to think that maybe, in the end, she deserved her present fate; she had, after all, killed her friend. Sins are meant to be punished and only good deeds are rewarded.

Later throughout the night, she observed as Dorian's commanders came in and out of his study. She sensed war beginning to stir and Death dusting off his midnight cloak and she was completely helpless. In her desperation and dread, she walked across her chambers, grabbed a large pin from her table, and carved a cross into the wall. She then fell to her knees. Yet, instead of praying, she simply stared at the cross as if she didn't know what it really meant to her anymore. It was only a few steps away from her, yet to Arielle it felt like a thousand leagues. She felt empty, cold, and alone.

"Oh, God," she whispered in a quivering voice, "why have you forsaken me?"

The only answer in the silence was the falling of Arielle's own tears. And as her eyes looked up at the symbol etched hurriedly into the wall, she felt a bleakness creep up her spine from the floor. It burned with a frigid heat, filled her with hollowness, and embraced her with an iron grasp.

"You abandoned me..."

It was like black silk flowing through her veins. It was a crazed chaos that drew everything into itself. It was a tense, insatiable power.

"So I'll abandon You..."

It was hate.

Oh, is this what priests warn against and sinners bask in? Ah, yes, I can feel its power... Take me, take me and make me yours since I'm no longer anyone else's...
Arielle slowly got to her feet and walked over to her balcony, looking out onto the courtyard. She gripped the stone railing tightly. She wanted to crush it in her bare hands, she wanted to break the entire building into hundreds of pieces. She wanted to leave everything in shards just like she was. A voice within her screamed for attention and hung on for dear life as the black ooze flowed through her body and slowly flooded the halls of her usually radiant soul. It just didn't matter anymore. She had tried and failed. She had wanted to choose for herself and had made a fatal mistake. She had wanted everything and had lost all she had. She had disgraced the things she believed in and become a laughing stock of her own conscience. So what was the point if there was nothing and no one left to fight for, if there was no one left to apologize to, if there was no one left to forgive her? She gripped the railing more tightly. I could just jump like the coward that I am...

Aldric shouted the bard's name and she turned around somewhat unwillingly.

"My lady, you are wanted downstairs." the steward said with concern and when he saw that she didn't react, he added, "The lord is adamant about it."

The blond gave him a solemn smile, knowing that it meant that if she didn't go downstairs of her own will, she would be violently dragged down. Though the distraught bard toyed with the idea of letting the fuming noble come up for her and beat her senseless and out of her misery, she decided against it. A battle with the Hospitallers meant that there was a chance that Lawrence might be there. She would find him, tell him she was sorry, ask for at least his forgiveness. After that, she didn't give a rusty coin what happened to her.

"Alright." she replied softly.

Aldric fell into step right behind her and had a strange feeling that Arielle had no intention of ever coming back. Little did he know that neither of them would return.

Dorian went through with his mad threat. He gathered his men during the night and when morning came, a neat force stood outside the walls of Jerusalem. The nobleman demanded the Hospitallers meet him on the battlefield or else he would destroy the city. He brought catapults to the forefront of his line for a moment to show that he was serious. The Hospitallers decided to answer his challenge instead of risking the city to the whims of the crazed noble. Dorian was given the message and trotted happily to the back of his lines, anxiously waiting for his chance to destroy every knight that carried a white cross that he could find.

Lawrence had taken a small force of Hospitallers around the eastern side of the city, up to the top of the Mount of Olives. Though it was a strategic vantage point that overlooked the entire city, the dense groves of olive trees that covered the mountain made it next to impossible to launch an attack from there. After having scanned the area and assessing the situation, the knights carefully made their way through the groves and down the mountain to join the engaged forces from the other side. Lawrence brought up the rear and one by one the knights made their way to the base of the mountain and regrouped to prepare a solid charge. They had formed into line formation and heard the command to advance when a young man suddenly appeared from amongst the trees and blocked Lawrence's path and unknowingly, the Hospitallers left Lawrence behind.

"Oh, the great guardian seer!" the young man cried out with amusement, "To what do I owe this great annoyance?"

"What is your business here?" Lawrence demanded.

"What? No 'hello'? No 'how are you, it's lovely to see you'? I'm almost hurt." the man taunted, "But then again, I understand your rudeness. Your kind has fallen on hard times, hasn't it?"

The man took a haughty look around.

"Yes, we are evidently missing a certain guardian." he said with a sneer.

The sneer on the man's face grew wider and colder as he reached behind his cloak, pulled out a golden crown, placed it on top of his head, and then folded his arms proudly.

"Paimon?" Lawrence asked, half disbelief as the demon revealed his identity.

"My, you're an observant one." the demon huffed, looking at the Hospitaller from under his brows, "Ah... it's dawning on you now, isn't it? Just like the nobleman's last name. Didn't think I'd be that clever, did you guardian?"

"Well no, I didn't think you'd be that stupid." Lawrence replied, unimpressed.

The smile disappeared from Paimon's face as he drew his sword.

The demon was a young one and what he had in energy and tenacity, he lacked in experience and focus. Paimon and Lawrence dueled with all their might, the demon's attacks growing so vicious that Lawrence found himself on the defensive more often than he would have liked. He almost wished that Eden was there, knowing that she would have dispatched the demon with greater ease, but there was no use in thinking about that. But what Lawrence lacked in aggression, he made up for in patience. He let the demon drain his strength and energy in arrogant show and misjudged attacks until he felt that he finally had the upper hand. The battle outside Jerusalem seemed to be swaying in Paymon's favor much to the evil delight of the nobleman when Lawrence began to tip the scales in his private battle. His strikes and swings seemed to grow stronger for the tiring demon. The Hospitaller exerted pressure on the demon, constantly keeping him engaged in battle, feeling Paimon weakening under the strain.

"You're more of a challenge than I thought." the demon admitted, breaking away only to find Lawrence's sword swinging for him again, "If you weren't so disgustingly saintly, I would ask you to lead my army."

"I wouldn't stomach it."

"Then perhaps without a stomach?" the demon quipped.

Paimon suddenly spun around, dropped to one knee, and slammed the pommel of his sword with all his might into Lawrence's stomach, sending to Hospitaller sprawling down on his back. The demon rose, walked up haughtily to the knight, and put one foot on the blade of his sword.

"It doesn't pay to underestimate a good warrior, now does it?" Paimon asked, sneering at the knight and raising his sword to his neck.

Lawrence took a deep breath and used all his strength to suddenly pull his sword from under Paimon's feet, sending the unprepared demon flying backwards. Paimon hit the ground with a loud thud and a few moments later he saw the Hospitaller looming over him with his blade at the demon's neck.

"You're right, it doesn't." Lawrence answered.

Before Lawrence could run the demon through, a chilling horn blew in the distance and Paimon scrambled to his feet faster than Lawrence could react.

"Maybe some other time, no?" Paimon shouted in jovial rage, running off into the distance.

When Paimon diasppeared from view, Lawrence turned his head to the battle outside the city walls. It had evidently now turned in favor of the Hospitallers and the knight watched as some of Dorian's units simply turned around and retreated as if they had suddenly realized that they had taken a wrong turn and had to go back. Though victory was within evident reach, the whole thing worried the Hospitaller- it all seemed much too easy.

From atop his horse, Dorian could see that the battle was being lost and he gnashed his teeth in rage. He shouted out chaotic commands to anyone he found within hearing distance and his troops ran all over the field under orders that were either suicidal or contradicted themselves. At first, the dust that the warriors kicked up choked the men and made it hard to see. Now dark clouds had gathered over them and it began to steadily rain, clearing the air of dust, but quickly turning the churned ground into sticky mud.

An older man with a strangely large and ugly head rode up and stopped next to Dorian.

"What is this?!" Dorian shouted, "This wasn't how it was supposed to end!"

"Even demons can make the mistake of being too arrogant." the man retorted calmly, "Come with me and I'll pull you out of the mess your blind frenzy has gotten you into."

Dorian glanced at the man, to the battlefield, and then back to the man. He pulled up on the reins and turned his horse around to follow the man. Dorian took a moment to turn to look at Arielle, who was still holding the position he posted her as if she was never going to move from there.

"At least I destroyed her." Dorian muttered and then turned back to follow the man.

The land of sparse brush and stones between the mountain and the city walls was littered with bodies and weapons, discarded or lost, holes in the ground left by horses, banners both dirtied and bloodied. And a thick, choking dust now being pulled down by the rain crawled across this spectacle of human carnage in a morbid dance for the fallen. The tide had already clearly turned in favor of the Hospitallers as unit after unit of Dorian's forces was either hacked to pieces or broke and fled. Arielle scanned the battlefield and to her all seemed lost. The dark heavens seemed to share her view, sending rain down to wash away the shame of it all. Word spread down the line that Dorian had fled and now it was every man for himself. Arielle felt nothing; she wasn't afraid of Dorian, she wasn't afraid to be left there alone. But she wondered what she would do now, seeing all the death and destruction that had come about because of her foolishness and selfishness. Especially Eden's death.

She unconsciously pulled out another arrow from her quiver, one like probably a hundred others that she had already sent sailing into the air. She nocked it and turned her gaze out onto the battle. A fluttering black cloak in the distance caught her eye. It reminded her of a thing that had meant something to her. It reminded her of something she once had and foolishly destroyed. It reminded her of something that could have been. Arielle hated it. I know that cloak...

Arielle saw the cloaked swordsman fighting with a bannerman, the banner nearly covering the dueling warriors. Her arrows were never meant for anyone, to the bard there was nothing there to gain or win, but only a loss of self. Yet the mere presence of the cloak infuriated her. She pulled back on the string. It's so familiar...

The arrow left the bow and sailed through the air unaware of Arielle's growing doubt. And time slowed down for the blond who was watching its flight closely. The two warriors struggled, the banner flapping angrily in the scuffle. The arrow began its descent. A blade suddenly came out of the back of the bannerman. Then the bannerman took a step and fell to the ground. The arrow continued its fall. The banner dropped along with its carrier. That cloak...It can't be!

Arielle saw a memory suddenly become real when she saw a deep red cloak fringe. The arrow met its mark like her arrows always did. The bard watched as someone, who looked hauntingly like Eden clutched her shoulder in pain and sank to her knees.

"It can't be..." Arielle whispered.

Arielle dropped her bow and now moved in a complete daze of something she was unable to comprehend. How could Eden be in the middle of this battle if she was already dead? Or was she? Arielle's pace quickened as she walked straight towards the warrior completely oblivious to the battle around her. Her every sense screamed that that was Eden wounded on the battlefield, but her mind continued to argue that Eden was already gone. Nevertheless, her legs picked up speed, her arms pumping, her heart pounding. The closer she got, the more she began to realize that she had been lied to again. And this lie had been the most hideous one of them all.

Arielle finally reached Eden and stared at her in astounded surprise.

"My God, this can't be." Arielle whispered chokingly, "He said you were dead... He showed me your bloodied cloak..."

Eden caught her gaze, looking up at her weakly.

"Is that really you?" Eden murmured, half in surprise to see the bard again and half in shock at how the bard looked like a shadow of her former self.

"Oh, good God, what have I done? What have I done?!... Eden?!" Arielle was practically shouting in terrible realization, staring at the arrow in Eden's shoulder.

"It is you..." Eden whispered absently with relief.

The blond dropped to her knees in front of Eden and pulled her into an embrace without thinking. Eden at first did nothing and the bard suddenly realized what she had done and waited for Eden to push her away and tell her to leave. But that moment never came. Arielle pulled her shaking hand through the warrior's wet and dirtied raven hair. There were so many words she wanted to say, but she didn't say a single one, afraid one word might break the spell they were under.

Despite all the harm and pain that had passed between them, their arms somehow wrapped around each other in a need for assurance and in a defiance against anyone that might try to separate them again. They breathed in gasps of astonishment and disbelief and nearly suffocated themselves in locked embraces, their eyes wide, their hands carefully roaming head, hair, shoulders, and back making sure again and again that this was not a hoax or figment of imagination. And when their hands assured them of their physical presence, their emotions broke loose and the bard choked on sobs dictated by the pounding of their racing hearts. Arielle buried her face, contorting in a simultaneous pain and joy, in the warrior's neck and Eden rested her cheek on the bard's head. Nothing else existed in those few moments when the two reunited through the warmth of their forgiveness and the breaths that they covered each other in.

Eden felt Arielle's heart pounding against her chest, but she felt strangely calm. Despite everything, the words, the torture, the ridicule, and even the arrow wound, she felt strangely peaceful and in place. And that fact alone scared Eden more than all the battle around her ever could. In the end, Eden was in the mud and rain, exhausted, and with an arrow in her shoulder and she was... content. And despite her wounds and exhaustion and her wish to simply fall asleep right then and there, she somehow felt that everything that had happened, had actually happened in order to lead up to this point. Arielle gently pulled away and looked at the warrior with a tear-stained face. Eden gave the bard a ghost of a smile as she slowly dropped to the ground on her left side.

"Dear God, how could I do this to you?!" the bard whispered in agony as she bent over Eden, brushing the hair from the guardian's forehead.

"Well, you did warn me once... that you never miss..." the guardian quipped to the bard's large surprise.

Arielle was stunned. She felt so many emotions and all at once and for a moment she was afraid that she might go mad. But that one comment, that one fragment of friendliness was enough for the light in her to grab hold and begin to climb out from under the avalanche of disgust and contempt that she felt for herself. It seemed that there, amongst the death and ruin that the bard was convinced that she had brought about, Eden didn't hate her. And it was more than she could have hoped for and the most overwhelming thing of all.

"I thought you were dead... He said you were and I believed him... I believed it..." Arielle choked out, shaking her head in guilty sorrow.

"No..." Eden answered, not really knowing what to say, "your plan went well."

Arielle smiled weakly and then swept the battlefield with her tired eyes.

"There is no God here." she said flatly, staring out into the distance, "There is no truth, no justice, no love. And I... I'm a pathetic fraud... And you, Eden..." she said, turning to the warrior, "A guardian. My friend... What have I done to you?"

Arielle knotted her brows as if she couldn't understand what was going on around her. Eden looked up at her in concern. The dark words and tone that the bard used somehow frightened the warrior who saw something painfully familiar in them.

"My arrow lies buried in you, when it and all the others here should lie buried in me." Arielle noted with a resigned will in her voice.

"No. Stop it. Just stop it." Eden demanded, grasping the bard's arm.

The warrior heard the discarded life in the bard's voice and it was something that Arielle, despite everything, really didn't deserve. Eden knew better than anyone that in the end, new wounds never made the old ones disappear and that once someone had given up, there seemed to be a never-ending string of possibilities to punish one's self and never be satisfied. Arielle would lose her light, her curiosity of life, her hope. The guardian didn't want the bard to ever travel down that road.

"Listen to me, Arielle." Eden continued, bringing her hand up to the bard's cheek, "I'm not your judge, I'm your friend... Everyone makes their mistakes and so have we, but this battle is not your fault... You were just a convenience, not an evil... So stop this. Enough."

The bard looked at Eden as if she didn't believe her. Her hate wanted her to think that this was all a trick, it was all only what she wanted to hear. But the light within her began to grow louder and stronger, screaming at the top of its lungs that this was real. And Eden could see the realization dawn in those dark green eyes that became watery.

"I am so sorry, Eden... Can you forgive your friend for what she did?... I could have listened..."

"I forgive you... I could have protected you better..." Eden replied, revealing her own doubts.

"No," the bard said sternly, "you did nothing wrong. It was my fault. I was wrong."

"It's over now." Eden whispered.

The words seemed to be a final decision that took all that had happened and finally locked it up in the chest of the past. Now they had found each other again and their friendship was being returned to them to reclaim, to rebuild, and to rejoice in. The bard looked down at the guardian with eyes full of admiring appreciation. As long as she is alive, then You haven't abandoned me.

Armed with only a faint hope, the bard pulled the warrior up to rest on her knees and then leaned over her and drew her close in fistfuls with such intensity that it would leave bruises on Eden's arms. But the warrior didn't mind; that the bard was there was all that was important and she held the blond as tightly as she could with her good arm. And the fact that Arielle had belittled that affection before, an affection so rare she had now come to see, almost made her heart break. Here, in the middle of a battlefield, amongst men still relentlessly hacking away at each other, she felt loved, protected, and cared for by the reserved and concerned warrior. She slowly realized that nothing bad ever seemed to happen to her in Eden's arms.

A straggling spearman pulled the friends from their moment, shouting to Arielle to run because all was lost.

"Where is... Where is Dor-" Eden started.

"No... No more..." Arielle calmed, placing one hand on Eden's good shoulder.

Eden looked up into the bard's calm and gentle, yet hurt and frightened green eyes. She noticed the bruises and marks on Arielle's face and neck and felt a hot anger rise within her.

"What happened to you?" the guardian whispered.

Arielle only smiled sadly and Eden immediately understood.

"I'll tear him apart-" Eden sputtered, trying to get up in a wave of rage.

"No..." Arielle countered, keeping Eden down, "You're staying right here... He'll be my demon, not yours."

A stray arrow flew close over the bard's head and made the bard's mind switch gears.

"I need to get you out of here." Arielle said.

The bard pushed back all the hundreds of emotions she seemed to be feeling and scanned the battlefield and racked her brain for a plan. The only realistic one that came to her mind was also the one she hated the most.

"Leave me here. Go find Lawrence." Eden said, reading her mind and making the decision for her.

"No, I'm not leaving you here." Arielle protested.

"Go."

"No."

"Arielle," Eden reasoned, "you have to find help. Go find Lawrence. I'll lean against that tree. I can pretend I'm dead."

"Don't even pretend it." the bard challenged.

"I haven't died of an arrow yet," Eden said attempting to calm the blond down, "and I'm not planning to now."

The bard knew that Eden was right. She was in absolutely no shape to pull, drag, or carry the warrior more than three steps in any direction. And she made a mental note of it as another thing to hate herself for. She finally nodded in hesitant agreement and helped the warrior drag herself over to the nearby tree. When she had somehow situated herself as comfortably as possible, the bard dashed off in search of Lawrence.

Although the arrow shaft was sturdy and kept the warrior from bleeding out, it was still painful and Eden felt a tired haziness begin to creep into her head and she shook it angrily from time to time, letting the cold rain run down her back, determined to stay conscious. She pushed and shoved all her senses to the very edge of their ability, her mind and her muscle working together to keep each other present. Only when she saw Arielle return with Lawrence, did she finally let up on herself, letting Lawrence pull her onto the hasty litter he had brought. The Hospitaller carried it from the front and Arielle absolutely insisted that she help and she carried it from the back.

Eden let her body go, relaxing the ready tension in it and pooling all her resources to keep her mind awake. She watched the bard through half-closed eyes, the present strain and past hardship on her face so evident that Eden felt like hopping off the litter and finding the nobleman to turn him into manure. Only when their eyes sometimes met, did the bard's strain vanish for a moment as if by magic.

They carried Eden back to the city and to the Hospital of St. John to the Hospitaller physician. He asked them to leave, but Arielle insisted on staying and he didn't have time to argue. The bard watched him pull the arrow out and cauterize the wound, gritting her teeth when Eden did, amazed that the guardian hardly made a sound. He dressed the wound quickly and then ran off to the several other patients the battle kept dragging in. Arielle settled down next to the warrior and took her by the hand.

"Sleep now." she said softly.

Eden wanted to stay awake, but the exhaustion and pain were too much and overthrew her. And just as Eden closed her eyes, the two women were both wondering whether the bard would be there when she awoke. Eden wondered if she would perhaps return to Dorian. Arielle wondered if she wasn't going to be taken away in shackles by Dorian, the Templars, the Hospitallers, or perhaps even Satan himself.