"The future has many paths – choose wisely."

ACE OF HEARTS: ENTWINED FATES

EPISODE I: CHAPTER IV

DREAMS

The Princess lives! Following the harrowing battle at Tyler Island, Princess Rosa Cossette D'Elise has narrowly escaped a deadly assassination plot, thanks to the daring heroism of Trigger, Osea's legendary ace pilot.

Meanwhile, the evil forces of FREE ERUSEA and remnants of the radical faction plot their resurgence, led by the eccentric and ruthless Alistair Dupont. Armed with terrifying new technology, they seek to shatter the tenuous peace and reclaim their vision of dominance…

Royal Palace, Farbanti, Erusea. May 16, 2018. One year before the Lighthouse War.

This… affront cannot go unanswered! The construction of the International Space Elevator is a blatant violation of our sovereignty!"

King Dréaud looked up raising an eyebrow. "It is a civilian project funded and operated by the IUN. Its purpose is humanitarian, used only for economic stability and rebuilding Usea after the Ulysses disaster. How is that a threat?"

"It's a Trojan horse!" A radical interjected, leaning forward. "A so-called 'humanitarian' effort that masks Osea's true intentions. Mark my words, Your Majesty, the elevator will become a strategic foothold—a weapon of control in the hands of our enemies."

Princess Rosa, seated quietly at the king's side, frowned. "But the space elevator has brought stability to the region. It has created jobs and helped rebuild nations that were devastated. Isn't that... a good thing?"

"A good thing? For whom, Your Highness?" one sneered. "Certainly not for us! Osea dominates the IUN. Do you really think they'll stop at rebuilding? No, they'll expand their influence further, pressing closer to our borders, and when they do, what will we have to show for it? Nothing!"

Dréaud's gaze hardened. "And what do you propose? War? Surely you don't believe we have the resources or the alliances to take them on."

"Not yet," one of the radicals admitted. "But with the right preparation, the right strategy... we can secure Erusea's future. Your Majesty, Princess, this isn't just about the elevator. It's about our survival as a sovereign nation."

Rosa's frown deepened and she looked around the room. "But the people... they don't want war. They want peace. Prosperity. How can we justify—"

"—Princess. Your voice is the voice of our nation. You are beloved by the people. They trust you to lead them. Do you truly believe that allowing Osea to tighten its grip on Usea will bring lasting peace?"

Dréaud, sensing his daughters wavering resolve, spoke firmly. "Rosa, this is not your burden to bear. Our duty is to weigh the facts, not to be swept up in fearmongering."

The lead radical seized the moment. "Fearmongering? Or foresight? Your Majesty, with all due respect, history will judge us harshly if we fail to act. But with your approval and Princess Rosa's voice rallying the people, we could turn the tide. She could unite Erusea against this threat."

Before Rosa could retort, a conservative rose from his seat sensing her discomfort. "We are not prepared to take such steps, let alone withstand the economic fallout that would follow."

Undeterred, the radical speaker raised a hand to placate the room. "You're absolutely right, this isn't a task for ordinary minds. It requires someone with unparalleled brilliance, someone who can outthink Osea's strategists and outmanoeuvre their technological advances."

The conservative froze mid-sentence, his face pale. "You're not suggesting who I think you are…"

"I know, I know," the radical replied, raising both hands defensively. "He's a little... weird."

"Weird?! The man's a walking bushfire!"

"Oh no, no no no."

"No way we're getting him onboard."

"This is insane."

"Ah," the radical said, raising a finger. "But he's also brilliant! Five PhDs, an IQ that breaks every chart, and his drone technology is revolutionary."

"And you're sure... he can handle this?" Dréaud cut in.

The radical nodded with absolute conviction. "Your Majesty, he has a perfect operational record. Remember the Usean coup d'état? Or the Australian Spider infestation?"

Dréaud blinked. "That's not even a country."

"Exactly!" the radical declared. "And you can thank Alistair for that."

A low groan echoed from the other end of the table, where General Labarthe rubbed his temples. "I can't believe you're bringing that… freak into this."

The radical threw up his hands, exasperated. "Neither can I! But we have no choice. The situation demands brilliance, and whatever else Alistair may be, he is brilliant."

(Present Day) Cape Rainy Airbase, Erusea. September 20, 2019. (Trigger will start to be referred to as Alex)

The moment Alex touched down on the runway, everything that just happened came crashing down. He had convinced himself if only for a moment that it was adrenaline. That the feeling he felt was a passing surge of protectiveness that would fade once his boots hit the ground. But as he powered down the engines and went through the shutdown procedure, he couldn't stop thinking of her. The way she stood amidst the pure destruction, flare in hand, refusing to give in. The memory burned in his mind clear as day.

He climbed out of his cockpit, slowly and deliberately. He felt relieved the mission was over, but his pulse refused to settle, though there was no danger. A ground crew member asked him something and he just nodded, not hearing a word the man said.

Rosa's voice lingered in his head, soft and resolute, and the way she said his name sent a warmth through him he couldn't get rid of. Alex. Not The Three Strikes, not Trigger. Just Alex, spoken with a familiarity that cut deep.

He leaned against his jet for a moment, taking a slow, shaky but steadying breath. It did nothing to calm the storm inside. He remembered the way his heart leapt when their eyes met, the strange calm that settled over him when he'd heard her voice, and the need to protect her. It was now that he realised something. He cared for her, more than he knew he should, more than he ever thought possible.

Count noticed immediately. The second he caught sight of Alex walking away from the hangar, he smirked like a man who'd just been handed a juicy secret. He fell into step beside him, slapping a hand on his shoulder. "Well, well, Trigger. That's the look of a man who's got something weighing on him. You wanna spill it, or you gonna keep playing it cool?"

Alex shrugged, attempting nonchalance, but even he could feel how weak it came off. "It's… nothing. Just the mission."

"'Just the mission,' my ass," Count shot back, cocking his head and grinning. "You've got that far away, dreamy-eyed pilot look. What's her name? Don't tell me—it's Rosa, isn't it? Yeah… I remember our little conversation." He waggled his eyebrows like he'd just cracked a code.

Alex stopped dead, giving Count a pointed glare. "I don't have a look."

"Oh, but you have a look," Count said, spinning on his heel to face him. "I bet you were up there, dodging SAMs and lighting up tanks, all while thinking, 'If I do this right, maybe she'll bake me a peace-treaty cake.'"

Alex rolled his eyes so hard he swore he saw his own brain. "You are absolutely insufferable…"

"Insufferable?" Count let out a gasp. "I'm charming. Dashing. Humble, even."

"Sure, let's go with that if you want," Alex said quietly, plotting Count's demise.

Count threw his arms out dramatically. "But hey, I get it. She's a Princess. You're a war hero. It's basically a rom com waiting to happen."

Huxian, overhearing as she walked past, let out a bark of laughter. "Oh, this is gold. Please, don't stop on my account." She sidled up, slinging an arm around Alex's shoulders and leaning in with a teasing grin. "So, Trigger, what's it like saving a Princess? Did she faint in your arms? Did you kiss her hand? Did you two exchange longing glances in slow motion?"

"I'm in a sealed cockpit you idiot."

Jaeger strolled over with a cup of coffee in hand, already radiating disapproval. "You two are relentless," he said, shaking his head. "Give the guy a break. He just got out."

"Thank you," Alex replied, relieved.

"But," Jaeger added, "you do seem a little… distracted."

Alex groaned, throwing his head back. "Aw fuck me… Not you too."

"Oh, come on!" Huxian interjected, poking him in the ribs. "You're the stoic guy with a heart of gold. The audience is dying to know what's going on in that head of yours."

Count grinned. "Yeah, don't leave us hanging, Romeo. Was it the flare? Did it get you? Oh wait—" He clapped his hands together in mock realisation. "It was her saying your name, wasn't it?"

"I hate all of you."

"Oh, he's feisty today," Huxian teased. "It's the love bug, isn't it? It makes you snarky. Come on, Trigger. Spill it already."

Alex ran a hand through his hair looking around at them. These were his people, the ones who'd flown beside him, fought beside him, and seen him at his best and worst. If there was anyone he could trust to handle the truth, it was them.

"Fine," he said sharply, raising his hands in surrender. The group immediately quieted, their teasing grins fading slightly when they sensed the shift in his tone. "I care about her," He crossed his arms, glancing at the floor for a moment before meeting their eyes again. "Alright? I care about her. And not because the mission said to protect her. She's strong, and brave, and she doesn't give up—even when everything's stacked against her."

His voice softened, almost as if he were speaking more to himself than to them. "She's been through so much, and somehow, she's still fighting. She kept trying to be a voice of reason in this war. And in the end, it almost cost her everything." He glanced at his friends. "That kind of courage… I don't know how I couldn't look up to that."

There was a beat of silence, the teasing atmosphere cooled into something more serious. Huxian spoke up again, tilting her head. "Wow, Trigger. That's... actually kind of sweet."

Count pushed off the crate with a genuine smile. "Hey, man. You could've just said that in the first place. We'd have let up."

"Would you?" Alex chuckled.

"Okay, maybe not," Count admitted with a shrug. "But at least now we know you're not just brooding for the sake of it. You've got a good reason."

Jaeger took another sip of coffee, nodding thoughtfully. "Yeah Rosa's lucky to have you looking out for her, Trigger. And we're lucky to have you, too. You don't let people in easily, so if she's managed to get past that, it says a lot."

Huxian nudged him playfully in the arm. "You know we're just messing with you because we care, right? But seriously, we've got your back—whatever happens. Whether it's SAMs or your love life."

Alex rolled his eyes, but this time not out of annoyance. "Yeah, yeah. I love you guys. Now can we move on?"

"Sure, sure," Count said with a wink. "But only because we're feeling generous. For now."

Huxian and Jaeger exchanged amused glances, and the four of them started walking again, the teasing finally easing into a companionable silence. Alex felt lighter somehow. His feelings no longer pressed quite so heavily on his chest. He'd said it out loud, and they hadn't mocked him for it—or not too much, at least.

While they walked, Count glanced over at him, a sly grin creeping back onto his face. "Just one thing, though. When this all blows over and the Princess writes her memoirs, I'm making sure your chapter is called Trigger Happy Ever After."

Alex groaned, running a hand down his face. "I take it back. I don't love any of you."

Alex stood at the edge of the tarmac, watching the rescue helicopter touch down. Soldiers disembarked first, moving briskly and efficiently, medics followed, carrying equipment and assisting the wounded. His heart pounded while he waited, scanning each person with laser focus. And then she appeared, stepping carefully onto solid ground.

It was his first time seeing her in person—not through a screen, not through a photograph, but standing there, flesh and blood. Rosa Cossette D'Elise. The voice that he'd heard all those times before, the face that reminded him of hope. Her dress was torn, streaked with dirt and blood, and her skin marred by bruises. But her posture remained steady, her expression unbroken. Defiant. Resilient.

She looked up, and their eyes met. Alex froze, caught off guard by the clarity in her gaze. There was a flicker of recognition in the way she looked at him, like she'd found something—or someone—she'd been searching for. He hesitated, turning his head slowly to glance over his shoulder to see if there was someone important standing there, but the space was empty. When he turned back, her eyes hadn't wavered, her expression was steady, quiet, and unmistakably meant for him.

He saw her move forward, slow and hesitant, noticing every detail in each step—she was heavy with exhaustion and every movement looked laboured, as though sheer willpower was the only thing keeping her upright. His breath caught as his eyes locked onto the dark red stain spreading across the torn fabric of her dress, a gash at her side that glistened faintly in the light. The sight of it sent a cold shock through him. She was hurt—badly—and trying to push through it. She stumbled slightly, losing her balance for just a moment, and in that instant, something inside him snapped. Before he realised it, his feet were moving. "She's hurt, why isn't anyone helping her?"

Rosa's world meanwhile was spinning, her vision blurred faintly at the edges while her body screamed for rest. But with her eyes locked onto him, she felt a jolt of energy. She realised that she trusted him—completely, absolutely—and as her legs carried her forward, it was though she subconsciously knew he was the only place she could find refuge. She stumbled again, her knees threatening to give out, but she forced herself forward.

Her steps faltered one last time and her body finally gave out. She crumpled forward, her strength spent, and Alex surged the last few steps to catch her. She looked up at him, flushed from embarrassment, but her eyes were full of trust and gratitude.

"Hey, hey, "I've got you, Rosa. I'm not letting go, okay? Just stay with me."

Without a second thought, Alex rose to his feet, carrying her across the tarmac with a determination that only let him feel weight of her in his arms and the urgency of getting her to safety. His gaze was forward, focused, not paying attention to the gathering eyes that watched him pass.

"You're safe now. I promise."

She leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder. The rhythmic cadence of his steps and the quiet, even sound of his breath enveloped her, in a warm, safe feeling. The pain and turmoil of the world faded, replaced by the simple truth that as long as he held her, she would be okay. She clung to that feeling, whispering his name.

"Alex… It's you..."

Her voice was barely audible, more breath than sound, but it was enough to make him glance down at her. The world around her was still a smear of colour and light, but his face stood out, sharply defined against the haze. He held her close, feeling her slow, unsteady breaths against him, while her body shivered. Her eyes closed eventually, and she went limp in his arms, finally letting go.

Count, lounging by a stack of crates, straightened up with a look of exaggerated shock, pushing his aviators down his nose for effect. "Man walks in looking like he just fought a whole war by himself. Someone tell him he's allowed to take a break."

Long Caster, perched on a nearby table with his prized cheeseburger in one hand and a half-finished coffee in the other, barely lifted his gaze. "Break? Right. Trigger's idea of a break is probably staring at his jet like he's in a recruitment ad." He took a sip of his coffee and grimaced. "Assuming Count hasn't spilled crap in there."

"Heyyyy…" Count shot back as if personally offended. "Trigger's got bigger problems now than a little coffee spill."

Huxian appeared from behind a toolbox and slung her arm around Count. "Yeah, like carrying a princess while looking like a total action hero. Not dramatic at all."

Avril marched up, giving Alex a once-over as he passed. "You know, Dumbass, if you wanted to make a dramatic entrance, you could've just blown up another fleet.

Alex shot her a glare but didn't break stride toward the med bay.

"Careful, Avril," Count said, wagging a finger. "Guy's probably running on fumes. Last thing we need is him dropping her just to come throttle you."

"He can't," Long Caster cut in, gesturing wildly. "That's about ninety percent of Osea's peace deal right there. He's one Royal-related incident away from a court martial."

Count's expression softened with his usual smirk replaced with concern. "Alright, jokes aside, what's the deal here? She didn't look good, man. And Trigger? That guy's been flat out since Farbanti. No sleep, no food—he's like a damn machine, which he isn't."

"Yeah, he's pushing himself way too hard. I don't think he even realises it." Huxian replied.

Jaeger exhaled heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, bt it's not like it's new for him to push himself like this. But today made me think. I don't think he was trying to be the hero; he just… had to save her."

Long Caster, still perched on the table, set his coffee down with a sharp clink. "And that's a good thing," he said bluntly. "Trigger's always flown like he's got something to prove. It's why he's the best. But maybe he's finally figured out there's more to this than racking up kills and dodging court-martials. He let someone in. I'm not saying it's not risky, but… it's growth."

Count chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Never thought I'd see the day, but… I kinda like it. Makes him more human, y'know? But if anything happens to her…"

"Then we've got his back. Always have, always will." Long Caster said, brushing crumbs from his lap. "We should all keep a closer eye on him now."

Parliament House, Farbanti. September 20, 2019.

The grand chamber of the Parliament House stood in eerie silence; its once-proud walls now draped with the banners of occupation. Sunlight filtered through the cracked stained-glass windows, casting fractured beams across the polished wooden floor. Lucien Deroche (Rosa's closest advisor) sat at an old, imposing desk, its surface bare except for a single folder. His long fingers flicked over its edges as though feeling the pulse of something alive within. He opened it, and the sounds of rustling papers broke the silence. The first page bore a name boldly across the top:

Captain Alexander Krieger—Callsign: Strider One, Tac name: Trigger.

He leaned back in his chair and let the report rest lightly in his hands. His sharp eyes flicked from page to page, tracing every declassified detail—every confirmed kill, every narrow escape, every mission. But it was the last entry—the Tyler Island mission—that he was most eager to read.

After reading through the details, a faint, genuine smile formed across his face. He could picture the chaos in the skies so vividly and see Alex's shift from precision to raw instinct. The way he had broken formation, ignored his squadron, and plunged headfirst into uncertainty for the slightest chance of saving her, made Lucien think.

How… Interesting.

His gaze to drifted toward the window, watching workers below repairing a damaged road and nearby building. He thought of Rosa—her defiance, her resolve and her vision for a prosperous nation without war. A vision she held so dear that it nearly cost her life. But now, there was a new and intriguing element: the Osean ace. A man who had once been the bane of Erusea's skies, now inexplicably bound to its heir. There were questions that needed answering. Why? How had a figure so feared and loathed by Erusea come to stand at her side?

His mind was already working. This wasn't mere coincidence—of that, he was certain. Whatever had brought the two together could be shaped, refined and nurtured. Alex was still young with so much untapped potential, not to be wasted. This connection, if guided carefully, could grow into something formidable. The possibilities were vast, and Lucien was determined to discover them.

A knock at the door drew him away from his thoughts. His gaze from the skyline didn't waver. He reached forward, sliding the folder into a drawer carefully. He rose and stepped deliberately across the room and opened the door. An Erusean officer stood there rigidly, carefully neutral. Lucien regarded him for a moment, stepped out, and closed the door, leaving the study once again in silence.

"What do you make of it?" Lucien asked. He didn't turn, just kept walking, hands clasped behind his back. "The Osean ace—this so-called terror of our Air Force—choosing to save Erusea's Princess. The Princess of his sworn enemy."

The officer hesitated for a moment, slowing his strides to think of what to say. He looked back up. "Perhaps he acted out of duty. The mission was to rescue her after all."

Lucien tilted his head slightly, the faintest smirk forming. "Duty," he echoed as if the word amused him. "I've read the report. Alexander Krieger seemed to act on impulse and instinct alone. No, there's something more at play. Something personal."

The officer remained silent, while his discomfort grew under Lucien's scrutiny.

"Tell me," Lucien continued turning to face the man. "Do you believe he did it for her? For Rosa?"

"Well… I wouldn't know his motives, sir. But it's clear he values her life."

Lucien nodded softly. "Indeed. And perhaps that could make him a valuable ally." He stepped closer to the officer as they paused near a broken window. "I would very much like to meet this Alex Krieger."

"I can arrange it sir."

"Good," Lucien said softly. "And Rosa. She's been through so much—too much. She'll need to see a familiar face before she's swallowed by all the… politics."

"Yes sir. She's still recovering at Cape Rainy, but I'm sure she'll appreciate your visit." The officer slipped out of the building, the heavy door closing softly behind him.

Lucien remained by the broken window, the fractured glass casting distorted reflections of his face. He closed his eyes, imagining the possibilities at play now. Openening them again, a faint chuckle escaped his lips, soft and almost dismissive at first, but it lingered, growing louder with each passing second, turning into an unsettling laugh that echoed through the empty halls.

Radical High Command ISEV, September 20, 2019.

Alistair's gadget packed lair buzzed steadily as he hunched over his command console. Behind him, a drone prototype sat towering over him. He got up and walked over to the open access panel near the nose of the aircraft and got to work. His hands darted around the open panel like an overcaffeinated surgeon, with each twist of a wire accompanied by the rhythmic bob of his head thumping to the disco beat of 'Stayin' Alive'.

"Alright, my beautiful mechanical death-bringer," he murmured, tightening a final wire. "Daddy's giving you a little something special. Soon, you'll be the most dangerous thing in the sky since God got bored and invented geese!"

Unbeknownst to him, General Beauregard had been standing silently behind him for several minutes, swaying along to the music with the same stiff awkwardness as a dad at a wedding.

Alistair spun his chair, snapping his fingers to the beat, straight into beauroguard's chest. "Ha Ha Ha Ha Stayin' Aliiii—AHHHHHHHHH!"

"—I just wondered if you'd like an oat milk latte."

Without breaking eye contact, Alistair snatched the cup. "What do I look like, a moron? Of course I want a latte! I LOVE THE WAY YOU MAKE THEM!"

Before he could bask in coffee bean perfection, the console emitted a sharp ding. Both men froze, snapping to the screen. Slowly, Alistair leaned forward, his manic grin returning as the text scrolled across the display.

"Message from Dr. Schroeder…?" Beauregard read aloud, peering over Alistair.

Alistair's fingers flew across the keyboard. "Beauroguard?"

"Yes sir?"

"Ready the Prototypes. I have an important announcement to make. HAHAHAHA."

Cape Rainy Airbase, Erusea. September 20, 2019.

Trees swayed gently in the warm breeze, their leaves catching the light and shimmering with an otherworldly radiance. Butterflies and bees moved lazily between clusters of wildflowers, whispering secrets to the wind. Above, the sky unfurled in a wash of soft blues and molten golds, streaked with wisps of clouds that drifted without purpose. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, painting the forest floor with shifting patches of warmth, each beam a quiet blessing on the stillness.

Rosa walked into the woods lightly, her step firm and steady on the soft mossy earth below. The air was sweet and soothing, while the birds sang in soft harmony, each note blending seamlessly into the next. Further ahead, there was a brook murmuring low, catching the sunbeams playfully with capricious brightness. The forest was nothing but a cocoon of calm.

Then, from the shifting mosaic of light and shadow, a figure emerged. She froze, her heart leaped with excitement as its features sharpened to clarity—it was Alex. He took a step toward her, and his presence filled the space between them.

A single tear slipped down her cheek, not from fear or pain, but from the overwhelming comfort of his presence. When his hand rose to brush it away, the warmth of his touch spread through her in a soft wave. It grounded her, yet it also set her adrift in the beauty of feeling truly seen and understood. She no longer felt a vague, nameless ache in her chest anymore, but clear, potent feelings for him.

The scene shifted, dissolving like watercolour under a sudden rain. When the world sharpened again, she stood at the edge of a tranquil lake, its surface a sheet of silver glass reflecting the deepening twilight. The air was cool now, carrying the faint, delicate scent of rose. Alex stood beside her, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched. They didn't speak, but the silence wasn't empty. The stars above reflected in his eyes, and she felt completely at peace with him.

A soft voice pulled her back, cutting through the dreamlike veil. "We need to get her inside."

The dream shattered, pulling her back into reality. She blinked sluggishly, her eyelids heavy, but caught fragments of the real world: bright overhead lights, the sounds of medical equipment, and the blurred faces of medics and doctors moving swiftly around her. Pain throbbed in her side, sharp and raw, yet somehow distant. She was more focused on the figure standing beside her. Alex.

She wanted to tell him how much he meant to her already, how much his presence banished the lingering shadows, but she couldn't. Her body refused her will, leaving her with only enough strength to offer a faint, fragile smile.

As the medical staff moved in, Alex hesitated, reluctant to leave her. Rosa reached out and gave his hand a gentle squeeze, reassuring him. He then stepped back just enough to give them room. When sleep pulled her under again, the stars and the lake returned, and the faint memory of his voice whispered through the stillness: I've got you.

Alex lingered there for a while in the background, slowly making his way to the exit. His thoughts were interrupted by Count standing in the doorway. "Hey Romeo," Count called out while leaning casually against the doorframe. "Carey's looking for you. Something about going to the office—probably wants to chew you out for showing off again."

Alex sighed, brushing a hand through his hair and looked up at count. "Can you keep an eye on her?"

"Nah lover boy," Count replied stepping aside to let him pass. "The doc's got this and besides, you're not getting rid of me that easily. If Carey's chewing you out, I'm not missing the show."

Alex shot him a flat look but didn't protest and they made their way down the corridor.

The office was a curious blend of military order and eccentric charm, a reflection of its equally enigmatic occupant. The walls, though plain and bare, were adorned with colourful maps of Usea, framed portraits of naval battles, and a curious assortment of botanical sketches that hinted at a personal hobby. A polished oak desk, stood at the centre of the room, stacked with neatly organized papers and a brass telescope propped in one corner for no apparent reason.

Comfortable leather armchairs, mismatched yet inviting, surrounded the desk, and a globe perched precariously atop a side table next to a teapot and a tin of biscuits. The air carried the aroma of freshly brewed tea mixed with the faint tang of pipe tobacco, making the room feel oddly cozy despite the constant hum of jets and the distant rhythm of marching boots outside.

Alex stood at the centre of the room; hands clenched by his side. Major Carey Boyce paced in front of him like a shark circling a seal. "You have a lot to answer for." He spat. "Abandoning your squadron to chase after her? An Erusean?"

Alex could feel his shoulders tense up. "She was the mission… sir." He snapped coldly with restrained anger. "Or did you forget that part of the briefing?"

"Don't start," Carey shot back. "Your job was to stay with your squadron, not play dress up for some spoiled Princess. You've always been reckless and impulsive, but this… this is a new low."

Outside the door, Count, Huxian and Jaeger listened in, shooting each other concerned looks.

"Uh oh…" Huxian muttered.

Alex leaned forward, eyes blazing. "Well what choice did I have?" He demanded, sharp and cutting. "If it were you on this mission, the moment there was any doubt, you'd have folded and left her to die, wouldn't you?"

Carey sneered at him "Don't you dare—"

—"Don't what? Speak the truth? You hate Eruseans. You've made that crystal clear. You would've let her bleed out slowly just to satisfy your twisted little grudge."

Carey's expression darkened and his voice turned low and venomous. "Don't you dare lecture me; I see through the lies of these Erusean snakes. Their sweet talk, their tears… all because the war turned sour for them, it's all a game. A ploy to win sympathy while they plan to stab us in the back. You're just too blind to see it."

He leaned closer. "Between you and me, the only reason we even bothered with her is because she'll be easier to control once this war is over. That's all she'll ever be good for."

Before things could boil over, the door flew open, and in marched General Padbury, his posture regal, his grin wide enough to rival the horizon. He was a striking figure, broad shouldered with a full head of silver hair swept back as if styled by the wind itself. His bright eyes twinkled with mischief, and his rosy cheeks gave him the appearance of a man who had just returned from a brisk seaside walk.

Dressed in an impeccably tailored uniform adorned with polished brass buttons and a cascade of colourful ribbons, Padbury looked more like a dashing hero from an adventure novel than a hardened military leader.

"Tuh dah! Ah, what's this? A squabble among gentlemen? Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!" he boomed, hands clasped in front of him as if preparing for a jovial lecture. His gaze flitted between the two men with a hint of amusement in his expression "Carey, my dear fellow! Must I be subjected to your tiresome drivel every time I set foot in here? Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

Carey straightened. "General, Krieger abandoned his squadron and compromised the mission—"

Padbury raised a gloved hand with a flourish, cutting him off. "Oh, spare me your drudgery, Carey! The mission, as I recall, was to secure the Princess, and unless my eyes are deceiving me, she's safe and sound. A resounding success, I daresay! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

"With respect sir, Krieger's insubordination—"

"With respect, you say? Ha-ha-ha!" Padbury interrupted. "No Carey, you wouldn't recognise respect even if it came up and introduced itself with a handshake." He straightened, gesturing toward the door with a calm but commanding authority. "Now, off with you, before I draft you into the kitchen to scrub pots. You'd make a splendid scullery maid, don't you think? Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

Carey's face turned a deep shade of red, he stomped out, slamming the door behind him.

Padbury let the echo of the door fade before turning to Alex, his grin as infectious as ever. "Well done, Krieger, well done indeed! Pay no heed to that blustering windbag. Ha-ha! Onward, my lad, onward! The future awaits, and it's as bright as my coat buttons! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

Alex saluted and left after a moment, not even noticing his friends standing in the hallway. His mind reeled from Carey's words: Easier to Control. Erusean snakes. They echoed, each repetition cutting deeper, igniting a fire of doubt and anger. He shoved his hands in his pockets while he walked, hiding his anger from view, but his boots struck the floor with force.

It all felt sickeningly familiar. It brought back memories of the 444th penal squadron, where he was reduced to a number, a disposable asset for Osea's convenience. The cold and calculated way Carey had spoken of Rosa, as if her worth was measured solely by how useful she could be, felt like a brutal reminder of everything he went through.

He stopped in the middle of the corridor, breathing heavily while his mind continued to buzz. Was this really what Osea stood for? No, it can't be. He shook his head brushing the thoughts aside. I can't let the words of one man get in my head like this.

He continued, heading straight for the med bay. Rosa was still there, still fragile and recovering. He needed to see her, to remind himself of who he fought for today.

Huxian was the first to see him change direction. "Where's he going now?" She murmured.

Count knew exactly where he was going. He cupped his hands around his mouth and called out, "Hey, at least tell the Princess we say hi!"

Alex stopped in his tracks again. For a few seconds, he stood still, the silence stretching just long enough to make them wonder if he'd ignore the remark. Then, slowly, he turned his head, and a faint smile broke through the storm on his face.

Imprinting:A psychological phenomenon where an individual forms a deep, often immediate attachment to someone due to intense or pivotal experiences, typically during periods of heightened emotional vulnerability or stress.

Projection: A psychological mechanism where individuals attribute their own feelings, hopes, or ideals onto another person, often forming an idealised perception of them.

It was late now, and the PACU at the base was bathed in a soft white light from the floodlights filtering through the blinds. Rosa lay cocooned in the warmth of her blankets, her mind drifting in and out of the hazy comfort brought on by the medication she was on. Her body was heavy with fatigue, but her thoughts were restless, firmly thinking of him. Alex. He had left her earlier, and she now felt lonely. She let out a soft huff of frustration and disappointment.

The memory of him felt as vivid as if he were still with her, still feeling his arms around her. Her fingers idly brushed the bandage at her side, and she felt a quiet sense of safety bloom within her.

Still, doubt lingered. It crept in like the shadows on the walls. Was it just duty? Was the way his voice softened just the marks of a soldier fulfilling his mission? She sighed softly and her smile faltered, unsure whether to hope for anything more than the safety he offered.

"He's… really something, isn't he?" she murmured, slowly but dreamily sincere. "He's always right there when you need him. The way he carried me." She let out a soft giggle. Her cheeks flushed at the thought, and she clasped her hands over her chest and smiled shyly to herself. "I wonder if he knows how gentle he was."

A nurse standing nearby, quietly checking over medical charts, perked up at the princess's words. Rosa's tone, filled with unguarded sweetness, was impossible to ignore.

Rosa continued, dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, as if trying to convince herself as much as anyone else. "It's not like I… like him, not really. He's just… I'm just grateful, that's all. It's just gratitude. Maybe a little… admiration. Just admiration…"

She closed her eyes and sighed softly. "But I felt safe. Not just safe… treasured, even if it was just for that moment." Her voice cracked slightly, and she let out a nervous laugh.

The nurse continued to listen, noticing how Rosa's quiet rambling took a more recognisable turn, one that made her pause for a moment. Letting go completely, Rosa's words became unguarded, spilling out like a confession.

"I feel like… maybe I can be happy again." Rosa continued, pausing for a moment, thinking. "And I think… I love him." Her eyes filled with unshed tears, and she turned her face into her pillow, a single drop escaping to trail down her cheek. "It's ridiculous, isn't it? How can I love someone I've never spoken to? But I do. I'm so grateful to him, and every time I close my eyes, I see his face." She giggled quietly, letting out all the pent-up feelings her heart held.

The nurse shook her head while she quietly adjusted the IV. She knew that what she was hearing was something private, something deeply personal. And even though Rosa tried to brush it off, the nurse could hear the truth in her voice, this wasn't just a fleeting fancy. War had taken so much from all of them, but perhaps it hadn't taken everything. Perhaps, even amid all the loss, there was still room for hope, for love even, or just something good to grow.

She stepped away, giving Rosa a reassuring pat on the arm. "You rest now, Princess, you'll be alright".

The nurse stepped away from Rosa's bedside and headed for the exit, on her way out she noticed Alex standing just outside. She approached him, smiling softly and making sure to keep her voice low to not disturb the resting Princess. "She's been talking about you, you know," the nurse said curiously. "You must mean a lot to her."

Alex blinked, caught slightly off guard by the comment. He gave a nervous smile, and a faint blush touched his cheeks. "Has she?" he asked, trying to act normal, though the thought made his heart beat faster, bringing a slight red to his face.

The nurse nodded. "Yeah, she has. She'll be alright. Just needs some rest. But, maybe having you around would help her recover." She stepped aside, motioning for him to enter. "Go on. She could use the company."

He hesitated for a moment before nodding. He stepped into the room quietly, being careful to not make a sound. The nurse slipped out, leaving the two of them alone.

He pulled a chair up to the bedside, sitting down carefully as he watched her. There was a part of him that still couldn't believe she was here, safe. He sighed, absently tracing over her features. She was beautiful, even like this, maybe especially like this. She looked so at peace, and he wished she could stay that way.

Rosa stirred, opening her eyes. When her vision focused, it landed on him, and she smiled softly. "Alex," she breathed. "You came…"

He leaned closer, his eyes locked on hers with an intensity that spoke volumes, he brushed his thumb lightly against the back of her hand. "Yeah, I'm here Rosa." He murmured. "And I'm not leaving. Not now. Not ever."

Her lips quivered and a faint red dusted her cheeks. Her fingers tightened around the blankets just slightly at the sound of him. "I thought… I thought maybe it was just a dream," she whispered with quiet wonder. "But you're real." She trailed off and her eyes closed again moments later.

"I'm real. Rest now, Rosa," he whispered softly. "I'll always be here."

As she slept, her hand shifted slightly, brushing against the soft folds of the blanket before stretching out, searching. A quiet restlessness stirred within her, as if her heart knew he was there. Her hand moved again, tentative and seeking, until it found his. The moment her hand touched his, she latched on tightly, almost desperately, as though she feared he might slip away if she let go.

The mess hall wasn't exactly lively. Around the room, the new truce was held in uneasy silence, with soldiers exchanging only brief nods or the occasional muttered comment. But one corner of it buzzed with laughter and animated conversation. Mozzie and his group of Osean soldiers sat among the Eruseans they'd fought alongside, their shared experiences blurring the line between former enemies.

"So there I was," Mozzie began, hands spread wide as he leaned back in his chair, "stuck behind this wreck of a truck. Bloody enemies were everywhere—swarming like ants—and I'm thinkin' to myself, 'This is it. Mozz, you're done for.'" He paused dramatically, glancing around the table to ensure he had everyone's attention. "Then I check my rifle."

He mimed lifting it, peering at an imaginary mag. "Empty. Not a single round left. And me, like the bloody genius I am, I start lookin' for my spare mag, only to realise… left it in the bin." He slapped his forehead for emphasis, drawing a chuckle from the Eruseans.

"You forgot your spare mag?" Viktor asked with an incredulous grin. "In the bin?"

Mozzie shrugged, smirking. "Mate, nobody's perfect. Anyway, I had two options: wait for them to spot me and fill me with lead or go out swingin'. So, I grab my knife—good old reliable—and charge the nearest bloke."

"You didn't."

"Yeah, well, here's the kicker," Mozzie said, leaning forward. "I get about halfway to some bloke when I hear a gunshot behind me. Turn around, and there's the Princess herself, standin' there with a pistol, just dropped the guy I was gunnin' for! Shot him right in the face!" Mozzie laughed loudly, slapping his knee. "She was holdin' that pistol like it was a bloody teacup, but she nailed the cunt! I was thinkin', 'Moz, you're saved,' when the rest of the enemies turn on her. I start yellin', 'Look out!' like that's gonna do anything."

"You didn't help her?" Viktor asked, raising an eyebrow.

"—Oi, I tried! But then I hear this low rumble, and I look up—Trigger comes screaming in with his plane, bombs loaded, ready to light the place up!" Mozzie leaned back, shaking his head. "Now, I'm still standin' out there, mind you, waving like a madman, screamin', 'It's me, Mozzie, don't bloody kill me!'"

The Eruseans all chuckled in amusement. "Trigger almost blew you up?" Someone asked.

"Mate, I swear he was a second away from turnin' me into a bloody crater, but he didn't. Dropped the hammer on the enemy instead. Saved the Princess, saved me, and made me look like a bloody hero in the process."

Laughter was still rippling through the group when the sound of boots on concrete brought the room to silence. Everyone turned as the door to the mess hall swung open, and a group of radicals were marched in under heavy guard. Leading them was Colonel Girard, his face as smug and punchable as ever.

The mood shifted instantly. The Eruseans stiffened, and their laughter vanished like smoke in the wind. Every eye in the room followed Girard as he was led through, his sneer widened as he scanned the crowd.

Girard paused at Mozzie's table, ignoring the hostile stares. "Well, look at this," he drawled with mockery. "Eruseans, drinking with their Osean masters. Tell me, do they pat you on the head for playing loyal dogs? Or do you get scraps from their table?"

Mozzie's grin didn't falter, but his eyes turned cold as he kicked his boots off the table and stood. "Evening, cunt," he said flatly, folding his arms. "Didn't expect to see you here. Need a drink?"

An older Erusean soldier sat frozen, his knuckles white gripping the edge of his table. His name was Sergeant Bertrand, a veteran with decades of service etched into the lines of his face. He had lost his son in the battle—his only child, a young man who had fought and died alongside him to protect Rosa. The grief that had been simmering beneath Bertrand's surface now threatened to boil over as soon as he caught sight of Girard.

Most of the Eruseans at Mozzie's table were now on their feet, hands curling into fists. Bertrand, standing closest to Girard, stepped forward, dark with fury. "You've got a lot of nerve showing your face here," he growled.

Girard tilted his head. "Ah, Bertrand. I heard about your boy. My condolences. But maybe if his old man raised him better, he wouldn't have died so easily."

The silence that followed was deafening, the kind that came before an explosion. Bertrand's breathing grew heavy, his hands shaking at his sides. "Say that again?"

Girard stepped closer; his smirk unyielding. "I said, maybe if you'd taught him how to fight, he wouldn't be rotting-."

Bertrand lunged with a roar, his fist colliding with Girard's jaw in a sickening crack. "YOU SON OF A BITCH!". Girard stumbled back, but before he could recover, Bertrand was on him again, throwing a shove that sent the colonel sprawling onto Mozzie's table, knocking over glasses and bottles.

"Woahhhhh!" Mozzie exclaimed, leaning back as Girard's bloodied face hit the wood. But his tone wasn't one of alarm—it was more like he was egging them on while he watched the chaos unfold. "Careful, boys, the beer aint cheap!"

Girard groaned, trying to push himself up, but Viktor was already on him. He pinned him down, holding his shoulders against the table while the rest of the room erupted into cheers and jeers.

"You thought that was it, huh?" Viktor spat. "You don't get off that easy, traitor!"

Another grabbed Girard by his collar, yanking him off the table and throwing him to the floor. The soldiers swarmed him, fists and boots connecting in a relentless flurry, pushing him from one man to the other like an old beach ball.

"Get up Colonel!"

"Where's that smug mouth of yours?"

Soldiers, both Osean and Erusean egged the fight on. Some banged their mugs against the tables, while others whistled and called out encouragement.

"Hit 'im again!"

"Oi, pass him over here!"

"Get him! Get the cunt!"

MP's burst through the doors, barking orders and stopping the punch up. The soldiers reluctantly pulled away, leaving Girard crumpled on the floor, barely recognisable under the bruises and blood. The MPs quickly moved in, dragging the broken colonel out as soldiers whistled and gave sarcastic applause.

Bertrand sank back into his seat, head in his hands, and shoulders shaking. Mozzie sat down beside him, clapping a hand on the older man's back but saying nothing. Some wounds didn't need words. Around them, the room slowly returned to its normal chaos. Soldiers from both countries exchanged grins and slapped Bertrand on the back in encouragement as they passed. (Who says violence can't solve problems?)

A/N

Story Development:

AaceCombatFan

Creative Direction and Narrative Support:

—

Special Thanks

LoKey419

nudaj806

Futtlescish

Fate Rider 88

GuiltyLeaf

Mickey1928

TemplarKnightAC

ewardras111

Dreadnought49

Project Aces

The People of Erusea

The Pilots of Strider Squadron

Starring:

Alex "Trigger" Krieger (Hayden Christensen 2005)

Princess Rosa Cossette D'Elise (Thomasin McKenzie)

Lucien Deroche (Ian McDiarmid)

Count (Glenn Powell)

Jaeger (Pedro Pascal)

Huxian (Awkwafina)

Long Caster (Jon Hamm)

Major Carey Boyce (Himself)

General Padbury (Steve Bulen)

Sergeant Bertrand (Liev Schreiber)

Alistair, Leader of the Radicals (Jim Carrey)

Beauregard (Lee Majdoub)

King Dreaud (Jude Law)

Mozzie (Martin Copping)

Viktor Moreau (Temuera Morrison)

Colonel Girard (Dan Stevens)

General Edouard Labarthe (James Marsden)

Thank you for all the continued support. We will keep working hard and develop the story to the best of our ability, please share, favourite or follow and leave feedback. It motivates us to keep going with this project and come up with new ideas for the future!

-Ace of Hearts Team