[M] War and Peace ~ Breggo and Hannelorian [IC]

[Breggo13]

Marcus didn’t seem present anymore - he moved to do as he was told but it seemed that a part of him, a painful agonizingly large part, remained with Quinn. For the first time in his life, the warrior was completely and utterly terrified and, what only made the aggravation worse, he could do absolutely nothing about it. When he had fought on the Southern front with his friends and brothers-in-arms, he had seen death frequently enough to become decesitized to it. What was another lost sole in a battle for innocents, for the women, children and parents remaining home? As Alistair ascended the throne, Marcus had stepped into the shadows, tethering on the border of wrong and right. In a way, he too had become a shadow, a shade that was morally grey at best and flowed through life on a rather loose definition of morals. But even then, Marcus had never felt fear because he knew what he had to do to survive, to win, to thrive. Looking at Quinn’s form on the ground, he felt the world around him crumbling.

He floated above the ground, the pain and fear becoming trapped in his body and his mind doing the only thing it could - escaping. He was no longer present, he was a third party observer just going to meet his beasts, his face ashen and emotionless. Marcus didn’t blink an eye as Beatrix rushed forward to embrace him, didn’t respond. He couldn’t even feel the young woman’s warmth, his body frozen and senseless. With a sigh, he pushed out of her embrace.

“I have work to do,” his voice was hallow, hoarse as though he hadn’t used it for years. Not bothering to acknowledge the woman, he continued towards Ulrich and Vixen, the bright red mane of hair acting as his destination. One day in the future, he would remember how Beatrix’ action had caused Quinn pain and he would forgive her, knowing Quinn would want him to be happy. One day but today, he simply had to make it through. Out of nowhere, he sensed someone materialize beside him and a strong hand land on his shoulder.

“Tell me how to help,” Julius’ sea-green eyes were unnervingly serious, his usual expression of mirth replaced by that of a hardened warrior who knew how to get things done, his hair tied back into a small queue, something he did only when he was preparing for work. Nodding silently, Marcus gripped his brother’s forearm.

“Master, you called?” Ulrich tilted his head in curiosity, his golden eyes and elongated irises flashing with excitement. Beside him, Marcus sensed Julius reaching for a weapon but putting his hand on the younger man’s arm, he shook his head. The animal grins that illuminated his beasts and the hyena laugh that sounded from the back made it clear that the changelings found the fear and discomfort amusing.

“They’re friends Jules,” the rogue smiled sadly. “The ones who can be loyal.”

“Yes, Jules,” Vixen smirked, her eyes running up and down the islander with curiosity as though she was evaluating a horse at the market. Licking her lips, she moved to lean in close. “I can be very loyal.”

“And I’m the queen of Lys,” Julius responded cooly, not moving away but shooting the woman a cold gaze, one that only made her laugh. “Marcus, time.”

“Time, milord?” Ulrich’s head moved to the other side, resembling an owl. Julius’ eyebrows came together but Marcus remained unmoved. Even without his current disassociation, he had spent enough time with the band’s alpha to know all his tricks. By now, none of the changelings bothered to play games with the rogue but with a new audience who was so clearly unnerved, it seemed all the more entertaining. “Time is of the essence, tick tok, tick tock.”

“We need to get these people back to the palace,” for the first time in their rather long relationship, Marcus wasn’t trying to beat around the bush, to make the men and women that worked for him operate in half truths. He was too tired to care, dangerous as it was. The faster he could get this done, the sooner he could be with Quinn. “And a guide to take us outside the city walls.”

“You’re abandoning us, master?” Turner’s gruff voice sounded from the shadows, the huge bear-like man moving forward to cross his arms on his chest. “Now, when you brought so many strangers into our territory so they can hunt us when you’re gone?”

“It wasn’t my intention,” even to his own ears, Marcus’ response seemed weak, an excuse. Turner’s lips curled up in a snarl, eyes narrowing. “I…”

“Take the long way then,” Julius’ voice was casual even as he rolled his shoulders. “If you lose someone who can’t follow, well, no one will blame you. Blindfold them all if you will - but if they stay, these tunnels will be overrun by rebels who want the Emperor’s blood and they won’t stop to ask questions.”

“You’re so confident that we aren’t part of your rebellion?” Vixen giggled before shaking her head. “We don’t work cheap.”

“If you seek money, I have more than enough to pay you,” Julius smirked back, pulling out a scrap of paper from his boot and a quill. Finding a small vial of ink, he quickly scribbled a note before waving the paper in the air for the black words to dry. “Take this to the captain of the Southern Rose - she will be docked at the royal navy but you won’t miss her. Ask for Enrique and give him this. He will be able to give you five thousand….each.”

“How do we know it doesn’t say to arrest us? That you have money to pay?” Turner growled, looking at the paper in disbelieve. “Nobles, treating all else like shit.”

“Please, you wanna see shit, try sailing with the pirates,” Julius responded before slipping off a gem ring and tossing it to the man. “Call it collateral - keep it if you want or exchange it and the note for your gold. Makes no difference to me.”

“Enough,” Ulrich’s sharp command made the bigger man step down, bowing his head. “We’ll get these rich ones home but if they try to cause trouble, I cannot be responsible for their safety. Whoever goes with them must keep them in control. Vixen will take whoever you need to the city limits.”

“And we’re supposed to trust you, girlie?” Julius scoffed but Marcus just nodded.

“I’m not asking you to trust me, Jules,” the woman responded before her lips ended up my Julius’ ear. “I may be asking you to please me.”

“I…,” Marcus paused, looking torn. “I need to go, tell the….I…”

“Go, I’ll help your friends get the crowd moving,” Julius smiled slightly. “The sooner they head out, the better. I’m sure we can find a few good sherpas to help with the grand underground migration.”

“Milord knows sheep?” Ulrich’s eyes blazed with amusement, making Julius scowl.

“Too well,” he responded but Marcus didn’t seem to hear, moving back to where he had left Quinn, trying not to panic as he broke into a run, moving along the wall to avoid all the people in his way. As he slowed down, he saw Westley talking quietly to his sister, the girl disoriented but awake. The conversation stopped as soon as the man’s blue eyes landed on Marcus’ face.

“She woke up on her own,” Westley sighed. “But she’s too weak to walk and I don't know if we can move...”

“Then I’ll carry her,” Marcus dropped beside Quinn, picking up her clammy hand and bringing it to his cheek, feeling an immediate sense of relief. “I will carry you forever if I have to.”

“Don’t be melodramatic Marcus,” Quinn’s lips twitched in a smile, a pale shadow of what it used to be. “That’s not like you.”

“I’ll go tell Emeric,” Westley slowly rose to his legs. Somewhere in the background, they could hear Julius’ voice rising above the croud, gathering their attention. Marcus’ couldn’t hear what his friend was saying but slowly, the mass of people seemed to start moving. Painfully sluggish with some whispers and whimpering but they were moving, Julius’ voice mingling with those of Saskia, Carina and Duke Greville, the men hyena laughter echoing faintly at down the corridor. Within minutes, the last of the men and women that were hiding was disappearing down the corridor, the sound of shuffling feet and clothes becoming more distant with every breathe.

“We need to get going,” Emeric squatted down beside Quinn, smiling warmly at her. “I’m glad you’re awake.”

“Me too,” the blonde smiled again, her fingers weakly grasping at Marcus’ hand. “Thank you.”

Nodding, the redhead looked at the bandage, his face seeming to move into shadows for a second before his smile returned. At Marcus’ silent question, he shook his head in a slight no. “Now let’s see what’s the best way to do this, shall we?”

While Emeric was assisting Marcus in getting Quinn comfortable to be transported, Julius approached the empress and, in however unofficial role for the moment, her second in command, bowing before them. Liam let out a sigh and a nod, saying nothing though. Ready to take command in a second whenever danger was around, he was happy to revert to the young woman’s judgement at present when there was no immediate threat past the overarching presense of a rebellion and Alistair’s incapacitation.

“Your majesty, this is Vixen, one of Vale’s confidants,” Julius introduced the young redhead woman with almond eyes who didn’t make a single move to bow, observing Saskia with intense curiosity, her nose scrunching up a few times as she took in the scents around her. She bit her lip as her gaze shifted to the blonde man, chuckling.

“They really do choose you lot for looks, not brains in that flight thing,” Vixen smirked, before her eyes landed on Julius. “Don’t worry, Ju-Ju, you’re still my favorite.”

“Vixen is our guide out of here,” Julius glared at the woman before turning to his friends. “As soon as Emeric has the infirmed situated, we should go.”

[Hannelorian]

The Empress kept her eyes moving, darting between the relative strangers and the ailing Quinn. The annoyance of their banter and their petty little games and threats was enough to make Saskia roll her eyes as she remained focused on the task at hand. Her mind racing, filled with fret and concern. This all seemed so wrong. What should have been a glorious day had turned so sour, so dark, dire and filled with the blood of her countrymen. She then watched as the nobles followed off and began to disperse finally her attention turning toward the one with fire colored hair, this Vixen. Here she stood taunting the men. But Saskia said nothing until she was compelled to do so.

The Empress Dowager, Carina stepping out before this... Vixen with a stern comment. "Are you aware of who you are addressing? Of who is party to such..." But before she could complete her sentence Saskia had intervened. "Enough." Her hand was raised as she finally looked at the stranger in the eyes. "The General is a grown man, he can handle the comment." Saskia dismissed what had been said about Liam, and about Julius, chosen for their looks above all, though even Saskia had to admit the entire group was unusually attractive. "No names. No nothing. We do this, we leave, we were never here. We never saw anything." The Empress was adamant, give these people no reason to take up against them, and no threat of potential arrest or consequence. As far as she was concerned, no matter how she didn't approve of these individuals, they were still risking their lives to escort them, that deserved a modicum of respect.

"Mother." Saskia said softly as she approached Carina and embraced her warmly, genuinely. Despite any of their recent... misgivings they were now family, and they had to stick together. "Go with the rest. Return to Caelum Fortis." Carina seemed astonished that Saskia was now entrusting her with this task, when it would be so easy to betray that trust. "A de Vallois must always remain in capital. We'll return as soon as we can." Saskia smiled ever so warmly and leaned in to kiss the woman on the cheek.

"Are you absolutely certain?" Not that Carina cared for Alistair, but at least in Valadis no one was trying to kill her, she would be safe and she could do what she could to keep the stability of government. "Protect yourself, Saskia." Carina nodded her head and departed quickly to catch up with the rest bound to return to the city and the palace. Saskia breathed out a sigh of relief and looked once more toward Quinn who at this point had been stabilized as much as possible with Marcus, now she was conscious, it was enough to crush the Empress' spirit. She had seen this look before, this moment of clarity. It reminded her of her mother when she was on her death bed. She could only imagine what Marcus was going through.

"Let's go." Saskia urged as she nodded in Vixen's general direction. "Now." The Empress was still in her role, she was still the one in charge, at least ostensibly. Saskia moved forward and took toward Marcus, but she really only had eyes for Saskia, the Empress reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Quinn, this won't be easy for you my dear." She was honest, the journey, any journey in this condition would be incredibly difficult, if she would survive at all. "Just hold on, alright? We'll go as quickly as we can, but if you need anything, tell us. Alright?"

Vixen began to move through the tunnels and the party would follow after her. Saskia would resume her role as one of the two people who would carry the Emperor, her husband through. "General, your assistance please." Liam moved quickly to the opposite side of Emperor and the two would work together to carry him. Julius seemed to have everything well in hand when it came to dealing with the rather undesirable character guiding them to the walls of the city. In truth, Saskia preferred that Liam was the the one to assist her. It kept him close, it made her feel safe. She could trust him and despite whatever was happening between the two of them, he was supporting her and Alistair.

Beatrix could only nod in acceptance as Marcus eschewed her, and she understood he was in no place to be able to respond. His mind was only on Quinn, as it should have been. They were all fortunate that Liam, Julius and the others were present to take up the burden of leadership, and though Marcus continued to do his duty to the best of his ability. It was admirable. Even in the throws of despair he was doing everything in his power to keep it together, though it was plain to see he was fraying at the edges. But Beatrix had her own priorities and as the man heeded to his work, she did to hers. The Dowager Duchess Eaves went to her child, and to Alexander. Using every bit of strength she had she picked up her son and held on to him for dear life, before lowering her free hand, to take Alexander's. While she would likely take no dragon and have to take the longer route to Cliffheaven to be beside her mistress, she would not abandon her, not now.

George stood silently beside Raddison for a few moments as the group prepared themselves to leave. She was in a state of reflection and contemplation. Her hand reaching to take his into her own to squeeze it, a gentle act of reassurance that she was still there and that she was alright, despite all of the pain and the chaos and the panic. George would be forever by his side. No matter what happened between them all, she held on to what was important. "Forever." George said in a low voice as she turned her gaze upward to Raddison, every fiber in her being rejoicing in his presence. "We're going to promise each other forever." She continued. "So I don't want to waste it." They only had a few moments, but she would make them count. "No matter how bad things get... I'll always be here to support you and your brothers." Of course in a sense she meant Maurice, but really, she meant the men of the Flight. These were her family now. "We could die tomorrow, and I'll die happy." George used her hand to wipe the tears from her eyes before they had a chance to fall too far. "Keep an eye on that... woman." George nodded to her intended.

The Princess Syrenia began to move as the rest did, taking a moment with Alan to embrace him warmly and encourage him to move forward. But it was along the walk through the labyrinthine catacombs that George would remain closest to Marcus and Quinn, as blood would appear at the girl's nose and the corners of her mouth she would wipe it away, keeping herself poised and gentle and keeping herself apace with them.

Moving through the dimly lit corridors, Vixen knew this place like the back of her hand, she moved with such skill and needed very little light to do so. There was a sense she was constantly looking back at the group, perhaps in judgment, perhaps simply to make sure they were still there. Everyone had gone nose blind to the dank and stale air. Aside from the sounds of their hurried footsteps, you could hear the gentle drip and drop of water that had squeezed through impossibly small cracks in the stone and now were falling to the ground, or sliding down the walls, surrendering to the forces of gravity and their own weight. The space beneath the earth above them was cool. The great irony of it all was that they were in the catacombs, they were literally surrounded by death, the ghosts of life, some of them well lived, some of them perhaps were too short, but who was here to remember them?

The Priests of the Flame never came down here anymore, and without them there was no one to pray for the souls of these people whose names were long forgotten. Even the old name placards were worn, if they still existed, some now decorated the floors or had been shattered into pieces. It was an overwhelming dread, the cold was fitting. The death was fitting. The moisture was fitting. It felt like the tears of those above them had come down through the earth to fall upon them.

The journey forward seemed like it lasted for ages. But perhaps it was a manner of minutes? An hour? It was impossible to tell and with the light was so low, it was a different kind of hell, a different feeling of pain. And yet it finally seemed to come to an end as Vixen had led them to a set of stairs the ascended to what appeared to be a false wall. There was no handle just cool stone and with a deft press of a single stone it depressed into it's surroundings and opened. They had finally reached the city limits and when they emerged and had the chance to turn around, in the distance the flames of the Cathedral burned high into the sky, illuminating everything around it.

God save the Emperor.

[Breggo13]

Julius didn’t truly know what to think of the shapeshifter that currently acted as their guide - at the very least, he did not trust her but there was no other choice. She seemed to float above the ground without a sound, her almond animal eyes highlighting with amusement whenever one of the so called trained knights stumbled or kicked a stone, her lips curling in a teasing smirk. They didn’t have time to take lights - the dragon riders could see well enough in the dark to make it through but since nearly all of them had some sort of duty or someone to lead who didn’t possess the same skiss, it was easy to make mistakes. As they made yet another turn, the young Islander wished Marcus was the one who was leading them but he couldn’t begrudge his friend for this. Not when he was trying not to hope, as they all did, for the impossible.

Liam didn’t say anything as he carried the blunt of Alistair’s weight, his friend able to move but needing so much support that it was akin to being carried. Saskia had moved to the emperor’s other side and while she attempted to help, it left the blonde man in a rather amusing situation. The lieutenant-general of the Emperial army, the commander of the Southern front, the leader of the Flight - all of that seemed to have been reduced as ‘the crutch of the empire’. With the emperor out of sorts, he found himself stepping into the role that he never sought, the weight of responsibilities of the crown pushing down on him. The only bright spot was Saskia - as the empress, she would have the final say but, just as he didn’t want her to carry her husband’s weight, Liam did not want to leave her carrying the weight of the empire so soon after the unimaginable. And so, he stayed silent, trying as much as he could to be the steel core of the group.

Marcus had Quinn in his hands, the girl weakly trying to hold on, the rogue whispering something to her in a calming tone, so soft that it was barely audible. Behind them, Westley stalked, his mood having shifted away from his usual levity, hands balled into fists. A few times, he angrily wiped away stray tears but never when he thought anyone would be looking. He too was supporting Emeric who, after all the healing and dragon power he channeled through himself, was exhausted, stumbling forward nearly as bad as the emperor. Radisson had hoisted Alexander into his arms, the young boy seeming to have gone mute after the events of today, his hand tightly intertwined with George’s before the blonde moved forward to assist Quinn, his expression dark, leaving Darius to bring up the rear, gently guiding Beatrix and Joshua.

They were a somber procession as they emerged, in what seemed like hours, on the farthest outskirts of the city, blinking at the gray daylight. Chuckling, Vixen crossed her arms, her eyes trained on Julius. “Told you I was the best.”

“Don’t get cocky,” the man responded before turning to look around, the rest of his friends making their way out to the small clearing, the bog nearby having a distinctive smell of outpost excess. Shaking his head, Julius raised his hand to his forehead, shading his eyes and trying to get a better sense of where they were.

“Long live the emperor,” Westley’s humourless voice beside him made the tanned rider turn in the direction the blonde was looking, instantly wanting to swear. In the distance, the cathedral was smoking. For once, the Flight could silently agree that the architects of the past, in their disdain for dragon fire, gave the city a blessing. The fire had not spread further than the single building though whether it was finally out or still raging remained a mystery.

“We have to go,” Liam’s voice seemed to bring everyone back, everyone turning to look towards him. Unlike the catacombs with its relative safety, the exposed landscape meant that they could be assaulted at any minute and from any direction. “Once the dragons are in flight, they will be noticed. Our advantage is speed - the faster we are in the air, the less chances we have for anyone to follow.”

“You think some of our own have turned?” Westley’s hard question seemed to slice the air like a knife. Liam’s cold eyes met with the younger man’s.

“I cannot afford to think they haven’t,” he responded steadily. From behind them, Vixen snorted.

“Great friends you have there, Ju-Ju. They don’t even trust their own,” she rolled her eyes. “How do you men even survive?”

“Julius, if we’re done?” Liam shot the younger man a direct look, Julius making a face in response before sliding his arm over the young woman’s shoulders and pulling her to the side, towards the entrance. Not bothering to understand their conversation, Liam’s gaze turned to Darius. “Can Aellorex be trusted with Alistair in that state? He’s young and impulsive.”

“I….don’t think so,” Darius shook his head. “The drake is still emotional and protective. He is deeply connected to his rider and if left alone, I doubt we could control him.”

“And Emeric?” the icy eyes turned to the redhead who gave a weak smile.

“Aeliora will take care of me,” the man’s tone was exhausted but coherent. “Though I won’t be able to take anyone else.”

“Very well,” Liam closed his eyes for a second. “Westley, you will need to take Alistair - Aellorex is most comfortable with your Ancalagon and will stay tethered. Marcus --”

“I am not leaving Quinn,” the rogue’s eyes dared anyone to comment but Liam ignored him.

“I know, I was going to say the same,” he hummed for a second. “Radisson won’t leave George, Darius,” his eyes turned back to the youngest man. “Can your beast handle Lady Eaves and her son?”

“No, that would slow us down - not the weight but how we’d sit,” Darius bit his lip, before looking up. “But I can take both boys. Their legs are too short to interfere with Eclipsion’s wings.”

“Good which leaves Julius with Beatrix,” Liam looked around, taking in the relative emptiness of the land. It was far from ideal, far from perfect. They were too exposed and too close but there was nothing else they could do. Time - if only they had time. Alas, he was used to dealing with less than ideal circumstances, making decisions and following through. Trying to change something, attempting to find a more optimal place, all of it would lead to indecision and disaster. “Call your dragons, gentlemen. Quick, efficient. And….We will meet in Cliffhaven but don’t all fly the same direction. Marcus, Westley - you may but the rest.”

As the men of the flight nodded, Liam quietly settled Alistair down, the man practically falling as though his head was spinning and grunting. Leaving Saskia to attend him, the blonde closed his eyes, finding almost instantly the thread in his mind that connected him to his bonded dragon, pulling on it mentally to signal the creature to come. Barra’s presence, one he had been pushing out for what seemed like forever, came blasting into his skull. Grunting with pain, Liam grabbed the sides of his head, ending up on his knees as he felt the silver’s anger, fear, relief and the silent berating that echoed all around. Waving off the few people turned to him, the Earl steadied his breathing, his mind sorting through the influx until he got to the core of the drake, sending him the location.

This, he thought, rising unsteadily to his legs, was the downside of spending too much time with the dragons in life or death situations. Living on the frontlines more than anyone should, relying on the silver for companionship and survival, their bond was strong and, as much as Barra would never show it, he loved Liam the same way the blonde loved the dragon. It helped them come through yet another brutal season unscathed but the fear for one another at times was all consuming, making it impossible to function separately at times. As the sky became filled with dots, approaching as huge speed so that within minutes they resembled the dragons, Liam walked over to Saskia, bending to help her with Alistair who had, at this point, passed out.

“I should have asked you permission, your majesty, before assuming you would be alright to fly with me. I beg you to put your trust in the Flight now - it will be best if we take a route different from the emperor. Asterius can recover if one of you perishes. If you both,” he paused, sighing heavily. “The crown always wins and I believe these precautions prudent.”

He didn’t say anything else, leaning forward so that his body blocked the young woman’s face as the dragons landed, their wingbeats stirring up a huge cloud of debris, dirt and rocks. Straightening, he turned to see the eight dragons sniffing the air and snapping amongst each other, Aellorex visibly disturbed as his black nostrils showed two distinct white columns of smoke, Radisson’s blue female Zalyria snapping at the black male in annoyance. Shooting Darius a look that the young men understood correctly, Liam turned to Alistair, starting to slowly raise him before Westley, appearing from nowhere, helped from the other side.

“We’ll get you there fast and safe, just hold on Al,” Westley’s tone held his usual humour though it sounded forced. The emperor made no indication to have heard him. Exchanging a worried look between themselves, the two men started towards the red male currently hissing at his neighbour, his neck drawn back like a cobra. “Lagon, stop it!”

Hearing his rider’s voice, the dragon turned his golden gaze at the trio, hissing in a way that showed his white teeth, stomping his front feet in agitation before making a growl in the back of his throat. Beside him, Zalyria snapped thin air, a clear warning. “Lagon, I swear! She’s just like George and you can do so much better than that.”

“Are you really giving your dragon relationship advice now?” Liam grumbled under his breathe, watching the animals’ body language. Westley shot him a shadow of a smile.

“Perhaps but he won’t listen - no one ever does.”

“Radisson, get your animal under control,” Liam called as the duke’s son approached the blue, cooing at her until the dragon slowly lowered her head, her electric blue eyes closing the second her nosetip connected with the man’s chest. Shaking his head, Liam moved forward, Westley whistling a signal to the red who seemed much calmer now. It wasn’t easy but within five minutes, they managed to secure Alistair into the saddle, Westley climbing behind him so that his friend’s unconscious body was pressed up against him. “Good speed, Wes.”

“You too, Li,” Westley looked like he wanted to say something else but setting his mouth in a determined line, he gave the command, his dragon jumping into the air and spreading his wings, beating them to gain altitude. With a roar, the emperor’s black did the the same, the pair circling in the sky before taking off to the North. In the distance, Liam could barely make out the rapidly disappearing shadow of a dragon, Marcus having waited for no one. Looking around, he was pleased to see that Emeric made it onto his light green drake, Julius tightening the last straps on his saddle as the female watched on, tilting her head with curiosity and blowing smoky rings at the Islander. Atop her, the redhead smiled though his eyes seemed to be already closed.

“Thank god it’s you, Aeliora and not Radi’s monster,” Julius muttered, stepping back to admire his work. “You are so much more understanding.”

“Get going, Jules,” Emeric yawned through a soft chuckle. Radisson and George were helping Darius with the boys, Eclipsion lying practically on his belly but the huge dragon was still too big for the children to climb up onto him. Thus, they were raised one by one onto the moss green beast where the youngest Vale solemnly sat them before him, slipping theis legs through the few leg straps they could reach and instructing them quietly how to hold on. As Julius stepped back, he moved to his own brigh blue and gold dragon, assisting Beatrix up. Seeing that everyone was taken care of, Liam turned back to Saskia and his own beast.

“Come, this is Barra,” Liam offered the young woman his hand before leading her to the silver. The male was not as big as Eclipsion but he was powerful and, in Liam’s eyes, more beautiful than even Aellorex. Sniffing the rider over, the huge storm-grey eyes turned to observe Saskia with silent curiosity, the dragon taking on delicate whiff before losing interest. Smirking with the tips of his mouth, Liam moves to raise Saskia up on the dragon’s back, trying to get his mind to ignore his hands on her body, the ease with which he raised her and the look she gave him. As soon as she was settled, he slipped on behind her, an arm instinctively wrapping around her stomach and pulling her close, his mouth ending up near her ear. “It will be cold - this way I can share my warmth with you. I’m sorry.”

What the apology was for specifically, Liam wasn’t sure. Was he apologizing for the inconvenient way that he had to move the empress and all those loyal to her? The way he was holding her as though he had any right to? The fact that as unsettled as he was by Alistair’s condition, deep down he wondered if maybe it was for the best? The emperor was not a fool but since the crown had ended up upon his brow, he had been unable to fully relax or at times even make rational decisions. If there were rebels present in the equation, Liam was not entirely sure whether Alistair was the right leader for the crisis nor did he believe himself to be the answer. In truth, they needed unity and perhaps this unexpected threat would drive them all closer. His hand tightened slightly across Saskia’s stomach involuntarily. Unity was good, closeness was dangerous.

Not allowing himself time to think, the man whistled and the huge silver beast rose to the skies, the last one to do so. His powerful wingbeats made him soar quickly and soon, the dragon was hovering above the clouds, his gaze turned to observe the blue and golden brethren that was flying west, the last one to leave before the leader of the Flight. Breathing out into a cloud of white, Liam turned Barra South, away from his homeland and, in some ways, away from the responsibilities that would await both riders upon their reunion with their most loyal. As the dragon sped towards the given direction, Liam tracked the time, waiting until they had flown a good two hours South-West away from Valadis.

Stopping for a short break in the middle of the woodlands, the dragon turned North, leading along the ragged western coastline, staying above the waves as much as he could until the Northern winds matched with the frozen water below forced the beast to move towards the land, the setting sun slowly into the horizon, reflecting off the scales of the beast. As the time stretched, Liam found himself wondering if they should stop for the night - the air was rapidly dropping around them and they had no supplies. While Barra could fly for days, it was the young empress the rider’s concerns revolved. Her and - he swallowed heavily - the unborn hier to the throne. Still, if they stopped, it would stir panic amongst the men. If they didn’t come before sunrise which is how far away Cliffhaven was at top speed, that would destroy all they had strived to preserve.

They carried on, a shadow in the night, the silver dragon glimering in the moonlight as the landscape became wilder, colder and less forgiving. Liam tried as much as he could to wrap his body around Saskia, his grip on her long surpassing that of a doting subject and becoming one of survival. At some point, he has shed his jacket to put it over her shoulders, the loose white shirt flapping in the wind. As they approached his land, crossing the boarder of Cliffhaven, Liam felt the knot of tension relax and Barra give a triumphant roar, the sound seeming to echo for miles all around them, causing the man to smile gently.

“We’re almost there, hold on a little longer,” he murmured, his lips by this point almost at the young woman’s ear as his chin rested on her shoulder. From up ahead, the faint echo of a cacophony of roars sounded back, Barra flaring his nostrils and picking up extra speed, enough that the frigid air of the night slapped against the skin of the riders, biting and pinching. Liam growled as the wind seemed to pierce him to the core, his eyes turning forward even as it made tears form in his eyes. Slowly, the trees gave way to small rock mounds then large stone hills, eventually the land becoming jagged rocks and cliffs. As they rounded a particular cliff, the landscape changed once more to reveal a city sprawling before them, the faint flickers of light and definitive flags of Clifhaven flying against the dark sky. And beyond Seastone, the towers of Aegis of the Sea, the ancient home of the Earls of Cliffhaven appeared atop a cliff in the sea, seeming to float above water as the angry sea broke against the rocky foundation with anger.

Barra didn’t need direction - he steadied his pace, circling the castle a couple times, eyeing the space below that was a summer garden but build in such a way to accommodate dragons. Frankly, the whose structure was ancient enough to have been established at a time when Dragon Flights were welcomed in the fanciest of castles along with the dragons. Below, a few of the dragons raised their heads, Zalyria bellowing a greeting as she raised her head up. People came running from the castle towards them and somewhere behind them in the night sky, another shadow appeared of a dragon. Barra touched down, snapping when one of the drakes - Westley’s Ancalagon - tried to reach out to sniff him.

“Easy buddy,” Liam cooed, untangling himself slowly from Saskia and slipping down to the ground, his legs aching after so many hours of use. Unlike the saddle whose leg loops allowed one to relax, sitting on the back of the drake at such speed required physical strength and endurance. Not waiting to see who was approaching, he turned back to Saskia, slowly loosening the leg straps before helping her down, his hands lingering a second too long. Too long because he could feel the utter exhaustion settling in. Beside him, Barra huffed, stomping his feet in annoyance and rolling his shoulders to indicate that he too was done with the saddle.

“Liam?” His mother’s voice - equal parts relief and disbelief - made him drop his hands and turn to the older woman who was approaching with confidence that many of the men in the Dragon Knight’s order would envy. Barra huffed, eyeing her with disbelief but made no move to do anything, only his long tail swishing back and forth. “Oh thank god you’re alight! I was so terrified when Elmeric and Aeliora landed, both rather exhausted. He is resting now but he explained in a few words what had happened. Westley was next and since then, it seems we are to be invaded by every dragon in the land.”

“Mother,” Liam embraced the woman warmly before shaking his head. “If only the rebels told me of their plans, I would have been sure to inform you of their plans.”

“You should have been the court jester with such poor humour,” Margot shook her head before her eyes fell to the young woman. “And to jest when you aren’t alone!”

“May I present her imperial majesty, Empress Saskia, first of her name?” Liam presented the younger woman to his mother who immediately dropped into a curtsy. “Your majesty, may I present my mother, the dowager countess of Cliffhaven, Lady Margot Rhyddrech?”

“If I may be so bold, please call me Lady Margot,” his mother pursed her lips, shooting her son a rather disappointed look before approaching the young woman. “Come, lets get you warmed up. You are in absolutely no position to help anyone or make any decisions when you can barely feel your fingers. Mulled wine, a hot bath and fresh clothing will do wonders and then you can berate me all you want for my inappropriate behavior. Come, dear, come.”

Liam watched as his mother took over the young woman, refusing to take a no for an answer. He was grateful for her initiative and kindness, something he had always experience but felt that Saskia had been lacking for years. Carina, who should have been her mother, couldn’t be colder and while they seemed to have developed some truce over the difficult events, he hoped that being surrounded by attention and care would help Saskia let go of the stress of today.

“I’m glad you made it,” Westley had appeared behind him, slipping to start undoing Barra’s saddle even as the silver sighed, annoyed at being ignored it. “How is she?”

“Strong,” Liam responded, coming to assist. Together, they removed the saddle in record time, the dragon rolling his shoulders before coming to his Flight, pushing the lower ranked dragons to move just as Julius’ blue and gold started to circle the castle. “Who else has arrived?”

“Emeric, me, Radisson,” Westley nodded at the dark blue female dragon bowing her head slightly before the silver male, her pale blue eyes eyeing him for any sign of weakness even as Barra growled at her, his fangs gleaming. “Darius with the boys.”

“Where is he?” Liam asked as both men stepped back to allow the dragon coming to land space.

“Inside,” Westley ran a hand through his hair. “Nora really stepped up, took the boys under her wing right away and all that. I don’t know about marriage but she’ll be a fantastic mother.”

“Good,” Liam sighed. “And Marcus?”

“I think I know where he went,” Westley swallowed, turning away sharply to wipe his eyes. “He was ahead and then he veered off sharply. I didn’t stop but…”

“I’m sorry Wes, truly,” Liam placed a hand on Westley’s shoulder, feeling his heart sink. Another soul, another life he couldn’t have done anything about. Another decision made by them all that resulted in a death. “At least her pain ended and her soul is with the Great Father.”

“She didn’t deserve this,” Westley whispered angrily. “None of this! She was supposed to be safe!”

“We’ll talk about this as soon as Julius is here,” Liam promised, his eyes full of compassion but his voice stoic. “Panic among the leaders in a time of crisis shows weakness and sparks mistrust. Sometimes more panic. Not here.”

“I…I hear you, brother,” Westley murmured before bowing and disappearing into the castle, leaving Liam to assist Beatrix and Julius alone, a bitter feeling in his mouth. Leadership was a heavy crown indeed.

[Hannelorian]

For the women of the court the journey to Cliffhaven was hard, bordering on brutal. The flight through the cold night was something none of them were prepared for. George only strengthened by Raddison, Beatrix persevering on her anger for the night's events alone. Her anger that her son, the only thing in the world she was truly proud of could have been killed. That was enough for her to endure the frigid weather of the winter's night. When they had landed all Beatrix had asked was to be taken to her son who had landed before her. Of course not before thanking Julius for his grace in taking her along with him. In truth she hadn't even considered that she would have been offered a seat upon a dragon if that was what one called it.

If anything the women had a new found appreciation for the Dragons and the men who rode them. Saskia having been on Alistair's beloved Aellorex a couple of times found she could note differences in the flight style while sitting upon Liam's Barra. Liam held on to Saskia so tightly, he kept her warm, he put her first or at least it felt like that. And while the Empress truly worried after her husband, she couldn't help but be grateful that it was Liam who had escorted her, and held her so securely through the long journey. Indeed the Empire was vast, and she realized just how much she had to learn about this new world she found herself in.

The Empress was ushered off by Liam's mother, and in some ways she was reminded of her own mother, however briefly. She had been gone for years now at this point. Once they were inside Saskia used the force of her own weight to stop moving. "Lady Margot." Saskia's voice was warm, despite the fact that she was pushing down the need to shiver to catch her own warmth. "I will not reprimand you. You are showing me great kindness in my hour of need, and that is only to be commended and rewarded. I will not fight you on your insistence but I must be allowed to see my husband first."

"Of course, Majesty." Lady Margot had a look in her eyes that said she was disappointed, not in the Empresses' ask, but that it would ultimately delay her restoration to a state in which she could serve people the best. Though she ultimately understood the nature of the ask. Margot escorted Saskia through the halls until they arrived at room. Outside of the lightly colored double doors were two guards in Cliffhaven livery, the soldiers of the realm that served the Rhydderch family. The two men standing watch bowed before the Empress and opened the doors where Saskia rushed in. "Thank the Gods." Saskia exhaled in relief. Alistair had already been changed, his wounds redressed and he had been placed in the bed beneath the covers. The heart in the room was raging, it was warm, as though it had been made ready in advance.

Saskia practically flew across the room to stand beside Alistair, she leaned down and kissed his lips softly. The man was no unconscious and seemed to be resting, though it was fitful at best. Reaching her hand down she took his into her own and squeezed it softly. "Rest." She commanded him, knowing it would have no effect. "Lady Margot." Saskia called back, turning her head. "I commend my presence to your capable hands." Saskia finally acquiesced and departed the room with Margot. When the doors closed she took a moment to address the guards.

"Please forgive me, for I am about to appear most harsh." The Empress knew her instructions had likely been relayed, but she felt the need to repeat them. "Even though you serve this family and do so most nobly. No one aside from Lord Rhydderch, myself or his attendant healer may see him. It is for the good of the Empire." Both men nodded and bowed once more before Saskia departed, neither addressing her directly in strict adherence to the protocols. The Empress found herself in a medium sized bedroom, one with it's own bath. The fire had been lit, mulled wine, still hot was waiting and the bath in the process of being drawn.

"It is perhaps not what you are used to, your Majesty. But is what we can offer." Lady Margot had in fact, once hosted the Emperor before, the late Emperor that was and his wife Carina, though they had weeks to prepare for a visit. This one was hasty at best. "It's perfect. Thank you." Saskia smiled warmly, turning to the woman she rested a hand on her shoulder. "I..." Saskia began but she struggled for a moment. "You needn't say it, Majesty. We know." Margot interrupted, knowing the young Empress, younger than any of her daughters even, was attempting to express her gratitude.

A young maid silently entered the room and curtsied deeply before the Empress, her hands trembling with nerves, never having been responsible for such assignment, but having been maid aware her ladies in waiting were unavailable for the next while. "Please my good Lady, attend to your guests. I shall be just fine with this young lady." Saskia nodded reassuringly and turned her attention to the young lady. "Your name is?" Saskia asked patiently, though the young woman seemed unable to respond, caught up in her words, instead mumbling something incoherently.

"Her name is Cora. And you'll forgive her nerves. She isn't used to attending to... someone of your position. She'll be fine. We've had some clothes laid out for you. They are my eldest daughter's." Lady Margot said calmly. "Aoife?" Saskia responded without hesitation. Margot nodded. "I am surprised, pleasantly that you know of her." Margot was taken aback, but at the same time grateful that Saskia knew a little of them.

"Lord Rhydderch has been an advisor to me. It's also fair to suggest that I ask too many questions. Please sit..." Saskia motioned toward one of the chairs. Cora slowly began to remove the Empress red dress, covered in dirt and blood. Though it was a relatively simple gown, it was rendered unusable for the future. The white shift the Empress wore underneath was relatively intact, though now her shoulders were exposed, and her arms, plenty of bruising plain to see. Cora gently moved the Empress to a comfortable chair, handing her the cup of mulled wine and disappeared to fetch a clean rag and cleansing alcohol to attend to her more visible wounds. Saskia still had glass embedded in her skin. "I had the pleasure of meeting Countess Flores."

Cora slowly worked with tweezer like instruments to remove the glass, some shards were alarmingly large. The Empress winced in pain causing the young maid pause. "No, you're fine dear. Keep going. A little pain is all." Saskia flashed a warm smile as she drank from her cup of wine, the warmth of it and the hearth slowly calming her down. Cora's hand trembled and Saskia took it into her own squeezing. "Truly. You're alright Cora. It isn't you that causes the pain." Cora nodded and eventually continued.

"Is she... Liam didn't..." Liam hadn't mentioned it, likely because Margot had swept away with the Empress so quickly. "Yes. She made it alright, as did her husband. Rois has a good head on her shoulders. You have so much to be proud of, Lady Margot." Saskia was sincere, kind. Margot's face softened immediately, breathing out a sigh of relief. "Thank you..." She said, visibly calming as the Empress spoke. There was something about her which was easy. For a woman so young, she seemed to be wiser than some might give her credit for. Margot seemed hesitant at first, to ask her questions, but in the end she gave in. "How bad is it?"

The Empress took in the question and her face turned deathly serious. "Lord Rhydderch informed me that at least four knights perished as we were hurried into catacombs following the explosion. Lord Vale... he brought Alexander and Dowager Eaves' son Joseph back for the occasion... the boys returned but he did not." Saskia was finally beginning to process. "The Emperor... I have to hide him, but even I know that I must pray for a swift recovery. He cannot stay away for long. And I have no idea how many others..." Saskia wiped away the tears that she felt fall down her cheeks thinking of the death, the carnage. "It was bad... Lady Margot... My chief maid. She's Westley's sister. Marcus' beloved..."

Margot, in all of her grace stood and crossed the room, knelt before the Empress and took her hands, holding them tightly. "Quinn? Truly?" Margot asked her voice lost, trembling, even she had known of the girl, met her and quite enjoyed her company. "I don't know." Saskia said with sorrow in her voice. "But... the odds are against her." Saskia brought a hand to her mouth to cover it, shaking as she did so. "Your son." Saskia began as she leaned back into the seat. "Even if he couldn't save everyone, he did everything he could." Saskia forced a smile. "Please, attend to the others. I should probably take up that bath..."

Lady Margot stood up and nodded a silent exchange of thanks before disappearing. The Empress stood up and moved in the direction of the hot bath that waited for her and submerged herself in the waters. Only to emerge, her emotion set aside, she vanished into the bedroom to dress in the nightgown and dressing robe that had been provided alongside a dress for the next day. Saskia dismissed the household staff present within the rooms, and allowed herself to do as she always did, feel the full strength of her emotion. Crumbling to her knees, she curled up on the floor by the fire and sobbed, mourning the loss of life, mourning the absolute tragedy of what had happened. All Saskia wanted was Liam. Comfort. Safety.

---

Beatrix moved swiftly and directly through the halls. She was a woman who was freezing, uncomfortable, and had been separated from her son for far too long. Not only with the crisis of the attack, but having surrendered him several weeks earlier. No one could stop her, and when she finally arrived at the room with the two boys and the youngest of the Rhydderch family, Beatrix was fuming. "Where are my boys?!" Beatrix demanded as she entered. In this moment she viewed Alexander as her responsibility. She too felt for him, and his need to be loved and supported and there was Nora, having set the boys to bed.

"So you are as rude as they say." Nora cocked her head to the side her arms were folded. Catching sight of the Duchess there was no question as to her identity. There was a grin to her, and a grit that accompanied it. "The boys are in bed. They're exhausted but fine. They have extra blankets and we've tended to the fire." Nora seemed irritated, irked, and Beatrix would give her no quarter.

"Do you know to whom you speak?" Beatrix stepped forward, lurching ever closer toward the girl who showed no sign of backing down. "Would your Empress tolerate this?" Beatrix was a mother who was worried, she was not actually angry at Nora, she was simply worried and allowed that to get the best of her. "Would she tolerate the safe keeping of two innocent children? I should think she would." Nora did not back down, instead she moved closer to Beatrix, instinctively puffing her chest out as she stood straight and tall. Beatrix eventually sighed in relent. "I... am sorry. It's been a long day, a long night... My nerves are..." Beatrix raised her hand and shook it back and forth. Her nerves were gone. Everything was an intense blur.

"Thank you would be an appropriate response." Nora sniped back. Curtsying the Dowager and then leaving the room. Setting off in something of a huff. Beatrix moved toward the bed and slowly put herself into it, cradling both of the children close to her. Though her rest amongst those two peaceful boys would be short lived. As eventually the door came opened and a beleaguered Darius came through. Beatrix sat up in bed, as the young man came into the room and fell to his knees. There were tears falling from his eyes and soft but muffled sobs. Slowly casting the blankets aside and careful to move the blankets aside she made her way across the floor and took Darius into her arms, leaning on her knees there hugging him tightly and hushing his cries.

"You said... he was proud of me." He forced out. "And now he's gone." His father was dead. And his brother too consumed with Quinn to process it. It was a horrid day for both of the Vale boys.

Beatrix could feel her heart melt for a moment as she continued to squeeze him, just holding him there on the floor of the room before the fire. "And he was proud of you. To the very last moment." Beatrix, like the Empress and clearly like Darius knew when those boys came back but his father didn't that he was gone. "Shh... shh..." She just held him there, cradling him closely to her as he began to feel his grief. And his sadness for his brother who hadn't returned. It was a tragic day for the Vale family. They would never be the same, the trauma was real and the wounds were incredibly deep. "I'm so sorry Darius. I'm so sorry." Beatrix whispered to him as gently as she could. "Grieve..." Beatrix whispered, her soft signal that whatever Darius felt, it would be alright.

George and Raddison, now safe on the ground, looked at her betrothed and held tightly onto him. "I need to go to her." George said softly, her delicate frame shivering from the ride on the dragon. "No." Raddison whispered into her ear, his breath warm against her flesh as he held her tightly. "You need to rest. You're exhausted. You're pregnant." Raddison was genuinely concerned for his future bride. "You need to get into a bed and rest." Raddison worried himself about not only George but the Emperor. He recalled Saskia's orders. But George came first, she had to rest. "I would be abandoning her." George whispered. Her body almost collapsing into Raddison's. "No. Lady Rhydderch has everything in hand, and first thing you can go to her. You need rest, and I need to attend the Emperor." Raddison felt his duty strong, the same strength as George. But he needed her to be still. To think just for a moment of herself. Raddison would bring himself to stand guard outside Alistair's room after seeing him, and George would agree and eventually curl up to sleep.

What kind of day has it been?