16 comments/ 662761 views/ 34 favorites A Tale of Two Kingdoms By: giltmirror The setting is fantasy, depicting a time similar to the Medieval era in some aspects but also a completely fabricated world in others. Apologies for any grammatical errors; did try my best! Story is just a bit of fun - hope you enjoy. Eight years ago Ysabel yawned as boredom and restlessness settled in and her carelessness almost cost her a broken neck. Quickly securing her grip around the solid tree branch again, she tentatively peered down...and down. How had she managed to crawl up such a towering tree in the first place with her aching fear of heights? Well, from the events of this afternoon it would seem that that was what self-preservation did for you - it made you brave, albeit transiently. The sound of shuffling, approaching footsteps below made hands tighten. It would be Rat Face or Three Chins. Or another of her tormentors. All she wanted in that very moment was to grow a back bone. But at eight, that was a relatively tricky wish to aim for. The memories of a happier time she often clung to in such moments, of a time when her family had all lived in the distant Kingdom of Naru, filtered through her mind as she strove to calm herself. Just why father had brought them back to his childhood village in the cursed Kingdom of Sydnam, she would never understand. He was a physician; he could work anywhere he chose and yet he had dragged them all here and she hated living in this Kingdom with its prejudiced people and their cruel natures! Even more so, she hated the way they treated her mother, for as a native Naru female she was treated abhorrently and each day Ysabel watched her beautiful and light-hearted mother withdraw further into herself. The fact that her mother also happened to be soft hearted, too, meant that the one thing she hated more than the ill-treatment was confrontation of any sort and so she had learned how to act unaffected and withhold the truth of abuse and internal suffering from her husband, who she was certain would overreact thereby causing graver problems with his proud nature and over-protective manner. Of course, father was fully aware that his Naru wife had been initially ill-received in his village and he had made his displeasure of this well known but then, which of the men and women from this small locale would ever openly heckle and abuse her in front of him - a man from one of the founding and most respected families in the village? Not one - especially when they knew the cures to their sicknesses and ills were contingent upon his services. No, they just did it covertly behind his back. And now that Ysabel's brother Lukas had left home to study in the city, things were almost unbearable. Hearing nothing more, Ysabel determined hopefully that it must have been a forest beast and breathed a sigh of relief though she couldn't summon the courage to climb down just and at this rate she would be up here all day! And who would know to look for her here? Her father knew how she shied away from heights and her mother had always told her not to venture this far out -- and nobody was about to protect mama at home, she thought feverishly! She began to get worked up despite the fact that it was broad daylight and the belligerent boys of the village had more sense than to ambush their home in full sight. For despite the logic, the thoughts became magnified in her childish mind and she started to weep quick, hot tears, cursing herself for her cowardice. "Are you stuck up there or just passing the day?" the male voice made her start hard but effectively halted her tears. "Go away!" she cried out, not quite recognising the voice as belonging to any of her usual tormentors, fear making her slightly bold. "Go away or I shall get my father to thrash you! Then you will learn once and for all to leave me and my mama alone!" She heard a brief, impatient curse before, "I don't know who you think I am, but you've clearly got the wrong person...are you stuck up there or not?" the voice was laced with impatience now where before there had been only wry humour. Ysabel finally peered down, dizzy with the effort and with her fear and her eyes snapped shut at the sight of the Sydnam boy so similar to the boys in the village with their fair hair and tall heights. With his bony, unremarkable face and close cropped, severely parted fair hair, he gave the impression of harshness and his features in that moment seemed to blur into the faces of all her childhood tormentors combined; cruel, pinch faced and vicious tongued boys who had taught her what it was like to be hated just for who and what ones parents were and how to handle the misery and pain of such torment. But as the haze cleared she realised that she did not know this boy at all. "I can get down quite well," she called out, pride making her scoff. Shuffling her small feet across the branch they were resting on, her movements were slow and hesitant but despite this she felt her left foot slip beneath her in a whoosh of motion and cried out in alarm as her two feet dangled freely on the air, her skinny arms and weak hands straining around the branch, struggling to hold her up. "I was lying; I can't do it!" she cried. "I'm going to fall! Help me!" she pleaded pitifully, feeling her palms moistening despite the cool day and worsening her plight even more. "Just hold on, will you? Stop wiggling or you really will fall on your face!" the voice was sharper then, an unconscious command. "I'm coming up to get you." The boy had already skirted the thick trunk calculatingly before he had finished speaking and attacked the tree head on, climbing higher and higher with lithe agility and in no time at all, she was firmly back on the ground but not after he had brow beaten her into letting go of her death grip on the branch and forcing her to put her arms around him. "What were you thinking?" the rebuking tones made her open her eyes reluctantly and icy green eyes meet her perusal. Held by a pair of sturdy but very slender arms, Ysabel felt fear mingle with revulsion and trickle through her. Enemy! she internally cautioned in childish antipathy as she looked at the Sydnam boy as he released her to the ground but a muffled and slightly panting voice caught her attention. "Who is -? Oh, Lord, I knew it! Ysabel! Belle, for all that's holy!" "L-Lukas?" the sight of her brother after so long an absence combined with her grazed and cut stinging palms, the angry boy holding her and the events of the afternoon with the boys of the village hurling abuse, all combined to make her sob pathetically. "What did you say to her?" Lukas asked then, frowning. The boy, affronted, replied in defensive tones, "Me? She was stuck up in that tree and one breath from falling on her head! Why anyone would climb up so high if they couldn't get down, I don't know." "I'm fine," Ysabel assured Lukas with a sniff, wary of the eyes of the strange boy assessing her tear-stained, grimy face critically. Ysabel waved her brother forward feeling like an old crone with her aching limbs and hugged him about the torso. "What are you doing back, Lukas? In your last letter you said you wouldn't be back until the end of the school year," she sniffed before a horrible thought occurred to her. "You didn't get expelled, did you? Oh, mother will be heartbroken! And father will surely thrash you." "Of course not," he rolled his eyes before getting all excited. "But there was a fire and half the building was destroyed so we've all been sent home for four weeks until they sort it out - though we'll have to make up the blasted lost time during the summer," this, bitterly. "This is Damon, by the way," his tones were off hand. "He lives too far away to have gone back home so the school decided we had to pair up and offer a room to another, so he's staying with us," his indifferent tone relayed that this was more a chore than a pleasure. "Well, come on. Let's head home. Mother's been looking for you." * As their mother, Layla served dinner that night (a special one in honour of return of her beloved lordly Lukas) everyone sat around the scrubbed kitchen table and listened as Lukas gestured wildly as he explained how everyone had had to be evacuated from the school. His schoolmate Damon, on the other hand, was a picture of reserved sedateness and clearly not one to outshine anyone, more than happy to sit in the background unnoticed. "Well, it's nothing to crow about, Lukas -- I hope nobody was hurt," Layla chastised/ "And so now you'll have a month long holiday," his father, Lindsen Caselle, cocked a brow. "I don't make the rules, father," Lukas grinned. There, Layla fixed him with a firm look. "Well, I won't brook you larking about; there are still studies you can get along with independently or you could always accompany your father at work - learn about your future job hands on." Lukas grimaced but Damon spoke then, relaying in polite and stiff tones of how he appreciated their hospitality for the next month to which Layla brushed his words away with a smile and said he would always be welcome. To which Damon blushed in embarrassment making it evident to all already half in love with the woman. Ysabel eyed him with thinly veiled hostility. It would be a long four weeks, she mused, especially now that she had to give up her room for the boy. * "Oh, hello, mother," Ysabel yawned, eyeing the approaching form of her mother through half-lidded eyes, sleep beckoning her as the gentle ministrations of her mother tucking her in soothed her. "You were very rude to Lukas's friend, Ysabel," she heard then in a firm tone unusual to her mother's soft spoken voice. Cracking one eye open, Ysabel looked ahead sullenly. "I didn't say anything to him," her tone was tinged with belligerence. "Exactly. You behaved shamefully. He's a nice boy and I want you to treat him like you would your brother for the next four weeks," to which Ysabel raised a doubtful eye. "He doesn't have a family, you know. Poor boy." "How can that be?" Ysabel's forehead puckered in confusion, having always lived in small villages where everyone had a family. "He was telling papa and I after dinner - his parents died when he was a child and he grew up in a boarding house until some relatives tracked him down. It's a glad thing, too, for now his uncle is funding his studies to become a physician so at least he can make something of himself instead of face an uncertain future." Ysabel glanced at her mother thoughtfully. He had climbed all the way up that blasted tree to bring her down despite her flying, slapping hands and hurled insults... Lukas probably wouldn't have bothered, she allowed contemplatively. He'd have most likely left up there to stew whilst he settled beneath the tree and taunted her. "He -- he doesn't seem much like the other Sydnam boys," Ysabel conceded in a small voice. "No," her mother mused on a smile. "He seems lovely." "Alright, I'll shall be nice to him," Ysabel nodded determinedly, feeling a great sympathy for his plight flower within her. How terrible to have no mother and father! No wonder he looked so sombre, she mused. Perhaps that's why he seems so unfriendly and doesn't talk much. Before sleep claimed her, she decided that she would make him talk to her tomorrow -- would make him be her friend. After all, it seemed he could use a friend just as much as she. * "Listen, no offence - but your sister has turned into my shadow and it's starting to get to me," Damon complained uncomfortably and Lukas laughed. "No use looking like that, you've done it now -- you shouldn't have helped her down from the tree yesterday. She'll be devoted to you for life now." Damon glanced at his schoolmate, mild despair in his eyes, and then started at the high, girlish voice calling after him. He whipped around, his eyes sharp and light and a little frightened. "Do you mind," Ysabel eyed her brother tellingly, her voice slightly breathless on account of her hurried jog to catch up to them. "I'd like a word with Damon." Her propriety tones made the boy in question cringe and his schoolmate chuckle. "He's all yours," Lukas grinned and on a bow, sauntered off. "Er," Damon rubbed a hand around his nape awkwardly, taking a step back. "I'm sorry if I was rude to you yesterday," Ysabel's voice rang out loud and clear as she bridged the gap. "I hadn't noticed," Damon feigned confusion, having more or less dismissed the memory of her cool mood and snubs, his mind elsewhere. "Only, I suppose it was a natural reaction," she continued as if he hadn't spoken. "You were rude for one, when you helped me down -- and also..." she trailed off nervously before looking over her shoulder a little wildly in the direction of the loud, rambunctious noise fast approaching from the clearing. Damon frowned at the child's restlessness. "Well if it isn't the Naru! Feeling brave today, are we?" a braying voice called out. "Rat face," the girl whispered, her eyes round as moons and Damon read the situation more or less clearly. "It's alright," he said in wary tones, trying to placate her. "I'll not let anything happen to you," he gave a brief, reassuring albeit stiff smile at that before looking away and more or less dismissing her. "And just who are you?" a bony faced boy eyed Damon belligerently as he approached and stopped just before him and the girl. A larger boy with quite a few chins stood militantly by his side. "What's it to you?" Damon inquired coolly. He was shorter than the boys by quite a large difference and much skinner. Which didn't really bode well for them. "This is a close-knit village -- we like to know who we've got living here. But unfortunately," the boy sneered as he glanced at Ysabel, "there are no laws yet to rid ourselves of those who aren't worthy -- and who don't belong." "Last time I checked it was a free Kingdom," Damon arched a challenging brow. "Yeah, well once upon a time there were laws in place to stop people like her from even existing," the boy sneered. "and it's time it happened again. We don't want filth like you here -- everyone knows your mother is a whore. Well, a dancing girl from Naru, but we all know what that means. No doubt your father probably met her in a Naru brothel, the damned traitor that he is -- his grandfather fought for our kingdom against your lot in the last war but who does Lindsen have the nerve to bring back home with him? A bloody Naru! She's probably riddled with diseases giving her favours to any man who pays her a bit of attention. Everyone knows she lifts her skirts for any eager cock. You're nothing but a whore's get." "You shut your mouth!" Ysabel cried, her face crumpling, not understanding entirely but knowing enough to be hurt and feel protective. She glanced cross at Damon in surprise then almost as if she felt the tension and rage bubbling within him. Where before he had simply been impatient with the two boys, now he looked damn right angry and his small hands clenched into twin fists. Damon took a step closer and the two taller boys opposite him took the challenge with relish. Something within him snapping, his mind a chaotic mess as bitter words and memories best left locked away flew at him, Damon felt the need only to hurt as he was hurting inside as past recollections assailed him. "You hold him down," Rat Face said with a wide grin to Three Chins, "And I'll thrash him. Then we'll deal with the girl." There was no way Damon could take the two boys and Ysabel felt indignation for him having to suffer at their hands and it was all her fault. He was so brave! So willing to protect her; like a fearless knight fighting protecting his lady love. Except, she didn't believe in mushy things like that, not like her cousin in Naru who never stopped going on about romantic tales of old. No, instead she felt almost like a proud parent. But as rat face hurled a handful of dirt into Damon's face, a hot, blinding rage overtook all other emotions and she charged forward when no one was paying attention taking the two boys by surprise for all of her usual meekness as, with all of her small might, she jumped with both feet on Rat Faces's large foot. "You bitch!" he bit out as he hopped on one leg and made to leap and grab her arm but Damon took the advantage of his distraction to elbow Three Chins in the abdomen before using the heel of his palm on Rat Face's nose. "Come on," Damon raised his brows at a bemused Ysabel as she watched the narrow faced boy moaning and crying and cupping his crimson smeared nose, and grabbing Ysabel's wrist, pulled her with him on a lurching run into the forest. * Feeling tired and wretched having slept little and fretfully last night, Damon tried as best as he could to be patient with the child as she blubbered. But there was something very pathetic about her in that moment that touched something within -- memories of himself some years ago, no doubt -- and with her skinny frame and shabby appearance, he felt reluctant guilt at wanting to get rid of her. "And, well, there was another reason why I was rude," she continued, on a snivelling sob "it was because you were a Sydnam but I know that was wrong of me. I just have a bad impression of them...maybe you can see why now." He sighed. "Yes, I see it. Is it often like that?" She nodded. "Well, we're not all bad. Take your father, for instance -- he seems like a nice enough fellow." She ignored his attempt at humour. "But it's true what Rat Face said - about the things the past Sydnam royals have done to Naru people...it makes my blood boil!" she leaned forward on her position on the grass, her knees bent, getting heated up all over again. The two kingdoms had long suffered from unstable relations -- for as long as time began, some said...though affairs appeared to have improved vastly if you believed the words of the liberals. For the people in this village here in the kingdom of Sydnam, however, the loud opinion was that the people of Naru were uncultured, uncivilised and inferior in every way. The relative emotions around here when it came to Naru's were of mistrustfulness and derision, for hundreds of years worth of war and conflict meant that there were still people old enough to recall the stories from their own parents of the last war - tales of savage violence, of underhand tactics and siege and plunder (which Ysabel knew to be false for it was the Sydnams who had launched the unprovoked attack). The crowning point of contention saw Sydnam, some two hundred years ago now usurping Naru and staking an illegitimate claim over it by command of the then King and declaring the two kingdoms merged under the formers rule. The event still cast a bitter taste in the mouths of the people back in Naru. Rat Face, Three Chins...they were all set to enlist in the Sydnam army when they came of age. Eager to serve their Kingdom and protect it against people like herself no doubt. In a close knit, small and isolated village like this, the arrival of the Caselle family -- with a Sydnam father and Naru mother -- some six years ago, had caused quite the uproar. The petite, dark haired, amber eyed Naru woman who had arrived one rainy day with her towering husband who clutched onto his half Naru, half Sydnam children had been speculated over like an exotic animal, for none had even seen a Naru before and had never desired to... Such ill-ease between the kingdoms was precisely the reason why her parent's marriage was a trying one -- for inter-kingdom marriage was still looked down upon in some regions where people were still in something of a time freeze despite the rules of centuries ago being abolished. "Listen," Damon said then, shaking his head. "You need to know how to handle people like that and not just...act like a baby." A Tale of Two Kingdoms Ch. 02 Ysabel barely heard his words. Everything about him made her feel weak and sick with attraction and his harshly but beautiful carved face flushed with passion was almost as seducing as his caress. He was like no man she had ever seen before. The men in her village were mostly sons of farmers and tradesmen and such. In short, lithe, boyish and inoffensive males. And then there was Damon. There was nothing lithe about his form. He was devastating and something very stubborn within her wanted him badly even though she didn't understand quite what for. But it didn't take very long for her to that part figure out. Turning her face away from him just as his lips descended once more, her cheek colliding against his seeking lips, she urged him to let her down. In response, Damon grunted an unintelligible word before cupping the back of her head, crushing her hair in his large hand, and manoeuvring her face back toward his. "Unhand me," she resisted his insistent demand. She reared away from his questing mouth, her previously languorous expression hardening and she fully began to appreciate where this could lead. She wasn't that naïve. "Don't play games with me, girl -- I'm in no mood for it today," Damon's heated, impatient and slightly slurred voice -- whether from intoxication or passion, she hardly knew -- made her melt and she felt shame. No man had ever made her feel so submissive and desperate to be his; certainly not her. And though she technically could claim an old acquaintance with this man before her, they may well have never have met. He was nothing like the boy she fondly and distantly recalled. "I play no games -- I merely wish to settle the terms." "Terms?" Damon frowned, stroking a frustrated but surprisingly gentle thumb across her slightly swollen lips. Shaking his hand off impatiently, Ysabel said in the firmest tones she could muster, "The terms of my whoring for you." "Payment later," Damon said in equally as firm tones, quite surprising her although she noted that his grip on her had loosened slightly at her mercenary demand. "I can pay," he informed her, before arrogantly tossing his head at the low mattress pushed against the wall. "But mind that you don't keep me frustrated too long -- I'll not be short changed by a cunning minx." "Philipe did inform me that you were a bit tight when it came to paying out for services rendered," she mused, vaguely recalling the face of the man who had given her access to Damon. Though her body was still suffering the effects of his disturbing caress, she was no longer shaking with it nor was her mind as foggy. This gave her enough confidence to face him unflinchingly as he pinned her with a disgusted look. His expression became quite unmoved then. Gone was the heavy lidded look and hot eyes. "It turns out you're right," he said then in short tones. "I find myself a little light of pocket after all. I'm afraid you're going to have to find your nights wages on some other pallet." At that, he let her down and turned away. Somewhat surprised at the speedy capitulation, Ysabel watched him cautiously as he shrugged on a shirt, apparently dismissing her. Of course she felt relief wash over her. It would seem the man who frequently lay with whores and gained equally relish in slaying men had some dignity after all if he was turned off by the knowledge that his friend had already had her. The distaste on his face before had been plain to see. As she scurried to the door, she cursed herself over the very displeasing fact that relief was not the first emotion that had hit at his words. Rather, it has been acute disappointment. Her mind cursing her heatedly for her shamefulness, Ysabel started hard at the heavy hand that fell on her shoulder. She turned and regarded the lumbering form before her warily, her hand still on the door knob. "The man you're working for -- tell him I don't need any more persuading. Tell him," he paused and looked away from her, focusing on the stone wall briefly. The small chamber was dark and lit only by the fire in the grate and a few candles flickering and the shadows clinging to his sharply carved features made him look aged. "Tell him he won't gain my obedience," the last was said with heavy irony, "by employing his minions to sway me." Ysabel nodded slowly, bemused. "I'll tell him." Damon nodded once before waving a hand. "Well, go on," he dismissed her. Having covered himself up, one would have thought she would be able to react to him now with perfect ease. But with only his eyes on her, watching her, he made her feel nervous and light-headed with the attention he was paying her, even if it was no longer in an impassioned light. In fact, he looked quite indifferent. Just as she re-entered the hub of the excitement again-- which felt like another lifetime ago now -- she wasn't surprised when she looked over her shoulder to see him tailing her. She had heard his heavy tread behind her and had forced herself to stay as unaffected as he was to her -- but, oh! What questions she wanted to ask him; who was trying to persuade him to do what? And what had led him to joining the Sydnam army -- running it, but all accounts? It was the last thought that left a bad taste in her mouth. When she thought back to the few boys in her village who had left long ago to join the army, she felt sickened for she knew what their views has been and their reason behind enrolling. How could Damon choose to lay done his life for such a historically prejudiced regime? But she knew he wasn't like those tormenting boys from her childhood. He had been quietly dignified in his own way those many years ago. And then, despite herself -- as she had been doing all day -- she felt her mind whirring, trying greedily to remember every moment and every conversation from their brief, long ago relationship. What would be the point in telling him who she was? No doubt he would not remember something which had been so insignificant in his, clearly, long and colourful life. "You needn't see me out," she said in arch tones over her shoulder. "Need I not? Well, you'll not linger about here if I have anything to say about it. I want you away and I want you to tell your employer that I want to be left alone until I'm ready to give my answer." As they crossed through the room, those who were still sober enough to have notice of their surroundings made way for the unexpected appearance of their commander to their late night revelries. "Ah -- so you found him," a deep voice called over the fast dwindling noise of the room. Damon's formally steady pace through the room stopped. "Zanders," his voice was short. "Finished with her already? I thought you'd be pleased -- she's not one to turn your nose up to," Philipe stated with eyes running over her appreciatively. Damon snorted. "I never been keen to taste your leftovers before -- I'm not about to start." Feeling humiliated and desperate to be out of here, back in her warm bed where things were plain and ordinary and safe, Ysabel snapped -- "If you don't mind, I have places to be." They were developing quite an audience - an audience who probably saw nothing more than a whore dangling her wares between two men and thought made her feel sick. Ysabel nodded curtly at Damon before turning on her foot but before she'd cleared a good few steps, the face of one particular solider-- still decked out in the Royal colours of Sydnam - amongst the fellow gawkers, made her throat contract. "Lukas," she whispered, shaking her head in bemusement as the furious face of her brother approached her. * "My God, Ysabel!" Stiffening at the enraged shout, Ysabel stared at her brother warily knowing he had clearly heard enough to get a general gist of the situation. Or the perceived situation, at least. "You know this female?" Damon asked slowly. Clasping his hands behind him, he waited patiently for a response and Ysabel pressed her lips together in mild fear at the violent expression on her brothers face as he tried to control himself. "She is my sister, commander." With brow furrowed, Damon glanced at her before his eyes narrowed in confusion. Then, he nodded sharply back towards the corridor leading to the rooms. "Come." He said, before striding away. * Back in Damon's room once more, than man in question questioned; "Caselle?" "You seem confused, commander," her brother's voice was sardonic and cold. "Perhaps you remember visiting my family some summers ago," Lukas spoke in detached tones, much at odds with what he spoke of; childhood and memories. "You were introduced to my sister then, I recall." "Yes," Damon replied. "Yes," he repeated, in some bemusement. "But..." his brows jerked downwards. "Then that is how you knew me," he pinned Ysabel with a hard stare that spoke of disbelief at her audacity. At his accusing glance her look became defiant. "And yet you led me to believe that you were some spy," he continued. "I never did -- you assumed it for yourself!" his rudeness brought forth her own. "Yet you never corrected me," he pointed out, seeming somewhat taken aback at her fervour, his expression suggesting that he expected her to be meek and cowering in his displeased presence. "And had you informed me who you were since you more than remembered me -- I would not have-" Damon paused and his glance drifted over to Lukas. In clear tones, he said. "I would not have treated her as I did. For that, I apologize," he gave a stiff nod. "There was no excuse -- well, if I may, I would say that it was the effects of the ale that made me act so...uncontrolled. I hope you will accept my words." Ysabel stared at his awkwardness in surprise but when she realised he was serious, she lifted her shoulders. "Why didn't you say something, for all that's holy? Why didn't you tell me who you were?" no longer as tempered, Damon asked. "You didn't give me much chance for explanation, what with the instant mauling that met my arrival." She took a deep breath as she became worked up, ignoring her brothers sputter of outrage at her words. "However, that's in the past now and I accept your apology," she declared magnanimously. "That still doesn't explain why you are here in the first place," Lukas bit out behind her. Looking away in some embarrassment, Ysabel met Damon's equally as inquiring expression. Feeling her face heat at the speculation in both men's eyes she said. "Don't look at me like that, Lukas -- don't you condemn me after what you've been doing. The army! Why, Lukas? Why have you lied all of these years? Physician, you said -- and all along...all along you've been fighting against our people!" Damon snorted. "If I recall correctly, your loyalties run both ways. And we've never taken up arms against Naru. Nor would we have any reason to." "You must have a very short memory then," Ysabel retorted fiercely, looking the man squarely in the eyes. "how can my brother wish to lay down his life for a regime that wouldn't even have allowed us to be classed as people because of who our mother was, once upon a time?" Damon looked at her and that look in his eyes for that briefest moment made her certain he was remembering her tormenters. "Yes, well that's history now - joining the army is about more than just loyalties...it's a good place for a man to learn discipline and control. Besides, Sydnam doesn't stand beside that same ideology now." "You've always been...patriotic," Lukas said then, shaking his head. "I knew you would be like this - do you understand now why I didn't tell you?" "Don't pretend that's the sole reason!" she strode up to and stopped inches before her brother, his face, on closer inspection, so changed by the years. "Years, Lukas -- you've been away for years! A letter once or twice a year and nothing more...you have a brother who you've met but a few times in your life! You selfish-" Taking her by the shoulders and forgetting completely that this familial scene were happening before his commander, Lukas tried to appeal to her. "What good would me staying have done? After mama died-" he shook his head angrily. "Look, I don't have to answer to you -- but you're right, I should have visited you more. But I so hate that woman," he muttered bitterly. By that woman, she knew he referred to their step mother. But really, he had barely spoken two words to her -- she was the one who had to live with her! Her anger at Lukas for joining the Sydnam army was real enough -- he had been on route to be a physician - it had been their mother's keenest, dearest wish for him and that was what made it all the more sadder. But what really angered her the most was how he had abandoned her. After their mother had died in childbirth, the baby with her, everything had become grey and dull. Her father became withdrawn and it was Lukas who looked after her. But when he went back to school each term, she had been so very alone. Her mother, she realised, had been her entire world. In a place where she had few friends and many adversaries, she had still managed to flourish somewhat under her parent's warm attentions. Her father had never quite recovered. And then he had married. "If the pair of you are quite finished," Damon queried and Lukas looked quite shamed at the man's sarcastic tones. "Of course, sir," he nodded, swiftly letting go of Ysabel and taking a step back. He then proceeded to clasp his arms behind his back and stand to attention. "But I need to know what my sister was doing here. I'm afraid I can't let something like that slip. I am responsible for her here. If you did not know who she was, how was that Ysabel knew who you were?" "The bracelet," Lara sighed in exasperation, knowing he wouldn't let it drop nodding at Damon's wrist. "I made him for it. It would make sense therefore that I would recall it," she glanced at Damon in surprise then, "but...you still wear it -- why?" she looked at him in some appeal. What could it mean? She had wondered since she had seen him. Had he worn it because he remembered their tentative friendship of years ago? Did he wear it because he believed it would protect him? Her heart clenched at such a thought and it made him seem more human. She waited eagerly. Damon's arms unfurled from across his chest and his expression became almost...sheepish. Lukas snorted "I-" He stopped and shook his head. "It doesn't matter," he said then, his voice and face firmer once more and ever stern. "What?" Ysabel asked staring from her brother smirk and Damon's uncomfortable face. "Tell me." "It's not important," Damon dismissed. "But from your story I can see now that you sought to play games with me -- with your deliberate withholding of your identity and your still unrepentant face. What would your father say if he knew you were here?" he bit off in some disgust, his expression now almost of an elder admonishing a petulant child so much so that it was hard to imagine the same man had displayed such urgent passions for her before. "It would seem," he finished, "that you are in desperate need of some discipline. No daughter of an upstanding family should carry on so." "And no man of any honour would make the kind of invitation that you did," she raised a challenging brow, refusing to feel shame but feeling it filter though her anyway. A light stain marred his cheekbones at her words and both Ysabel and her brother, she noticed, seemed to find fascination at the sight of him uncomposed. He bit out in frustration, "I did not know-" "Yes, well we could go over this all night," Ysabel interrupted rudely. "Let us be thankful that what could have been a shameful situation ended when it did. No thanks to you, of course." "Ysabel," Lucas said in low, warning tones, before saying much louder, "She means no offence, you must understand -- I am sure you can appreciate her mood -- all of our moods -- have been somewhat sparked by this...incident. You were not to know, commander, as you so rightly said, who my sister was. Perhaps we should leave you now. If you would permit?" Far from angered and fighting her corner, her brother was know seeking to pacify and placate the man and the realisation made Ysabel uncomfortable. "Yes but before you go - you have news for me?" Damon said over his shoulder, turning toward his bed and bending down to perch on it. He leaned his back against the wall and regarded Lukas with a direct and steady glance. Lukas glanced at Ysabel briefly. "Await me outside, sister." Needing no urging to leave this hub of much humiliation, Ysabel escaped before he had fully issued the dictate. * Pressing her face against the cold stone wall, Ysabel stared at the door musingly. She should have been more surprised, she determined when Lukas had appeared before her dressed in the royal colours of the Kingdom. But it wasn't his friendship with Damon that had led him here, clearly, as whatever relationship the two had once had was now clearly well in the past and confined to stay there. My God, she thought, closing her eyes wearily and pushing her heated face further against the wall. To think I had protested coming to Sydnam, blissfully unaware of my brothers whereabouts and I would never have known. And then there was Damon. She had never thought to see him again, or paid any mind to wanting to. Even now she had to force herself to remember that the person she had been lazily communicating with over the years was the enigma that stood behind the stone wall she hugged so closely. Starting in surprise, she jerked away from the wall as the door opened and looked uncertainly at Lukas's bland expression. He closed the door behind him and was silent for a moment. "Were you listening?" he nodded toward the wall. "No! I was merely hot and cooling my face." He frowned suspiciously and caught her arm and pulling her along the corridor. "Do I want to know how you came to be here?" "Dana is to be married -- you remember that aunt of her? The horrible, pretentious one? Well she moved near the city a little while ago and she's keen to introduce her to all of the fine, well bred sons of her acquaintances. It's sickening." Lukas said nothing for a long moment but when he next stopped, he nodded toward the door. "Not here in Sydnam -- though I did wonder. No, my immediate concern as a brother was why my little sister was in lodgings with such ill-repute as this -- and well after she should have been tucked under fluffly blanket. And with the commander." "It's all so complicated -- I hardly understand myself," she lifted her shoulders vaguely. "Then edit," he persisted in hard tones. "We were in the market-place," she obliged at his prodding. "Madsen and I -- and then the soldiers passed through and you know how excitable Madsen gets when-" she stopped abruptly. He knew nothing about the boy. At her expression he at least had the decency to look away. "Go on," his voice has a slight edge to it. "And then Damon saw me and -- and asked me to come by tonight. That's all," she said in resigned tones. Lukas's face was grim. "That's not all. He didn't know who you were -- how could he? It's been years...and I heard the conversation between he and Philipe..." he trailed off looking at her tellingly. Ysabel blushed furiously. "It was all Madsen's fault really. Apparently, our brother is The Executioners number one fan..." "I suppose father is here in the city too?" Lukas changed the subject swiftly. "That's right." "I'll come by tomorrow." "That would be nice," Ysabel paused. "He'll be happy to see you." "And now, I have to talk to you about something-- it's important." He pulled stopped before a random door and pushing her inside a sparely furnished, drab room. A Tale of Two Kingdoms Ysabel replied indignantly, "I'd like to have seen you trying to handle those two without my assistance." But unlike Lukas, who would have argumentatively scoffed at that, Damon simply gave her a level look and after a thoughtful pause, shrugged. "You're right, of course. It would have been difficult. However, I'm guessing that spurt of action and bravery was a one off." This last was said as typically, boyish scoff. Ysabel looked at her hands. "I do try but then I always get scared and end up running instead of facing them." Damon looked her up and down, shaking his head at the pathetic and smeared tear stained face. Having grown up in a large city in Sydnam, Damon had been exposed to people from various kingdoms but he knew full well how bigoted some Sydnam people were, even in this modern day and age. "Perhaps it's best not to confront them after all...and keep out of their way. And if it's as bad as you say, tell someone. Your father, perhaps." Were it him, he'd tell no one. He'd sooner die than palm his problems onto someone else like a snivelling infant. "No," Ysabel piped up quickly. "Not father -- please, I'll keep well clear of them from now on...I know I should stick to the house but I become so bored and lonely..." she looked away wistfully. "Just walking about the forest for a short time can make me feel better. Do you know," she had paused then thoughtfully, her face lighting up as a thought struck her suddenly, "grandmother sent me some beads from Naru for my birthday. They're made from crushed Naru stone and are supposed to contain magic to keep you safe - maybe I could put them into a bracelet like mother suggested and use them as a protection charm against the boys?" Damon snorted but at the girls affronted expression sobered slightly. Ysabel eyed him levelly and Damon shifted uncomfortably at the intense surveillance. "Do you mean to say you don't believe in magic and its powers - not even a little?" Shaking his head in exasperation, Damon relayed that indeed he did not. "Well, I think that's sad," Ysabel sniffed. "In Naru, everyone believes -- even father believes now though it took some convincing from mother, mind." Damon knew enough about men and women at fifteen to know how that method of convincing must have gone. "Many years ago, magic even played a large part in the marriages of the royals. The Balaris royals, for example -- and even the Sydnam royals at some point. It's true," she nodded enthusiastically at his narrowed, skeptical expression. "Marriages were arranged by making sure the match was approved by the cosmos -- the princesses and princes all had their mates and couldn't marry until they found them." Damon rolled his eyes. "Well, if you've heard that somewhere, it must have been a tradition from hundreds of years ago. Thousands, even. It's a stupid, tradition and no wonder it's merely confined to history books now." Lifting her chin in the air, Ysabel eyed him intently. "Well I think its lovely -- just imagine," she sighed, "one man -- or woman -- solely existing just for you...for you to eventually find. How perfect." The girlish trilling was Damon's queue to leave, and he hurried to his feet, eager to catch up to his friend -- and berate him for abandoning him with the girl. Ysabel rose too then and dusted down her wrinkled long dress. "They'll be gone by now, shamed that they were bested by a single boy and a girl. Won't you come home with me?" she implored then. "You can help me string the beads up into bracelets and we can make you one, too." "Er, thanks but no. Lukas and I were supposed to go to the stream at the bottom of the forest, so..." With pursed lips, Ysabel nodded solemnly, looking very martyred at the obvious rejection and Damon rolled his eyes to the heavens, never good around children and females even less. He wanted nothing more than to be as far away as possible from the girl and her missish demands and tried to do so as manfully as possible now. "Look, I'll walk you back to your house, alright?" "Very well," Ysabel held out a hand and gave Damon a sharp glance at his look of horror. Muttering loudly and cursing under his breath, he grabbed hold of the small, palm with much reluctance before traipsing out of the forest with her, looking very beleaguered at his plight. * During the four weeks Lukas and Damon were home for, things improved somewhat. For one, the more resilient of her tormentors seemed to back of, mostly, Ysabel supposed, because Damon had gone and told her father about their bullying and having been none the wiser prior to that, Lindsen had been furious. At Ysabel as well as the village folk. She had not wanted to involve her father, knowing how proud her mother was and how she had endeavoured not to trouble him and when an argument had ensued between her parents over her mother's hushed lips -- the first roaring match she had ever witnessed between them -- she had felt guilty and scared. Duly chastened by her father and feeling pathetic for having to have her father fight her battles, Ysabel had felt betrayed by Damon and so had reverted back to treating the boy frostily. * As Lukas bid farewell on the morning of his departure, Ysabel morosely waited outside by her father's horse. Last night, the realisation of the future had hit her full force. With her brother's presence these past weeks, it had been far less lonely. But now that he was leaving, she knew that things would be miserable -- and then what if that the past animosity of the villagers returned? Wallowing in self-pity and misery, Ysabel turned into the father's horse, resting her face against its neck, rubbing at it a little roughly as she tried to control her woe. * Damon shrugged his cloth bag over his shoulder and sighed restlessly as he waited for Lukas to join him, his attention reluctantly caught by the pitying sight of his schoolmates younger sister with her tearstained cheeks. Though she hadn't talked to him much nor shown any inclination to coddle him since his talk with her father - clearly a glad consequence of his blabbing - he nevertheless felt guilty and a little affronted of her vehement attempt to ignore him. "There now," he walked over to her and noted her father's rather skittish horse who found female theatrics just as uncomfortable as he did and ploughed ahead awkwardly. He was touched that the girl cared so strongly for her brother. He wondered what it would have been like to have such a family as Lukas and envied him quite a lot in that respect. "There's no need for all of that. If it's the lads you're worried about, you'll be able to handle them well enough now should you find yourself set upon after that trick I taught you with the hand," he mimed the upwards motion with the heel of his hand once more. He had taught her that after dinner that very evening in which he and Ysabel had been confronted by the two sniveller's. "Rat Face did bleed quite a bit," Ysabel agreed slowly. "His nose had been looking quite bulbous ever since." "Exactly," Damon nodded, showing her then how to properly stroke the fitful horse. "I wish you hadn't told father," she said in a small voice then and Damon sighed in exasperation and shook his head. "Look, I didn't do it to be spiteful -- I genuinely thought it was necessary," and there he frowned, looking suddenly stern and very far from a fifteen year old boy and much more like a schoolmaster. "You'll be all alone for those nitwits to do as they please, you must be more practically minded." Ysabel sniffed. "If you were here, they wouldn't even try it. You were so brave," she added shyly. Damon lifted her shoulders. "Not particularly. I'm sure Lukas would have done the same." Ysabel shook her head, slowly. "No -- he's scared of them, I think. He's never stood up for me before -- well, not like you did. Will you really come back with Damon on your next break?" she said then. "I said so, didn't I?" he replied, eager to be away and on the road then, for he wasn't much good at dealing with children and the girl's suddenly boisterous demeanour from her prior sadness -- and rudeness - bemused him. "Well, I'm glad you came over - I was going to set things right between us before you left anyway," she smiled and turned away, fumbling about in the long pocket on her skirt. "Here," she said then, timidly. "I made this for you -- and one for Lukas, too. His is green because I ran out of the nice beads to make another...but grey is still a nice colour, isn't it?" Damon stared at the beaded bracelet in the girl's small palm, despair clear on his face. "It's that good luck bracelet we talked about making, remember? I had enough beads for three," she explained. "It's magic," her tone was wistful as she made a waving motion for him to give her his hand. "And I told you I didn't believe in all of that crude rubbish," Damon snapped impatiently. "Crude...that's the way all of you Sydnam's see us, isn't it?" Ysabel demanded, two pink spots appearing on her cheeks. "What -? No," Damon shook his head feeling a fool. "That isn't what I meant," he sighed but knew it was a stupid choice of words. Naru had too long been called inferior, uncivilised -- crude -- in its customs and culture when compared to Sydnam but Damon had no ill feelings toward the kingdom and the girl's heated face made him feel rightly shamed. "Sometimes," he paused, making sure he would make sense, "it's nice to feel that there is something, or someone, protecting you," he waved generally at the bracelet. "I know what it is to feel alone," he lifted his eyes at her, not feeling inordinately put out or embarrassed baring this small piece of information, for she was only a child and would soon forget. Perhaps she would feel less alone if she knew that there were others who felt the same, he conceded. "But you'll be ok, really," he smiled then. "Ok?" Eyes shining, Ysabel nodded but too late Damon saw the intent in her eyes and stepped away, shaking his head vigorously. "Listen-" but before he could refuse, Ysabel had pawed at his arm and secured the bracelet there with no less than half a dozen tight knots. "There," Ysabel surveyed her handiwork proudly. "Now you'll never loose it and you'll always be protected. And you'll never be alone again, for we can be bracelet friends." Shaking his head, Damon attempted to get the cursed thing off once she turned her back from him to coo at the horse but met with no success. Lukas soon joined him then and cheerily told his sister not to miss him too much and to the urchin's credit, she didn't weep or act up. She simply looked at him solemnly and told him to be safe and not to forget to send her the sweets he had promised her. At that she had paused and shifted her eyes to Damon, thoughtfully, her look rapidly becoming calculating. "Mother sends Lukas a food package every month and makes me write him but seeing as how he's generally ungrateful and never replies, I think I shall send my monthly letters to you from now on." As Damon began to hurriedly open his mouth to reply, Ysabel arched her brows and continued, "You don't have to reply. But maybe now and then you can send me those green sweets with the pink middle -- Lukas says you can get them at every shop in Sydnam but he always forgets to bring them back for me." "She's talking about the royal Sydnam confectionary...the green sugared sweets," Lukas shook his head in exasperation. "Well?" Ysabel pressed. "Oh, just leave him alone, will you? Lord," Lukas rolled his eyes. "Don't listen to her. Come on, we'd best get going." As they rode out of the tiny village, Damon imprinted its tranquillity onto his mind, locking it away for when he returned -- if he returned. For he had learned never to be certain on anything nor to rely foolishly on any one thing. Too soon, the village, including its occupants, were forgotten; the pretty, soft spoken dark haired mother, the easy and amiable presence of Lukas's father and of course the little grubby girl who had reluctantly charmed a commitment out of him. With a friendship bracelet and promise for sweets. Well, no doubt she'd forget about the latter before too long and the bracelet could be easily removed with a knife. With some relief at those thoughts, he felt his mind lighten somewhat. * Ten years later Ysabel sliced the envelope open with a blunt knife and emptied the contents onto her bed, wrinkling her nose at the sight that met her eyes. This looked to be a new concoction and she was sorely disappointed not to have received her favourite confectionary. As her brother was so lax and forgetful, he barely ever sent letters anymore...but a lot had changed over the years. But true to his long ago word, his school friend, Damon, more than made up for it. Almost vaguely, Ysabel mused over how the transaction had developed into an ongoing but irregular and almost absent-minded, involuntary thing on both their parts - that every few months -- sometimes as long as half a year, mind -- a small envelope would arrive bearing a small selection of Sydnam sweets or those from another kingdom in whatever city or town Damon was working in, for judging by the extensive and exotic samples she had received over the years, he wasn't a fan of staying in anyone place for long enough. Of course, he had only relented after a time; Lukas had brought him back the following summer and Ysabel had interrogated him, asking if had received the many letters she sent to the school since his last visit. Blushing, he had murmured an indecipherable response and eventually admitted that he had at her unyielding stare. "Then why didn't you send me any sweets?" Ysabel had inquired archly and Damon had looked at her in bemusement before visibly relaxing. "Is that really all you want? You don't expect me to read - I mean, reply to the letters?" he said quickly. "I thought we were friends?" Ysabel's declaration had been hesitant. "We are," Damon had replied very quickly, clearly not wanting to cause any theatrics. "look, all right -- you know, I love those ones too. The green sweets, wasn't it? I'm also partial to the square yellow ones," there had never been an accompanying letter, no words from the boy himself although now and then she would receive an address but this wasn't often. Yet when she did have one, she was sure to carry out her ritual of sending a letter containing silly things which made her feel better once she had unloaded for it didn't seem to matter much what she said because to her, the occupant on the receiving end seemed almost like someone she had conjured up in her mind. And then there was the fact that she knew he never read the things. She had grilled him on his third visit and last visit, that same year at winter break. It seemed so long ago now as she thought back. He had looked at her in exasperation and admitted that he had truly tried to become invested in her argument with Fioni and Bethanie about the meaning of true friendship but that other things demanded his attention. He had added kindly then that he appreciated the gesture since all the other boys seemed to be inundated with parcels and such from family -- and girlfriends, though he never mentioned the last -- and he kind of felt left out. She thought perhaps he was saying this to placate her but then when she recalled that he had no parents and must surely not be so close to these relatives who had taken him and paid for his studies, she had felt an almost maternal feeling spilling over her. From then on, she had never once missed sending him her missive every few months and thus the ritual had been set. "Are you ready?" The impatient voice brought her back to the present and stuffing the sweets into her bag, she Ysabel nodded and followed her step-sister out of her bedroom. * "Must you be so miserable?" Ysabel glanced across at her poised sister with narrowed eyes. The carriage jostled and jerked as it negotiated its way along the uneven terrain, yet Dana was positively glowing and unruffled. To her, this trip was an event she could crow about to her friends back at home...well, that was if Dana's life plan fell through so that it meant she had to return home. They had started the journey two weeks ago in a public, large, crowded vehicle which after the fourteen days had changed to a separate carriage. Her father had been brow-beaten into hiring an expensive carriage to take them the rest of the way to her (step) aunts house on account her step mothers constant, shrill complaints which had eventually grated on everyone, including her usually loyal daughter, Dana. Shifting in her seat, Ysabel looked down at the blonde head lying on her lap and sighed. Madsen had been asleep for hours now and his heavy head was starting to numb her legs but feeling guilty for her thoughts, since it often seemed like he was thoroughly neglected by everyone else leaving herself in the role as primary care-taker, she patted his head absently and lay her head back against the wall of the carriage, contemplating the scenery vaguely. "I cannot believe how vibrant it is here...father surely even you must admit how crude our village seems in comparison?" Dana remarked, her face glued on the sight beyond the carriage window. The man lifted his shoulders vaguely before closing his eyes for a brief nap and Dana huffed at his indifference but her dissatisfaction was short lived as her mind wandered. "And finally I shall be able to purchase new gowns instead of having them all altered and re-stitched by botch-job Mari in the village," her eyes gleamed as she craned her head, trying to get a better view of a colourful looking shop display of beautifully crafted gowns. One thing Ysabel noted immediately and despaired of was how much the mode of dress differed. Back in their village, nobody paid much mind to Ysabel and so she was more or less free to go about as she pleased. She often wore the daily dress of her late mother's people in the hotter months, and Dana spiteful declared that the Naru's dressed like uncivilised folk by baring their skin to the degree but when it was that hot, Ysabel couldn't summon the strength to care. She looked down at her attire then; a simple, narrow white floor length skirt, fitted just above the hips and with a slight slit at the back for ease of movement. The top was also white and sleeveless with thick straps and ended at her midriff. The length of the top was a matter of preference. But as she gazed out of the carriage windows at the passing women and children, she realised that such attire would not be appropriate which rubbed her sorely. "There is so much I wish to see: I must go to Phoebe's garment plaza and purchase new fabrics. Apparently, she carries-" Ysabel groaned and her sister bestowed an unflattering look upon her but it was Sara who spoke. "It would serve you well to come along too, Ysabel. You can't expect to spend the next two weeks walking around in those shabby clothes. Those few gowns you have won't serve you for long, mark me and you will surely embarrass us all walking about in those... garments." Closing her ears to her Dana's rambling, Ysabel stared at the passing scenery, If only her father had let her stay home -- but no, he had insisted she come along to; why, she didn't know. She could have kept Madsen with her. But her father wasn't a verbose, nor overly tolerant kind of man these days so she'd relented. It would be a long, painful and unnecessary stay, she determined. * Having been confined to her Aunt's house (which she was obliged to call her, having been heckled into doing by her step mother) for the past week, a week in which her sister has been introduced to a succession of upstanding Sydnam men after another, Ysabel was almost eager as they set off for the market place in the royal city a few days later. A Tale of Two Kingdoms Her father had stayed home, pleading exhaustion and so off they all went; her step mother Sara, Sophia her Aunt who-wasn't-really-an-aunt and her step sister Dana. And of course, her little brother Madsen. After traipsing around the dozenth fabric and dress store, Ysabel finally reached her limit and announced that she would take her brother to the places he wished to visit and that they would all meet again in a short while, an arrangement which none of her female relations had paid much mind to. "Well, come on, you," Ysabel sighed, looking down at her moon eyed sibling who strained against her hand to run to the nearest food stall. * An hour later, weaving between the hurrying and busy locals, Ysabel and her brother started to make their way back in the direction of the garment section of the marketplace but their attention was caught as a muffled murmur broke out amongst the tradesmen and shoppers. Curious, Ysabel rose on her tiptoes, her bare feet warm on the sun heated ground as she tried to spy the cause for the excitement but it was useless. She was typically short as any Naru and these Sydnam's seemed almost gigantic in comparison "There seems to be some sort of a commotion," she shrugged. "perhaps a performance of some kind?" "Lets go and see!" her brother pulled at her hand, apparently just as uneager to rejoin the family as she. With a resigned but playful smile she agreed and they followed behind the crowd of people who wandered away from their perusal of various stalls in an excited shuffle. "Make way!" a firm call rang out just as Ysabel grabbed a tighter hold of her brother's wrist as they were carried forward by the sea excited folk around them. "Clear a path in the centre, if you will," the masculine voice continued in commanding tones. Straining on her toes, Ysabel could just about see the man in question who was uniformed in dark blue and emerald green, the colours of the kingdom. He held his arms out, gesturing for a path to be made by the crowds of curious people and they soon complied, albeit reluctantly, stepping back until a narrow pathway was created. "Oh, this is hopeless; neither of us will be able to see a thing -- let's turn back and-" But before she could finish, Madsen was pulling tightly on her hand and dragging her forward toward the front of line of the crowd, weaving his way between the distracted folk who hardly noticed the two small figures. "What is it?" Madsen called excitedly over the noise. "Can you see?" "It sounds like horses," Ysabel craned her neck but fast gave up. "Perhaps it's a royal procession of some sort?" "Step a few paces back those at the front, unless you want your toes crushed," the uniformed man advised sternly but his voice was mostly drowned out by the excited chatter and Ysabel tried to extract certain conversations from the other. "Do you think it's The Executioner's regiment?" one enthusiastic man speculated. "Of course not -- what would he be doing here?" another dismissed. "- could have been summoned to the palace." "-everyone knows how much he despises the royals -- he's always refused such calls so far," another rejoined. "He missed the king's birthday celebrations despite his whole regiment being invited. My brother told me -- he's a head cook in the royal kitchens." "Did that man say The Executioner?" Madsen murmured excitedly, his eyes wide as moons. Ysabel asked on a sardonic arch of her brow "Yes - why, do you know him?" "Everyone knows him, Belle," he shook his head in disgust. "He's only the leader of the highest regiment in the Sydnam army. But no one really knows much about him I suppose -- he's not like other solider who seek fame for their deeds. Apparently, though, he's a cruel old man, who lusts for blood and carnage." "Carnage is right," a male voice interrupted and Ysabel and her brother glanced up curiously. "It was The Executioner who singularly handled the uprising between Sydnam and Balaris two years ago...a true warrior, that. Cruel he may be - but a man has to be to defend his country," he looked down the heaving crowd proudly at that, in the direction of the approaching hooves. "It's said he slew thirty men in thirty seconds when the Balaris launched an unprovoked attack... a sight I'd pay to see, I tell you," he finished on an impassioned declaration. Ysabel shuddered at the gruesome picture he pained just as the first horses came into view. Stiff, uniformed men sat on huge stallions as they negotiated their way along the narrow path to the accompaniment of cheers and merriment; and each uniformed man looked just as thoroughly bewildered as the next at the reaction of the townsfolk. "It's him!" a shrill disembodied voice gasped some rows back and Ysabel followed the collective stare of those around her to the horse approaching. And promptly cringed away. "The Executioner! It must be; look at the scar on his cheek, that's him I tell you," the same voice screeched. The cruel faced man just before them seemed as though he could easily have earned such a name as The Executioner...he looked utterly savage. Long knotted hair, heavily sun darkened skin and a face slashed all over by scars and nics -- with a deep, ugly, pigmented one on his left side. The man who was forced to stop and bring his horse under control at the obstruction of the excited revel before him was positively vulgar and at the imposing, menacing vision, Ysabel tightened her grip around her brother's wrist in reaction. "Carver," his barking voice rang out then but was drowned out amongst the gaiety of the crowd and the uniformed man who had initially herded the crowd clipped past Ysabel's feet and hurried to the man's side. Well, at least she and Madsen had a good standing position here, right in the thick of it to hear this infamous man's conversation which no doubt many within the crowd would pay to hear. "He's very large," Madsen commented thoughtfully. "I suppose one would have to be to wield such a heavy sword," he pointed to the sharp instrument strapped across his back. "He's hideous is what he is," Ysabal rejoined under her breath, cringing playfully at her brother before both siblings glanced back quickly at the sight scant feet from them so as not to miss a thing. It would certainly be a tale for her brother to being back for his chums. No doubt he would walk about with a puffed out chest for weeks. "-I'm trying to, Sir -- but the crowd are over-excited," the beleaguered solider explained nervously in response to the biting question delivered by the man. "I'd never have thought there would be such chaos," the burly, scarred Sydnam ran an impatient hand though his hair. The man, who, according to the collective crowd who seemed to know his life's ins and out, had fought numerous bloody fights with ease yet found this, a crowd of cheering, proud people a bewildering torment. "We should have waited until night to cross through. What do they want, anyway?" he bit out then, looking about warily, a harassed expression passing over his hard features. And then, before she realised what was happening, Madsen was racing out of Ysabel's grasp and rushing the few feet across to the Sydnam's horse. "They wish to greet you, sir," Carver lifted his shoulders, waving a hand and shooing the boy away who had, as yet, gone unnoticed by The Executioner. "Please, sir!" Ysabel chewed nervously on her lower lip at her brother's close proximity to the horse's hind legs. One foul movement of those legs and the boy would be on the ground and irreparably marred. As Madsen reached to tug on the soldier's booted foot to get his attention, the horse jerked and Ysabel scuttled across the space to the horse's side and grabbed at her brother's skinny arm, pulling the small body toward her, a firm curse on her lips at his recklessness. "Are you trying to get yourself killed, boy?" the soldier's voice was curt as he controlled the horse swiftly. "Carver -- move the crowd back; I haven't time for this -- this is ridiculous!" "But-!" At the childish pleading, he finally granted the boy the attention he craved, his eyes narrowed and hard. "I only wanted you to sign my arm! Please, Mr -- Excutio -- uh..." But the solider dismissed the boy's embarrassment and looked past him at the wary, turquoise eyes regarding him and his eyes took on a thoughtful look that was equal parts assessing, equal parts appreciative. "And did you want something signed, too, sweetheart?" he queried, his deep voice rumbling in some humour -- albeit stiff humour -- as his brow cocked. He leaned forward in his saddle, his teeth showing deliciously white against his darkened skin and the smile pulled at the heavy scar running diagonally across his left eyebrow and the disfigurement gave his appearance a menacing look. Ysabel shivered. "- right here on my arm," Madsen held out the skinny arm in question and shoved it between the passing glace between Ysabel and the solider, "Just sign it there," he insisted. Looking away from Ysabel with some reluctance, the Sydnam sighed heavily and called his man forward and asking for a writing instrument, relented to the boy's demand as he held a narrow wrist and signed right him across the forearm. Critically surveying the handiwork, Madsen nodded once, grinned, and raced out of Ysabel's arms, crowing as he went but the soldier's past antipathy at the delay seemed to be momentarily forgotten and he smiled slightly, his eyes bright. "Come," he commanded with a wave of his hand and Ysabel approached the scant few steps submissively, feeling somewhat dazed, until she stood millimetres from him. "Were we alone," he said in low tones as he signed the inside of her arm, "I'd put my brand somewhere else entirely. But I may get the chance yet," he added softly, before releasing her arm and Ysabel's stare was still firmly on his hand as it had been since she'd approached to snatch Madsen. "Damon?" she murmured, feeling bemused and the soldier's grey eyes narrowed in startled bewilderment before the look was replaced by anger. "What did you just call me?" his voice was deceptively low and calm yet even through the noise of the crowd, Ysabel could hear the bite in it. "Who they hell are you?" At the biting demand, Ysabel jerked in surprise, coming out of her daze. He made to grab at her arm but she quickly stepped back and took advantage of the excited crowd by running headlong in to them, becoming lost within the sweaty people as soon as her first foot stepped inside the human wall. She heard the masculine call as she ran and searched for Madsen, demanding her to return but it was lost and muffled as the noise of the crowd drowned him out. Panting, Ysabel slipped out of the last of the people back to the less crowded stall area and looking around frantically, finally spotted Madsen showing off his arm to a group of boys. Walking the short distance over to her grinning brother, Ysabel felt dazed. She took his arm and guided him back to the garment district. Had she passed him by in a market place -- crowded or otherwise -- she would not have recognised him. Neither would she have recognised Damon now had it not been for that lovingly but battered looking grey beaded bracelet securely fastened around his wrist. * Ysabel sat on her bed, staring at her arm and the few scribbled words marked there. Unlike at home, she had a room of her own here and didn't have to suffer through the painful experience of sharing with her nasally challenged sister. A maid knocked once then and entered at Ysabel's absent call. "I have your freshly washed clothing here," she held up a stack of clothing and placed it at the foot of Ysabel's bed before turning to depart. "Wait-" Ysabel looked at her wrist hesitantly before taking the glance up to the woman "I wonder -- could you tell me where Warris Archway is? Number four, to be precise?" The maid raised dubious brows. "Oh, that's in the south of the city, Miss...but I wouldn't go there were I you...there're no fancy garment shops or anything of the sort." "That's all right," Ysabel affected an indifferent look. "I wasn't planning on venturing to that part of the city I was merely...curious." The maid nodded and gave Ysabel an inquisitive glance then, for she knew this girl she was to serve wasn't like the other one who was a proper little madam, looking down her prim nose at the house staff. Ysabel sighed and buried her head into her pillow once the maid had departed. Well, there was nothing for it. She had to go. There was really no other option; after all this damned curiosity was truly eating at her. Could it really be him? Damon? That same boy? That the skinny, short boy with his severely parted hair and bony face had turned into that towering man with his untidy hair and uncouth appearance was mystifying. And then the story of the man in the crowd assailed her mind once more -- no, she couldn't believe that the Damon she had once known was that feared man she had spied today. * Ysabel stared at the darkened ceiling intently. The house had quietened down some hours ago but she was wary yet. The urgent, pulling curiosity within her, however, saw her across the room and tiptoeing down the stairs in no time at all. Pulling a cape over her gown, she was halfway out of the door when a warm palm on her arm made her start violently. Peering into the darkened hallway of her Aunt's house, Ysabel stared at the tall form before her. "I'm sorry, miss," the whispered voice said, "but I couldn't let you go without telling you," and with that, the maid dragged her out of the house and led her covertly down the empty path. * "You scared me," Ysabel shook her head, the moonlight highlighting the maids face and revealing her nervousness. "Sorry -- but I had to come and warn you again," she insisted, "you see my sister is more familiar with the royal city so I asked her about this place you mentioned-- well, when I mentioned the specific number and address, she seemed surprised. 'That's where I'm headed off tonight,' she says to me. but you see, she's a -- well, a dancing girl," even in the darkness Ysabel could see the woman's embarrassment. "it's the lodgings reserved for the kings soldiers, whenever they're summoned here. ...that's what I wanted to tell you - it'll be full of the Kings men and they're not a polite bunch," she drew her shoulders up. "It's no place for a lady such as yourself." Ysabel lifted her shoulders helplessly. "Thank you for telling me -- but I'll be alright, really" she nodded then, appreciatively, before saying a brief farewell but the sharp exclamation from the woman stayed her. "You're still going...oh, it's just as I thought -- you're to meet a sweetheart, aren't you?" Eyes narrowed at the nervous maid, Ysabel contemplated her answer. "Yes," she said then, slowly. "Yes I am -- you won't tell anyone, will you? only it'll be a last farewell and I won't ever see him again after this." The maid assured that she would not tell anyone. "An army lad, hmm? Well, they're never wont to settle down, you know, so you're making the best choice." Wringing her hands, the maid looked back at the darkened house and then at Ysabel before sighing. "I can't let you go on your own -- a fine lady like you. I will accompany you," she nodded decisively. Ysabel shook her head quickly, not wanting to involve her. Or have someone she was forced to talk to until she arrived there, someone who would make her realise she was making a stupid decision in even going -- she, an unmarried girl, out for the night. Sheer scandal. On the up side, at least she wasn't going unchaperoned. * The street was narrow and cobbled with lit torches placed along the many narrowed walls of the buildings. There was a tavern opposite and a few men spilled out, their moods merry, but it was only a little after one yet and relatively quiet as the night was still young for the sorts who frequented the south of the city. Knocking gingerly on the door, she was brushed aside by Corine who thumped once, loudly, on the heavy door before stepping back a pace with an expectant expression on her face. "You keep your wits about you, now, you hear? I'll be in the tavern if you need me." Turning decisively away as the older woman crossed the narrowed street on a fast shuffle, eager to enter the warmth of the tavern, Ysabel turned back and stared at the door with hard eyes and as it opened wide, stepped back, her nose wrinkling in distaste. The waft of air that hit her face was musty and humid. Cracking one eye open she peered into the darkened door wary warily before her eyes adjusted to the light eyes assessing her sternly and she straightened abruptly. "This is number four, is it not?" "Depends who's asking," a gruff voice relayed. Arching an unimpressed brow, Ysabel replied, "Well I'm here to see..." what was his surname? She could hardly say 'Mr Executioner' like Madsen had in the marketplace. She thought of her brother and wanted to laugh then; what would he say if he knew where she had crept off to tonight whilst he slept a wonderful sleep, dreaming no doubt about the meeting with his idol? She took a steadying breath and announced with a confidence she was far from feeling, "I'm here to see Damon." The man lifted his shoulders indifferently. "Never 'erd of him." Ysabel frowned suspiciously at him. "Fine -- I'm looking for The Executioner." "That's what they all say," he relayed, unimpressed and dismissing her fully, about to shut the door on her toes. The all in question became quite clear then as a trio of muskily scented females barged past her, unsettling her slightly as they sashayed past the guardsman who offered no demur. "Dancing girls," Ysabel murmured running wide, fascinated eyes over their attire. "We prefer to keep it simpler around here; 'whores' does just fine," the man laughed roughly. Shuddering, Ysabel tried again. "Look, I was asked to come here specifically by him. Truly!" she tacked on angrily at his doubtful once over of her person. She bit out an exclamation, resisting the urge to stomp her foot. "You know, he will be mightily sore if he finds out about this -- indeed, I will be sure to tell him how-" The man curt sign of impatience halted her and though irritated at her ploy, he also looked a trifle more focused and...wary. "Exactly how do you know him?" "Now that's a rather a stupid question, is it not?" at his lack of any visible reaction or response, Ysabel bit out impatiently, "Do I need to spell it out for you, ham-head?" Scowling at her, the man looked over his shoulder, in the darkness of the corridor behind him before turning back to her and she pressed the tentative advantage, almost desperate now to get in, if not to spy Damon then to glimpse a peek at this well protected, elite space. "Look, you know how he hates to be kept waiting -- if it turns out I'm lying, you may personally throw me out by the scruff of my neck," she nodded encouragingly at his weakening scowl. Scratching his jaw thoughtfully, he murmured. "...but whores are always trying to lure the commander and there are strict orders that their stories are not to be entertained." "Well, fine. Risk his wrath, why don't you. I suppose I'll be off, then. Give him my love, won't you," she pivoted on a bare foot. "Alright! Alright! In." he grabbed her indelicately by the forearm. "And you'd best not be pulling a fast one over me, girl." Ysabel cringed away from his spitting threat and walked away in some relief as the burly guardsman closed and bolted the door behind her, enveloping her in the darkness of the space without the light from the torches and tavern to see by. She had not yet taken two steps before her cape was ripped from her shoulders.