At the sound of a woman's scream, Garwin began running.
He had been exploring an abandoned village by moonlight as the rest of the troops slept, depressing himself even further, when the sounds of a struggle reached his ears. Tearing through the silent streets, he heard a man's deep laugh, and began running even faster.
Rounding a corner, the first thing he really saw were the terrified, though still furious, eyes of a girl in the grip of a monstrous beast of a man. He had pinned her up against a wall, and she showed signs of ill usage already. Her cheek had a bruise about the size of a large hand on it, and her dress was ripped down the front. She was still struggling in his grasp, but he was tugging up her skirt, and Garwin could almost smell her despair. Furthermore, her hair was blonde, so much like his own mother's...
"Release her at once, cur," he demanded, pulling his sword free.
The girl gasped, a spark of hope springing into her eyes, and her attacker slowly turned.
"Who're ye?" he growled in Garwin's direction.
"A man who still believes in honor, you blackguard. Need I remind you that I have demanded you release yon maiden immediately?"
Keeping his huge paw around her pale neck, the brute leered at Garwin. "Don't worry, sonny. I'll let you have a turn when I'm finished."
The girl squealed as he tightened his grip, and Garwin's jaw clenched.
Forty-seven seconds later, the churl was stretched out on the ground, and Garwin found his arms full of grateful softness.
"Milord, milord, I thank you with all my soul, and all my life! I thought that my screams were for naught!" she cried into his shoulder.
"Here now, damsel, you are safe and well." He deftly removed his doublet and placed it around her shoulders, restoring her modesty and thanking heaven that the night was not too cold. Still, she trembled so that she was incapable of walking, and with his arm around her waist, he began leading her away from the body of the fallen knave.
"What is your name, fair maiden?" he asked softly, hoping to distract her from the trauma of her recent trials.
"Dalenna is my name, good knight."
"Dalenna, how came you to be here in this lonely village, helpless against the wiles of evil men?"
"Good sir, you must know about the impending war. To protect ourselves from the coming slaughter, the inhabitants of this village, and many others in the land, sojourned to the fortress of the king. My father is the county squire in these parts, and we had hoped to be safe there.
'Upon arrival, however, I found that my father's position was yet too low to protect me from the advances of the king's men, and I was horrified when I was harshly informed that my duty to my country was obviously lacking, if I could behave so missish in the company of his brave troops. Missish, they said! To protect my honor and be censured for it, I felt was the outside of enough. My father tried to complain on my behalf, but the overly familiar men merely seemed to seek me out because of his pleas.
'One night, I accidentally overheard them talking about me... I will never repeat the things they said, but I knew that I would rather risk death than endure the horrors they had in store for me. I snuck out that night, and fled back here, but I suppose I must have been followed. I recognized that man as one of the soldiers who attempted to importune me."
Her voice had been growing stronger thorughout the speech, and Garwin was pleased to see her regaining color in her cheeks. True, she was flushed with rightous ire, but she was looking vastly better than when he had asked her name. She walked under her own power, her back stiff with indignation, her eyes snapping with fury. She suddenly looked at him in suspicion.
"I realize now you are a soldier too. Did you also follow me from the city?"
Garwin was a bit insulted that she should even think such a thing, but he reminded himself that she was bound to be a bit wary of men after her experiences, and rightly so.
"I am a soldier, but I am of the army come to wage this war."
She stepped back with a gasp of fear, and he realized his explanation had probably caused yet more worry, rather than alleviating her fears.
"Fear not, you will be safe. I swear. Besides, can you really be loyal to the king whose men had the gall to accost you so?"
Confusion flitted across her face. "But, he is the king."
"He is _a_ king," Garwin corrected her. "And a foul king at that, one who has no thought for the safety of his subjects, or the sanctity of his promises. I grew up in his castle, and I serve a much better king now."
"Padraic?" she asked, still trying to understand.
"Indeed. He is a good and honorable man, one who knows how to rule fairly. But above all, I serve Prince Alaric, and if even he marches against his father, then I know which side I am on."
Her eyes were still shadowed with doubt, but she came to his side again. "May I ask your name, milord?"
"I am called Garwin."
"And why do you fight against the king, Sir Garwin?"
"You need not call me 'sir', Dalenna. I have no title. And I march against Aylmar because...he is my father."
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Willow was tossing and turning in her feverish sleep, sweat standing out on her parchment white forehead. "No, no, don't leave me, don't leave me!" she cried out.
"Sshh, sshh," Marie tried to soothe her, laying a cool cloth on her brow. "Quiet now, dearest."
"No, I need, I need Giles! He can help...he can fix it..." She struggled to sit up in the throes of her dream.
"Lay down, Willow." Marie restrained her, pushing her back down.
"It was just a clothes fluke, I swear! I didn't want anyone to get impaled!"
As her delusions became stronger, her words became more and more lucid, although nothing she said made any sense to Marie. Her eyes snapped open, and she looked at Marie intensely. Her pupils were dilated, and she blinked abnormally quickly.
"Listen to me, Jesse. I'm not in on Angel's plan. It's his plan. Say hi for me?"
Marie stroked her hair futilely. "Willow, you need to sleep-"
"It's not lunchtime, I don't even care. I'm Willow group."
Marie could feel tears forming, and she stood up from the bed quickly.
"My mom bought it for me. Are we gonna study, or are we gonna talk about boys? Plus, I can't turn the pages."
Another gentlewoman was at her side for the rest of the night, tending to the sick princess, ignoring her ravings that seemed to make no sense whatsoever.
"I felt something go through me. Not dead, nor not of the living. She'll be here soon."
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Angel looked up as Garwin reentered the camp, but he did a double take as he saw the woman walking beside him.
"Hey, Garwin. I would imagine this isn't a soldier."
Garwin rolled his eyes. "Your Highness, this is Dalenna. Dalenna, this is Prince Alaric."
Upon hearing his name, she let out a muffled sound of surprise, then sank into a low curtsy. "Good Prince, I am indeed honored."
Angel bowed in return. "Good lady, allow me to offer you my tent for the rest of the night, at least until we can find you some more appropriate sleeping arrangements."
Her eyes widened. "Your Highness, I could not presume-"
"Come now, I insist. I will share Garwin's tent, so you need not worry. Get some sleep, maiden. We will be departing early upon the morn."
Dumbfounded, she allowed herself to be ushered into his tent, and Angel turned to Garwin, his smile gone.
"Her dress is ripped. What happened? Was it one of our soldiers?"
Garwin's face darkened in response. "I went looking around that village we spotted. I thought it was abandoned, but I found her being accosted by one of Aylmar's soldiers."
"Of course." Angel's voice was thick with disgust.
"Indeed. So, I knocked him out, and brought her back with me. Everyone she knows is staying at the castle, but she ran away, fearful for her virtue. What a shock."
Angel rubbed a hand across his face. "How did we grow up there, Garwin?" In his anger Angel didn't seem to notice the oddity of his statement, considering that he had only heard stories of his childhood in the home of his father. "How did we never see all the evil that was going on around us? That place... I hate that place. I want to raze it to the ground and never have to worry about what goes on there, ever again."
Garwin simply nodded, understanding all too well.
"So, this girl. Do you think there is any risk of her turning against us?"
"Not that I can see. I may be wrong, but I think gratitude and her wounded pride will be more than enough to keep her on our side. Also, I sort of told her..."
"Told her what? Garwin?" Angel was amused at the almost guilty look on Garwin's face.
"About, um, Aylmar being my father. And other related information."
Angel clapped him on the shoulder reassuringly. "Well, that story would probably be enough to convince almost anyone that we're in the right. There's also the fact that she looks like she might be in love with you."
Garwin was silent for a long moment. Then, "What?!"
"Oh, you won't know it till everyone else does, I'm sure. Let's just get some sleep. I want to dream about my wife. Besides, if Dalenna ran here from the capital city, chances are we're in for some action tomorrow."
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"Don't tell her about Angel. I don't think she would understand," Willow whimpered.
No one was listening. One of the palace nurses was asleep beside her, but the images of her old life kept flashing through her uncomprehending brain, and she was trying desperately to explain herself.
"He saved me from a horrible flamey death. Past tense rule! You'd be cranky? Oh, Angel, why did you leave me? Where are you? What's happening? Princess Aurelia. Willow Rosenberg. Angelus, the one with the angelic- no, no, no, no, no, no...
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Marie didn't know what to do. As her husband, the prince had every right to know that Willow was ill, and Marie really couldn't keep the information from him in good conscience.
Unfortunately, the war complicated things. He needed to have his wits about him, and worrying about Willow's delirium was sure to distract him, especially since he was so very much in love with her. It was not Marie's place to make that decision, but who could she ask for advice?
"Marie?" She looked up as the queen entered the library she was pacing around. "Is she doing any better?"
Marie looked up and winced at the pinched look of Queen Neile's face. "Your Majesty, she is...delirious, I'm afraid. She continues to cry out in her fever, names I don't know, words I don't understand."
The queen sank down into a chair. "What shall we do?"
Marie came to sit beside her. "My Queen, we must consider the possiblity of sending a message to the King and Prince."
Panic crept into Neile's eyes. "Wouldn't that be unwise? She is not so sick as all that! Is she?"
Marie couldn't meet her gaze. "I don't-"
"Will she die?"
The soft question shook Marie more than she could have anticipated. Neile did not know Willow as well as a mother should, but the princess was still her daughter. Neile had never posessed her daughter's extraordinary health, and her middle age had been plagued with weakening illnesses. With everyone fearful of harming the royal infant, Willow had been raised by Marie, only seeing her mother during her sadly infrequent periods of recovery.
This situation was new for everyone. For the first time ever, Neile was well, Willow was ill, and Padraic was gone, incapable of helping wife or daughter.
"The palace healers are trying," Marie said quietly. "The fever came up so quickly, and her delirium is so strong- it is unlike any sickness they really know."
"Can they do nothing?"
"They are going to try bleeding her tomorrow."
Neile nodded, reassured. "Good. That should help the fever escape, don't you think?"
But Marie seemed not to hear.