He followed through the tunnels, finally glad his father had taken the time to show them to him. At first, when he'd been so young, a boy of merely ten, his father had told him they might save his life one day. He'd been so bored that day, desiring nothing more than to play with the other noble children. Now, he thought with a sense of amusement, they had done far more than save his life. They'd help him save the life of his beloved, if he was fast enough.

He was lucky, then, that they were streamlined. Straight under the castle, there was no winding passage, no traffic to get in his way, no guards or locked doors, or otherwise barred paths. No, this was a path that had been intended to get royalty out of the castle as quickly as possible, should the need arise. It had certainly arisen.

Soon enough, a faint light began to shine through. It led to a small supply shed, one that held a variety of tools for the work of a stable boy. The tunnel ended abruptly, replaced by a ladder to the source of the light, a piece of the wooden flooring that could be pushed up. On he went, climbing up, shoving the wooden flooring out of the way for him to climb on up. He replaced the flooring, afterall, no one needed to know how he'd arrived.

Slipping out of the shed, he noticed Ella and Ariana approaching. Perfect... He had arrived before them. He could take the assassin by surprise! Her demands for a horse were heard, but he was behind them. Out he charged. He'd given away his position before, leading to Ella being hurt and his help being neglected, by shouting for Ella. He wouldn't do that again. His aim was simple, he was going to charge straight into Ariana, force her to pay attention to him. Then the other guards could react. Simple.

He'd managed to get away from Adriana after she shoved Ella away, pulling out his sword again. Others were nearby, that could help him in this fight... But, at the same time, they didn't want to get close. They didn't want to endanger their prince by giving the woman nothing to live for. "Give it up, assassin. I've won, you're cornered. You've already compounded your crimes by trying to kill my bride and trying to escape, I wouldn't recommend doing anything more. My father isn't a happy man when his laws are broken." His voice was strong and firm, even if his sword arm wasn't the best.

Moving himself between the assassin and Ella, it was clear she would be forced to attack him to get to the princess, if she had any intentions of not going down alone. His sword was extended before him threateningly, and he was waiting for the assassin to try the first attack.

He stood there on guard, watching as Ariana charged him. He hadn't even heard her name to this point, simply referring to her as 'the maid' or 'the assassin. Never actually giving her a true name, something disrespectful. Granted, she had tried to have him killed multiple times, along with his wife, so he supposed that was only fair to both parties involved. He doubted he could best her in swordplay, expecting one of his men to come and intervene. Instead, something else happened.

Ella shouted out, and the assassins blade missed. The attack would've been fatal, cutting open his throat and leaving him to bleed out on the ground, unable to strike back. Instead, it merely cut his cheek, and allowed him time to bring his own attack in. His stance had been set up for exactly this, stabbing forward with the shortsword. It easily pierced her clothing and flesh, half the blade cutting in and into her lung. With every artery he'd nicked on the way in, she'd be dead in minutes.

She stared at him, almost dumbfounded, as Markens face turned to one of pure shock. He hadn't intended to kill the girl, not himself anyway. He fell back, watching the assassins blood pool on the blade and begin to drip down, a numbness taking over his limbs. It was like he'd entered some kind of alternate reality, where the world was lighter, and heavier, he simply couldn't comprehend it. What had he done? It had been self defense but why? Why had he done this? These thoughts whirled through his mind, as Ariana slowly died on the edge of his sword.

He was still in shock from what he'd done, barely paying attention to Ella mourning the death of the assassin. Why was she mourning...? Wasn't the assassin someone who should be cheered for being dead? She'd tried to convince her to kill him... He didn't feel any remorse for what he'd done... He hadn't wanted to kill personally, but he'd wanted the assassin dead nonetheless. She'd tried to have him killed, afterall.

Her yelling brought him out of his trance, and he looked up. His arms felt lighter, and Marken realized he'd dropped the bloody sword to the ground, disconnected from the world. "She charged me Ella... What was I supposed to do...?" His voice was faint, as he saw the blood still on his hands. He wasn't a killer, even if he would sentence someone to die. That wasn't in his blood...

Regina tried to calm down Ella, but Marken didn't care about that. He didn't wait for an escort, for someone to dismiss him... He just walked away, back towards the castle. The world was a blur right now, he just wanted something to wash that away. When had Regina even shown up? He soaked his hands in near boiling water, trying to feel some sensation, before it finally came to him, the pain tearing a gasp from him. He'd read and heard of those who mutilated themselves... No, he wouldn't do that. Royalty was better than that. He'd do what came natural. He poured himself a glass of rum, and started drinking.

The first glass burned. It always did, even when you were used to it, and Marken was far from used to it. But, the burn was good. It distracted him from the day, all of the things that had happened. The murder of a guard, the one he'd invited to 'guard' his wedding, Ellas attempted kidnapping, his own locking in a cell... It all swirled around him, as he tried to drink it away. A second glass followed, though he couldn't drink all of it. The burning didn't diminish, and he was glad for it. His only companions were the crackling of flames from the fireplace of his sitting room, and the clinking of ice against glass as he drank his rum.

He heard the faint knocking, Ellas soft voice calling out to him. His name, stuttered out. He considered not answered, telling her to leave him alone, to get the hell away from him. It had hurt when she'd screamed at him, for defending himself, defending her. Like he wanted to kill her, like he enjoyed it. That had hurt the worst, how she just assumed he had the worst intentions in mind... How she thought an assassins life was worth his own.

But, in the end, he wanted to resolve this. He refused to disallow her the trust he'd given her in the past, refused the opportunity to have a companion who could speak to him, could drink with him. He refused to have his wife hate him without reason. Standing up, he took one last swig of the rum, before replacing the glass on its coaster. Liquid courage, alcohol was often called. They weren't wrong, that much was certain, as his inhibitions were burned away. A shaky hand cracked open the door, where he looked at Ella. His eyes were glazed over, though it was obvious he hadn't been crying or anything of the sort. he was just... It was hard to describe what he was. "Come in..." He sounded half-hearted in it, and his voice conveyed his hurt, though he opened the door wide enough for her to enter, waving his arm for her to sit in a chair beside his.

He was patient, waiting for Ella to finish pouring the rum over the cool cubes of ice. Why had Marken even set out two glasses of ice? It wasn't some subconscious thing, he'd made the conscious effort to pour the second glass. With a shrug, Markens addled mind couldn't quite remember why, just coming up with it being some kind of gesture of peace, as if a mere glass could do that.

After she'd had a long drink of the heavy brown liquid, Marken would sigh and set his own half-empty glass down. "Why? You looked at me like I'd stabbed you when I defended myself from that assassin. And I defended you. Why did you scream and yell? I didn't want to do it, you know, and yet you acted like I did it with glee... Why?" His voice conveyed pain, very clear and very obvious pain. He'd gone out of his way to trust Ella, and this was how she'd repaid him. By very nearly killing him in his sleep, and then screaming at him when her kidnapper was slain by him. It didn't exactly look good to the normal person, hell it didn't look good to Marken!

As she spoke and tried to convince him that she was right, or wrong, in some way. Try to convince him to forgive her. He wanted to forgive her, not for her crimes, but so he could just forget it. It would all be alright if he just forgot it happened, right? Sighing, Marken took another draft of his rum as he listened.

He sighed heavily as she gave her explanation. Clearly it hurt her just as much as it hurt him, and he only had to wonder why. Why did she want this assassin to 'escape' her crimes, her fate? "Why did you want to save her though...? She put a blade to your neck, killed a good man to drag you away, would've killed me if she had the chance... And you wanted her to escape justice? Why? Any man would be properly tried for a murder, but she did far worse, and you wanted to just let her go..." Marken was normally more charismatic, someone who knew how to control his words better than this. As it stood, in his inebriated state, he was doing good not to slur his speech.

That's why he felt betrayed. She hadn't just been angry at him for attacking Ariana, plunging a blade into her chest, she'd been trying to take someone who deserved justice completely away from his grasp, away from the kingdom. She wanted an assassin, who had even tried to kill his mother, loosed upon the world once more. There in lied his anger... "I just want to know why you thought she didn't deserve justice, why she should've been allowed to walk free, after she so brazenly poisoned my mother, killed one of my guards, and tried to take you off to that kingdom away from me." His tone was almost begging. He didn't want to lose her now, after he'd just won her over...

"Yes, you would've done bad things, but the difference between you and her is that you didn't. You broke free, she wasn't willing to. She killed someone just to drag you out of that cell. You think she would've surrendered herself to the kings justice right after that? She would've fled, and a killer would be on the loose, regardless of who's 'slave' she is." He guessed he could understand Ella's point of view, that affinity to her that they shared. They were both of the same kingdom, though she truly had no clue of knowing how true either side was. Ariana could've done this all on her own free will, not as some slave like Ella had been, and what would that have accomplished for anyone then, to let a loyal woman go? She would've come back to finish the job...

Marken was inebriated enough to not notice Ella's own drinking, still drinking his own burning rum. He didn't have the state of mind to stop himself, much less her, as he drank by the fire. "I just wanted to know why..." Finishing off his glass, he set it down, turning to look at Ella. It was hard to discern, exactly, what his glazed eyes wanted, but it seemed he was atleast sober enough to speak coherently.

He listened to her speak, clearly agitated with him and how he seemed to be accusing her. Granted, he was, she'd betrayed him and his trust. Ella had taken Arianas side over his own, had just assumed she was a slave, had assumed she was just another innocent person being forced to play a dangerous game. But she couldn't just be that. Ella had the chance to kill Marken, to prevent this from ever happening, and instead she'd resisted, she'd had the sense of good inside her not to do it. Ariana had killed at the first chance, ending a guards life for no other reason than he showed up to help. No... She deserved her fate, no matter what Ella thought.

He was surprised when she stood up, drinking even more, to the point of being drunker than him. His tolerance for hard liquor was practically non existent, but she'd had too much for any tolerance to be of use. He was even more surprised when she collapsed in his chair, nearly on top of him, on the very verge of crying. Sighing, Marken wrapped an arm around her as he moved his fiance into his lap fully, pulling her legs overtop his so that she was slightly more comfortable. They both reeked of alcohol, herself more than him, but she wanted some kind of comfort. He wasn't sure she deserved it, but he wanted his fiance...

"I don't hate you Ella..." He nuzzled the top of her head with his chin, stroking the girls back absently in some comforting motion. Both arms were wrapped securely around her, ensuring she felt safe, and that she couldn't run off if the urge struck her. "I just want you... Don't make me feel like you're choosing between people again... I wanted to protect you, nothing else Ella." His words came in small whispers to her as she sobbed into his chest, trying to comfort her. Yes, he wanted to get past this, just like she did. He wanted to have his fiance, he wanted the girl he'd fallen in love with.

He was glad she snuggled up against him, took comfort in his presence. It meant she still felt for him, even if her actions didn't really show it. He wanted that from her, to still be her fiance. It'd be an ironic twist if it was the assassins death that separated them, rather than one of their own. No, he'd refuse to let the death of the one who'd tried to kill his mother, him, and her kill his marriage too. That wasn't happening. He could see the line where Ariana's blade had bit into her throat, a clear a sign as any of the womans uncaring nature.

His arm stroked her hair with a sigh, before steadily stroking her back instead. "I know you didn't, Ella, I know you didn't." He supposed he could understand that sympathy, but he believed Ella was still better than her. Ella had turned completely and totally away from that servitude, she'd been ordered to kill and ignored that. Ariana hadn't done any such thing. She'd tried to accomplish her mission on multiple occasions, even going to far as to swing her blade at him, in the last moments of her life. She had no desire to surrender to justice. She was a murderer.

"I didn't want to kill her either... I didn't enjoy it." He considered reaching for the rum, but decided against it. The girl in his arms was a bit more important than that, more important than getting even more drunk. Both of his arms wrapped around her, pulling Ella into a tight hug against himself. "I love you..." He whispered into her ear, not wanting to let her go yet.