If one was looking at the princess, they would think it was a typical day for her. She was outside in a tunic, pants, and boots with her hair tied up so that it was out of her way. Her gray eyes focused on the target in front of her as fingers pulled back on the string of the bow in her hands. A normal day that would give her mother a heart attack. After all, Astoran princesses were supposed to be beautiful, a figure head, not a soldier. And she was certainly not supposed to be wearing pants. Normally, this would be a problem between the two. Her mother would not hesitate to come down here and tell her exactly what she was doing wrong with her life. Today, though, the two were leaving each other alone. Both of them knew that Kiara needed this more than anything.

"Kiara, you have to do this. Our people need you. Your father and I need you. Please. It will solve everything." But she could not listen to her mother's pleads. Her heart was too busy breaking. Marry a Berinike prince? Berinike? Prince? MARRY? Kiara had never considered marriage, not once. Too many a man expected her to bow to their wishes, to serve their every whim. There was no chance of her ever tying herself to such a person for the rest of her life. And now she was being asked to despite every promise she'd ever made to herself?

Her mother must have seen this because she had something else to say. "If you don't do this, the war may never end. The kingdoms will keep fighting. Your people will keep dying. Your father and I won't be around much longer. What will you do then? If you can not protect them now, how will they ever trust you?"

She was right of course. Mother was always right. Just thinking about what she'd agreed to do had Kiara running her fingers through her scarlet curls, a habit that showed itself whenever she felt out of control. No, she said to herself. I am Princess Kiara Rydell. I will one day lead this country. I will never be able to do that if I can not do this for my people. It's not a punishment. It's not a loss. I'm protecting them. Just remember that.

With a breath, she let the arrow go and watched it hit the bullseye. Yes, this was just what she needed. Something that took her mind completely off what would be happening, and who was coming to get her.

Ostus Osaron stepped confidently through the lawn that surrounded the archery area. Tall, his broad shoulders and muscular build easily filled in the plate chest-piece, matching leg guards over dark leather pants and boots he wore as he sighed, eyeing the figure in the distance. After accepting the contract from the king and queen, he had wandered all over the damn palace looking for the princess; he had checked libraries, sitting rooms, dining rooms, and how-ever-many other rooms that all looked the same but probably all had different names... so much wasted space. At last a servant informed him that she was probably outside practicing her archery.

Since when did a princess mess around with a bow and arrows? Did she think she was a Berinike princess or something?

Ostus expected to see a girl in a loud, ridiculously puffy dress, big hair, and a face hidden beneath a mask of makeup. Noblewomen typically looked like this; he could smell them coming through their overuse of perfume before seeing them. Instead, his gaze fell upon a woman in practical clothing holding the weapon in a correct, familiar stance.

Ostus was an elf; he was quite familiar with archery, though he preferred the satisfying resistance of his broadsword as it cleaved through the enemy's body to an arrow impaled through the enemy's chest at a distance. Ostus wasn't so slender in build like his brethren; in a crowd, he could easily pass as human. However, he did retain the the typical elfish chiseled features -- a handsome face framed by short, unruly dark hair that he would forget to comb smooth half the time, like now.

Sharp storm-grey eyes widened a little in surprise; he would have not believed this woman was the princess if she wasn't the only one on this field. The public image of herself she portrayed was apparently very different from the princess behind closed walls.

So she could shoot with a bow for show. Didn't mean she knew anything about using one in combat.

Ostus cleared his throat as he stepped to her side. "And here I was expecting you to be drinking tea with a gaggle of pretentious twits out in the... the... sitting room or whatever the fuck you people call a place where you sit and have tea."

He cleared his throat again and straightened to attention, suddenly remembering his place. She was the princess; he had to watch his tongue, as irritating as that was. He bowed stiffly to her. "My name is Ostus; I'm your new bodyguard."

When she first felt the presence of another, Kiara turned both her weapon and her cold eyes towards the intruder, expecting the worst as always. She was a princess raised in a war, it did not matter if she was supposed to be off frolicking in some pretty dress because it was just not practical. When one was just as likely to be assassinated as to be invited to a party, it was necessary to learn how to protect oneself. This was the argument she always gave her mother, though it usually did little to convince her.

As he spoke, she kept her position, not once moving or lowering the bow. After all, he had interrupted her while she was only trying her best to relax. However, after his entire rant, she relaxed her stance and raised an eyebrow curiously. He certainly did have a mouth on him, and in the presence of royalty no less. Though, she did suppose to him she was not so. To him, she was the enemy. Or had been before now.

Kiara looked at him, surprised also. She had been expecting a brutish sort of man. Perhaps covered in scars, all muscle, and rather harsh. Well, that last one might have been proven true. When she finally did speak, it was with amusement. "I believe they call it the tea room. You see us pretentious twits are rather simple with our names and hobbies. Tea in the tea room. Sewing in the sewing room. Pleasure in the..." Here she grinned mischievously. "Well I'm sure you can see where this is going."

In return to his show of... not respect, but perhaps acknowledgement, Kiara nodded her head and introduced herself as well. "Princess Kiara Rydell, as I'm sure you've heard by now. It may seem strange, but I would prefer you to not treat me as such, especially since no one can recognize me on our journey. Mostly though, I just hate it. And yes," she smiled a bit at the question she figured had already formed in his mind. "I can use this bow for more than just target practice."

Placing a hand on her hip, she stared up him again with the confidence only a royal could exude. "So do you have a plan perchance? Or are you just going to pretend you know what you're doing, take me away, and just hope that I'm safe?"

Princess Kiara was possibly the first woman of "proper upbringing" that didn't balk to Ostus's words. Intrigued, he actually listened to what she had to say, and took a better look at her in the process.

He decided she wasn't bad-looking for a princess. Pretty, actually, especially considering her plain attire. He had a certain weakness for redheads, and the direct, no-nonsense way she responded to him only reaffirmed his appreciation for them. However, he knew his place and hers. He was a guard hired to protect her, and she was a person who couldn't possibly understand or even accept his way of life. He couldn't simply seduce her, bone her, and move on to more conquests, as was the norm for this very single individual. Though, if his friends thought he did, what a story that would be...

As though reading his thoughts, Kiara rolled into a joke about pleasure. He raised an eyebrow, slowly releasing a smooth, bemused smirk. Was she flirting with him? There was nothing wrong with a little harmless verbal exchange with the princess, right? "I wonder what kind of pleasure is conducted in the pleasure room?" he commented in a velvety tone, relaxing his stance a bit. "Surely it involves more than a bit of heavy...reading? Or penetrating... politics?" He mirrored her mischievous smirk with one of his own, throwing in a wink for good measure.

The more Kiara talked, the more appealing she seemed. Ostus couldn't believe his luck on his latest assignment. Either Princess Kiara was putting one hell of a show, or she was not at all the mold of a typical princess. Could she drink, and if so, how much? Was she hiding any tattoos under that tunic of hers? Did she know any raunchy jokes? What other sort of exciting secrets did she harbor?

That curiosity instantly turned into a chilly indifference as soon as she questioned his skill and intentions. His easy smirk morphed into a hardened scowl and he narrowed his eyes at her. "Pretend?" he snapped, straightening his posture once more. "You think I'm some sort of bumbling idiot, like every other guard you probably had the displeasure of knowing?"

Gently but firmly, he took Kiara's bow from her, plucking an arrow from her quiver. In a quick, fluid motion he knocked the arrow on the bow as he shifted into proper position, raised the bow towards the target, and released the arrow. As it shot through the air, he felt, for a split second, that old, familiar sensation of the terrible anticipation for the kill. How tough this war had been, turning him from someone that dreaded every kill to a person that prayed for every strike of his fists, swing of his sword, and release of an arrow to fatally hit its mark. It was that bloodlust that had saved him from a life on the streets, but at what cost?

The arrow sank into the target. Satisfied, Ostus held the bow back out to Kiara, his expression grim. It had taken him a second to realize that he wasn't on a battlefield strewn with the dead or struggling bodies of Astorians and Berinikens but in the peaceful archery grounds of the Astoria royal family. "I have fought continuously in your war for almost ten years," he said. "In that time, I have saved countless Astorian lives and killed many, many Berenikens in the name of our king and queen. I was hired to protect you because I am one of the best there is. Of course I have a fucking plan."

He crossed his arms, sniffed, but seemed to relax, calming down. "Because no one is to know who you are, I will be your only escort," he remarked, slipping into a more business-like tone. "A cluster of bumbling idiots surrounding you will draw too much attention. We will slip away in the evening as the market caravans leave the city gates, just like anyone else. We'll stay with them for a while, hopefully blending in to the trade traffic. Bandits watch those roads, though, so after a while we will take a mountain path that I have scaled before. Not many know about it. Before you know it, we'll be in Berenike with enough time to spare to make you look like the pretentious doll the prince probably expects you to be. That is why we're doing this, right, so you can marry a prince and restore peace to these lands?" He shook his head, smirking a little. It still astounded him how important this mission was. If he could get this princess safely married off to the prince of Berenike, he would have had a direct hand in finally establishing some sort of peace across the lands. He could only imagine how the princess must feel... "If I could establish a truce just by fucking someone, you bet your ass I'll be all over that one a hundred times over."

For a few moments, a grin graced her lips as she listened to his play on words. It wasn't every day that someone treated her like a normal person instead of the woman who could have them beheaded if they said the wrong thing to her. The playful content of the words only made him more interesting to her. If she hadn't known better, she may have even said the soldier was flirting with her. Even so, it ended almost as quickly as it began, and she fought the urge to roll her eyes. Very unladylike.

Her expression matched his, though, when he grabbed her bow from her fingers and snatched an arrow from the quiver on the back. Now, she was just fine with him talking to her like an equal, but she would not even let her own mother take those things from her. So where in the world did he come off doing it? So what if he could shoot? So could she, and he'd still basically called her... what was it? A pretentious twit. She could no longer hold her tongue.

"Is that what everyone is to you? Twits? Idiots? Are we all below you? Should I be calling you, Your Highness, instead of the other way around? Because that's certainly how you act, so you must believe it. Please, tell me what makes it so that you are up in the heavens while the rest of us are still down on Earth." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. Astora was built on equality, love, and freedom, and here he was pretending that he was better than the damned Princess? Just because he believed her job to be silly and the people she spent most of her day with to be stupid, it did not give him the right to judge her.

Despite this, she was impressed by what he had shared with her. The plan was a rather good one. It would allow them to leave the castle inconspicuously. No one would recognize her if she was not dressed up, and no one would question that they did not belong if there were only two of them. They were bringing very little of value, so there wouldn't be much a reason for bandits, though she knew there were other dangers on the roads as well. Kiara, however, would never share her thoughts with the likes of him. Not after the things he'd said to her, and certainly not after his last comment. That was the one that struck her the hardest.

"If I could establish a truce just by fucking someone, you bet your ass I'll be all over that one a hundred times over."

The sentence rung in her head while she stared at him, looking as if she'd been slapped. He had no idea. How could he? He thought that her life was all parties and money. How in the world could he ever understand that it wasn't simple? Her voice was hard and angry as she spat out at him. "If you think that all I'm doing is fucking someone, you're more of a 'bumbling idiot' than you claim. Fuck. If that's all this was I wouldn't have hesitated either." She didn't even bother to apologize for her language. What was the point? He'd started it anyways. "You have no clue what it's like to be married, and even less what it's like to be a woman. How can you stand there and act like this is nothing? Like it's easy?" Here her voice betrayed her with just the slightest break.

She shook her head, trying to remember how it felt just staring at that target minutes before, but she could not. Why had she expected anything more from him? Kiara stormed off to gather her things without another word to him.

No one would ever understand. Kiara knew this, and still she had been hoping that maybe he would. A silly hope. What she wanted was to be normal. To be able to shoot arrows as she pleased, marry who she wanted. God forbid she didn't want to marry at all. That was against her entire life plan. He'd never understand that she had been born and raised only to give birth to and raise her own children. For her country, for him, she was shackling herself to a man she did not know or love. A man who was their enemy and could possibly kill her in her sleep one day.

For that stupid ungrateful knight, she was giving up her home and her people and her freedom. And he thought all it was was fucking. Kiara decided right then and there that Ostus was delusional. That bit of playful banter they'd had at the very beginning? Well that was surely never going to happen again.

Kiara's questioning annoyed Ostus, though he expected it coming. It was just like a woman to criticize in this fashion, and it was all he could do from rolling his eyes at her. Furthermore, her ignorance at the way he treated her further cemented the gap between someone like him and someone like her. Astora offered many wonderful privileges for its citizens that other countries did not, but equality wasn't one of them, as much as others liked to believe otherwise. At the end of the day, there were those that fought wars and those that stood back and discussed them. There were those that made swords, those that fought and died by those swords, and those that merely discussed what happened. Sure, Astora's palace may not be nearly so grand and imposing as the Berinike castle, and the politicians that ran the country boasted about not being paid as much, but he could almost bet his life that this girl had not seen real combat, had not almost died time and time again to someone fighting for their loved ones back at their country. She had probably never been close to anyone only to have those friends die right in battle right next to him. And for what? This war had been going on for so long that Ostus didn't know what they were fighting for anymore. Most soldiers didn't. No wonder this had gone on for so long.

He licked his lips, prepared to tell her just that when she blurted out her comment about marriage.

The expression on Kiara's face wasn't lost on Ostus. He hadn't realized how much his comment had hurt her, which plunged his heart into guilt...

...for all of a second, when she opened her mouth and continued the argument. That guilt flared to anger.

"Because it is that easy," he snapped back, feeling his jaw tighten by the anger. "Because if this would have happened a lot sooner, countless lives would have been spared. You think you know fucking everything that goes on around you, but you don't. You haven't seen the fields of slaughtered soldiers, perished to keep up your lavish lifestyle. You haven't lost friends, loved ones... you haven't woken up and wondered if that would be the last time you'd ever see a sunrise. Do you realize how many people would love to be in your shoes right now? Do you know how many people would rather get married to some stranger and live to make the most out of the situation than be just another nameless dead body in another battlefield? I'm sorry you have to marry a fucking stranger and I hope he isn't one of those wife-beating pricks, but pull your head out of your ass just long enough to--"

He cut himself off, realizing that Kiara was no longer paying attention. She was ignoring him, leaving. Ostus fumed.

"Fine," he called out after her. "Do what you want, feel how you wish. My job isn't to get involved with your bullshit opinions. My job is just to get your ass safely from point A to point B and that's exactly what I'm going to do. Find yourself some peasant clothes to wear and pack lightly; we leave tonight as the sun sets."

The next few hours were a blur as he worked through his own anger to get ready. Kiara's hurt-stricken expression seemed to have burned into his mind; he couldn't stop thinking about it. Admittedly, he did feel guilty about what he had said to her. She was willingly about to embark on a potentially dangerous journey to marry the enemy for him, for her country, so that everyone could maintain the lifestyle and ideals Astora had shed so much blood to keep. Still, she knew so little about the world outside the palace walls... she had never experienced the hardships he had endured...

The inner turmoil between guilt and anger left Ostus more emotionally drained than he liked. He waited quietly just outside the palace, back leaned against the wall, as he watched the sun begin to sink into the horizon. As though drawn to its fading light, traveling merchants with their wares filled the streets, slowly rolling down the dusty road in their wagons towards the city gates. Some would go home to their villages. Some would camp out in the nearest town and either move on the next morning or return. Even during war, Astora was always alive with trade and commerce; it was the country's lifeblood. The soldier was dressed in a faded green tunic, grey trousers, and matching boots. The long-sleeved shirt beneath the tunic hid the chain mail he wore underneath. His broadsword was sheathed and strapped to his back; with bandits in abundance on the roads, it was not at all uncommon for travelers to be armed.

He longed for a good stiff drink. A hot meal. A rousing story or two from an over-eager bard. Perhaps even a bar wench to share his bed with for the night. He expected he would be unable to relax like that for a good few weeks at least. He hoped Princess Kiara knew how to ride a horse. It was going to be a very long trip indeed...

Hours later, as she stared at herself in the mirror, his words still rang in her ears. She had been angry when he'd said them, had barely listened, but now Kiara could not get them out of her head. He was wrong, even if he didn't realize it. Perhaps, it was her fault, the image she projected to the people, that he thought she knew nothing of the war, that she knew nothing of loss. What Ostus did not realize was that she had been surrounded by soldiers all of her life. She had never been allowed to leave, but that was exactly why he was wrong. Those soldiers were her friends, the only ones she could talk to, and each and every one had been sent away, never to return. She had known loss because of this war.

However, there was one other thing that her people did not know, could never know. It was only as she peeled off each layer of clothing that her secret became visible: a red, jagged scar that ran down the length of her right side, rib cage to hip. It was not the only thing she'd kept from her country, but it was probably the most important. There had been a night when she'd woken up, and thought it was the last.

Her dreams had been of flying. Kiara had been a bird, free to go wherever she wanted. Her freedom had not lasted long, though, as she was awoken by a body on top of hers. It was dark, so dark, and she couldn't see who it was. The man was sitting on her, crushing her lungs and making it so she could barely breathe. Her heart crashed against her chest betraying the fear she was feeling even when she couldn't say a word.

His hand went to her throat, cutting off her air completely, and he raised a long knife that was obviously, even to her, made to kill. As he leaned towards her, Kiara could see the dark hair that covered his tan forehead. His eyes were hidden, but she did not need to see them. Even at thirteen, the princess had learned what to look out for in a person, how to know when someone was from one of the warring countries. He was from Berinike. That much could be seen, even before he started to speak.

Her hands scratched at his, as she tried to catch a breath, but he only laughed at her. "If you die, the war will be over. The poster child of your country in the ground. Your people will give up, knowing that we could get to even you." Kiara finally let out a sob as she realized he was right. With her death, the morale of their soldiers would be crushed. There was another possibility: that they would fight for revenge. But that would only blind them, get them killed too. Her eyes, which had always been warm and innocent, turned cold as she looked up at this man intent to kill her.

He was not expecting her to fight, so when she started to flail, he was caught by surprise. The hand around her throat let go, instead moving to her shoulder, trying to hold her down. The would-be assassin decided his best bet was the blade and raised it. A scream ripped from Kiara's throat as the knife tore into her skin. She'd tried to turn away at the last minute, but it had not mattered. It hurt, more than she had ever imagined anything could ever hurt, but still she kept fighting.

The soldiers in the hallway reacted to her cries, but when they burst through the door, all they saw was the young girl. At first, it had seemed like she'd only had a nightmare. None were prepared for what they found when they went to wake her.

The palace doctors had tried everything to get rid of the scar they knew would form when she was finally healed, but nothing had worked. It didn't matter, not really. For weeks, she had a fever so hot that they feared she would never wake up. When she did, all she wanted was to learn to use a weapon, so it would never happen again.

The memory faded when she pulled a faded blue dress over her head, and laced up a pair of walking boots. The backpack she grabbed was full of rations, water, and anything else she thought would keep her alive in the coming weeks. Before leaving the room, she let herself take one last look in the mirror, her fingers reaching out to touch her eyes. Ostus was wrong. She had known loss, known fear. It was hidden in her eyes.

When the sun began to set, she finally made her way down to where the soldier was waiting for her. Her bag was slung over one shoulder, the bow over the other, and her quiver strapped onto her back in between the two. Like this, no one would ever think she was royalty, and that was exactly what she was going for. When she reached Ostus, Kiara wouldn't look at him, though she did give him a nod of acknowledgement. Her voice was cold, not friendly as it was when they'd first met. "Are you ready then? Best get this over with as quickly as possible."

Ostus cast a sideways glance her way, observing Kiara carefully. She made for a passable peasant girl; good. He'd be impressed if he wasn't still mad at her. An underlying desire to want to stare longer didn't help. He looked away.

"You do realize that we will be traveling for weeks," he said as he began to move forward, assuming Kiara would follow. "Long, blistering, agonizing weeks with the sorry likes of you..."

They blended in easily with the crowd, the air filled with the scents of baked bread and sausage, of sweat and horse manure, of flowers and leather... the scents of the marketplace followed the line of traveling merchants toward the city gates.

Astora pride showed in every corner of this city, from the tidy buildings to the clean, dusty roads, to the busy, smiling faces all around. Astora's values meant that there was little in the way of poverty and any traveling merchant lucky enough to sale his wares here usually made at least a little profit. The country wasn't without its faults, its shadows, and dark sides, Ostus knowing every single one of them, but compared to other places he had traveled to, this country was a gem. A dwarf and an elf to his right were discussing finance as they walked. Two goblins were singing a song together to his left; they were drunk, but were not bothering anyone, so Ostus thought it more amusing than anything else. Two young human children sat in the back of a wagon in front of them, feet dangling over the side as they watched Ostus and Kiara quietly. Ostus made a face, then winked. The little girl gasped in surprise. The little boy snickered. Ostus grinned.

Ostus would miss this place. He gazed around as he felt himself begin to relax, taking note of the canopy of the trees and the fireflies just beginning to emerge; Berenike was nothing like this place. The lawmakers of Astora actually cared for their people and worked hard for them. He glanced at Kiara, wondering what role she played as princess for this country. Had she ever walked among her people like this? How would they react if they knew the journey she was about to undertake could possibly end the war?

This made Ostus feel guilty all over again.

But instead of apologizing, he gruffly blurted out, very quietly, "I have horses arranged for us at the stables near the gate. We'll be following a traveling caravan tonight; we'll stay with them for a few days until we draw closer to the mountains. We are to pretend to be a husband and wife. I am a new blacksmith hoping to get started in the business and you can be whatever the fuck you want so long as these people believe you."

As Kiara made to follow him, she heard the last part of his sentence and muttered something under her breath. "That's exactly why I said I wanted to get it over with, bastard..."

His words were quickly forgotten, though, as they walked through the city, her city. The sights, the smells, the people, they were so familiar to her. It wasn't the first time she'd been down here nor the first time she'd worn this dress. Some people might have recognized her, but not as the princess. In public, like this, she used a different name.

To these people, her people, she was just a farm girl by the name of Ava. The life she supposedly lived was so simple. She was a girl that people could tell their problems to. A girl who would understand their woes because she came from a background that could.

If they had known the truth, who she really was, they would treat her like she was so much better than them when she had never felt that way. All she wanted was to be a part of their lives, to be treated like an actual person. What she wanted was friends that did not like her because of who she was born to.

Ostus wouldn't know this, that she'd been down here before, and she would probably never tell him. He wanted to believe she was so above everyone, that she had no idea of the problems. It didn't matter. He wouldn't believe even if she did tell him who she really was. After all the years she had put on those pretty dresses, caked on the makeup, put her hair up in obnoxious styles, and told them that everything would be okay.. well she really did not blame him for his opinions. She had gave them what they needed: someone to look up to, someone to tell them that things would be alright.

She was drawn out of her thoughts when Ostus began to speak again. For a moment, she was quiet, but then she could hold it no longer. Laughter burst from her lips, but not from amusement. It was more out of disbelief. "That's great. Wonderful cover story. Too bad not a single person would ever believe it."

Lowering her voice to keep others from overhearing, she continued. "I'll put it in a way you can understand. For fucks sake, you can't stand to look at me, talk to me, or be near me. Perhaps we should act as if we don't know each other. More believable."

"I am not a fucking fool," Ostus hissed back, instantly annoyed. "We are going to be traveling together for a very long time. How are we supposed to come across as not knowing each other when we're traveling together? Maybe if you had gotten out more, you would know that women typically don't leave these city walls alone. Because of the war, the roads are teaming with bandits; I don't know how many damn times I've been assigned to try to weed them back, the annoying little fuckers. You wouldn't last one day out here.

"So if you don't like my story, give me something I can work with because I'd rather not have to pretend I'm in love with you. We look nothing alike, so I can't label us siblings... maybe if we were both elves or both humans I could call you the third cousin I'd rather not know..." Ostus continued, grumbling more to himself than anything else.

The line came to a halt as each visitor passed through the gate with a final inspection. Ostus could remember a time when such protocols weren't necessary; how war changed even the lives of those that never entered battle.

"While you think about your answer, since you're so much smarter than I, follow me to the stables to get our horses. The stables are right over there." He pointed at a building only a few yards away.

God damned, he really thought she didn't know a single thing. Of course she knew there were bandits, and of course she knew that women were escorted. This was true even inside the city. The only reason she went anywhere alone was because there were soldiers everywhere. Even then, they had not let her out of their sight until she'd learned to use both her bow and the knife she kept in her boot.

The reason she had even brought up the story was exactly this attitude. How was he ever going to act like he was in love with her when every word he said just reflected his contempt, and possibly hate for everything she stood for. It was pathetic really, how terrible it made her feel, but she'd never let him know that. So instead, Kiara lashed out at him in return.

"With the way you treat me, you'd think I was the damned devil. What have I ever done to you? Are you just pissed because I don't worship the ground you walk on? Is it because I'm a woman? Or is it because I'm a woman with higher authority than you. You know what, I think I've got it." Here she leaned closer to him, her voice low and seductive, as if she were sharing a secret with him. "It's because I'm a woman who doesn't want to fall into bed with you."

The world seemed to stand still to Kiara's words, though Ostus' mind was a chaotic frenzy. There was something very sexy about Kiara whispering in his ear; she had a very nice bedroom voice. What she said, however, was not sexy at all, and had turned his opinion of her voice completely against him. He blushed in spite of himself, even as he glowered.

Ostus turned his head to send her a scathing glare, his storm-grey eyes flashing with charged anger. "Perhaps my opinion of you stems from the way you treat me," he growled in a low voice. "You talk to me like I'm an idiot guard, you doubt my capability to protect you from the get-go. You will be no safer with anyone else than you will with me, yet you twist even that into a hostile environment. If I--"

"How can I help you?" A middle-aged man smiled at the pair; Ostus had forgotten that they were in the stables. The horses stared calmly at them from their stalls.

Ostus snapped to attention, sending a beaming smile. "My wife and I are looking for a couple of horses," he said. "We're newlyweds hoping to set our roots in a small, quiet town." He curled an arm around Kiara for emphasis, pulling her to his side, his smile seemingly frozen in place. "Isn't that right, love?" He turned his fake smile in her direction.

"Well, I've got several sturdy horses available -- for the right fee, of course."

The satisfaction she felt when she saw the blood rush to his cheeks was almost, almost, enough to carry her through his words. Almost was not good enough though, and she had an entire rant just waiting on the tip of her tongue when he grabbed her.

Now, rationally, Kiara knew that they needed to pretend in order to stay hidden and unknown. Even if he thought her stupid and unknowing of the world, she knew enough to be frightened. She knew that the road could very well be the death of her if her identity was revealed.

However, rational did not help when an attractive man was touching you, even in such a platonic way. And so, like the myth behind her hair, she tried to overrun that irrational feeling with anger. She clenched her fists even as a charming smile graced her lips.

"Of course, dear. My husband is just so excited to stay at home and care for our family while I work on my skills as a blacksmith." She stood on her toes and placed a kiss on his cheek. It didn't matter that she knew this was probably going to cause a scene, she just could not help herself. After all, Kiara had never been much of a homemaker, and she wasn't going to pretend now. Besides, after all the times he treated her like.. well as he put it an "idiot", she was dying to get him back. Stealing his pretend background was just icing on the cake.

"Of course, money won't be a problem. The sturdier the better," she said as she turned that smile on the stable keeper.

Ostus the caregiver? Someone in this room needed a throttling, and it wasn't him, and it wasn't the poor horse handler dealing with this mess of a farse! There was a steely edge to his smile as he looked back down at his 'wife.' "We have yet to start a family, my silly wife," he responded with sickening sweetness, "though I know you're just as eager as I to get started. Soon enough, love, soon enough." He chuckled, then looked back at the man. "Gotta love red-heads and their fiery spirit, eh? See, we are both blacksmiths," he explained. "That's how we met, after all. And we're both eager to start a family. Very eager. We just... need to work out the details." He continued to smile as he fished out his coin purse, money for this trip jangling inside. Caregiver his ass; he could pay for his damn horse!

The man stared with both eyebrows raised. This was the strangest couple he ever met, but that coin purse looked quite sizable... "Right," he remarked, then turned. He began to show them around, introducing them to suitable horses. As they shopped, Ostus kept Kiara's hand clasped in his as though in a loving gesture, though it was all he could do from squeezing the life out of that hand.

"You and I have some serious talking to do," he hissed in her ear when the man wasn't looking. "There are details we need to work out. How the fuck does someone as strong and fit as I am end up being the--"

"So, which horse would you like?"

Ah, this was almost better than his reaction to her earlier statement. He was going to be so much fun to play with, despite how delusional she still thought he was. Though that part about the redheads smarted a bit, even if Kiara had just been thinking it moments before. It was completely different to make assumptions about herself than it was every time he made one. As soon as Ostus was cut off, she took the opportunity to speak.

"Oh please, just give us a moment to discuss," was all she said to the stable boy.. man, before turning a bright smile to her so called husband. Her voice was sugary sweet as she spoke quietly, even though the man could not hear what she had to say. "But, dear. I thought it was perfect because then it would give you a reason to despise me." Her tone turned cold as she reached the last few words, and she fought the urge to send an icy glare his way.

Just as she was about to continue her rant about how maybe he would finally understand how it felt to be treated like an idiotic housewife, something else caught her attention. It was a horse towards the back of the stable, a silky, ivory color. That was except for the spider-shaped mark on its hindquarter. The mare looked sturdy enough, and Kiara never could resist anything she deemed beautiful. For a moment, though, she thought about how she would likely have to leave this creature when they reached the mountains and felt a sudden sadness.

Her hand reached out to stroke the forehead of the mare. Despite her reservations, Kiara made her decision when the horse made a happy sort of whinny. "Husband, I demand this one. Seeing as your job is to make me happy, I suggest you give the man his money." Though her words were meant to strike at Ostus, the smile she gave him this time was genuine.

Ostus's fitted smile instantly disappeared as soon as Kiara muttered how much she thought Ostus despised her. This took him completely off-guard. How could he despise someone who was willing to risk her life to marry someone she didn't know to save a good country from war? He certainly disrespected her in some areas and currently did not like her, but the chill in her voice made him believe that she thought he downright hated her and that he was being unreasonable about it!

From the start, Kiara had made assumptions about his work ethic, his character, and now this... it was almost more than he could stand. This was the very reason why he was quite content remaining single for his entire life. He almost considered walking away from this whole thing, destroying the contract. She could find someone else to do her dirty work. But the pay was too good to pass up, and if his friends found out he nullified a contract because of a woman's scathing tongue... he wouldn't hear the end of it. He decided that if they were going to pretend to be married, they did not need to pretend to be happily married.

"Woman, do you really want to make this trip more difficult than it already is?" he shot back in a low voice, not bothering to hide his deep glare. "I never despised you, but with the way you're acting now..."

If Ostus were to look back at this moment, he would pride himself on his incredible patience. A lesser man, elf or otherwise, would have not tolerated the way Kiara simply walked away as though he were beneath the very floor she walked on, her attention turned so easily to some damn horse at the corner of the stables.

Her haughty command did even less to placate his temper. Ostus glared at her -- perhaps he could truly despise her after all -- and counted to ten to try to calm down.

The gentleman had a certain gleam in his eye as he witnessed the exchange, his gaze flickering to the coin purse the elf man held. "She's a very fine mare," he commented to the woman, "a wise choice. She's yours for 60 gold."

Ostus balked. That was almost all of his earnings for this trip. What kind of horse was worth that much? "You're fucking out of your mind," he snapped. "30 gold."

"She's of my best stock. 55 gold."

"I've seen other horse shit better than that one. 35 gold."

"You will not find a better-trained horse. How am I supposed to keep my business open when I spent far more than that to care for her?"

Ostus glanced over his shoulder at the black steed he had been eyeing, the one with the diamond-shaped patch of fur over his forehead. The horse glanced in his direction, snorting and flaring his nostrils, though his ears were perked forward in interest. That horse would easily get them to the mountain path in a couple of days easy. There was no way he could afford both horses plus more rations and accommodations.

Then he had an idea.

He smiled at Kiara. "It is true that my sole purpose in this world is to make you happy," he agreed, "but you have always been the superior blacksmith. It is why we are even considering you working while I slave away at home for you. I'm afraid my poor, pathetic self cannot afford both your horse and mine. And if we were to share a horse, why... we would not make it a day in our journey before finding ourselves fornicating in the bushes! How would we ever get anywhere that way? All that rubbing and grinding and hard riding, our bodies rubbing against each other on the same horse. You know I can't resist you when you get frisky, and it never takes much... Anyway, I will do my very best to get the horse you want if you are willing to be a dear and pay for mine. Anything for you, love." He flashed her his most winning smile. Being the poor husband was certainly a blow to his pride, but he was not about to let her get in the habit of walking all over him.

There had not been a single word said to Ostus so far that was not meant to get a reaction, but this... this was too much. Kiara had been completely unprepared for his response. Joking about things like this in private was one thing, even talking about it seriously, but to say those things in front of a stranger? She knew that he knew exactly how inappropriate and embarrassing it was. He must have thought it was worth the humiliation of being a housewife just to see her reaction and gain her money.

It felt like an hour that she just stood there, wide eyes staring back at him in horror. She would have liked to stand like that a few hours more, but unfortunately her mind had other ideas. With such a description, she could not help but picture it. This in turn led to all the blood rushing to her face in a way she was sure to entertain the soldier at fault. Normally, this would have easily turned to anger, but Kiara was still in shock.

It took several minutes for her coloring to return to normal, only to brighten again because of her fury. The only image she could see was of her throwing her fist into his face. It was one thing for her to embarrass him. He had shown no respect for her since they had met. He had questioned her motives, her lifestyle, and even had the nerve to treat her as though she knew nothing of her own country. Putting him down just helped to even the score a bit. However, he had not held a thing back and made her look like a fool in front of another. Perhaps, if she had really been his blacksmith wife, she could have taken this - though she doubted even then. Kiara was not a wife, though, and certainly not his. She was fucking royalty and she was getting tired of how disrespectful he was continuing to be. It was getting to a point where she wondered if she actually preferred people being nice to her just because of who she was. At least it was better than them treating her this way because of their awful assumptions.

Finally, Kiara realized that she was still just standing there, silent. Knowing she should respond was not helpful because she had no idea what to say. Honestly, she was ready to just go on her own. She was better with the bow than he thought and clever enough to beat many Astoran soldiers in combat. The only problem was that she was frightened. Even with her skills, it was dangerous. More so, it was lonely.

A long sigh of exhaustion escaped her lips as she made her decision. If he could openly glare at her and make her sound like some bar wench, she did not see why she had to smile at him any longer. Instead, she just turned to the horse keeper and gave him a look that said she knew they were being played. It was Ostus's fault, really. What kind of man pulls out his entire pouch? Obviously, it is a better strategy to discuss price first, then pull out only what is decided on. If a seller gets a look at how much you have, they will always try to take the most they can.

Shaking her head at the thought, Kiara sighed again and finally spoke. Her best bet was to just ignore everything Ostus had said regarding their... 'private' life. "Find the best, and I will part with 70 gold." It was a rather high price, but to her it was nothing, and she knew it was a deal too good for the stable man to question or refuse. "Anything to make my husband happy," she continued, her voice filled with a sarcasm she was trying her damnedest to hide. Under her breath, she added, "Anything to get this over with more like.." If neither of them were careful, they would have their very own war on their hands. Kiara decided that trying to end one was more than enough work for her.

Kiara's blushing intrigued Ostus; what had she been thinking about then? If they were on better terms, he would have teased her about it. There was no mistaking her transition into anger, however. Ostus expected a scene or some sort of clever retort back. After the immediate satisfaction of what he just said, he was even beginning to enjoy the banter a little. So it came as a complete surprise when Kiara actually gave in to his demand without fuss, without complaint, and without too much of a snide tone, all despite her anger.

The offer was even more stunning. At once he felt guilty. He could barely look at his horse as he muttered to the man which one he wanted. Eagerly, the stable master collected their coin and got to work preparing the beasts for departure, but Ostus could hardly feel excitement over knowing they would finally leave.

Why was Kiara so upset anyway? She was acting as though they actually were married, as though they actually did have a private life to talk about, as though he had given away her most intimate secrets. He had no idea of her private life; had he said something personal, too close to home? He would wonder what exactly her experiences while traveling were if he didn't feel so guilty about thinking he had crossed a line. Damn her for making him feel this way... over a story! He knew, however, that the guilt was over how he made her feel regardless of what she had said.

He remained silent as they waited for the horses to be ready, offered to help Kiara on her own horse with only a gesture before mounting his own, and said not a word as they headed out to take their place in line to leave the city and catch up with the caravan they'd be traveling with on this first leg of the trip. In truth, he was tired of fighting with Kiara and didn't want to say anything to set her off.

They had not talked for an entire day, Kiara and Ostus that was. Her reasons were that she needed time to herself, time he had interrupted the day before. She'd been trying to come to terms with exactly what she was doing because, despite what Ostus seemed to think, it really wasn't simple. Perhaps he'd see why that was when they reached Berinike. He wouldn't be able to understand how different she acted from how she was expected to act. Of course, in her own home it was accepted even if her mother was always bugging her about it.

In Berinike this would not be the case. She would be expected to act like a princess, a queen even, for that is what she would soon be. There would be no running around by herself. No archery, well maybe archery since they did take much pride in their military, but probably not for her. It was less her station and more her gender, though, that was the problem. She'd be expected to tend affairs and keep house. Any power she had in Astora would belong to her husband.

That was the worst of it for her. Of course she longed to continue with the freedom to be who she really was, but Kiara was more worried for her people. This would save them from immediate harm, that was true, but would it save them in the long run? When her parents were dead and she was queen... well. Perhaps Ostus did not know that the country would no longer be under her rule, it would be under her husbands.

There was a lot to think about when it came to this entire truce, and so she tried to take the time to think about it and to gain the courage to go through with it head held high. His reasons for keeping quiet were unknown to her. Ever since she'd actually agreed to pay for his horse he'd been giving her strange looks, though she could not figure out what they meant. Was he... guilty? She let out a laugh. No, that couldn't be it.

Suddenly, a presence came much too close to her for comfort and was talking into her ear. "What you laughing about miss? Perhaps you're just excited to meet me?" Kiara could not see the man who belonged to the voice, but she could smell the stench of ale on his breath, and her patience was running thin.

If only she was not pretending to be married, she could just stick her dagger in the man's gut and move on with her life. Unfortunately, she was supposed to be a caring wife. It was enough to make her sick. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm afraid I have a husband waiting for me somewhere around here," she told him, her smile wide. Where on earth had that useless soldier gone, anyway?

The man came even closer to her, something she had thought impossible, his disgusting breath in her face. "Well he's not here, now, is he?" The knife was looking so good right now, but Kiara just knew if she used it Ostus was going to go out of his mind. Not that she cared. Actually, it had been an entire day since the last time she had gotten an entertaining reaction from him. She eyed her left boot where it was hidden, considering.

Ostus was glad they had decided to travel with a caravan. It was enough to keep him distracted from thinking about Kiara. There was always someone to talk to, someone was always playing music, and at the end of the day when everyone was settled for the night, there'd be drinking and stories and laughter around the campfire. He wasn't the sort to sulk about his problems for long, so this social aspect was welcomed relief.

In the span of two days, the caravan had been attacked by bandits five times. Ostus had never seen so many; the war was definitely taking its toll on Astora. Though Ostus had given everyone the impression that he was a blacksmith, he was among the first to defend the small party during attacks. After all, despite his differences with the princess, it was still his job to protect her. Furthermore, the caravan was full of good, hardworking people, some with children -- he would not stand idly by and do nothing.

After the first attack was successfully thwarted, the caravan readily accepted Ostus and Kiara as part of the fold. He was grateful for this due to the added security a loyal group would provide. By the fifth attack, however, he couldn't help but worry about the journey to come. Soon there would be no caravan. Soon it would be just Ostus and Kiara. If bandits had discovered his mountain trail, how well could he protect her from onslaught after onslaught of ruffians? He kept telling himself that the mountain path was well hidden, that he could keep Kiara safe, that there'd be nothing to worry about. The princess already hated him; he did not want her to think him weak as well.

At night, Ostus didn't drink as much as he wanted to. Though the dancing was fun and a few women there made him wish he had not portrayed himself as married, he couldn't keep in the spirit of merriment. Even the uplifting notes of flutes and lutes couldn't lift his spirits. Ostus's guilt was like a festering wound; if he did not deal with it soon, it would only get worse. Before meeting her, he had expected to show Kiara a little fun on her last days as an Astoran princess. He planned to teach her how to drink, show her how to dance in the commoner fashion, drill her a bit on self defense though he knew now that she already had that covered... How could he protect her when they couldn't even talk to each other? Yet every time he cast his gaze on her, every time he opened his mouth to say the words, his mind would draw a blank or he'd lose his nerve. Would she even believe his apology anyway?

At least his desire to protect her was still strong, though he chalked it up to simple duty. He approached the princess from behind, returning from taking a piss, seeing some drunken slob all over her and her body language showing all the signs of a woman not interested.

He clasped a hand very heavily on the man's shoulder and squeezed as he leaned forward. "Who's not here?" he said, smiling at the man, though there was a darkness to his expression. "Seems to me like my wife desires a bit of space, don't you agree?" The insistent glare through his smile was unmistakable.