Ostus and his opponent circled each other, both sweaty, dirty, and quite alert. The Callum bastard was actually smirking at him. What, did he think it was a game? Ostus could understand the appeal of a well-matched fight, but Kiara was heavy on his mind; he could not lose focus on her. As if reading each other's thoughts, both men lunged at each other at the same time, swords clashing. The fight was almost irritating; they had yet to land a single solid blow on each other.

Ostus decided to be the first to fight dirty. In a split-second moment of opportunity, as his opponent reared back to take another swing, Ostus kicked dirt into his face. The man staggered back, blinking rapidly, but Ostus gave him no time to even realize what had just happened before he took a risk to step inward, freeing one hand to swing with a solid right-hook that sent the man flying.

He landed with a grunt. Ostus already stood at his side, raising his sword high with the tip of the blade facing downwards, having every intention to literally pin this man to the earth with his broadsword.

He never go that chance.

With a flick of his wrist, two tiny blades flew from the sleeve of the Callum warrior's armor, the tips burrowing into Ostus's chest. He could feel the sharp bite of their blades against his skin, but they hung flimsily from his clothing; the chainmail he wore underneath prevented the weapons from digging in deeper.

"Chainmail, motherfucker," he growled with a dark smirk. "Learn to wear it."

But before he could thrust his sword down, his opponent whipped out a leg -- how in fuck was anyone that flexible -- at blistering speed and force, sending Ostus crashing to the ground before he fully registered what happened. His sword clattered at his side.

The Callum assassin attempted to scramble to his feet. Ostus rolled and grabbed him before he could manage, having no time to pick up his sword first. Ostus swung hard again, blood flying as the man's jawbone cracked. Ostus rolled to pin the stunned man beneath him, but the Callum assassin seized that momentum to continue the roll, now over Ostus. Except he had his sword.

The man punched Ostus first, probably because he could, knocking Ostus's face to the side where he spied a rock beside his head. Letting quick instinct guide him, he snatched that rock just as his opponent slashed his sword forward to slice at Ostus's neck...

The rock collided with the side of the man's head before the blade could take purchase. The man let out a shuddering grunt, blood and teeth flying, as the force of the blow sent him toppling off of Ostus. Ostus scrambled to his feet, kicked the man hard in the ribs, threw the rock at him, then turned to pick up his sword. It wasn't the flashiest or most heroic fight, but when life and death hung at the balance, theatrics didn't matter.

"Kiara!" Ostus yelled. That's who mattered. He charged towards her, not noticing his opponent slowly, very painfully, but quite steadily struggle back on his feet as he shakily pulled a dagger from the side of his boot...

Kiara was in the middle of dodging yet another stab from the man on top of her. It was getting more difficult. With each blow that he landed, she was hurting more and more. She barely even heard the archer when he spoke to her, "He's going to die, just like you." He was laughing, but she was just trying to figure out what he meant by this. He? Who was going to die? It wasn't until Ostus was calling her name that she understood. She could not help but take her eyes off the archer for a second, to make sure he was safe. It took a moment to find him in the forest, but when she did, her breath stopped again. He wasn't paying attention, and the man behind him was getting closer. Yes, now she knew what her attacker had meant. Now she knew who was going to die too. "No! Ostus!"

She kicked and pushed as hard as she could, but the archer wouldn't budge from his position, and she was having trouble figuring out what to do. Something glinted in the corner of her eye and she reached for it, barely even thinking. It was the dagger she'd dropped when he'd knocked her onto her back. Before, she had hesitated, but now Kiara was running out of time. Before she could blink, the blade had sliced across her attackers throat.

It took too long to push the dead man off of her. Far too long. If she was not quick enough to save Ostus... No. She couldn't think about that. Kiara lunged for the archer's bow, taking aim and letting an arrow fly before she could even consider things like wind and distance. Like her knife, her arrow found its mark: the swordman's neck. In a similar manner to his partner, he fell to the ground, blood streaming from the hole in his throat.

As she watched him die, everything was numb. She fell to her knees, covered in her attacker's blood. Never before had she taken a life, not once, and now she had taken two. Perhaps they had been trying to kill her, but they were people. Everyone deserved to live, she truly believed that. This truce was as much for the people of Berinike as it was for her own. Why? Why had she felt such a need to keep Ostus from harm? He was supposed to be protecting her, not the other way around, so why had she been so scared for him? To help him, to save him, she'd watched these men die by her own hand. Her eyes filled with tears as she searched for the man she had done this for, desperate for some sort of comfort, though she expected none.

Ostus skidded to a halt in shock as he watched as Kiara snatch up that dagger and slice open her opponent's throat. Of course, he felt relieved that she managed to defend herself, save herself, but he certainly did not expect that at all...

She surprised him once more when she rose into position with bow and arrow in her hands, firing a perfect shot at the assassin behind him. Ostus blinked, glancing over his shoulder in time to watch him fall. A cracked skull, broken ribs, and broken jaw wasn't enough to keep the bastard down?

He looked back at Kiara, wide-eyed. Her reflexes, skill, and quick thinking were as good as any seasoned soldier. Had she been in battle and he hadn't known about it? All preconceptions he had about her being a fragile, innocent princess faded away at that moment.

Well, almost all.

Dread filled Ostus as he exhaled; he knew that expression on her face and her body's reaction all too well. Nothing tore at the soul better than a first kill; the shock and remorse in her eyes was the same that he had seen in so many young soldiers when they realized the full and terrible extent of their base capabilities.

He rushed to Kiara's side at once, embracing her before she decided to lose balance or feint. "Fuck, Kiara," he murmured, a tiny smile flickering on his lips over the shadow of remorse in his eyes. He scanned her body frantically, worriedly. "Where are you hurt?" It was impossible to tell what blood was hers and what was her opponent's. He noted a fierce-looking gash on her shoulder and gritted his teeth. He hoped it didn't knick an artery.

"I'm here, you're safe," he reassured her as he scooped her in his arms and carried her to her tent. "I'm sorry, Kiara... I should have been faster... you were amazing, I had no idea..." Carefully, he kneeled down with her in the tent, his mind already running through the steps he'd need to take to take care of that wound and to try to comfort her. "Kiara, I'm going to have to look at that shoulder..."

She'd heard many times that death made a person want to feel alive, but that it was wrong. Death only made her want to die too. When he came to her, Kiara fell into him, burying her face into his shoulder. It didn't matter that she was making a fool of herself. No one was around to see but him, and she had saved his life. He owed her at least this much. To just be there for her when she had no one else to go to.

Relief filled her when she felt her feet leave the ground. Everything hurt and for a moment she wished she was as numb as she had felt just after she had shot that arrow. She barely moved as he carried her to the tent and slowly settled down with her. Her ears were muffled, she could barely make out his words. It took all of her concentration, and then her blood was boiling. She pushed him away as hard as she possibly could.

It didn't matter that her body hurt, that her heart hurt. Kiara could not stand what he had said. Her voice was loud, or she thought it was, as she spoke. "Amazing? You think that's amazing?" It felt as if she were screaming at him, her eyes watering once more. "Taking a life is not amazing! It's horrible, terrible! It shouldn't have happened!" She could barely stand to look at Ostus after this. "It's your fault! Why? Why did they die for you?"

And it was true. Kiara had not been able to kill them to protect herself, but to protect him... she had not even hesitated, had not even thought of what she was doing. It was instinct. If he had not been here, she could have incapacitated them and gotten away. Or maybe she would have died, but what was one life for two? Why was she more important than the two men that had lost their lives because of her? Because of him

"Stay away from me! I don't need your help! I don't want it!" By now the tears were streaming down her face, and she knew she was lying. Kiara wanted him to stay wanted to know she was not alone if only for these few moments. But there were other things to think about. Logically, she knew it wasn't his fault, but it did not change the horrible guilt that she felt. More than that, if she allowed him to tend to her wounds, he would see her secret. The only one she needed to keep.

Ostus rocked back on his heels from Kiara's push. It wasn't enough to sent him sprawling, but the meaning behind it had his mind reeling. She was still feeling the effects of what happened... and she was blaming him for it.

"You would have died had you not killed them!" Ostus roared back, suddenly angry. Why was it that every time he tried to do something nice for her, she threw it back in his face? "You saw how that one fucktard kept moving despite having the shit beat out of him. I should have ran him through with my sword when I had the chance. If you hadn't killed them, they would have killed you!" He seethed. "Of course I know killing isn't amazing! I've been through enough battles and watched too many of my friends die to know that there's nothing good about it! What is amazing is that you saved my life! You, the princess, saved a seasoned soldier's life! In my experience, saying you were amazing is the very least I can do to express my gratitude. But go ahead, blame me for having killed some fuckers obviously out to attack you. If not for me, you would have been dead before the first night!"

He cursed under his breath and left the tent, pacing just outside of it as he struggled to calm down. He felt like he was moving one step forward and two steps back with her; how was he to protect her when she was like this? He began to wonder if he had made a bad choice in accepting this assignment, if perhaps another guard would have been more suitable for the likes of her. He usually didn't doubt himself like this, which made him angrier that she put him in this mental state. Since when did emotional connection factor into a job like this? He just needed to get her to where she needed to go, dump her there, then return home. They didn't need to like each other for that. So why did her retort bother him so much?

He sighed, his shoulder slumping as the speed of his pace slowed. He had to remind himself that she was still undergoing shock over what just happened. Perhaps she didn't mean anything she said. He shouldn't take it so personally.

He knew that was a lie. Of course he took it personally, but he couldn't figure out why. Regardless, he still had a job to do. So, he re-entered the tent. "Blame me for everything, I don't fucking care," he muttered, "but we need to gauge the seriousness of that wound. If it festers, every movement we take through these mountains will be agony, and you'll fall sick. And if you fucking say you deserve it after after what those lowlife pieces of shit tried to do, then... fuck, I don't know what I'll do, but I hope you're not that dumb."

With each word she found herself moving further and futher away from him. She was angry, as angry as him, that was true... but it was more that she was disgusted with herself. She could blame him all she wanted, but deep down she knew that it was all her. To have him be so frustrated, furious with her... it only made her feel worse. And then he was gone, leaving her alone with only her thoughts to keep her company. It was not like her, to be so emotional. A leader had to keep face, show her people that she was confident and strong. Kiara did not feel like either of those things.

Despite her despair, she knew that what he had said before he left was right. She needed to check her wounds and see how bad they were. Even though she did not know much about first aid, she could at least see if they were deep. Her shoulder worried her, for she could not feel it any longer, and she was sure that was a bad sign. There was a small cry of pain as she peeled the damp tunic from her skin.

It did not take long to catalog each injury the damned archer had given her. There was the shallow cut on her right arm from his arrow, a deeper one that crossed the long scar down her side, and then finally the gash on her left shoulder. Looking at it made her sick. It was bleeding heavily, which she could see now that there was no clothing in the way, but that was not the worst of it. The bone was showing through, and the numb feeling was spreading down through her arm. Not good, really not good.

She did not have much time to think about how this would affect her archery before Ostus was back and she was trying to cover herself. Her left arm was not responding well at the moment, and her right was only enough to cover her breasts. "I..." Kiara was tempted to turn around, to hide from him, but after what she'd said... the least she could do was give him this: her one secret. Perhaps he wouldn't recognize it as an apology, but that's what it was none the less. There were more important things to tend to, though, even if she could not stop the blush that rushed to her cheeks. "It doesn't hurt. Ostus," she blinked, pausing for a moment as she realized it was the first time she'd called him by name. But then she was continuing in her panic, "I can't feel it. I can't feel anything. I don't know what's wrong." When her eyes met his, they were apologetic and desperate for help.

Ostus was prepared to say more, but stopped himself short when he realized that Kiara was in the middle of undressing. "O-oh, sorry," he mumbled, his immediate instinct to back out of the tent, but he hesitated...

Though he did note the scar across her chest, it wasn't his current focus; he'd address that later. Right now, he was worried about the wound on her shoulder... it looked far worse than he initially thought. "Oh, Kiara," he whispered, unable to hide the tightness of worry in his voice. He approached her slowly, squinting and frowning at her injury. He was no doctor. Pour liquor on an open wound to disinfect it. Apply pressure to stop the bleeding. If it won't stop bleeding, cauterize the wound. Then, take the injured to a doctor. They had barely started the tough part of their journey, and this had to happen.

He managed to tear his gaze from the wound when Kiara addressed him. Like the scar, he would address the point she finally called him by name later. Right now, he was too distracted by the panic in her voice and the desperation in her eyes.

Ostus had never felt so helpless, and it was rare for him to feel this scared. He swallowed back his own rising panic... her arm was numbing, so what did that mean? Nerve damage? He had no idea what to do about that. Most soldiers with numb limbs he never saw again after they were whisked away to the nearest doctor. There were no villages along the mountain path; they would either have to turn back to find a nearest doctor or push on to Berinike.

Ostus licked his lips anxiously, struggling to keep calm. It would not do Kiara any good for him to panic. "I'm not a doctor," he murmured apologetically, "but I've seen many people hurt... can you move your arm at all?" With all the blood, he couldn't quite tell if the bone was broken or not. He looked around, grabbed her shirt, and scooted closer; it was folly to continue to allow the blood to flow from her arm like this. "Try to move your arm. I'm gonna press this against your wound to try to stop the bleeding. It may or may not hurt like a bitch; I don't know the extent of your numbness."

He took a deep breath, knowing it was not good to hesitate on things like this; he'd lose his nerve otherwise. He reached around to steady the back of her shoulder with one hand, using the other to press her shirt against the wound.

It wasn't hard to see that he was panicking too, she could hear it in the way he said her name. When he placed the shirt to her shoulder, tears indeed filled her eyes again, but not out of pain. "I can't..." Despite the numbness, she tried to move her arm as he'd asked her to. First, her fingers, which worked perfectly, then up to her elbow, also fine. Her breathing quickened, though, when she tried to move the entire thing. It was strange, to know that something should hurt more than anything you've ever felt, and yet it does not.

It was her panic that was causing the tears, and then the pain in her ribs from the panicked breathing. She'd been through this before and knew they were bruised, but that was the least of her worries. What was foremost on Kiara's mind was whether she would ever be able to shoot an arrow again. What would she do if she could not? What if her arm never healed the way it was?

What if the marriage fell through because of this? Her panicked eyes once again met his as she managed to get out, "We can't stop. Ostus. We need to get to Berinike. You can't tell anyone about this. Please." She reached her good arm to him, barely even remembering where it had been in the first place. "Please. This could ruin everything. I don't need a doctor. We just need to get there soon. Fix me up. Wrap it. I don't know. Just make it so I won't die, and let's go."

She was exhausted, more so than she'd ever been, and yet she needed to do this. If this fell through, more people than just these two would die. That was what Kiara needed to focus on. Her people, her soldiers. Ostus. If she didn't go through with this, he would be sent back to war. Her head fell onto his shoulder again as she spoke quietly. "We need to get there. I need to get there. As my thank you... To everyone... to you..."

Ostus didn't like Kiara's pleas at all. Traveling while healthy would be hard enough as it is; he was not sure how they'd make the trip as she was. He was glad that her arm wasn't somehow broken, but her numbness bothered him. He gently pressed his fingers around her shoulder, thinking that perhaps it was dislocated, pinching a nerve, and that setting it back and place would solve their problems. The more he felt around, the more that seemed unlikely. Her nerves must have been severed... this would not end well for her.

"Kiara, the bastards at Berinike can wait," he murmured, saddened to see her so desperate. How ironic that that she could only show him affection at her lowest point, when he couldn't enjoy it. "I'm sure they don't want a sick bride-to-be in their hands."

He sighed heavily, listening to her insistence to move on. He wanted to agree with her, to move forward, to get this entire experience over and done with, but what if Kiara didn't survive the trip?

Tentatively, he lifted the shirt from her wound. It had absorbed a lot of blood, but the bleeding seemed to slow. Good, at least there was that. He pressed the shirt back against the wound, then gently drew Kiara's free hand to it, showing her without words to take over in applying pressure.

"I'm going to get a fire started," he said in a tired voice. All of this worry was emotionally draining, "get some water boiling. We need to disinfect that wound. I have some clean shirts; I'll tear them up for bandages. We'll see if your shoulder's merely dislocated. You better pray you don't get an infection..." He neither confirmed or denied pushing forward to Berinike. He hoped that after a little rest, Kiara would come to her senses and agree to see a doctor.

Kiara sat there holding her blood soaked shirt for what seemed like hours as she just went over everything that had been happening in an attempt to take her mind off of her shoulder. She started first with Berinike. Of course she was going to go through with it, especially now that she'd been injured just getting there. It made it seem all the more urgent that this get over with so that Callum was no longer the threat they'd been all these years. She did have reservations, though. Did the man she was going to marry know they had once sent an assassin for her? Did he plan to do so again once Callum was defeated? Was she willing to die just for a few years of peace?

Her thoughts once again made their way to Ostus. She knew they didn't exactly get along and that he was very often angry with her for some reason or another, but she was grateful. Even if he had taken this job only for the money, he had kept her safe and took care of her when he could not. He'd treated her like a normal human being which is something she had always wanted. He'd tried to understand her even when he did not want to. All of these things were... amazing. But it would be over soon. When they reached Berinike, he would leave her there and go back home. She supposed it was for the best. Without the war, he could live happily. Get married for real if that was what he wanted without fear of leaving his wife a widow. It wasn't that she was only doing this for him. She hadn't even met him when she'd made her decision to go through with the marriage. But... she figured what better way to thank him than to end the fighting that had taken so many of his friends from him.

She was going to get to Berinike whether he came or not. There was no way she would delay for something she could not even feel. Kiara was worried because if she could not lift her arm, she could not shoot, but that was fine. It just meant she'd need to use her dagger instead of her bow, and would have to start relying a little more on Ostus to keep her safe. Once they reached the city she could see a doctor if she needed to. Kiara was determined to keep this assassination attempt secret, just like the first. People always lost confidence when they realized their leaders could be hurt.

Finally, her mind turned to this most recent attack. How had Callum found them? But more importantly, why had they dressed in Berinike clothes? Was it to start the war again? If Kiara had killed them thinking they were from Berinike, she would certainly not be going through with this still. However, she probably would not have even attacked them if she hadn't been sure they were of Callum. The plan had merit, and it would have worked if she had not recognized their coloring. Either she would be dead, or she would be headed back home with murder on her mind. Either way, the truce would have ended and the fighting would have begun again.

Yes, she needed to get to Berinike. And soon.

Ostus got to work treating Kiara the best he could, weighing the pros and cons on pushing through with this journey on his mind. If he could find a doctor for her, she could be treated properly, get some rest, and then they could start the trip anew. But after coming this far, could they journey back here again? What if they were attacked again with a worse outcome? The mountain trail was long and somewhat strenuous, but not unmanageable. It didn't involve heavy climbing or using ropes to get across, especially now with lack of snow. He wouldn't have picked the route otherwise if he thought the princess wouldn't make it under normal circumstances. Still, her injury changed things... they would have to move slower, more carefully; they'd arrive later than planned.

With the wound clean and the blood gone, Kiara's shoulder didn't look quite as bad. He knew she needed stitches, but he had no needle and thread to perform the task. This made their push to Berinike all the more important. For now, he would have to keep giving her clean scraps of cloth to pack the wound and hope for the best.

"We'll continue to Berinike in the morning," he finally agreed with reluctance, "though I don't fucking like it." He did not want to lose another friend to this war.

Friend... when did Ostus truly consider Kiara a friend? She made it well-known that she disliked him, and it was infuriating to argue with her. At the same time, she was very fun to be around when she was relaxed. He thought her intelligent, beautiful, and as he recently discovered, very capable of taking care of herself. He could easily learn to truly respect her; already she was leagues apart from many soldiers he had met and most women. Perhaps it was a good thing that he was completely out of her league -- he was a mere soldier, no one of any importance to any kingdom, and someone she wasn't interested in. He'd be more tempted to pursue her otherwise, despite the fighting...

With the immediate threat of her safety subdued for now, it was hard for Ostus to keep his gaze on Kiara to the wound. He had given her a blanket to cover up with, though her shoulders were still exposed. Had she ever been touched? Had she ever been with anyone? He had assumed no, for a princess's intact 'virtue' was part of her appeal, but considering she was more rough around the edges than even some common women, he wasn't so sure anymore.

And the scar across her chest... where did she get that? He wanted to ask her about it, but after everything else that happened in their day, he didn't want to end the night in another argument with her. He wasn't sure if she was up to talking at that moment anyway. So he kept quiet, finished up, and bowed to her once more, highlighting without knowing it the distances between them with that gesture. "I'll be sitting just outside your tent through the whole night," he informed in a gentle tone. "Not even a fucking ant will get in here without getting through me. Try to get some sleep; it's going to be a bitch of a journey tomorrow."

It was a hard journey for Kiara. Over the weeks it had taken them to move at her pace, her arm had started to heal. Ostus was right, she was lucky that it had not gotten infected, but it was the least of her worries. Though her skin was healing, and she could move her arm more than she had been able to that first day, Kiara feared it would never be the same. Luckily for the two, the skill of the Callum assassins was unmatched by any others who tried to attack them. They took each one down easily, even with her bad arm.

When they'd gotten through the mountains, Kiara was thankful she could once again put on that awful peasant's dress. It was uncomfortable, and got in the way, but it was better than the strips she had been wearing to cover her chest. The spare shirts they had were being used as bandages, and she could not afford to tear up the dress just so it could be used as a top. It was strange to be so... exposed. Showing skin, especially that much of it, was not something that people of her status did. Something about keeping the mystery as well as their virtue. It had never really mattered to her, it's not like she had anyone to show off to.

It hadn't taken long to reach the camp they were now resting in. Once they'd reached Berinike, the terrain was less frightening. There were small mountains everywhere, but there were also paths through them that people were constantly taking. The danger here was that it was easy to see that they were not from the country. Her hair made it than anything else she could have said or done. Because of this, she'd taken to wearing it up and covered with anything she could find when they were anywhere that people might see it.

She stood on the top of the hill alone, staring at the walls of the city they would reach the next day. It was not that Kiara and Ostus were not getting along. That would have been normal and accepted. It was more that they were avoiding each other. She was not sure of his reasoning, but hers was easy. What was the point of becoming close with someone she was probably never going to see? More importantly... the way her heart fluttered every time she looked at him was frightening. Terrifying in a way that she could not even put into words. The more time she spent with him, the more confused she felt, and so in the end she discovered it was just easier to be alone.

Tomorrow he would leave her, and she would be on her own once more. Her gaze found him, and there was a sadness in her eyes that she could not hide. Kiara would miss him. Despite everything, all the fights, all the insults, she considered him her friend. He had kept her company, had listened to her worries, and had taken care of her. He had not once complained about the slowed pace - at least not to her face - and had protected her when she was having trouble doing so herself. Kiara held her hand out, preparing to lean against a tree before she remembered there were none to help her keep her balance. What would she do alone in a place where everyone saw her as the enemy?

Ostus wasn't sure whether or not he liked Berinike. The people were surprisingly pleasant, once he had grabbed a hat to cover the pointed tips of his ears. In Astora, Ostus always felt huge, even compared to humans. Here, if the men were not made of muscle, they were sly and quick on their feet. For the first time in his life, Ostus felt normal here -- at least with first glance. And the women... though many were stocky like some of the men, Ostus had caught himself more than once turning his head to get a better look at a few with accentuated... assets.

It was the fluctuating weather that bothered Ostus. It almost seemed like one moment it would rain and in the next moment, the sun would be shining and the smothering humidity would hang in the air in full force. How could people live like this? He felt more sorry for Kiara, who would have to put up with this weather.

Kiara. He glanced at her, noting her sad expression, and assumed she was scared to face her future husband tomorrow. On that same day, he would leave her. He was not looking forward to the trip back. It would be long and dull, full of regrets about what he should have done while he still had time to spend with Kiara, how different things could have been between them if only...

"So," he murmured quietly, "what do you want to do on your last night of camping? I could find someone that sells booze or we can cook up the last of our rations for a feast. I haven't the slightest clue how to play an instrument, but I can bang on something and sing, make your ears bleed." He smiled softly at the joke, determined to make light of the situation. "Tomorrow, we will enjoy a hot meal prepared by someone else, sleep in soft beds, and take hot baths. Looking forward to that."

Her last night? Kiara stared back at the city as she thought. It was almost as if Ostus was projecting his regrets onto her. This was her last night to do whatever she wanted. It took her breath away that all she wanted to do was spend time with him, and yet no matter how much she tried to think of something else: food, drinking, sleeping, there was nothing. The only image in her mind was that of the night they'd danced around the fire. For that one song, she was fully and wholly herself. She had not worried about the people around her, her reputation. She had not been thinking of her future or her past. The prince and the wedding had not even been in her thoughts. It was to that place that she wanted to go back, and she was afraid that after tonight she would never be able to again.

All of her life she'd been told what to do and who to be. Think of the people and do the best for them. Don't talk too loud or too much. Watch the language, no one likes a vulgar princess. Dress modestly and don't get to close to any man. Don't let them touch you. Don't get too friendly with the commoners. Keep up appearances. Don't chuckle or giggle or chortle. Be graceful and beautiful. Put down the weapons and stop fighting the soldiers. Don't show emotion, be confident, and stop fidgeting.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm her nerves. It was crazy, what she was about to ask him, but he'd wanted to know what she'd like to do, and this was it. So, Kiara walked towards their own small fire, humming a slow tune she barely remembered. If she spoke, the song would pause and then she'd have to start over. Instead, she held her hands out to Ostus, swaying from side to side with a shy smile on her face. If he denied her this one thing, she was not sure what she would do.

Ostus watched as Kiara stepped closer to the fire, humming slow tune to herself. Her body began to sway to the melody; his gaze followed her every move in spite of himself. The princess surely knew how to dance; he loved simply watching her.

He raised both eyebrows in surprise when she held out her hands, extending her offer to him. It was one thing to dance with Kiara to an upbeat tune in the presence of others doing the same thing. It was quite another dancing along with her to a slower song. It was the sort of thing that couples in love did, or so he surmised, so why in the heavens would she choose to do such a thing with him?

If he was smart, if he was wise, he'd decline the offer. He had no business dancing with the betrothed princess of Astora. Tomorrow she would meet her future husband. Soon, the two would wed. And, if the stars aligned and the pair actually got along, he would be the one slow-dancing with Kiara under the stars, enjoying the sight of her swaying body and the soothing song of her voice.

Yet Ostus could not turn away, could not say no. Instead, his expression softened as he walked towards her, reaching out to take her hands in his.

He pulled Kiara close to him -- as close as he dared, as close as was necessary, which was probably too close. He dared to rest his hands on her hips, just as he had that enchanting night at the caravan, and began to sway with her. He was even so bold as to gaze into those eyes, eyes he'd probably never see again.

He would leave tomorrow, but tonight Ostus was here, with Kiara. He told himself that he was merely doing what she wanted to do, nothing more, that he wasn't forcing her or tricking her in doing anything else. Besides, it was just dancing, nothing more. He had done far more with women he had just met; why was this such a big deal?

He allowed himself to relax, to simply enjoy himself with her. After all they've been through, they both deserved this.

She let out a breath she had not even known she'd been holding when he took her hands and danced with her. And then that breath was lost again when he pulled her close. It was true, that they'd been this close before, but she'd been drunk and laughing and teasing him. Now... it was different. She could see it in the way he looked at her, feel it when his hands settled on her hips. Kiara responded in kind, her good arm moving into place around his neck, her other hand resting on his own.

Here with him, it was easy to see the woman she could have been if she had not been born a royal. She'd have probably gone into something that allowed her to protect the people she loved, but it would have been her choice. At night, she would have gone out to stare at the stars simply because she could. One of those nights she would have a little too much ale, meet a man, dance too close, and laugh too loudly, but no one would be around to tell her it was wrong. She would fall in love and marry the one she chose to, the one who had made her feel as if she was walking on clouds. Yes, it was easy to see the kind of life she would have had. Looking into his eyes, Kiara could pretend that it was the one she was living now.

There was no city to be going to. No marriage to be had. There was no prince waiting for her so that they could start a most likely miserable life together. There was no country to be saved nor a war to be stopped.

Instead, there only a woman dancing a bit too closely with a man she had grown fond of. It did not matter that they did not get along much, or that he would leave tomorrow. In that moment, it was as if ... he was the man in the future she'd dreamed. Any other time, it would have been silly to think about, to even consider. She was a princess and he was only her guard. But tonight, there was no status, no rules.

There was only Kiara and Ostus under the stars.

They danced like this for a while, Ostus merely enjoying being near Kiara. It was strange how comforting silence could be so long as it was shared with someone that did not find it uncomfortable. He closed his eyes, wanting to focus on the feel of Kiara's body beneath his hands, the tickle of her breath against his shoulder, the salty sent of her hair. Would their paths have ever crossed if she wasn't a princess? Would they get along better if they were on more equal terms? For someone that hated him, she certainly was getting quite cuddly, but he didn't care.

That was one thing he couldn't understand. Was he falling in love with her? How could that be when they fought half the time and didn't talk to each other the rest of the time? Perhaps he was merely in love with dancing with her. He had never known love before, felt himself the type that would never settle down, yet he hated the idea of leaving Kiara tomorrow. What if her husband-to-be treated her like shit? What if she came to hate her new life? He needed to be there, to protect her, to give her a shoulder to cry on or a body to dance with, just like this...

He brought a hand up to cup the side of her face, dipping his head down to rest his forehead against hers. He had the sudden desire to kiss her. It was wrong, against the contract, but if he should never see her again, he at least wanted to know the sensation of her lips against his...

... yet he knew if he kissed her, it would be his undoing. He would never be able to leave her, and if he did, it would tear him up inside. It was that reason alone that gave him pause, that opened his eyes, that made him exhale. "I'm sorry," he whispered, slowly sliding his hand away. "I keep doing this, I keep crossing lines with you." He shook his head, took a few steps back, then began to walk towards the tent without another word.

They danced in silence when Kiara's song finally ended. Neither of them seemed to notice. It was this, the feeling of being close to someone, that she had always wanted. She couldn't understand what he was doing to her, only that she did not want him to leave. It didn't matter that they were always fighting because she knew that was her fault. All of her life she had been raised to push people away, especially the ones who's company she enjoyed. But she was tired of that. She was tired of people leaving her alone. For once, she just wanted...

Her thoughts were cut off when he reached for her, just like he had that night weeks ago. And just as she had then, she leaned into his hand, and looked up at him. For a moment, Kiara was sure that he would kiss her. She could feel it in his heartbeat, in the way he leaned towards her, and then... he looked down at her and pulled away. For once, it was not her that was running away, it was him. The loss she felt when his body left hers was something she could barely explain. It was as if she were left standing there empty.

He was walking away from her now, and she knew she should let him go. It would be the right thing to do. Tomorrow she would meet her future husband and say goodbye to Ostus, possibly forever. This was what got her feet to finally move as she went after him. Kiara barely recognized what she was feeling. All she knew was that seeing him walk away was painful.

When she reached him, she grabbed his arm. Her heart hammered against her chest. What she was going to do was crazy, and yet she could not stop herself. It did not matter that it was against all rules, all propriety. This man would be the end of her, she was sure, but she could not bring herself to care. Instead, she stood on her toes and pressed her lips to his. If he was going to leave her tomorrow, she wanted this one night. One night where she made her own choice. One night where neither of them walked away.

Even if he chose to push her away, she would never forget what she realized in that one moment. In another world, Kiara would have waited all her life just for him.

Ostus wasn't thinking when Kiara grabbed his arm. Why, oh why did he not see this coming? Instead, like an idiot, he turned, almost dumbly, and was "assaulted" by Kiara's lips on his own.

His body reacted before he could get over the shock to stop himself -- Ostus turned to fully face her, never breaking the kiss as he did so. He curled an arm firmly around Kiara's waist and pulled her to him, deepening the kiss with vigor, eyes fluttering closed.

Her lips were heaven against his, the taste of her divine. One hand threaded through her scarlet hair, pushing down the scarf she wore around it. He wanted this moment to last forever, but eventually he broke away, breathless.

A smirk played upon Ostus's lips as he stared at Kiara in a bit of a daze. "Damn it, woman, you just destroyed me," he commented before sweeping in for another kiss. There was no way he would be satisfied with just one. There was also no way he could be angry at her for just making his life more difficult, not after that kiss.

His hands began to wander this time, delighting in the curve of her back, sweeping below her hips, then sliding up either side of her body in order to touch--

He broke this kiss more abruptly this time, his body aching in a way that he knew meant he would cross lines if he did not stop now. "A-and here I thought you hated me," he said in a slightly wavering voice, flickering a smoldering smile. Gods, he wanted her; this was entirely unfair. Meanwhile, his body protested on this abrupt end to more interesting activities. Why should he stop? Since when had he ever stopped before? If Kiara wanted this, who was he to not let it happen? Most importantly, he wouldn't have another chance with her again, so why why why... "You better get in that tent if you know what's good for you." He smiled as he said this, scarcely believing his own words. "And I'll stay out here..." Pointedly, he sat down by the tent, as uncomfortable as that was, though he hoped, very much, that Kiara would ignore his advice and dive into his arms instead. There would be absolutely no way he would refuse her again if she did, but even if she didn't...

Oh, fuck it.

~~~

Ostus woke up the next day like a new person, though that wasn't necessarily a good thing. In reality, it was his way to shield himself from the hard trip to come; what better way than to pretend he was back in his old life? So he strode past the city gates with Kiara following behind, each step oozing with haughty confidence. It was morning market, the streets bustling with people. "S'cuse me, fucker," he quipped. "Pardon me... watch where you're stepping, asswipe! Coming through, important shit to take care of with the royal family..." Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to annoy folks around him. However, he was in a terrible mood despite the events of the night before and frankly couldn't care less. He didn't want to leave Kiara.

It was strange not stepping around trees in this capital city. The castle itself was nestled against the side of the mountain; some of the towers looked as though they were carved straight from that very rock. Most of the buildings, in fact, were made of stone. To Ostus, they didn't look overly cozy or inviting. The architecture seemed rather dull, the people here more concerned about sturdiness with their construction than aesthetics. Still, what the people lacked in a beautiful town, the majestic mountains against a bright blue sky made up for it as a gorgeous backdrop.

When Ostus finally approached the guards standing by the castle gate, he bowed in an exaggerated flourish, removing his hat so these dark-skinned men could see his pointed ears. "I am Ostus Osaron, knight of the Astora army," he announced. "The beautiful woman behind me is Princess Kiara of Astora, here by request of the Berinike royal family."

It was as though she was waking from a dream. An incredible dream, but a dream nonetheless. Here she was, standing in the middle of a city she did not know or belong in. The latter was made obvious by every glare sent her way, every whispered insult that she heard. She did not blame them. She was the enemy after all. Her army had killed their husbands, parents, children. It was only natural that they take out that loss on her. Their comments were not even on the radar of things for her to worry about. Instead, it was the way Ostus was pointedly ignoring her and treating everyone else like they were the dirt on his shoe. Here she was, desperately trying to find a reason for him to stay, even if it meant torturing herself every day and he was so... determined to get her to the castle and leave her. What was it he had said the night before? You just destroyed me. She had thought he'd felt it too, whatever it was. Kiara was still unsure about that, but she knew it was stronger than she had anticipated. So strong she had almost gone to him even after he'd pulled away that last time. She would not say it was love, but there was a longing to give her entire self to him even when she should not.

A sigh escaped her lips as she tried to get her thoughts off of her guard. What good would it do to continue to think about him? It would only cause problems for her here. It was as he said, he was a knight and she was a princess. It was time she started to act like it once more. So, like him, she reverted to how she had acted before they had taken this trip together. Her hands made its way to her hip, and she stared up at the guard with the confidence only someone of her status could have. Well, someone of her status and Ostus apparently. "Please, disregard the soldier. He seems to have forgotten his place." Her words were icy, meant to hurt. Best that they leave on bad terms. That way she would not be tempted to see him ever again. "We're late, but it is very important that we meet with your King and Queen."

With nothing left to say, she tried to turn her attention somewhere else. Anywhere but Ostus. Even now, she wanted him to hold her as he had last night. Never had a man gotten so close to her, never had she wanted one to. But he was different... and that was exactly why he needed to leave. Just as she had thought last night, he would be the end of her. Only now, here in the daylight, it did matter. He could ruin everything she had worked so hard for. And yet, that was exactly why she wanted him to stay.