Title: Hell and Honor

Summary: She may be spoiled and she may be a snob, but hell hath no fury like a princess denied her crown.

Notes:  I take too long to update.  Thanks to Talia, Mackenzie Rose, and Megan for reviewing.  Um, the italicizing in the last chapter is erratic, for some reason – I’m using Microsoft Word.  That letter from the previous chapter should have been entirely in italics.. so if it’s difficult to distinguish the context of things, blame my computer.  By the way – this story is kindasorta fantasy, so don’t expect it to be perfectly medieval.  You can, however, thank a local professor here for telling me all about how the social hierarchy went (royal family, upper nobles, lower nobles, knights, serfs, slaves) and that a second or third son of a noble might become a knight, but a first wouldn’t.  It gave me an excuse to detail Damien’s history a little.  We should meet Elena in the next chapter or the chapter after that!

What in God’s name could my mother be thinking?
            That was my only thought as I carelessly threw articles of clothing – practicality said to put only my least cumbersome of apparel inside, but I couldn’t resist a few more ornate dresses going along with me.  I changed, too, to a black lace-and-velvet dress that I had never worn before; its skirts did not puff out dramatically, nor did its shoulders.  Its neckline was low, and I found myself irritably tugging up the fabric to cover more skin.  It was slit in the front and back to allow me to ride more easily.

Some women took great pride in showing off – I was not one of them.  I opted to only wear a small piece of jewelry, a delicate ivory locket engraved with a black ruby-etched lotus.  It had been a gift from my father on my tenth birthday, and remained the only memory of my past life – before treason had infected my home, my kingdom.

It was my kingdom, after all.  Rofocale could play at being the monarch all he wished – I could run this game of political poison as well as he could.  Being of the female sex, perhaps better than he could.

So focused was I, both in mentally cursing my daft mother whose femininity lead her around like a sire leads a bitch in heat, and doing my best to pack without the aid of servants (something I had never even attempted to do before), I was not aware of a second presence at my doorway, watching with a bemused expression as I hastily swept strands of golden blonde away from my face and attempted to close one of the three bags I had packed with little success.

“Highness?” The masculine voice broke me from my thoughts.  I turned and saw Damien there, muscular arms folded across his chest.  He was a little too burly for that, so all it served to do was heighten the impression of size I got from him – maybe that was his goal, I don’t know, but it took a lot more than something god-given like height to intimidate me.

I returned my attention to my bags; all ladies of class could ride both side-saddle and regularly (although the latter was only to be used in times of extreme emergency – like now), so I would have no problem obtaining one of the five horses my mother had given the von Eurich family as part of payment for my staying there.

I wondered if I was part of that payment as well.  What had she promised these people?  I had been under the impression that I knew and had a modicum of control in everything in my Kingdom, and now I was learning that this uppity young Lord was trying to commandeer everything that was rightfully mine.

Yes, it was jarring to say the least, but I wasn’t allowed to pontificate on the injustices being done to me, and my birthright, for much longer because that boy was speaking again.

“Highness?  What are you doing?”
            He hadn’t been the pinnacle of manners downstairs, so perhaps he was trying to make up for it now.

“I received word,” carefully not mentioning from whom, “That I am needed back home.”
            “You learned of your mother’s marriage, no doubt, princess.”
            I only nodded, tucking my hair behind my ears for what seemed the hundredth time in the past half-hour.  He continued to eye me with an expression I didn’t bother trying to figure out, despite how easy he was to read.

“So you’re leaving, highness?”
            “There is a midway point between here and the capital; I can only assume that is Aiberlea.  A friend at a tavern there will provide me with more information, and then I will return to my home at the palace.” There, that ought to put some kind of stop to all his questions.

“With all due respect, princess, you can’t honestly be planning to do this on your own?”
            I stopped in closing up my baggage to give him a frosty glare.  It was very interesting how I could scowl without even moving my face – a polite glower, mother always called it.

He avoided my gaze, but pressed on anyhow: “A girl like you traveling alone is just asking for trouble, your highness.”
            “I can certainly take care of any men with foolish ideas, Sir Damien.”

“A frigid stare and a few cutting words do not stop all men, highness,” he returned, and I saw that he was very much intending to come along with me.  Of course – he was a young man, freshly appointed to his knighthood, no wonder he was so eager.  He wanted to prove himself before me; before me, he would be proving himself to the whole kingdom.

And people say that knights have no sense of political tactics.

“You’ve only just arrived home, Sir Damien.  Don’t you want to spend a little time with your family?”
            “Highness, if I didn’t go with you, I would be betraying the duties I have sworn to uphold as part of being a Knight.  Would you ask that of me?  Your father designed the principles of the Knighthood, did he not?”
            Damn him.  Damn him; he knew exactly what would get me.  He must have heard a little about me on his travels.

“Very well,” I said, pausing briefly, “But you will carry my things.  I will be waiting at the stables, Sir Damien.”

“But - ”

I don’t know what finished that sentence, because I had already exited the room and unceremoniously slammed the door behind me.  That was what he got for intruding on my business – I would see to it that he paid in blood and sweat for following me around like a damned lost dog.

Besides, I’d missed having people to order around.

I narrowly avoided having to explain myself (and my clothing) to the lady of the house as I headed towards the stables.  Once there, I set about ordering the grubby stable boy hanging around the empty stalls to saddle up my favorite of the horses, a roan female whose coat seemed almost blood-red in hue.  One of the more violent mares around, I was one of the few with a sharp enough kick and strict enough hold on the reins to keep the animal in line.  The boys around the stable referred to her as “Raging Lady”, and I heard one of them snicker to the other that the horse fitted its rider.

They continued to giggle about it until I picked up a long leather horse whip from its hanging position on the wall and cracked it loudly in the air, startling nearly every animal inside the stables, including the boys.

“Are you finished yet?” I snapped icily, placing both hands on my hips, the whip now dormant and curling around one of my boot-clad ankles.

“Y-yes, highness,” the freckly youth who had been put in charge of saddling my horse stammered, eyeing the whip in my hand with trepidation, “She’s all set.” He led the animal out towards me; promptly, Lady saw something she disliked and reared up on her hind legs.  The boy yanked fruitlessly on her reins until I uttered a sound of frustration and grabbed the reins from him, giving a sharp tug and lifting the whip into view simultaneously.  The horse recognized both the threats and let her front hooves fall to the ground, though her eyes still rolled dangerously.

I turned to see just what it was that so disturbed my horse.  It was Damien, of course; his wide-eyed naïveté would be enough to unsettle anything, equine or otherwise.

“Saddle up,” I said, turning back to Lady, my voice a perfect monotone.  I wondered what he told his parents – if anything.  What would they think, their son and present ward having gone off together?  The worst, most likely.  If I ever returned to this godforsaken woodland, I would have to set matters straight.

Not that I intended on ever having to come back here.

I led the roan out of the stables and mounted her with relative ease, the dress being cut to apply to riding the men’s way.  Minutes later, once Damien had followed, I could feel his eyes on me – furtively, as if he were trying to be discreet.  Someone really ought to tell him he couldn’t be sneaky if his life depended on it, I thought idly.  Perhaps he was still staring at the whip I’d coiled about my wrist – you never knew when you needed to get someone’s attention, and I was surprisingly proficient in handling the long leather strip.

Much to my amusement, my saddlebags were there along with his.  Lucky his horse was such a big beast (not unlike its rider, again) or he’d have trouble enduring the strain.

I set off at a walk before he could even get his bearings, leaving him to kick into a trot to catch up with me.  Lady edged away from his gelding, a pristine bay that could have easily topped seventeen hands.

“Highness?” I turned just slightly to eye him from my peripheral vision, and then kicked Lady into a slightly faster pace.

He tried again: “Do you know where we’re going?”

“Aiberlea is to the southwest, which is the direction we are headed.  If we keep going southwest, we will eventually run into the town.”

In addition to that, there was a quantity of sparse forestland trickling all the way to Aiberlea.  Not enough to hinder our course, but enough to ensure that the creek would follow it for water and bathing, and that we would have adequate cover at nightfall for bandits or – worse things.

Not that I was afraid of bandits or otherwise.  The boy, however, was undoubtedly uninformed and inexperienced on the dangers of traveling the roads in small parties, so I thought it best to protect him from his own hero’s complex as best I could.
            “...Oh.”
            Clearly, he hadn’t expected me to know what I was doing.  Maybe that was why he’d offered – no, forced his way into coming along.  Well, the heir to the Darkith Forest would be in for a surprise – maybe the lesser nobles weren’t educated, but my father saw no shame in my learning.

There was silence for a long time, a very long time – just when the early summer sun was beginning to fall and golden light filtered through the patches of trees we saw here and there.  It was very pretty, and very serene, but my mind was occupied.

I had known upheaval in my lifetime, certainly – my father’s death, being sent away – but now it seemed I had not anyone or anything.  My Kingdom was being gradually taken from me while I slept in ignorance miles away.  How could I have been so blind?  I wondered if this was what having a lover stolen from you was like – only tenfold.  That castle, this country was my father’s legacy and there were people trying to steal it.

This was real struggle, real pain, and real obstacles in life.  I had never thought much on it before because I hadn’t had very many, but now I found myself wondering how many of those people in court had ever endured any struggle at all, either.  Maybe we were, for all our education, a bit more sheltered than we liked to believe.

...And here I was, trying to, what?  Fix things with the help of a wet-behind-the-ears knight with too many muscles and not enough spine, and some bar wench in a tavern offering her information.  Here was my army.  I wondered what Lord Rofocale’s was – the best trained swordsmen in the country, perhaps?  All saddled, all armored, all fearless...

Well, it was best not to think about it. 

I cast a glance at Damien’s near-twilight illuminated profile.  He was staring straight ahead, probably lost in his own thoughts.  Maybe he was wondering what his parents would think.

“You had a brother, didn’t you?”

I had no clue where that question came from; I had wondered it, briefly, and all of a sudden the silence got to me and I felt I had to ask.  He looked as surprised as I did, but nodded.

“I figured.  A first son wouldn’t have gone off to become a knight.  What happened to him?”

There was a pause in which we studiously avoided looking at one another, before he said: “He fell in love with a peasant woman, your highness.”
            Both my brows shot up and I had to ask, “He found one with teeth?”
            “Not as perfect as yours, highness,” he said with a tinge of flirtation that I would have confronted him on were we not discussing his seemingly deceased older brother, “But she was pretty.  Anyway, I don’t know what happened to them.”
            “Did they run off together?”
            “I don’t think so, Princess Zillah.  He was the responsible type, not like – ” He paused, smiling wryly, “Well, me.”

“You strike me as being excessively responsible,” I noted, rather sarcastically.  He had, after all, pretty much pouted his way into coming along with me because he felt I needed to be protected.

“Not when it comes to running a Manor, highness.  I wanted to just – oh, travel, I suppose, and help people.  I don’t like to stay in one place for long, which is why I became a Knight.  Since Christopher disappeared, though, I guess I’ll have to..” He shrugged, helplessly – he had no choice. 

“I see,” I said, although I wasn’t sure I did.  My responsibilities as princess were not enough for me, I’d always longed to have more control.  Maybe it was just the difference in temperament between Sir Damien and I.

There was another period of silence which I was sure was filled with thoughts of his missing brother.  I wondered, too: if that man had run out on his family and duty to be with some peasant wench that would have probably been more than willing to stay as just a mistress, I would have to give him a piece of my mind.

“Do you want to ride at night?”
            I nodded, “We’ll sleep during the day.  It’s safer if we’re awake.”

I kicked Lady into a canter and he followed suit, the horses pleased to be able to run – they’d probably had it with the slow talking and slow walking, and I couldn’t say I blamed them.  I wanted to run, too, in a panicky energetic way that I hadn’t ever had before. 

As night settled and the hooves of the horses hit hard onto the packed earth, I wondered what my father would have said if he could have seen me then, in that immodest riding dress, my golden hair flying behind me, and a whip curled around the fist that was not clutching the reins of a truly hellish looking horse.  Alone in the woods, with a young man, with nothing but a haphazard plan and a wish to save me.  What would he have thought of his daughter, his only progeny?

Part of me was craving to know.  Mostly, though, I was glad I didn’t.