'Why are you here?'

'You don't remember, do you?' he asked in a deep voice. 'I made that same question when you dropped that rotten bag to the ground by my side and kneeled, aiding your enemy.'

The woman's head was pounding and her body could barely gather enough strength to keep her awake and aware. There still could be people out there looking for her, it didn't matter the brim of the night that fell upon them.

The man assessed her wounds and lucky for him, there weren't as many as he thought. Some cuts here and there and bruised areas that would hurt like hell later, but nothing major.

'Can you walk?'

'Where to?' Her words came out blurry. Was she going to have a stroke?

'Crap, Burnham, that wasn't the question I made.' The man knew she didn't have much time left if he didn't do anything. 'Listen to me, woman.' He urged, looking inside her eyes while his voice expressed a note of despair he didn't want to acknowledge. 'You've been giving me hell ever since you've gone after me that day in the woods. Every single one of my nightmares is filled with visions of your devilish smile while you were bathed in my blood. You are not to die in this measly way, do you hear me?!' He couldn't scream or his voice could alert other people of their whereabouts, but his angered whisper was enough to display his disturbed state. 'When you die, it's either going to be by my bullet or my blade. No one nor anything will take away the honor of killing you from me, do you hear me?! Don't you dare die!'

Although she could feel her life slipping through her fingers, the woman was still able to draw a weak smile.

'If anyone heard you, they would think you're in love with me or something, Hades.'

'You ain't got the right to call me by name, Crow.'

'What a duo we are.' Her breaths were getting shorter and harder to drag out. 'The god of the dead and death itself.'

The man knew what she was doing; saying her goodbyes. But he wouldn't accept it, not this way. Crow Burnham was the most stubborn, despicable and brilliant soldier he had ever met, in both enemy and ally lines.

In all his years of service in this war, only she had been able to match his intelligence in military strategies and his combat knowledge. She was beyond skilled and secretly, he wished she had been on the same side as him. Both could've become partners who would look out for each other on the battlefield.

Instead, Crow had been born on the West continent. And she had been the thing Hades had to be aware of while in battle.

Regardless of the flag they fought for, he would not let her die like this. He still didn't know the details, but it seemed like she, the captain of her battalion, had been betrayed by her associates. After serving for three years in the war, collecting scars the man had given her, she had become nothing more than a mere pawn thrown away.

As a fellow warrior, he acknowledged her. She was the only one he ever would, nobody else was on their level, much less over them. It took him his whole life to find someone who shared the same burdens and thoughts, the same skill and mastermind. Seeing her die with no honor was not something he would let her do.

'You swore to make me regret the day I decided to be a soldier, Burnham. And you told me you never go back on your word.'

'Scared I'm gonna leave you, Hades?'

'It's Bennetti for you, Burnham. And swallow up the victim act, it doesn't fit you.' If he hadn't known any better, the man would've thought she let out a pained laugh.

'You're scared you're gonna be left alone without a goal. I know there's no one else that can be a match for you besides me. And leaving you now would be the perfect torture.'

'But you were never one to take pleasure in torturing your enemies, were you?'

'No.'

'Then don't start now.'

He had made provisory tourniquets, and for now, it would do. Crow probably couldn't stand up on her own, so he managed to put her on his back. The woman didn't complain; there was almost no life left in her to conceive the luxury of idle talk.

Despite this, she had one question she knew had to be asked. Crow was very aware of her situation; the woman had been raised in the slums of the capital and one thing she had been acquainted with was blood. And there had been just too much she had lost that night.

After working for the secret guard and handling shady jobs, she learned about where to kill while dragging pain out. Where to hit when you want to break but keep alive. And where to cut when you wished to bathe in a rusty, thick red liquid.

The wounds she received? It had been a miracle itself she had been able to escape when they got distracted, believing she could be deemed dead.

So, with all of this in mind, Crow knew she didn't have much time left. She had never been a religious person, much less a good one, hence she didn't expect a divine being to take pity on her and grant her a miraculous recovery.

But, above all, she had expected much less to receive help from Hades Bennetti, the cursed archduke that was known for making the battlefield his personal vendetta playground.

She knew it hadn't been pity that moved him to rescue her, not to say mercy or kindness. No, warriors like him and her lost any kind of selfless feelings a very long time ago, when they first saw the ruin their hands brought to lives.

That is why the woman needed to know before she withdrew her last breath, why was the mighty Captain Hades Bennetti wasting his time, effort and energy, on her, an enemy on her deathbed, while arbitrarily taking the risk of betraying his own country to try to save her.

'Hades.'

'Don't talk, Crow. Keep your focus on breathing. And don't call me by my name.'

She ignored him.

'Why are you helping me?'

Truth is, deep down, he didn't know. He had sworn to be the one to end her life, and he also didn't believe that this meaningless death was what she deserved, leaving the world of the living in such a lowly manner. But those were excuses. He didn't want to see her die. If it ever came to this, they would fight, both alone, body to body combat. It would be the most glorious moment of his existence. The fight, not taking her life. But maybe he was so fixated on being the one to kill her because he would also be the only one to truly respect and honor her death. She was an enemy, but Hades knew she would fight honorably with all her might.

So, his answer to her was not to her question, muttered so helplessly yet so demanding, but for himself and for a doubt she unknowingly carried.

'Because you'd do the same for me.'

And he was right.

Crow wouldn't be able to live with herself if Hades Bennetti died in such a shallow way. No, she would fight him face to face and see the shine on his eyes dim until it was gone; that was the only way she would ever accept his death. Any other way, he would still be alive, because for a warrior like him, like herself, this wasn't death.

Death should be honorable. Respectful. If there ever was life after death and if the dead ever told stories about how they left the living world, Crow would want Hades to be proud to have lost to the only person who could match him. And he should also think the same as her; accept death only if it came from his hands. Her blood would stain his soul, and so would his to her own.

That was the only way they were supposed to die.

By each other's hands.

And none of them would accept the situation they were in now if roles were switched.

'Thank you, Bennetti.'

'Don't thank me because I haven't saved you yet and because your life won't belong to me when I do it. So if you're good for anything, Burnham, stay alive, because I'm gonna be your reaper, not some low life who stabbed you in the back.'

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Against her better judgment, she smiled.

'I didn't spend the last five years of my life fighting this war and the last three trying to find you on the battlefield just so you can slip away so easily.'

'I'm dying, Bennetti, how is this easy?'

'You're not even close to dying.'

'And how do you know that?' Her voice got hoarse, her breathing even more unstable.

'Had you been dying, once for all I wouldn't have to listen to your annoying voice with this know-it-all attitude giving me bullshit.'

Was what he said, but it didn't escape the man her voice was only getting lower in volume.

He was scared. Real fear, for an enemy. What a joke he had become. And it was only worse when the last time he had been afraid of something had been in his short childhood.

'Then hurry, Hades. Or else you're gonna find out just how boring the world is without me in it to give meaning to your waste of a life.'

She was fine, still spouting nonsense.

She would be fine.

Hades Bennetti, archduke of Saltain, captain of the 8th East Battalion, would make sure Crow Burnham, captain of the 11th West Battalion, his enemy, lived throughout this night.

And that, before she died by his hands, she got revenge on those who betrayed her.

When the man was about to find shelter in a cave he had occupied days before, he heard noises and saw a fire light coming from it. People were inside and they probably were from the West. Damned Burnham had outdone him and made her troops advance while his retreated. He had no other choice than to carry her on his shoulders to his camp, kilometers away, counting each one of her breaths. He wanted to hear her voice to be sure she was still alive, but knowing it would make her even more exhausted, he kept quiet, just paying attention to the air coming in and out of her nose in a very quiet motion.

He had gone mad, completely insane, and his underlings could think it was time to dispose of their captain, but now, as he followed the trail leading up to their hideout, there was no way back. Hades was really doing this, bringing Crow Burnham to his camp, not as a war prisoner, but as his... his what? His guest?

The man was robbed of his time left to think when a soldier on patrol found him.

'Captain! Whe- Captain, are you okay? Who is that on your shoulders?!' The man was Soldier Morris, one of the youngest members of the battalion.

'Pipe down and call a doctor. Don't alert anyone else and keep your mouth shut.' The soldier energetically nodded and ran to complete the errands just given to him while Bennetti walked up to his tent. His left and right hand, lieutenants Vale Boehner and Sen Nixon saw him as he entered his lodging and followed him inside.

'Captain, is that-'

'Yes.' Bennetti replied when he did his best to put Crow on his army bed carefully. She was still breathing, but one would have to listen very closely because her eyes were shut and her chest barely moved.

'Why do you have Crow Burnham here?' Nixon said in utter disgust. Hades didn't blame him, the whole situation would be misleading, to say the least.

'Did you call me, Captain?' Doctor Quenton got in the tent and as soon as he saw the woman on the official's bed, his face mirrored the same expression splattered over the lieutenants'. Soldier Morris, who had also entered the tent, was in his biggest state of confusion, aware he lacked a fundamental piece of information his superiors didn't share with him.

'The four of you will listen to me very carefully.' Bennetti said. 'This woman is, indeed, Crow Burnham, captain of the 11th West Battalion, with whom we've clashed countless times before on the battlefield. She is to be treated, so Quenton, do your work while I talk, now!' He whispered loudly and that got the doctor moving. 'Nobody is to know she is here. Her whereabouts are to be known by us and us only. She is not a prisoner of war, but she mustn't, at all costs, leave this tent without my direct verbal permission, do you hear me?'

'Yes, sir!' They replied.

'Sir, may I ask a question?'

'Go on, lieutenant Boehner.'

'Why is she here, Captain? She should be none of our problems, much less if she’s dying! We already have limited resources and we're wasting it on her, the west dog!'

It didn't sit well with Hades the nickname his troop had given her, or any other troop, really. She had received this widespread term of endearment after her first battle.

Crow had murdered so many soldiers with a single swift of her sword and blood covered her from head to toe, but at the time she had only been one more in the battalion, so she had to report to her official... who patted her head.

The troops that saw it, gave her the title of "west dog". Emotionless on the battlefield, trained to follow orders and kill, that's how she portrayed herself to be. But during her short combats with Hades, he had seen it was all a farce, the same he kept on for everyone else outside his personal inner circle of soldiers.

It was part of the job, a profession he never had a choice upon. Maybe she hadn't either.

'Because I owe it to her.' Bennetti said. 'Or do you think I crawled my way out of that explosion months ago in a dead-like state?'

The faces of his soldiers went dark. They all were reminded of when their captain had gone in to save them, after an ambush by the 6th West Battalion. Civilians were caught in the crossfire and Burnham had secretly stepped in not as a captain, but as a mercenary, under no flag, to save the innocent lives that had nothing to do with the war.

Bennetti had been able to save his peers, but Kreider, the leader of the 6th battalion had gotten to him before he could escape. If the repulsive man hadn't taken his sweet time torturing the archduke, Crow wouldn't have arrived on time to send a bullet flying through the dirty captain's head and save Hades and herself from the explosion she set to uncover her doings after releasing the civilian hostages.

For months, Bennetti spent his nights hyper fixating on one word alone: why.

Tonight, he finally understood.

'I won't ask for your comprehension, as your captain, I’m not interested in flimsy thoughts and opinions. I demand silence and secrecy about her being here and her state. But I will ask, as a fellow soldier, for your understanding. There is more than meets the eye. I will not hope you look at her with respect. She is, after all, from the East. But I am your captain and I hope you have enough faith in me to believe I make the best call. And bringing her here while saving her life is one.' Hades crossed his arms over his chest. 'Any more questions?'

His subordinates exchanged a look.

'What happened to her?' Morris asked. He had never seen the famous West dog, but only dead people wouldn't have heard stories about the only woman officer in command of an active army battalion. Her troops were recognized to be the best in the war, comparable only to Captain Bennetti's troops.

Yet, for someone so powerful and mighty, she laid in a bed, seeming only half alive.

Hades took a look behind him, where Crow was being tended by Quenton and let out a silent sigh.

'My theory is that she was betrayed by her group. I found her in the woods next to the land we retreated from a couple of days ago with intensive bleeding, trying to hide from someone.' Her tanned skin showed such a frail state that made the man's guts churn. 'She had been lucky the back-stabbers didn't find her before I did, or the way she looks now would be a compliment to her shape.'

'Are you going to keep her here, inside your tent?' Nixon asked, receiving a nod in return.

'Yes. Nobody can know of her. She is to be under our close surveillance at all times, but don't mistreat her. I've said it before, she is not a war prisoner. And neither is she to be manhandled by anyone. Do you hear me?'

'Yes, sir!'

'Good. Now disperse. It's late at night and we have business to attend to.' With a short nod, each of them returned to their own tasks, except Quenton, that still tended to the woman.

'Captain.' He called and Hades went to his side. 'I don't think she is going to make it through the night.' Was his official verdict.

He had had to undress her to see the extent of her wounds, and they went through her whole abdomen. Thankfully, they had been shallow, so with some light stitching and tight bandaging, the man was able to contain the bleeding.

The woman had been so worn out she didn't even flinch when the needle pierced through her skin.

What worried the doctor were the bruises on her chest and her back. She would be lucky not to have broken anything in that area. Her neck and shoulders were also bruised and tender, but they looked whole.

Her arms and legs had cuts that also needed stitches and some abrasions, but Quenton had taken care of everything. The tourniquet done by the captain had been of immense help.

'What makes you say that? Is there a specific reason?' Hades observed while the doctor covered Burnham's body. The captain would have to oversee new clothes for her to dress and it would be best if they had a woman to change the warrior, but that wasn't possible, so he would have to do it himself.

Not that he wanted to take a peek at her body, but he knew he could control himself, and the same couldn't be said about the majority of his troop, who hadn't seen a woman ever since they left the village in which he almost lost his life to the enemy.

That is, until another enemy from the same frontline saved him.

'She has a fever. A very high fever. I can go and brew some medicine to help prevent infection and to lower her temperature, but in her circumstance, it's possible it will be of little to no effect.'

'Go.' Hades said. 'We shall spare no effort to save her. She is priority tonight and it's your job to make her get through until the sun has risen. Have I made myself clear?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Then go. I'll stay with her.'

The doctor hurriedly left the captain's tent and grabbed his chair, dragging it until he sat next to the bed. Where was his head when he took this rash decision? She was the enemy! And he had brought her straight into the center of his battalion. He was risking everyone's lives, the lives of soldiers that placed their trust in the cursed bastard. Their resources were already scarce and now what? "Spare no effort to save her"? What the hell was going on in his mind?

Despite all that, Hades didn't regret his choice.

Not when he anxiously hoped Quenton's weird funky smelly medicine worked in the woman's body.

Not when he felt like every passing second ate away his lifespan.

Not when he had been so tired he felt the weight of the world heavy down on his eyes.

Not when he had tended to his enemy all night long, with a wet cloth to her temple while she sweat and shivered, moaning in pain.

And not when the moon had settled down and the sun had risen once again and Crow Burnham, his enemy, had survived through the toughest night of Hades Bennetti's life.