It pleased me to crush their dreams, and yet, it was never a thing of beauty when I broke their prophecies. Such windings of Fate...they do not shatter like chains, but are cracked into pieces like the bones of the children bound to them.

Cold bit into my face with familiar fangs as the wind of a winter beyond natural swept through the battlefield. I undid the visor of my helmet and then lifted it from my head with one hand, coming face to face for the first time with the young man whom the gods of good had proclaimed would kill me.

He lay on the ground, shivering in a pool of his own steaming blood, his slick fingers wrapped around the blade that had punched through his armor and ribs like they were made of paper. Later, the stories would say it was a wicked enchantment. The truth was nothing so elaborate: I have a great deal of practice seeing the failures in armaments.

For a moment, it was only the two of us. Snow crunched as I took a knee before him only to have him flinch like a kicked hound. Ever so gently, I reached out and cupped his face with one gauntleted hand, swiping a steel-clad thumb across his cheek to catch the tears of fear and horrible pain. He couldn't have been more than eighteen, lantern jaw barely touched by stubble, hazel eyes like sunflowers edged in green.

Every time, it is the same.

My thumb left a streak of his own blood across his cheek. "Hush, little one. It is all over now."

"But..." Blood burbled from his lips as he gazed up at me, that disbelief and heartbreak written so clearly across his face.

"It is not your fault you failed. You did your best." I leaned down and pressed my lips to his forehead as the first snowflakes drifted down. Lingering there for a moment, I tightened my grip on the blade through his chest. "I am sorry." With a brutal twist of my arm, the sword cracked through the next rib, wicked edge sliding through his heart. A little sob of breath, blood gushing down his chin, and he was gone.

That is the sound of breaking Fate.

I rose to my feet, my blade sliding out of his body. He sprawled back across the snow churned by our duel. Behind him, that glittering army, all the pride and chivalry the powers of heaven could muster, suddenly froze in horror as their hopes shattered. Inside my chest, rage howled like a demon. Muscles in my jaw flexed as I looked at those hateful banners.

How dare they? How dare they place all their demands on him and him alone?

They deserved the death of their Chosen One, but he did not deserve to die.

"The rebels, my lady?" Thin and sharp as a razor, Vex's voice was as pointed as the workings of her mind. She stood behind my right shoulder, her favorite position. Even without looking, I could feel her eyes on me, clouded with death-sight. "We have them hemmed in like cattle. Shall we butcher them accordingly?"

I looked down at Woe, checking the edge of my beloved blade for damage. They called it evil, more sorcery than sword, quenched in the blood of a thousand infants. It was just simple steel, a gift from my mother that followed me for all of my life. I adjusted my grip thoughtfully on the worn rayskin grip, still looking at the army that was now receding like the tide. "You have the path of their retreat?"

"Snared and surrounded." Vex danced her bony fingers across my shoulder, her pointed nails lovingly caressing the mark of our liege worked into the smoke-darkened steel of my pauldron. "Something they are about to discover."

I looked down at the boy's body. "He was from Rusa, wasn't he?"

"Yes, the secret son of Lord Sidon, slayer of the great wyrms of Azov." Vex's voice dripped with relish, a delight in the pain of an old foe. No doubt Sidon would mourn his precious son immensely.

"What is the punishment for murder in Lord Sidon's court?" I closed my eyes, but I could still see those hazel eyes. They would stay with me for some time yet. Then I turned to face my second, opening my eyes again.

Vex's smile was ghoulish, twisted lips pulled back to reveal rows of needle-like teeth beneath a flat nose and eyes like black buttons. She had long ago shed the trappings of life in exchange for the eternal existence of undeath, immune to the needs of the body and the ravages of time. It had done nothing to quench her appetite for blood. I could feel her hunger, radiating off her like heat from a burning coal. "It is a capital crime, my lady. I believe beheading is the current fashion."

She was like an eager hound, always ready to anticipate her master's wishes and oblige to the best of her ability. She had a mind of her own, by my request, but Vex was loyal ad infinitum. "Line the road to Lord Sidon's border with their heads. Leave none alive. I will make my report to the King in Black."

Vex bowed, kissing the wrought silver signet ring on my finger: a simple emblem of a withered rose. "It will be my pleasure. Shall we send Sidon his son's head?"

"No." I whistled sharply, catching the attention of another. "Brydris, burn his body to ash and scatter it to the four winds."

It was hard to recognize Brydris as a human anymore. He had delved so deeply into the blood of wyrms that coursed through his blood that the mage seemed more beast than man, even to the point where his skin bore patches of dull red scales and his yellow eyes were split by pupils in narrow slits. He was as cunning as his forebears and perhaps even more dangerous with human adaptability bred in. His voice rumbled out like a distant earthquake. "At once, my lady."

He drew a simple arcane pattern in the air with one clawed finger. It flashed like the sun glinting off a gold coin and conjured fire exploded upwards from the earth, consuming the body in a torrent of flames. In moments, only ash would remain.

"When you have finished, support Vex." I strode past Brydris with a nod.

He gave me a deep bow, eyes calculating. That was the danger of the wyrm-blood. It tended to bring with it the avarice and arrogance of its source. "As you wish, my lady."

I knew full well that I held his loyalty only as long as I held more power, a difficult feat when he had magic at his command and I did not.

The conference of generals was not far, so they drool away like jackals as they watched the havoc unfolding on the battlefield. At least, that was Luka's focus, the only one currently outside the tent. His lean body hunched forward as he watched the bloody clashes, full formations of silver-gilded warriors vanishing under the swarms of mindless undead. I moved to step past him into the tent, but he turned his head towards me. "You did well, Lady Frostborn."

I shrugged, pulling out a square of plain black cloth to clean off my sword. Blood left on steel isn't good for the blade. "They did it to themselves."

He smiled, fangs visible even in his less threatening form. "That makes it all the better. His Majesty will be pleased."

Raised voices at my destination etched a frown into my face. "What are they quarreling about now?"

Luka chuckled, a rasping bark of a laugh. "They believe they have found enemy sympathies in General Hallen, suggesting that his failure was intentional sabotage. I think they aim to have the King in Black kill him, though I could not say if it is for their own power or genuine distrust."

I wiped down Woe and tried not to sigh. "As if we do not have enough enemies. Must we invent our own?"

His lupine smile broadened. "As if you concern yourself with their idle prattling. Last I heard, such machinations were beneath you, Aleyr. An eagle does not snap at flies."

"A wise eagle pays attention to the termites undermining the tree in which it dwells." I knew I sounded more sour than usual, but did not try to conceal my mood. "Who is in attendance?"

"Hallen, obviously. Lords Rhandiir and Varys." Luka laughed at my sneer at the last name. "General Maric and his second, Lady Teth. I believe Lady Naltheme is keeping the peace."

I relaxed slightly. At least the Lady of Bones was present. She had a good head on her shoulders, though she was not always popular. The consequences of being advanced well beyond what her experience merited because of her incredible arcane potential meant Naltheme was often isolated at court when I was not present. I rather enjoyed the way it grated on Varys and his inferior grip on such powers. "Is His Majesty present?"

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Luka inclined his head slightly. "I was saving the best for last. You know he is never far from your victories. I merely thought you would like a warning before stepping into the middle of their squabbling."

"How thoughtful," I said dryly. "I'm certain your perch here has nothing to do with the view of the battlefield."

"It is always a pleasure to watch your planning come together, Aleyr. To see Vex in action, well, that is no less satisfying."

I flicked the flap to the tent open. "I appreciate the compliment." Then I stepped in, a shiver running through my body at the sensation of entering a space outside of space, something conjured by the King in Black and kept open by his will. The inside of the tent was the ideal of comfort, with silk cushions everywhere and beautifully carved mahogany seats draped in various colors and patterns of thick velvet. A table laden with maps stood to the side, but at the moment everyone sat in a circle, with General Hallen standing in the open middle.

The King in Black dominated the room with sheer presence, reclining back in an ivory throne. His robes were a darkness that devoured any light that dared to fall on them, dark magic more than cloth. The hood that fell low over his face could not truly disguise his visage: pure bone, a skull surrounded by eldritch blue fires that burned most brightly in the sockets of his eyes. Even as the others continued to bicker, his head turned towards me, letting his hood fall back.

As with every time I entered his presence, the gold band melded into the bone of my left ring finger grew so cold it ached. It was a symbolic piece, a reminder of the bond between us.

I was the only one, living or dead, who could enter his presence without bowing and scraping. I approached and leaned down, pressing my lips to the cold bone of his cheekbone. A skeletal hand stroked my hair.

"Your victory was effortless," he said as I pulled away, tones the whispering of wind through hollow bone. "It pleased me greatly."

"Hardly a champion worthy of me, Your Majesty."

The eldritch fires in his eyes seem to grow brighter. "There is no champion of Light who would ever be worthy of you, my rose."

I took a seat at his right hand, in the chair left vacant for me. That was a move of arrival that distracted them immediately from Hallen. I immediately became the center of attention instead of the poor general, something he no doubt appreciated.

"You certainly took your time, Frostborn." Varys was only just smart enough to hold in his sneer, aiming for impatience instead. The vampire was far more impetuous than his sire, enough so that sometimes I wondered what in every hell Rhandiir was thinking when he had turned the formerly independent brigand lord. Varys wore his white hair long, so pale even an albino would have found him pasty. His armor was finer than mine, or at least more engraved and embellished.

I preferred practicality, not Varys's relentless excess and self-indulgence.

Rhandiir kicked his progeny savagely, onyx-dark face twisting into a mixture of annoyance and sharp retribution. "Remember you speak to the Beloved!"

"Someone had to win," I said, entirely disinterested in Varys's needling. Rhandiir's correction of him was rather satisfying. "But do not let me interrupt this proceeding. I'm sure the narrative you have concocted will be riveting fiction."

It was General Maric's turn to look annoyed, his withered features frowning. He was of the same make as Vex and granted the same independence, though as a wight lord, considerably more powerful. He bared his needle-like teeth in disapproval, black eyes narrowed. "This is a serious matter."

"I assure you I was not speaking facetiously." I gestured to General Hallen. He, Naltheme, and I were the only humans in the room. It often prompted the others to assume ‌we would automatically share sympathies, as we shared mortality. My feelings towards Hallen, while respectful, were actually rather tepid. We agreed on few things except in planning for the battlefield.

"He sabotaged his own advance for a woman," Maric said, flinging a collection of letters at my feet.

I picked up one casually, flicking it open. A quick scan revealed it as a love sonnet, fumbling and stilted poetry written using every reference to stars and flowers that a sap could think of. It was embarrassing, but not necessarily any proof of anything. "Well, he obviously wrote it," I said. "None of you have enough of a heart left to create something so nauseatingly saccharine. However, I fail to see the connection between this and your accusations."

Hallen glanced over at me, pale as a ghost, but said nothing.

Varys sneered. "It was meant for Princess Lera of Rusa."

"That is a lie," Hallen said, twitching in fear when the vampire bared fangs in his direction. He was trying to rally, but it was clear he knew how close he was to death.

I folded up the letter and dropped it back onto the small pile of letters. "Who was the intended recipient, then?"

"A girl from my home village," Hallen said through tight teeth, clearly humiliated by the admission that he was writing to some peasant woman. "She was named for the princess, but they are not the same."

"One of the most powerful men in the Eternal Kingdom writes to some dirt-scratching peasant who just happens to be named for the ruler of an enemy kingdom?" Maric demanded.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. I knew Hallen enough to take his sentimentality in stride. We shared it, on a level, though I was hardly a romantic. "I find the leap of logic that inclines you to believe one of the most powerful men in the Eternal Kingdom would suddenly switch sides, and write truly abysmal love poems to a princess who has publicly stated she would have him executed for his crimes, a far more ridiculous jump."

Naltheme adjusted her position in her seat. The painfully slender young woman, practically skeletal herself from the drain of necromantic magic, turned her lowered gaze towards the King in Black. "It is not our decision to make, General Maric."

"Indeed." Our liege's voice swept through the room like a freezing wind. "Maric, are you convinced that this failing in Hallen's loyalty renders him unworthy of his duty?"

Maric's posture seemed to swell with triumph. "I am."

A bone finger curled a lock of my hair around it, then tucked it behind my ear. "And you, my Beloved?"

"Anyone who places absolute loyalty above competence is a fool," I said sharply. "Hallen has won a hundred battles for every one he has lost, this one included. I have not lost a whit of confidence in his ability. I am satisfied with his explanation of an old flame from his peasant days."

"You cannot be serious!" Maric snapped, clearly furious with me. "This is—" He had to bite off his words immediately when the King in Black raised a single, bony finger.

That hand could spell instant nonexistence for any being in this world and everyone here was well acquainted with that fact. In life, the King in Black had been a wizard so powerful he could slay the god of magic. In undeath, he was more than that. "Finished. This is finished." Our master turned his skull to face Hallen. "You will renew your pledge of fealty to me, General Hallen. I hope you remember your gratitude towards my Beloved until the sun burns out for her intercession on your behalf. As punishment for your failure, you will surrender command of your elite troops to Lady Teth."

I smirked. It was a solution that pleased none of the interested parties. Hallen's precious human units would go to Lady Teth, a square-jawed vampire known for her cruelty and cunning, a command where no doubt they would suffer greatly. Maric had not rid himself entirely of his rival, something so infuriating that I could practically hear him gnashing his teeth from across the room, and worse, he had received no direct control of Hallen's units. Now he would have to deal with Teth as a rival. Varys and Rhandiir would be denied a bloody execution.

It played only to my advantage. Hallen would be in my debt now, something he was not likely to forget. As an honorable man, he kept close accounting of such things.

Hallen bowed low, kissing the ground before the King in Black and I. "Thank you for your clemency, Your Majesty. I will serve you proudly in life and in death."

"A promise I will hold you to, Hallen." The King in Black looked around the room, taking in all of us with his burning stare. "I have spoken. Now this audience is at an end. I have words for my Beloved. The rest of you are to leave us."

The exodus from the room was swift, leaving me alone with my master. He touched my chin with a skeletal hand, fingers warmed by the heat of my skin. "What do you desire of me, Your Majesty?"

"Their resentment of you will only flourish. It might have been a wiser course to give them Hallen, my rose."

"He is far more useful alive than dead, particularly with his loyalty newly affirmed by your generous gift of his survival."

His burning blue eyes flashed. "You see better into mortal hearts than I."

I shrugged slightly, never looking away from his skeletal face. "A consequence of having one."

"I have a reward waiting for you in the Sanctum, in gratitude for your continued excellence. Even now, I feel the gods' strength ebbing as their followers cry out and earn nothing in return. That will keep them from challenging our borders for many years to come."

As unnecessary as the gift was, I appreciated the consideration. "What is this reward?"

"Something you have desired greatly for a long time, my rose."

I smiled faintly. There was only one thing I had asked him for repeatedly. "Thank you." I leaned in and kissed his bony cheek. "Shall I depart and annoy Maric and Varys further?"

"Whatever pleases you. We will speak again when you return to the Sanctum." He gestured with a hand that I could depart and I rose, knowing it was actually time for me to check in with Vex and Brydris on the devastation of the armies of light. Perhaps I would even speak with Hallen.

Again, I thought of the boy's sunflower eyes, now nothing more than scattered ash. A bitterness swept through me, so powerful it stopped me at the flap of the tent.

There would come a day, with the blessing of the King in Black, when I would truly punish them for their sins.