I softly walk up to my brother and wrap him in my arms. Usually I am the one being embraced, but now it is my turn to comfort. Fal leans into me, his sobs shaking him as if they might tear him to pieces.

"Easy, brother." I murmur, rubbing his back gently with one hand. With the other, I stroke his hair.

"Breathe, Fal." I say gently as he chokes on his tears. And he does breathe, shuddering as he tries to bring himself under control. I eye the paper clenched in his hand. If Thasron's letter made my brother weep, I'm not sure I want to read it. But I tease it gently from his grasp, smooth out the wrinkles. Then, with one arm still around my tearful, sniffling brother, I read.

"Dear Falkirk and Avalon,

How far in the heights of power you have risen, little wolves. I have taught you both well, and I am proud of you for using those skills.

But the farther in the heights you rise, the harder the pride that comes with it makes you fall. And I see that pride in both of you, but especially in you, Falkirk. It will be your death if you do not forsake it. Or you may surprise me and succeed in your goals. For both your sakes, I hope it is the latter.

I am sorry, little wolves, that I must become your enemy. It was not my wish, but it was my choice. I have seen the destruction you have wrought over the course of your war, and I cannot condone it. I beg that you will forgive me. You were, from the moment I met you both, the children of my heart. You always will be. But what kind of father allows his offspring to do wrong? Please understand.

Avalon, little wolf, don't let your anger and coldness consume you. There will come one day a reckoning for the blood you have spilt. One day, you will seek peace for your soul, but you will not find it except in one place. Only Elhim can grant you that peace, my daughter. He has for me. Find Him, and all your wrongs are swept away.

Falkirk, oh Fal, my son. Your pride and anger will break you. You hold too tightly to things that were never yours to hold, to things that will not last. Vengeance is not yours to take, my son. Grasp for it, and you will surely fall. But seek Elhim and hold fast to him, and you will stand forever. Ah, Falkirk, I used to watch you spar, used to teach you techniques to better your combat. You fought like a tiger and were a joy to train. I have watched you grow, but in darkness. I pray that, one day, you will grow in the light. Many mistakes I have made, but my biggest was not saving you in time. I am sorry, Falkirk. Forgive me, please, my son.

Forgive me, both of you. I have taught you the ways of death, when I should have taught you the ways of life. I know that my death is soon. If you are reading this, it has already happened, likely by the hand of one of you. But I forgive you, Avalon and Falkirk. May my blood be not on your heads.

Walk in the light, little wolves. Seek it always, my children. I did it nearly too late.

Always,

Thasron vor Elhim"

I take a shuddering breath. My vision blurs and twin tears race each other down my cheeks. Beside me, still tucked against my side, Fal covers his face with his hands, weeping.

"Burn it." He chokes out, muffled. I tuck the letter into my jerkin and do not answer him.

Elhim? Daniel believes in Elhim. Eliana as well. But... Thas did too? Before the end?

I... I do not know what to think right now. I am all in a turmoil inside, and now Fal and I are riding off of each other's emotions, each other's grief.

He's angry, at Thas, at the letter, at Thas's words.

I am... I don't know.

I do know that one of us needs to function right now. And I know I am not leaving my brother no matter what. If he falls, so do I.

So may it always be.

I slam steel bars around my heart, iron bands around my emotions. I do not need Elhim. I haven't ever needed Him before, I have functioned on my own just fine up through now. I do not need any of the gods. They never help and they always hurt.

A tiny voice deep inside me whispers, but Elhim is always with Daniel...

I ruthlessly shove that voice away. Let Daniel have his God. If Elhim helps Daniel, all well and good. But He is not for me.

"We did what we had to do, Fal." I comfort my brother. "Let us wage our war to the end, even if that end is bitter."

He lifts his head, locks gazes with me. His eyes are red-rimmed, his cheeks wet. But he is calmer now, and ready for a fight. Resolute.

We both are.

"Let Daniel come and treat with me, if he dares." Falkirk says, his voice low. His fists clench. "He will find nothing here but denial of his proposals and a readiness for blood."

I force my heart to harden at the thought of the paladin.

I will stand with my brother.

Daniel is long enough in coming that Fal decides to go wage a siege on a small castle in Exalos lands, one called Enfall Keep. I accompany him. The keep my brother has chosen is strong. Defended by valor to match that of our men. Fal refrains from sucking manna, so I do as well. My brother prefers the long hunt, the satisfaction of a game well played.

Besides, he has nothing on which to expend all that stolen manna. He cannot hold it all, and live. It would tear him apart. And he wants that little castle very much intact.

So we sit in the glow of a sunset, perched on our horses atop a hill, watching the battle sway not in our favor, for the third day in a row.

Fal turns his horse away as our men retreat. He rubs his jaw, angry and thinking hard.

"Fal?" I ask.

"Hm?" He looks at me, feels the waves of calm I am trying to send him through our twin-bond. His gaze softens and he smiles at me.

"Tomorrow," he says, "that keep will be mine."

I smile in return, feeling his new-found confidence; I am sure in my brother's abilities. He's been waging war for ten years. He's well versed in the art by now.

"What are you planning?" I ask. His eyes twinkle as he opens his mind up to me. My eyes widen and I suck in a breath as I grasp the depths of his plan.

"You're a genius." I whisper. He laughs.

"Actually, I got the idea from you." He says. "Infiltration. A take-down from within."

We both smile wolfishly, turn again to survey the little, stalwart castle.

No, Enfall Keep does not stand a chance against my brother's scheming.

Fal sleeps well that night, in a tent next to mine. But my dreams are troubled, more blood and death than usual. And for some reason, Daniel is there, reaching for me, pleading-- what? His lips move, but no sound reaches my ears. He tries to save me from my countless deaths, and starts succeeding. But every time he saves me, it is him who dies. And my stomach churns at every time he is executed. Every time I see him lying in a pool of blood or in a misshapen pose, his dead eyes staring at me because I live and he doesn't-- it is almost too much.

I wake abruptly in the wee hours, my stomach lurching. Stumble out of bed and to an empty washbasin sitting on its stand in my tent. I plant my hands on the stand on either side of the large bowl. Lean over the basin, panting. I wait for my stomach to empty itself, but nothing comes. Instead, slowly, as the dream-visions fade from my mind, my stomach settles.

But I do not sleep again for the rest of the night. Daniel's deaths haunt me, and I cannot wipe their bloody ghosts from my mind. The thought of Daniel dying strikes me as an injustice. He's a good man. He should never have to suffer anything his dream-self did, and certainly not for me.

And yet, somehow I know he would. Time and time again. Because that is who he is. And the thought sickens me.

I slide down to sit against the wall of my tent, my knees drawn up against my chest. I drag my hands over my face, then let them fall into my lap. Oh, curses, how can I go back to him, knowing what I know? How can I choose to deceive him again? More?

I-- I must. I will. For Falkirk.

That is the only reason.

Fal comes and finds me when he wakes. I see pale grey pre-dawn light outside when he lifts the flap of my tent. I make no move to get up as he slides down to sit on the ground next to me. My arms stay clasped around my knees as he begins rubbing my back.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" He asks gently, tilting his head at me, puzzlement and concern covering his features. Waves of calm pulse through the twin-bond to me, but they don't help much. I mutely shake my head 'no' at him. I feel his mind come questing for mine, but I put up walls he cannot breach. I am not ready to let him in. Not to see... my dreams.

Fal sits back, hurt and confusion covering his face. His mind probes at my mental walls, but gently, seeking some weakness he can worm his way through. He finds none.

"Ava?" He asks. "Blackbird?" His confused pain is evident in his voice. And at that, I lean into him, trembling, tears rushing to my eyes to flow down my cheeks. He wraps his arms around me, holds me tightly as I sob against him.

Why does this hurt so much? Why am I changing? I was fine the way I was!

"It'll be alright, Blackbird. It'll be alright." Fal comforts me softly.

But it won't be alright! And he doesn't know it. I cry harder.

He holds me even tighter, almost crushing me against him as I fall apart inside. His hand comes up to stroke my hair.

"Shh," He croons. Hums a few bars of a song we used to sing together.

And, slowly but surely, I begin to calm. My sobs subside. I pull myself together and relax against Fal. I am cold from hours sitting with no blankets or cloak in the chilly, early hours, but he warms me. My trembling ceases. I reach a hand up and wipe my face. Fal pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and finishes the job for me.

"Thanks." I whisper.

"Always." He replies softly, then stands and gently pulls me to my feet. Spins me around and gathers my hair into a long braid down my back.

"There," he says, pleased with his work, "you should ready yourself. I aim to get started bright and early this morning."

"It is bright and early." I point out, turning back around. He grins as he ducks out of my tent.

"All the more reason to get going." He says, more cheerful now that I am better. My spirits rise on his cheerfulness.

With Fal off eating breakfast and mustering his troops, I pull a fresh shirt and trousers out of my jerkin's pocket-of-holding and shed the ones I've worn all yesterday and last night. I slip into the dark grey shirt and the black trousers, tuck the shirt into the trousers' waistband, then tug on my boots. I pull on a chainmail shirt and then my jerkin over that, then buckle my sword-belt and baldrics over it all.

I am ready.

Shoving the last memories of the horrific nightmares to the depths of my mind, where I don't have to face them, I step outside of my tent and go looking for Falkirk. Find him in full plate-armor, his helm tucked under his elbow, sitting astride his white war-horse. He's at the head of his men, forming up the lines with shouted orders and good-natured insults. I assume he's given his soldiers a rousing speech, because they laugh and talk as they form up, no longer hopeless from three days of defeat.

I cross my arms and smile as I watch him lead his troops. This is what my brother was made for. This is what he's best at. He's an excellent leader, an excellent king. I will see the world bow at his feet, or I will die trying.

As I watch, Falkirk separates a century off to the side. These one hundred soldiers are grim and sober, unlike their comrades. But they stand resolute, hefting their weapons with eagerness.

I sober as well. These one hundred... are fated to die today. They will be running a kamikaze mission, sacrificing their lives so that my brother might take the castle.

It is to these one hundred that we will drink tonight. It is of these one hundred that my brother's minstrels will be composing songs and ballads. That I will be writing my own saga for, later, when I have my guitar in my hands and music in my head.

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I watch them ride out, and my stomach clenches. Someone brings me my horse, and I mount up, spurring the steel-grey gelding up to my brother. He sees me, smiles. Then his smile fades, and he follows my gaze to the departing one hundred.

"The Enfall One Hundred." He says quietly. "Here is to their valor." And he lifts his canteen in their direction. Their captain glances back and sees. The captain raises his fist then slams it to his chest in a final salute. The whole company halts, turns, and mirrors him before continuing on their way. They march over the rise and are lost to my sight.

I sigh, grimness settling over my features. I do not think I will smile again today. Before long, Falkirk's remaining men are ready to head out. Fal and I ride at their head to the same hill from which he and I had watched proceedings yesterday. We twins pull our horses to a halt, and the army forms ranks around us. For a little while there is nothing but the sound of the breeze sighing in the grass and fluttering banners, of equipment jingling and men murmuring quietly in the ranks until their officers shout, "Quiet in the ranks!"

Nothing but the pale, chilly dawn light on my face. Nothing but cold, crisp air in my lungs. The sun rises at our backs, warming us. I can see the Enfall One Hundred marching toward the keep, around it, to attack the rear. An assault that will be their doom.

But our salvation.

I know the defenders can see us formed up against them. I know they see the one hundred coming. Even now, a black cloud of arrows arcs from the castle walls to fall upon the Enfall One Hundred. The one hundred merely raise their shields to the sky and march on, leaving a few of their comrades lying in the field, unmoving. The survivors disappear around back of the castle, and before long, the sounds of a battle joined reach our ears.

My heart clenches as I stare at where our men must be dying. Fal glances over at me.

"What is it?" He asks. I nod at the battle. I cannot lie to my brother, so I say,

"It's just-- them. The ones we sent to die. It-- saddens me."

He tilts his head at me, his face blank, but I can feel his concern for me, for us, and the hardening of his heart.

"Bothered?" He asks. I take a deep breath, square my shoulders and look my brother in the eye.

"No." I say. He nods, then dons his helm and draws his sword.

"To war, then." He replies. And we ride.

As we near the walls, we hear battle-clamor from the other side of the little castle. There are few defenders on our side of the keep, but they are quickly picked off by our archers and myself. I siphon their manna and use it to crush their comrades. Our men set to battering the gates with a stout log. We are noticed, of course, and it doesn't take long. But the alarm is sounded too late. As the defenders finish off the near-last of the Enfall One Hundred, who were trying to scale the back walls, the main gate is already splintering as Fal lends his manna to the power of the battering ram. Arrows rain down on us, but I raise a hasty mage-shield over our men, at the same time sucking the enemy archers dry of manna.

The gate crashes inward as the last man of the Enfall One Hundred makes it through the defenders and to the gate to throw its restraining bars aside, and our men stream in, Fal with them. Just before my brother disappears through the gate, I link minds with him. I stand up on my horse's saddle, making sure I've got my feet securely under me before straightening. And then I jump.

Fal catches me with mage-craft, levitating me swiftly to the top of the wall. I drop softly onto the stones of the ramparts. What few defenders are left up here stand stunned for a moment, surprised by my sudden appearance. Their hesitation is their doom. I make quick work of them and leave their bodies lying in blood before sprinting down the stairs to the courtyard. It's chaos down here, but I soon find my brother, and we fight back-to-back, our minds linked, moving as one.

It's a mere hour before the last ten men of the defenders drop their weapons and surrender. Fal gives them a choice: serve him or die. All but three choose to serve him. My brother gestures to the ones who chose to die, and I make use of my mage-blade once more. Three bodies collapse to the cobblestones, their throats slit. I step once again to my brother's side, wiping my blade clean in the crease of my elbow.

Our men erupt in a rousing cheer. The castle is my brother's, and I should be happy, but all I feel is dead inside. My vision wavers and my hands turn red and dripping. I blink, and the vision is gone.

We set to cleaning up the bodies. Two giant holes are dug in the field outside the castle, where only hours before our army had stood. The enemy dead are piled in one, and our own fallen in the other. Per expectation, none of the Enfall One Hundred survived their ill-fated attack on the rear of the keep, not even the man who opened the gate for us. As I watch their bodies topple into the hole, a single tear trickles down my cheek. Fal's hand lands on my shoulder. I lean against him, my head on his shoulder.

"Hail the fallen." He says.

"Hail." I whisper.

That night, in the great hall of Enfall Keep, there is feasting and music and dancing. I don't feel like I can join any of it. But I make an effort for my brother's sake. The evening grows late, and Fal strides to the head of the room. In his hand is a full cup of wine, and not a small glass either. The soldiers around me quiet down, and we face him, each of us holding our own glasses of red grape-blood.

Fal raises his cup.

"Hail our fallen!" His voice rings out in the crowded room.

"Hail!" We reply as one, lifting our glasses.

"Hail the brave dead!" He shouts.

"Hail!" We cry, raising our glasses again.

"Hail the Enfall One Hundred!" Fal toasts, and his eyes glitter wetly in the lantern-light.

"Hail!" We roar. And everyone, to the last soldier, tips up their glass and drains it. Even me. Even Fal.

The wine will help many of us to sleep tonight. Will help keep our ghosts at bay.

It won't be helping me, as I am not drinking enough to get drunk. I deserve the nightmares anyway.

Somewhere in the room, a fiddle and a drum strike up a boot-tapping dance tune. I freeze.

It's Daisy in the Dell.

Sensing my melancholy, Falkirk maneuvers through the crowd to me and grabs my hand.

"Come dancing." He says with an irresistible smile. I cannot help but smile back, and I cannot deny him.

He whirls me off and spins me around the dance floor, making quippy remarks and teases that have my ribs aching with laughter. After six dances in a row, I am laughing and gasping at the same time. My ribs feel fit to split and I am out of breath.

"No more!" I plead, leaning against the wall as Fal grins, pleased that I am happy once more.

"One more?" He wheedles. The fiddle and drum start up again, this time sweet and slow, and not a tune that's going to speed up. I tilt my head, considering.

"Please?" My brother begs. I grin and sigh.

"Fine." I say, and he steps us back to the dance floor. With his hand at my back and my hand in his, I rest my head against his broad chest and listen to his heart beat. This. This is what makes me the most at peace. This is what I want for the rest of my life, to be right here, secure in my brother's embrace, safe from all hurt and grief.

But as we sway to the music, I know it cannot last. I must face the world, sooner rather than later.

I close my eyes, letting the music flow through me and soothe my soul. An image pops into my head-- me dancing with Daniel. A sudden wish that takes me by surprise and startles me so hard that I immediately shove it away and am glad that Fal's mind and mine are no longer linked. But the faint longing remains, and the idea that it could happen makes me glad, even as I sadden at the knowledge that I don't deserve that at all.

Fal feels my emotions, peers down into my face.

"Are you alright?" He asks. I tilt my face up at him.

"Yes," I answer, "just... just happy."

He smiles, sensing no lie in my words. Holds me tighter. After the song is finshed, I bid my brother goodnight and seek my bed. Tonight I sleep without dreaming. There is only the faintest sense that I am searching for something in the darkness. Something I cannot find.

In the morning, Fal and I return to North Keep via teleportation. A nervous steward informs us that Daniel is here. Has been here for a few hours now. My brother's face immediately darkens. He turns toward his wardrobe to find clothing suitable for the occasion.

"Fal?" I say, laying my hand on his arm. He looks at me, anger pulsing through the bond. None of it is directed at me though.

"Just-- hear him out." I tell him gently. He nods, his jaw clenched.

"I will." He promises. When my brother is dressed, regal in a black tunic and navy-blue robe with a silver circlet gracing his brow, he looks at me.

"I want you there." He says. I look down at my half-elvish form.

"Not like this." I say.

"No," he agrees, "not like that."

"Do you still have any of your old assassin's clothing and armor?" I ask. He nods.

"Of course. It's in the closet, in the back." He gestures. I thank him and step inside, closing the door after me. I shed all my clothing and shift my form into that of a male drow, not too large, but wiry and definitely powerful. I don my brother's old black assassin's garb, grimacing as things slide and rub. Male forms are weird, with things where... they're just weird.

Clothed once more, I step outside the closet and open my arms wide for Falkirk's inspection. His gaze narrows thoughtfully.

"Hm." He says. "I like it. You look dangerous, Blackbird."

"As if I didn't before?" I quip, my voice deeper than I am used to. There is a slight guttural growl on throat-sounds when I speak. Fal smiles tightly and shakes his head.

"You did before, but now you look even scarier." He replies.

"Well, thank you." I say. Smile. And then follow Fal out the door.

My brother settles himself languidly on his throne in his great hall. The throne is set on a dais, and I take my place, standing, behind and to the side of my brother's perch. Definitely noticeable and definitely menacing. Pale hair wound into a warrior's braid down my back, ebony skin, expression hard as flint, black armor of leather and steel, a long-sword resting point-down on the floor, my hands folded over its pommel... yes, I suppose I must look a intimidating sight.

And I do not mind one bit.

The herald at the massive double doors at the other end of the room announces Daniel formally:

"To His Excellency, the Lord of the North, Falkirk D'Adrian, I present the paladin, Daniel vor Elhim!" The herald cries, then pounds his staff of office on the floor once. The doors swing open, pulled by mechanisms operated by two guards.

And the paladin enters.

I have to master myself, holding my breath and tightening my grip on the sword pommel in my hands. But other than that, I do not react to Daniel's appearance.

Fal interprets my sudden emotion as fear that my brother will harm the paladin. He sends me calm laced with his own concern. He doesn't know...

I don't even know.

What I do know is that Daniel looks better than he ever has, as he strides down the middle of the room towards the dais. He exudes confidence and peace. His hair has been combed to shining, his clothing is clean and looks new. The colors fit him well: navy-blue tunic and brown trousers. He bears no weapons, and neither do Eliana and Antony, who flank him. The only thing in his hands is a small, white flag. Hardly more than a scrap of cloth, really.

Daniel stops three feet from the dais and inclines his head to Fal, all the respect my brother will get from Daniel. Eliana and Antony merely stand like statues, though Eliana's gaze keeps darting to me. Faint fear lurks in her eyes.

I hate it. I hate that this form inspires that in her.

Antony seems oblivious, but I know he sees me. That elf notices too much sometimes.

Daniel lifts his head to look at Fal, his gaze flicking to me. Curiosity lights in his gaze, and his eyes narrow as if he's trying to place where he's seen me before. My mouth goes dry. That paladin guesses-- sees-- too much too often.

"Your personal assassin?" Daniel asks, nodding at me. Falkirk regards the sandy-haired paladin with a narrowed gaze, one index finger laid thoughtfully on his bottom lip.

"Indeed," he murmurs. Daniel lifts his chin and gives my brother an amused smirk.

"And if this doesn't go well today, are you going to send him after me?" The paladin asks. I fight to keep my face neutral.

What is Daniel doing?! Is he trying to provoke my brother on purpose? Does that fool paladin not know he is a mouse in a lion's den?

Fal suddenly sits forward, folding his fingers together and resting his arms on his knees.

"Now, that depends on who it doesn't go well for, and how many times you insult me." Falkirk replies pleasantly, smiling. "Once, twice, even a thrice insult I can overlook. I am a forgiving man, after all, Daniel."

Daniel's smile shows teeth.

"Are you?" He asks. I nearly wince. That was... not wise on Daniel's part. Fal's countenance darkens as his mood does, and he sits back. I cannot see his face, but I know his expressions like I know myself. They adjust with his mood. He cannot hide much from showing on his face. He's gotten better at it over the years, but his feelings still show most of the time.

"I am." Falkirk replies coldly. "Paladin, what did you come here for? I am sure it was not to feed me insults as a mother feeds a babe. I have enough grief to deal with."

"Grief that you caused." Daniel replies, and this time I do wince, slightly.

That was extremely unwise. Fal's cold anger grows. Daniel is just fanning flames now. He's digging his own grave, metaphorically speaking. I wish I could tell him to shut his fool mouth, but I cannot break character. Daniel is on his own in this.

Daniel plunges on,

"I am here to help you destroy that grief. The High Clan lords would gladly treat with you, milord D'Adrian."

I nearly sigh in relief. A show of respect on Daniel's part will go a long way in soothing my brother's ruffled feathers.

"Send an envoy, or go yourself, and I would gladly accompany. I'm sure we could negotiate the annexation of the lands you desire, peaceably, without war and bloodshed." Daniel says. He reaches into a pouch on his belt and withdraws something metallic that reflects the light. A memory of a metal sling-stone catching sunlight overwhelms my mind with fear for my brother, and I act without thinking. I step forward, lifting my blade. Set its edge under Daniel's chin. His eyes meet mine and his gaze flickers with concern as he lifts his chin. His hand comes all the way out of the pouch, his fingers curled around a silver cylinder capped at both ends with knobs of bronze.

"Here," He says, unmoving but for the slow motion of his hand. "See? A message cylinder. Nothing more. No weapon. Your guards searched me and my companions thoroughly before they admitted us." He offers me the cylinder. I take it, removing my sword from his throat and stepping back.

My stomach twists. What was I thinking? This is Daniel! The guy has trouble ending the people who are trying to kill him! What had made me think that he would harm my brother?

But I know. I cannot take any more chances with my brother's safety, no matter who is or isn't a threat.

And I do not know what Daniel is.

I tuck my sword under my arm and inspect the cylinder for hidden traps or poison, just in case. Uncap one end and slide out the scroll inside. I unroll that and survey its contents before handing it to my brother, who has been watching all this with interest.

Satisfied, I hand the scroll to Fal and the cylinder to Daniel before stepping back to my place on the dais. I plant my sword once more point-down on the floor.

Falkirk reads the scroll, then purses his lips.

"So..." He muses slowly. "These lords and kings would be willing to negotiate peaceful treaties with me? Annex some of their lands to me so that I will leave them alone?" He gives a little chuckle. "Gave me a decree, through you, stating thus and signed with their signatures and seals." He leads forward again, tossing the scroll to the floor at Daniel's feet.

"What I don't think you understand, paladin," my brother says quietly, intensely, "is that I do not want just some lands. I want all lands. And I will have them, or watch them burn."

"Please, D'Adrian." Daniel answers, picking up the scroll, re-rolling it and slipping it back inside its cylinder. "Reconsider. This is the best offer you are going to get."

Fal's face tightens into a scowl as his ire rises.

"The best offer I will give all of you is war only." He replies. "Get out."

Daniel steps back as his countenance saddens.

"Would that your answer was different, D'Adrian." He says softly. "It could have prevented so much bloodshed."

"Get out!" Fal says again, his voice tight with controlled anger. "Leave while you still can, paladin. The only reason you still breathe is because of the respect I have for that flag you carry." He nods his head at the white cloth in Daniel's hand. Daniel's fist clenches around the cloth, and he and Falkirk stare each other down for a moment. Antony watches them. Eliana watches me, fearfully. I do not move.

"Come back, and you die." Falkirk's voice is pure ice.

If my brother gave a kill order, now or later, what would I do? Suddenly, I do not know.

But, to my relief, Daniel spins on his heel and strides back down the room, giving a brief, "Come." to his companions.

"My offer still stands, D'Adrian!" The paladin calls back over his shoulder as he leaves. "It stands until you choose to accept my aid, or you die."

The doors boom shut behind him. Fal motions his captain of the garrison over.

"Make sure he leaves our borders." My brother growls. "See that he is not harmed or hindered, he or his companions. But make sure they leave completely."

"Yessir." The captain salutes and strides out.

Fal turns to me, letting out a tense breath.

"Well, that... went..." He says.

"It went." I agree. "It went out the window. Could you not have at least considered peaceful negotiations?"

He bristles at my tone.

"Have you seen the poverty and hardship of the Clan peoples?" He demands. At my nod, he continues, "That's what I aim to eradicate. What makes you think the lords understand any language but war and fire and blood? No. There will be no peaceful negotiations outside of that which happens inside of a grave. They will not bow before me, so I will see them break."

I should have expected no less, but I suppose something inside me had dared to hope.

"Then they will break." I reply. Fal calms, reassured by my support. I tug at the collar of my borrowed armor.

"I need to get out of this and back into my own form." I say, grimacing theatrically. Fal chuckles.

"Very well." He says. "Just put that back where you found it."

"I will." I answer. "And then I have a paladin to go meet and a mission to finish." I step away, and then turn back.

"It is still reconnaissance?" I ask. Fal's face goes blank, but I know that, underneath, there is seething anger.

"For now." He replies. "Report regularly."

"Of course." I say. I smile at him. "Love you."

He smiles faintly back.

"Love you." He echoes. Then I walk out, my boots silent on the floor-stones.