The morning after the Winter Masquerade Ball came with no additional conflicts. If Verial had to be honest with himself, he wasn't sure if Deanna's presence at the party was ever a good idea. Perhaps he assumed she would have worn more of a mask to the event instead of smudged kohl make-up around her eyes. Still, all things aside, Verial could not find himself angry with her. Despite several people realizing who Deanna was, such as Madrin Kir, Blend and Verial had a feeling Valorius Malku knew as well, it apparently did not pose a problem. None of those three seemed to have any interest in capturing Deanna for a hefty reward and sending her back to her death. At least now Verial knew that they had "allies" in certain places that appeared to want to protect Deanna's identity that was hidden rather than revealing it to the masses.

Nevertheless, Verial could not help but recall the fear he saw in Deanna's amber colored eyes when she came rushing to him through the crowd of party goers. Despite her bravery for not donning a mask, at the thought of being hauled away, she looked frightened. Verial guessed it was not entirely for her own safety, but for his. After all, she had stated that should Madrin Kir come to take her away, that Verial was to let her go and not fight back, to allow the Lord Commander of Eiler to do his duty. Either situation was not going to happen. Verial was not going to just toss Deanna aside and fortunately, Madrin Kir did not want to detain Deanna. Instead, he told the pair and Sahar who came over faster than Verial had ever seen her move before that they had nothing to worry about.

Nothing to worry about...

Those thoughts mused in Verial's head as he looked out his bedroom window past the midnight blue curtains and lifted a cup of hot tea to his lips to drink. Outside, snow fell lazily to the ground, but the drift was steady and promising for fast approaching winter. It was likely very frigid outside, but inside the fireplace in his room, a fire crackled with life and filled the room with necessary warmth to keep out the cold. It was comfortable and Verial, being part dragon and having a bit of natural heat inside of him, was only wearing a pair of loose fitting dark pants.

The ball seemed to be a success and Verial was pleased with how it went. Many had enjoyed the costumes, the dancing and the food and drink. Compliments were frequent during the evening, but Verial directed those praises in the direction of Sahar and Edgar. At the end of the night, quite a few had been given room in Northsea Manor while others stayed in the town's inn for the night. From his window, Verial could already see a few of those people passing down Chaliceton's streets, hoping to catch an early boat back to warmer climates. Truth be told, Verial wasn't sure who had slept in the manor for the evening, but he was sure that Edgar took record of those who stayed for the night.

A soft moaning sound behind him muffled by a pillow had Verial turning his attention away from the window and back to his bed. Deanna had slept (among other things) by his side and Verial saw that she was shifting lightly beneath her cover of fur blankets. Her head was buried in her pillow and she was laying on her stomach before turning slightly to the side to open sleepy amber hued eyes to look at him. Verial took a few steps forward and placing one knee after another on the mattress, he sat down next to where Deanna rested on her side now. Verial leaned down, letting his lips press and linger against hers for a moment before straightening once more.

"Good morning," Verial said. This greeting was followed by a few brief seconds of silence as Verial thought himself lucky that she was actually still here with everything that had happened. His hand then moved over, brushing against Deanna's cheek, his fingers threading through a bit of auburn colored hair. Verial regarded Deanna curiously and then nodded. "How are you feeling this morning? Sick still?"

Deanna's sudden bout of illness raised several questions in Verial's head, but when he inquired last night, her answers either changed the subject or were mysterious. Instead, Deanna explained to him not to let his loss of wings define him or who he might become, no matter tragedies might befall him. Her words throughout the previous evening were ominous and grim at best, as if she knew something was coming, but would not tell him exactly what that something was. Verial's one concern was that despite those who were obviously not interested in taking Deanna away, was that she was going to be taken from him by some other force. The way she spoke, as if he would be without her soon, hinted at this fact and yet, Verial did not pry and force the answers out of her. He only gazed at her with that certain sort of loving way that was shared between the two of them.

"I brought you some tea," Verial said gesturing to the cup that rested on the night stand beside her. Tendrils of steam wafted from the cup and the aroma (as well as the flavor), was not too strong. Verial went for something more light as to not trigger any sudden nausea in her. "Have you seen Sahar about whatever is illness is bothering you?"

Verial wondered that should Deanna avoid any explanations again, if he could pry some answers from Sahar. Regardless of whether or not the healer knew of Deanna's current sickness, Verial was sure he could get some sort of answers from the desert magae.

Deanna had slept soundly and without nightmares for the first time in ages. Her peaceful rest was disrupted when she came into awareness only to find the warm body that had been lying next to hers all night (or rather whatever hours they had managed to steal for themselves after the Ball), was no longer there. An irritated sound vibrated in her throat and she stretched some under the fur coverings before lifting her head to peer at Verial with heavy lidded amber eyes. She blinked slowly as he came into focus,and as he approached to sit upon the bed, Deanna turned on her side, a sleepy smile offered to him as Verial leaned down to kiss her and bid her good morning.

She murmured the greeting in return to him and shifted closer when she felt his warm hand upon her face, his fingers slipping through the tangled mess of her hair. Deanna took note of the loose fitting pants he wore and the steaming cup of tea in his free hand, and was about to suggest he rid himself of both and come back to bed when Verial inquired how she was feeling. Deanna knew he meant well and was concerned for her well being, but in truth, she had hoped to push all thoughts of the abomination that grew in her womb, out of her mind for a short time. Sadly it was not to be, for Verial had not forgotten her bout of sickness outside on the veranda. Inwardly she cursed and took a few moments before answering him.

How am I feeling,Verial? I have this demonic spawn growing inside of me compliments of your tryst with Sharay. A parasitic being that saps me of strength, that causes me to crave food constantly, but refuses to allow me to consume any of it; a creature that forces me to vomit on a regular basis to keep me in a weakened state. I know it is normal, for Sahar informed me of this, but it doesn't change that I am pregnant. This should have been impossible to begin with, but thanks to Sharay's diabolical scheming...surprise! And I'm frightened, Verial. I'm scared of what it will become for I know the circumstances of its conception. I know what it cost you...your angelic being...your son. Of what it has cost me,and is still costing me. I'm afraid because I want to tell you what is happening, but I have to remain silent for your sake because I not only fear exactly what it is that grows steadily inside of me,but also your wrath, your disgust and your hatred of me should I tell you the horrible truth.

Deanna forced a small smile and lied. “I'm feeling much better, thank you.” She glanced at the cup of tea that rested on the service atop of the nightstand when Verial mentioned bringing her a cup of the fragrant brew as well,and swallowed the lump in her throat. Her emotions were in such upheaval lately, she often found herself feeling sadness, or anger, or pity on a whim. Now was one of those moments. Part of Deanna was touched by his thoughtfulness, by the kind gesture that could indicate a man who loved her as he had claimed. Another part of her wondered if the love he uttered for her was genuine or simply misplaced guilt and confusion.

Deanna sat up, drawing the blankets to her chest with one hand as she reached for the cup of tea with the other and sipped. Bitter laughter rang within her head.

To think I foolishly thought maybe there was a chance...but that was before...

Deanna's silent brooding and musings were interrupted when Verial asked if she had spoken to Sahar about her 'illness'. She resisted the urge to sigh and instead set her cup down only to turn to face him, reaching out a hand toward his face. Her fingers trailed down his cheek to his jaw line. “Sahar assures me it will pass,” she laughed lightly then, hoping it didn't sound as forced as she made it. “Apparently I'm going to live.” Deanna tried to play it off in jesting manner, willing Verial to lose interest in the subject. Deanna leaned over and kissed him then, her teeth nipping at his lower lip with hopes of enticing him back to bed. She had such little time with him left, and did not wish to spend it playing question and answer, especially when she had no answer to give him, or rather none that could be given without hurting him.

“It's early and I can guarantee you that most of the staff if not all, are still abed nursing off their drunken stupors. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if Sahar was still out cold as well.” Deanna inched closer, allowing the blanket to pool at her waist as she draped her arms around Verial's waist, her lips brushing against the hollow of his throat. She could hear Verial's heartbeat speed up and felt him move then as he placed his own cup on the stand next to hers. Deanna couldn't help the smile that touched her lips as she rubbed her cheek against his shoulder as Verial's hands glided down her back in preparation to lay her down upon the bed. Deanna had other plans in mind and she climbed onto the bed behind him, forcing him to lie face down upon the mattress.

“I'll rub your back,” Deanna's smile widened into a wicked grin as she climbed on top of him, her hands splayed out upon the lean muscles of his back. “and maybe if you're a good boy...your front too.”

***

It was past noon before they entertained the idea to rouse themselves from bed and enter the land of the living. By now even Sahar should be awake, Deanna thought from the comfort of Verial's arms. She toyed with the idea of just remaining in bed all day with Verial, but Deanna had places to go and people to see. One particular person in general. Getting away shouldn't prove difficult as she was sure Sahar would divert Verial's attention regarding matters concerning the Masquerade. Deanna felt Verial's lips brush against her forehead and she tilted her head upward to stare into those odd colored eyes of his, knowing the responsible thing to do would be to get out of bed, bathe and dress. Deanna's lips curled into a smile.

“Ready to go again?”

Sahar pressed a warm cup into Edgar's hands, beaming broadly as she did so. “Drink this dear and I promise you within an hour, the little men tap-dancing in your head will vanish.”

The healer had created her own special brew to help those with throbbing heads and queasy stomachs. It had been an impressive celebration, and many had enjoyed themselves. Some a bit too much, Sahar thought privately as she glanced at the groaning Edgar who dutifully drank his tea. She was pleased that she had prepared the necessary herbs the day before as a precaution, and though none would thank her now for preparations, they most definitely would later.

The desert beauty had indulged in wine, more than she would have normally, but still managed to tend to her duties upon waking up late in the morning. Sahar was nibbling on a light lunch and going over the list of guests who had attended as well as those who stayed in the Villa. Beside her was a few sheets of parchment where figures were listed neatly in a column, the cost of the Masquerade and provisions used. Sahar was waiting patiently for the Lord Verial to make his way downstairs so that she might review the information with him, but in the meantime, enjoyed the relative quiet early afternoon in the solar.

Sahar was just pouring herself another cup when she caught sight of a familiar figure sweep into the hallway, and quickly rose to catch up. The magae stared at the other woman who had stuffed the remains of a biscuit in her mouth and was tugging on winter boots. Surprised that Deanna was not only up and dressed, but prepared to go out, Sahar arched a brow, her arms folded over her breasts. “Good morning. Running errands, are you?'”

Deanna flopped into an arm chair and adjusted the laces on her boots. “Good morning to you as well Sahar, or should I say afternoon?” The amber eyed woman smiled some before standing and plucking her cloak off the coat rack. “I am indeed. I have business matters to attend to.” This piqued Sahar's curiosity, but Deanna waved her off before she could inquire. “I'll return by dinner time.” The smaller auburn haired woman fastened the clasp to her cloak and was about to exit the Villa when Sahar asked about Verial if he was coming down any time soon and what sort of mood he was in.

She watched as Deanna turned her head, a slow smile spread across her face, and Sahar made gagging sounds. “Oh please. Disgusting. I am sorry I asked.”

Deanna laughed then. “He should be down soon. He was just finished dressing when I left him.” With that, she waved to Sahar and ventured outside. Sahar watched from the window as Deanna trekked through the snow toward town and wondered what the woman was up to, though privately she knew it had something to do with her leaving Chaliceton soon.

Sahar shook her head and returned to the solar, finding Edgar there. “You poor thing. Feeling any better?” The older man let out a loud burp and smiled sheepishly as Sahar grimaced. “I'll take that as a maybe. Inform the Lord, when you see him, that I should enjoy his company in the solar, if you would please.” After Edgar left, Sahar plucked a flask from the deep pocket of her velvet green gown and poured a bit of the dark brown liquid into her tea, before hiding the flask from sight. “A little hair of the dog makes Sahar a happy woman.” She chuckled to herself as she drank her tea and waited for Verial to make his usual late entrance.

Even though Deanna had dressed sensibly warm for the biting cold, she was still cursing as she froze her ass off during the long trek to a particular tavern that she had frequented not so long ago. Her nose and cheeks were reddened from the unseasonably cold weather, for which Deanna sent a special thanks to Elysia in her own special Deanna-like way. Her pace quickened as the tavern came into sight and she breathed a sigh of gratitude and relief as she pushed on the heavy oak door to enter the warmth of the building...until she actually took a whiff of the various scents inside.

The tavern was packed with locals who were too lazy to make themselves lunch, or workers on their break in need of something hot in their bellies before going back out into that cold cruel world. The air was hazy with smoke coming from pipes and cigars that were being puffed on with great enthusiasm, mostly from local fisherman and some of Chaliceton's own sentries. That didn't bother her delicate senses so much as the heavy rank stink of grease floating throughout the tavern. More specifically, bacon grease, and lots of it. Mingled in that stench was the smell of ripe cheeses, the bitter bite of vinegar that everyone seemed so fond of dumping on their fried potatoes, laced with the sickeningly sweet alcohol smell of whiskey. Deanna stood in the doorway and swayed as her stomach lurched and she quickly grabbed onto a nearby chair to steady herself.

I will not throw up. I will not throw up.

Deanna repeated the mantra to herself over and over because really, it would not do to meet with someone who could assist her in traveling to Eiler with vomit on her breath. Trying to breath through her mouth helped some, and Deanna forced the waves of nausea away as she focused solely on scoping out a certain red-haired man, whom she found seated near the bar area, shoveling food in his mouth with the grace of a toddler. Food was spilling left and right into his mouth, and it was all Deanna could do not to hurl on a passing serving wench, who paused in her tasks to eye Deanna. “Hungry dear? We have venison stew on the menu today,” the older woman offered helpfully.

“Ugh no! Are you kidding?' Deanna felt bile rise in her throat and shook her head quickly, waving off the mention of food, then felt chagrined upon seeing the highly insulted look given to her by the serving woman which made her feel slightly bad about her reaction. “Um, sorry. No offense. I'll just have some tea, if you would please. I'll be at the bar.” Deanna gestured with a jerk of her head and made her way over to the long counter area, holding her breath while the tavern wench muttered to herself as Deanna moved along. Deanna blew out a breath and took the stool next to the red-haired man.

“Hello Liam. Long time no see. Anyone ever show you the proper way to use a spoon?”

The young man turned his head at the sound of his name and frowned deeply as recognition dawned in his light blue eyes. “You,” Liam growled to her as he set his spoon aside. “I remember you. You hustled me out of my dagger. That was my father's dagger, woman! He gave it to me before he died!'

Deanna stared at him before rolling her eyes as she lowered the hood of her cloak. “Take your pity party elsewhere, Liam. If the dagger was so valuable, you shouldn't have wagered it, and I didn't hustle you. I simply had beginner's luck at darts.” Deanna smiled sweetly to him, knowing damn well she hustled that poor simpleton out of his gold and his precious dagger. “In any case you big baby,” Deanna reached into the satchel she carried with her and slowly pulled out said dagger encased in its sheath. “I'm willing to return it to you free and clear, but I need a favor from you.” The proclamation drew raised bushy brows from Liam who eyed her suspiciously before glancing at the dagger. “You'll give it back to me? Just like that?”

Deanna laughed and set the dagger on the bar counter. “No dolt, not 'just like that'. I told you, I need a favor from you.” The tea was set before her and she thanked the wench while pushing the dagger toward a lusty eyed Liam. “What sort of favor?” He asked as he ran his fingers over the bladed weapon in a reverent manner.

Deanna blew on her tea and took a sip, smiling as she set the cup down on the saucer. “Why Liam, I'm glad you asked....”

***

Deanna returned in less than joyful spirits, though the day's events weren't a total waste. She had only partially accomplished her goals, and this disappointed her. Still, she was a clever woman and would eventually figure out a solution to her dilemma. It was nearly nightfall when she entered the manor, though she knew she was well in time before dinner would be served. Deanna removed her cloak and tossed it on the coat rack when Sahar came into view, silently gazing at Deanna.

“Oh, hey. Dinner almost ready? Something smells....not so disgusting,” Deanna's nostrils flared as she took a few steps toward Sahar and was about to inquire about the evening's menu when she noted the woman's red-rimmed eyes and grave features. “Sahar?' Deanna's cheery disposition fled and a look of concern replaced it. “What's wrong? Has something happened?” Her amber eyes widened in panic. “Verial..,” Deanna breathed a sigh of relief when the healer shook her head and with slumped shoulders, let Deanna into the Solar so they could speak in private.

Deanna was more than confused as she leaned against a small bar area while Sahar, looking about as miserable as one could be, sunk down onto one of the overstuffed chairs, her head hung. “He hates me.” The desert beauty whispered sadly.

This brought a frown from Deanna. “Who hates you? Edgar?” When Sahar shook her head, Deanna raised both brows in surprise and did not keep the same reaction from hitting her voice. “Verial? Oh Sahar, you must be drunk or something. Verial adores you, woman. He could never hate you.” Deanna chuckled some, but when Sahar raised her head, Deanna knew the healer woman was deadly serious. “Ok, I'll bite. Why would Verial hate you?”

Deanna watched as Sahar bit down on her lower lip which was quivering, and the hands that were in her lap were wringing. This did nothing to ease Deanna's suspicious mind. “Sahar,” she asked quietly. “What did you do?” Deanna waited for some sort of response, but when none was forthcoming, advanced to where the desert magae sat and crouched down so that Sahar was forced to look Deanna in the eye. “Does he know?” Deanna asked in a horrified whisper, her heart racing in her chest until finally Sahar shook her head and uttered, “No.” Only then did Deanna visibly relax. “Then what? I don't understand.”

Sahar took a deep cleansing breath and began. “He did ask about your 'illness', Deanna. He's worried, as you very well know and I had to lie to him.” For the first time since knowing Sahar, Deanna detected hostility in the healer's eyes when she glared at her. “For you. I lied to him for you. I hate lying to him, but I did it anyway.” Deanna noted that there was a slight bite to Sahar's words, and she sighed, unable to fault the other woman for her feelings, and was about to reiterate why she asked Sahar for the deception when the healer spoke again, her words barely above a whisper.

“I asked him how he would feel if you left suddenly, you know to start a new life elsewhere. I wanted to gauge his reaction, to see if he would handle it. He...he handled it badly Deanna. His eyes, they were filled with fear, and he was so angry that I even asked such a question.” Sahar's eyes filled with tears as she stared at the now ashen faced Deanna who had grown so still, she barely breathed. “It scared me, Deanna. You cannot leave, don't you see!” The healer reached out to grab Deanna by her shoulders in a frantic last attempt to reason with her. “He hid it well, but it was there in his eyes, in the way he barely held his control. It would destroy him if you left him, and I cannot allow that to happen Deanna. I can't. You must tell him the truth or I will!”

Deanna remained silent. Her body felt numb as did her mind. She closed her eyes and prayed for strength and clarity to come quickly to her in her desperate time of need. Finally Deanna stood, allowing Sahar's hands to slip helplessly from her shoulders.

“I want you to know that I am aware of how much you care for Verial. That is the only thing that is keeping me from killing you right now.” Sahar's eyes widened at the coldness in Deanna's tone, the way her features hardened and became almost feral. “What in the name of the four gods possessed you to even say something like that to him? 'You wanted to see how he would handle it?'” Deanna's voice remained steady even though she wanted to scream at the desert woman, but she knew it would draw unwanted attention. “So you could what? Report back to me? Like I wouldn't know already? Like I am such a heartless bitch that I wouldn't have a small inkling of how he would handle my unexpected disappearance after he went through all that fucking trouble to save me from dying?” This time Deanna's voice did rise, but she managed to hiss each word out through bared teeth.

“You question me for what I am doing. You think I am so bloody selfish and think nothing of his feelings, is that it? I care only about me, right?”

Sahar stood then, her chin tilted defiantly as she tried to hold her own against the seething therianthrope woman. “You want the truth? I think you feel indebted to Verial and obligated to share his bed whenever it suits you, but no, I don't believe you care about him as you claim you do. If you do, then you are the most cold hearted person I know to put that man through such distress as you are about to simply because you can't cope with unexpected motherhood. Because it doesn't fit into your agenda so you'll lie, and ask me to lie, and keep Verial in the dark with worry and frustration because you just don't give a sh-”

“ENOUGH!” Deanna finally snapped at Sahar, her patience having worn thin with the untrue accusations. The healer retook her seat as Deanna paced back and forth, her mouth a grim line.

“You have no idea what you're talking about. So let me shed some light on your version of the 'truth' Sahar....”

“This,” Deanna gestured with a slice of her hand towards her abdomen that was just recently starting to harden and stretch, but for all intensive purposes remained flat. “This is not the blessing in disguise you believe it to be. This is a slap in Verial's face. This 'thing', this baby, is nothing more than a painful reminder of everything he gambled and lost. You understand what I am saying, Sahar? What he lost. His heritage, his family and friends, his self-respect, his son. His son!” It took everything in Deanna's power not to grab Sahar and shake the sense into her. “And all of it was because of me! Because of her! And you want me to not only stick around and carry this child to flaunt in his face, but present it to him after it is born? An even exchange of children, Sahar? One life for another?' Deanna threw her head back and laughed, but there was absolutely no humor in it, only bitterness.

“You're out of your fucking mind if you think I will put him through that. Never. Not in this lifetime or the next. He doesn't deserve that. It is one thing for me to handle this, because I am partly to blame, but Verial is innocent. He will not suffer my actions or the actions of the vengeful goddess I once served.” Deanna shook her head and turned away from Sahar then, all traces of anger vanished and were replaced by something far more profound...loss. “Tell me, Sahar, why he would want this child from me when I robbed him of his Kyrian's future?” She held up a hand knowing Sahar was about to speak. “Don't. Don't tell me it isn't my fault. Verial already did. He forgave me. I do not. It is my fault. I should have been stronger. I should have done something. I should have tried.”

Her eyes closed as she thought of Kyrian and she swallowed the lump in her throat. “He was the nicest and kindest boy ever and did not deserve what happened to him. This baby, this abomination, couldn't even fill Kyrian's shoes, much less replace him.”

“You believe Verial couldn't handle my disappearance? You think him that weak, do you?” Deanna turned then and smiled to Sahar, but there was no hiding the sadness in her eyes. “He managed to destroy his entire world and survive that. He committed mass genocide to hundreds of thousands if not millions, and ruined a realm. Didn't that affect him? He survived that. Verial is much stronger than you think, Sahar. More than anyone thinks. He may be upset and angry. That is natural, but he will not let that consume or destroy him. He can't. His nature isn't just to simply lie down and accept defeat. It is to learn how to cope, how to keep from drowning in misery, sorrow and guilt. It is this nature of his, this sheer determination of will that he has that has kept him alive for so long.”

Sahar was silent and still as Deanna spoke, slowly understanding where the other woman was coming from. “I know so little about Verial's history, his life, his family, but I don't need to know any of these things to know Verial as a person.” Deanna settled her gaze upon the healer. “Just as he knows so little about me, but knows me better than anyone if you can understand something like that.”

Deanna walked to the door and placed a hand upon the knob. “I am going to leave Sahar, as soon as I can find a ship to take me to Eiler. Right now there is no reason for any to sail, but I am trying. I am going to leave without telling him because I know I am not strong enough to say no if he asked me to stay, even though it is in his best interest that I do not. I am not going to tell you where I am going either, for I know you as well, and I know that if you saw any signs of deterioration within Verial, you would break your vow to me,” Deanna once more held up a hand even though she had her back to Sahar. She heard the other woman open her mouth to protest. “I do not fault you for that, Sahar. I would do the same if I were in your position. You love him in your own way, and therefore you wish to protect him. That is your nature. I understand that, but understand that you and I have the same goal. I simply am going about it in a different manner.”

The knob was turned and Deanna took a single step out into the hallway, her parting words to the healer were spoken softly but firmly. “And never question my feelings for Verial again. I do not need to go around proclaiming for the world to hear how I feel about him. If I love him or hate him, neither have an effect on the decisions I have chosen to make.” Deanna stepped fully out into the hallway and turned to face Sahar who finally stood to stare at Deanna.

“For the record, I do. More than I want to admit.” Deanna closed the door and turned on her heel to head for the stairs, leaving Sahar to ponder her words. Whether Verial was in a dark mood was of no consequence to Deanna and would not affect her in the slightest. She simply needed to be with him, just as he did her, now more than ever.

Deanna found Verial in the Conference Room after searching his own private quarters only to find them empty. She entered the room quietly and closed the door behind her, finding no real reason to bolt it. She had run into Edgar in the upper hallway who had informed her of the Lord's sullen mood, and thought it best for no one to disturb him. Deanna thanked him, but did not include herself in that group.

Rather than at his desk, Verial was staring out the window, one hand upon the window pane and he neither turned nor spoke to acknowledge her presence, though surely he had known it was she who entered and disturbed his solace. Deanna exhaled slowly and walked to where he stood, not touching him for a moment or two as she decided how to proceed. All thoughts and reason fled her, and it was sheer emotion that caused her to act.

Deanna took him gently by the arm and turned him around so that he faced her. The look on his face was heartbreaking. So much he wanted to ask her, yet all remained unsaid. So much she wanted to say to him, but couldn't find the words to comfort him. Instead Deanna lay her hands upon his chest and began unbuttoning his shirt to bare his chest. Her fingers grazed over a small pale colored scar that decorated his left upper chest, and it was no coincidence the scar was nearly identical in shape to the dragon scale she wore at all times around her neck. Deanna's amber gaze locked with his odd colored eyes, and they seemed to convey her mute appeal for his love despite his lack of understanding of what was happening.

Deanna left one hand to lay against heated skin while the other traced against his cheek, lowering to brush against his lips. She felt his hands, whether reluctantly or not, slowly slide against her upper arms, and Deanna let out a shaky breath as she brought his head to rest against hers. Their foreheads and noses brushed against each others, lips hovering but not quite touching. His breath was warm and mingled with hers, but still she did not attempt to kiss him even as she yearned to do so.

Moments ticked by as they remained together like that, quietly listening to each other breathe, to hear the others heartbeat. Her hand lowered from the resting spot above his heart, her nails scoring lightly against his skin, and that drew a reaction from Verial whose grip tightened ever so slightly on her arms, a slight hiss of his breath was heard. Deanna's hand finally reached his belt, fingers playing lightly with the leather material, but she made no attempt to unbuckle it. Instead she slid her hand inside of his shirt to rest against his hip, pulling him as close to her as possible. It was then she tilted her head upward enough so her lips met his in a kiss that melted her. Verial's arms went around her and her eyes closed as she lost herself in his embrace and the feel of his mouth against hers. It was not necessary for her to whisper words of love to him, but gladly would she do so if it was something he needed to hear.  Deanna felt it more important to show him how she felt for words could be so fleeting even if meant.

Verial's hands ran down the length of her back, and she almost wished at that moment she had removed the velvety black gown she wore. She felt the heat of his hands against the material, but it was not enough. It never was. The intimate contact of each others bare skin was something she craved, not just now but always. It wasn't just pleasure she received from Verial's touch, but comfort and ease.

Suddenly the dinner chimes were heard, and Deanna broke the spell of the kiss, inching away from Verial. Her hands though, remained as they were since she had no true desire to release him, but did not want to keep him from dinner, especially if he hadn't eaten all day which was likely. Deanna's lips curved into a smile, something warm and tender meant only for him, always for him. “Hungry?” The question could have been taken in so many ways, and though Deanna knew how she wished for him to respond, she was curious to hear what would pass through Verial's lips.

Sahar meant well. Verial knew this. She was looking out for his well-being and cared for him, like another sister only much less estranged than all of his other ones. However, that did not mean she wasn't oblivious towards certain things, like his feelings towards Deanna and likewise, Deanna's feelings towards him. To suggest that Deanna would eventually move on from Arthuran and away from Verial - that she would want something better in her life that did not include him - had suffice to say, put Verial in a foul mood. He found himself foolishly wondering if the way Deanna had acted and the things she had said to him were all lies.

The desert magae had it in her mind that all of this was a temporary thing; that his relation with Deanna would not last. The thing about this that frightened Verial was that there was nagging suspicion that told him that Sahar was right. It was as if she was preparing him for Deanna's eventual "departure" and though Verial had no solid evidence that this would actually happen, Sahar and Deanna's behavior as of late suggested that something was lurking around the horizon and that it was something that he would not like in the least.

So Verial left Sahar before he threw the pot of tea and the cups along with it across the table aimed in her general direction. Truthfully, he would have never been able to hurt Sahar, but that didn't stop the rage that boiled inside of him ready to tip over. Yes, the cold winter air of Arthuran was exactly what he needed and Verial left the solar after approving the inventory list without another word. The streets were much the same as they usually were, most people having already left Chaliceton after the winter masquerade ball. It seemed that most were not keen on being part of Arthuran's harsh winter that lay ahead. After moving to one of the two stone buildings that made up Chaliceton's armory, it did not take Verial long to find Sedric, Chaliceton's guard captain who had a solemn and worried expression on his face.

"Sedric, what is going on?" Verial noticed that the man was clearly concerned; it looked as if Sedric had aged a few years over night. In addition to the lines of worry that defined his brow, Sedric also appeared frustrated and angered if one could imagine the usually calm captain as such.

"Ah, Lord Verial," Sedric said. "I did not hear you come in." Sedric hesitated and took in a deep breath before continuing on. "Some time after the ball was finished, a vandal broke into the armory and food storage room and stole quite a bit."

"Define quite a bit," Verial said. As Verial waited for Sedric to give a better report of the situation, he looked past the guard captain now noticing the lack of armor and weapons in the armory. There were gaps where swords once hung and chainmail missing from shelves among other things.

"About twenty-one swords, five sets of armor, ten bows and quivers, and one-hundred some arrows. About a third of our rations and supplies for the winter were cleared out from the larder. Also, four horses were taken from the stables along with saddles and gear for each animal," Sedric said. Despite his reluctance to deliver the news, Sedric finally spoke with clarity, giving the report as if he had rehearsed it for weeks. Hearing the sheer number of items that had been stolen from Chaliceton's inventory surprised Verial (though he had to admit, not as much as when Alastair Bluefield had ran away with three tons of gold from Grand City's treasury).

Verial took a breath, trying to steady any anger or wrath that might have been present in his voice. Following his conversation with Sahar, the last thing he wanted to hear was the Chaliceton's supplies had been ransacked after an event that was supposed to be a celebration for Arthuran's main city. Fists tightened at Verial's sides as he mulled over what to do for a brief few moments. Sedric appeared anxious by Verial's silence and when Verial spoke again, the man shifted uneasily on his feet.

"Do we have any leads as to who did this?" Verial asked. "And who on earth was on guard to let such an idiotic thing happen?"

"No, M'Lord. By the time we were notified, snow had already covered the tracks the thief or thieves had left behind. We only have a general direction - that is to the southeast - which could mean they are on their way to the harbor or have already made it there... though I hope no one at the harbor would have let them pass with Chaliceton's obvious wares," Sedric said. His mouth then fell into a hard line over Verial's second question and the man swallowed thickly before speaking. "A few of our newer recruits. They thought it would acceptable if they left their posts for a short while to join in on the festivities and... consume an unearthly amount of drink."

"Damn those fools," Verial said. Sedric's narrowed brows let Verial know the guard captain was in agreement. "Sedric, I'm looking to you to hand out their punishment as you see fit." Part of Verial did not want that responsibility in his current state as he would have rather throttled the necks of the men who left to get wasted at the winter masquerade ball. "I will return within a half hour and then we're going to go hunt down the persons who decided it would be wise to steal from Chaliceton. I want you to gather one other man and meet me at the stables ready to go. I'm not sure how long we'll be gone, so be sure to pack well in case we need to track throughout the night."

"Only one other man?" Sedric said lifting a brow. "And do you think we will really accomplish much at night?"

"Yes, we're going to keep this hunting party small. I don't want anyone to know we're tracking them," Verial said. "And don't worry about nightfall. I have that covered."


When Deanna found him, Verial had not been in Northsea Manor's Conference Room for very long. His thoughts were still on what Sahar had said and now the theft that had happened. Though his heart wanted to be with Deanna, his mind had to stay focused on the task ahead, that being to find Chaliceton's thief or thieves. Verial lifted a hand, letting it rest against the glass of one of the windows in the Conference Room and stared out at the scenery beyond, hoping that somewhere out there Verial could return what had been taken from Chaliceton. The thought of the laden being ransacked and food being taken worried him; if they did not recovery their inventory, the city might be without its necessary provisions for the winter. The loss of weapon and armor was also a great concern as Chaliceton had already been threatened with the presence of an orc and goblin tribe near the southwest mountains.

It was the feeling of Deanna's fingers upon his arm as she gently turned him to face her that shook Verial from his trance. At that moment, everything about Chaliceton's burglary had fled his thoughts and suddenly he was replaced with a vision of Deanna not being there - of Sahar's words coming true. Even as her fingers began unbuttoning his shirt to graze over his chest, instead of enjoying the sensation, Verial imagined her touch not being there and loss and empty feelings that accompanied it. Nevertheless, this heart break was somehow cured when Deanna's fingers traced over the small scar that decorated the flesh right above his heart.

With her free hand, Deanna brushed fingers across his cheek and then against his lips. This simple movement seemed to draw him forward even more and Verial's hands lifted to run across her upper arms. He dipped lower, their forehead and noses touching in response. Verial listened to the sound of Deanna's familiar breath against his own and took in her scent, something Verial was sure she was doing as well. No words were exchanged, but the feeling of need between the two lingered and was always present in the air.

The two stood poised as if they relied on each other for support. Deanna was the first to break the embrace, drawing a reaction from him as her nails slid down across his bare chest. Verial's grip tightened on her arms, his breath turning to an appreciative hiss as her fingers played against the buckle of his leather belt. She made no move to undo this belt though and instead weaved her hand around him to pull him closer and bring her mouth against his own. Their kiss deepened and Verial's hands lowered from her arms to trail down the middle of back and across the curve of her bottom where his grip tightened, bringing her as close as possible. It was all he could do to stop himself from ripping off the clothing she wore and making his way to bolt the door to the room.

Unfortunately, the sound of dinner chimes broke the intimate trance between the two. Deanna managed to inch slightly away too look up at him and in that instant reality and duty flooded back to Verial. There was a hunt to go on and though Verial wanted to ravage Deanna instead of eating dinner or going on a chase, it was not in the cards at the moment.

In response to Deanna's question about him hungry, Verial managed a husky, groan-like sound and he once more pulled her back against him. His head dipped to bite several spots on the flesh of her neck, lifting her an inch or two from the ground with his hands around her. This hunger was fleeting however as Verial would finally let Deanna's feet feel the floor, his grasp slipping reluctantly from her as he took a few steps away and began to button his shirt again.

"As much as I would like to throw you on this Conference Room table and eat you," Verial began a half a smirk upon his face. "I can't."

The disappointment was evident on her face, but Verial answered any questions she might like what was so important that would draw him away from being with her. After buttoning his shirt, Verial looked up at Deanna, his face now serious.

"There's been a theft in Chaliceton. Someone ran off with a bunch of armor, weapons, rations and supplies. I am going out with Sedric on a hunt to find the person who would do such a stupid thing," Verial said. A hand then lifted, brushing across Deanna's jawline. "I wanted to ask if you would come along. I'm not above admitting you're much better at tracking than I am. I think it's that sense of smell you have."

Here Verial paused and offered her a knowing smile, waiting to see how Deanna would answer him.

"As much as I would like to throw you on this Conference Room table and eat you," Verial began a half a smirk upon his face. "I can't."

Now that was an offer she would be damned she would refuse, but the seductive smile she offered drooped rather rapidly into a frown. Was he seriously rejecting her advances? She wasn’t sure if she was pissed or saddened by the fact and gave a half nod, clearly disappointed with his response. There was a few paces of distance between the two as he began buttoning his shirt, and though Deanna had intended to remain silent on the matter, her lips parted as to inquire what was so damn important that they couldn’t grace the table with their writhing naked bodies when finally Verial offered his reasoning.

"There's been a theft in Chaliceton. Someone ran off with a bunch of armor, weapons, rations and supplies. I am going out with Sedric on a hunt to find the person who would do such a stupid thing," Verial said.

Now this did surprise her. She had seen quite a few morons in her day, hell she married one and was kin to a couple, but to steal that vast amount of supplies from Chaliceton? One had to be either an incredible idiot....or Alastair Bluefield. Oh yes, Deanna had heard of the Bluefield’s theft of the City’s treasury, and the ballsiness of his ransom with the King from Sahar. In the end though, he had shocked all by leading the desert healer to the location of the stolen gold and jewels before promptly vanishing from sight. Sahar spoke of this once when they first arrived in Arthuran, and Deanna had noted the sadness in her voice and eyes, for Sahar had been rather fond of the sly Bluefield, even going as far to call him ‘friend’. Quite the odd couple, Deanna had mused, but refrained from voicing her opinion. After all, she was sleeping with the man whose son she had murdered so callously, and therefore was beyond pointing fingers at anyone.

A hand then lifted, brushing across Deanna's jawline. "I wanted to ask if you would come along. I'm not above admitting you're much better at tracking than I am. I think it's that sense of smell you have."

Verial’s hand was warm against her cheek and she lifted her own hand so that she might brush her fingers against the back of his hand. Whatever disappointment Deanna felt earlier vanished almost immediately. Her amber eyes glowed with pleasure and anticipation. To track. To hunt. The very idea was exhilarating, for it had been ages since Deanna could put her skills to use. She was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet with excitement. In her opinion, hunting prey was almost equivalent to mind-blowing sex, something Verial obviously knew according to all knowing smile he bestowed upon her.

Smug bastard. He knew damn well I would jump on the chance.

“Five minutes!” Deanna yanked Verial toward her and planted a quick kiss on his lips before rushing out of his room and racing to hers. In a fury she tore off the stupid dress she wore and kicked off her boots. Humming happily to herself, she rummaged through her wardrobe and began yanking on warm winter gear before shoving her feet once more into her snow boots. Grabbing her coat and gloves, Deanna made a mad dash down the hallway back to Verial’s room and nearly collided into the Lord himself as he was exiting. Her cheeks flushed, a wide grin in place, she clamped down on his arm and practically dragged Verial down the stairs, while ordering him to fill her in on any details he knew.

No time was wasted as they first headed toward the armory. Vast amounts of weapons were stolen, as well as food from their larder, but Deanna was most distressed to hear about the theft regarding the horses. She had a sinking feeling that chestnut mare she had come to treasure was one of the four horses taken. Deanna pushed this thought aside to concentrate on finding any clues to the thieves as the doors to the armory were pulled open by two sentries on duty who immediately snapped to attention for their lord. These two were not the novices who were apparently responsible for robberies due to their lack of common sense, but still had no wish to join those who would be receiving a severe reprimand (and most likely physical punishment) from the Captain.

Deanna requested the torches to remain outside, and hovering in the doorway the sentries held them for the Lady Amelia to give her some sense of visibility. It was not necessary. Deanna’s night vision was almost as perfect as Verial’s, but the Lord kept up pretenses for the unsuspecting guards who either weren’t intelligent enough to figure out her pedigree, or simply wish to remain in their blissful state of ignorance.

The scent of boiled leather and metal hit her almost immediately which was a given. They were comforting smells that Deanna had grown accustomed to many years ago, and as a result, had become her favorite perfumes.

Delicate nostrils flared as she inhaled deeply...and almost gagged. Underlying scents of alcohol (in particular whiskey), smoke from either torches or cigars (Deanna could not discern between the two which upset her), and traces of vomit and urine filled her nostrils. In the past these varying scents would have been unpleasant but wouldn’t have forced bile to rise in the back of her throat and her stomach to heave as was happening now. Taking deep breaths through her mouth only, Deanna cursed mentally, knowing the cause for such failure of her senses. She placed a hand on a crate to steady herself and felt tears prick at her eyes. What should have been a simple job of picking up the trail or trails of those responsible for the theft eluded her and nearly brought about illness to Deanna. Closing her eyes, she felt small tears snaked down her cheeks and miserably swiped a gloved hand to brush them away.

She would be of no use to Verial.

This very fact was heartbreaking to Deanna who had looked so forward to resuming a ‘normal’ life for however brief that moment would be. Now she could barely tolerate the odors without spewing whatever contents in her stomach in the armory. Clearing her throat, she turned and briskly walked out of the armory and in a thick voice uttered, “There is nothing to aid us here.” She did not waste time trying to decipher whatever looks Verial aimed in her direction as she gulped in several cleansing frosty breaths of the rapidly freezing night air. The cold seemed to help clear her head and settle her stomach, washing away whatever traces of foulness that remained in her nasal cavities and settled in her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” she spoke to Verial without looking at him, ashamed at her own failures and enraged at the child in her womb that brought about this weakness. “At best I can tell you there were men here. How many, I do not know. They left nothing behind.” Whether this was true or not, Deanna could not say. She hadn’t stuck around long enough to perform a thorough sweep of the area, a fact that would not go unnoticed by Verial most likely.

Deanna shivered and kicked at the snow with her booted foot, whatever hope she had in recovering the lost goods and animals were now dashed. Even though she did not commit the crimes herself, she still felt responsibility of being unable to help. Verial believed her to be an excellent tracker with superior senses. Perhaps once, but no longer. Not now, maybe not ever again. The morose thought brought about fresh waves of pain in her heart and she clenched her fists in silent fury. Deanna waited a beat or two before she was able to present a calm visage and was sure she could speak in a steady voice.

“Perhaps,” she began slowly, finally turning to meet Verial’s gaze. “We should try the stables. Maybe there is some clue that was overlooked there.” She shrugged her shoulders helplessly. The only help they had was that Sedric was sure whoever was responsible for the thefts headed southeast, but the rapidly falling snow had covered any tracks long ago, so that was of no use. “Or perhaps the harbor.” Deanna offered, figuring that the best route of escape would be by ship.

Only a madman would attempt to flee via the swamps. The Shadow Marshes were known for their dark waters littered with the dead and foul creatures that lurked within, ready to strike those who had the misfortune of travelling through such perilous lands. The Marshes brought nothing but death to those who entered. Deanna knew this better than anyone. A passing moment of guilt flooded her and she bit down on her lip until she tasted blood. The pain helped somewhat and Deanna lifted her head toward the star-filled sky as she awaited Verial’s orders.

Initially, Deanna's excitement over the possibility of going for a hunt - to track down the bandits that had stolen Chaliceton's supplies - was evident in the glow in her amber colored eyes. Verial knew this look and he knew how Deanna felt. The mere idea of going out and hunting was thrilling for her. It was a cure to that rather animalistic side of Deanna that was buried within her; it was the same feeling Verial got at the thought of flying as a dragon. So, it was no surprise to Verial when Deanna bounded off in a flurry placing a quick kiss on his lips with a smile on her face as she raced up the stairs to her room.

Verial went to his room to gather some things, stuffing supplies them into a bag. Warmer clothes and an additional change of clothing were collected as he was not sure how long they would be from Chaliceton. Provisions such as food were left up to Sedric to gather and make sure they had enough for four people. Verial pulled on a pair of gloves and a coat, grabbing his sword and two daggers as he left his room. Once outside in the hallway, he came face to face with Deanna who latched onto his arm and nearly drug him down the stairs demanding details of the crime that had been committed in Chaliceton.

Together the two made their way from Northsea Manor to the armory where Deanna could start her tracking and pick up on some sort of foreign, malicious scent. At the sight of Verial and Deanna heading towards the armory, the guards on station became alert and offered a sentry-like salute. Instead of Verial entering the armory, he let Deanna go on her own inside, not wanting to get in the way of her picking up any clues. The guards at the door both looked inquisitive, wondering what on earth the "Lady Amelia" was doing investigating the armory. However, the men did not pry or question their Lord of Arthuran's motives. Either they did not care or they had some knowledge that the Lady who walked by Verial's side was not as simple as she seemed.

He waited outside the armory occasionally able to make out the outline of Deanna's figure as she hovered about the armory trying to pick up on clues. By a combination of the torchlight and his vision, he was usually able to keep her in sight. Verial's brow narrowed for just a moment while Deanna was inside the armory. Something had made her gag and nearly fall over, the sudden and obtrusive scent causing such a reaction in her that she had to steady herself by placing a hand on a nearby crate. Verial wasn't sure if Deanna was aware he was watching, but he had caught her sickened movements and her quickly weakened state. This struck Verial as odd; even though Deanna's sense of smell was powerful, normally she should have been accustomed to outside scents, however unpleasing they might have been. She was stronger than that.

Verial might have interfered and went to Deanna, only she had exited the armory first. Upon leaving the armory, there was a look of pure heartbreak on Deanna's face. He opened his mouth to say something - to let her know that if she was sick that she should not come along - and then quickly shut it. The details of the last few days collected together and some realization of thought awakened inside Verial. Suddenly, he knew.

Deanna was pregnant.

And she was not telling him.

If there was any look on Verial's face that Deanna missed while she passed him and breathed in the frigid air of Arthuran, it was one of mixed confusion and frustration. This explained Deanna's frequent illness and the sensitivity with her sense of smell. It seemed as if a million questions raced through Verial's head in a matter of seconds. Namely... was the child his? There was a small chance perhaps it was Quinn Redmont's, but considering Deanna's size and the timing, Verial sincerely doubted it was. Verial couldn't imagine then that it would have been anyone else besides his child (he knew damn well that Deanna did not sleep around) and possibly one he conceived on the night he fell victim to Sharay. His mouth fell into a hard line and guilt along with anger suddenly flooded him in a vicious wave. Likely, this is why Deanna had not said a word to him and was trying to keep the child in her womb a secret.

A secret until when...?

No wonder Sharay had made sure his wings were burned from him. A sacrifice so she could have some security here on Aleris - so she could have another warm body to return to if need be. He had foolishly fallen to Sharay's whims, easily maneuvered by her conniving and tempting ways. Truthfully, Verial had no one to blame except himself and now the mistakes he had made were growing inside of Deanna. She was carrying the error of his ways. No wonder Deanna had felt some sort of contempt for him and now he felt that same contempt for himself even more.

Still, that did not stop Verial from wanting to shout at Deanna and force a confession from of her. It did not stop him from feeling anger and hurt when she could not confide in him - almost as if she could not find it in herself to trust him. No matter what emotions were brewing inside of him, threatening to spill over in fury, Verial kept silent and didn't say anything. He did not pry, as he never did, and allowed Deanna to keep her bitter and resentful, little secret.

Her voice issuing an apology brought Verial back to reality and the moment before them. After letting free a frosted cloud of breath, Verial managed to speak, concealing any anger that would have threatened to turn his voice from calm to shaking. Instantly, his hands went to the pockets of his coat burrowing away, a small thing he usually did when trying to control any rage inside of him. A nod of his head was given to Deanna.

"It's fine," Verial said. "Let's go. We're wasting time here then."

Verial heeded her suggestion to go to the stables and turned in that direction. It was ultimately where they needed to meet with Sedric anyway who was likely awaiting their arrival. The short trip to the stable was accompanied by a thick and very strained silence between the two of them. No words were said and the excitement that was there at the beginning - at the initial thought of going on a hunt - was now lost like the footsteps of the bandits that had been covered by the snow. By the time they had gotten to the stables, Sedric was indeed there and thankfully the horses Deanna and Verial usually rode were saddled and had not been stolen.

"Ah, so Lady Amelia will be joining us?" Sedric said with a hint of a smile. Verial resisted the urge to glare at Sedric and looked over to the Chaliceton soldier who Sedric had brought along with him. "This is Francis Vanelo, a watch tower guard here in Chaliceton. The good news is... he said he saw some smoke spiraling up in the sky southeast of Chaliceton. There's a small forest in that direction and if we're lucky, the criminals who've stolen from Chaliceton are camping there."

"That's right, Lord Verial," Francis said with a nod in the affirmative. "The smoke didn't show in the sky until recently, so if we hurry I believe we can catch up."

"Good work," Verial said. "Let's not linger here any longer then. We found nothing in the armory, so unfortunately this is the only clue we can go by right now anyway."

With that, Verial lifted onto his horse and cast a glance to Deanna as she did the same. As much as he would have liked to discuss the probably obvious tension between the two of them, there was no time and it was not the right place to talk about such things like unwanted children. Instead, Verial tried to focus on the task that lie ahead and only hoped that Deanna would find some courage inside of herself to speak with him about what was going on. After all, how long did she possibly hope to hide the fact that was carrying a child... his child?

Little did he know, it would be as long as Deanna could hold onto that small sliver of hope that she had remaining.

Deanna was unusually quiet and reserved as the small group rode out onto the frozen wasteland directed by the plumes of smoke that rose effortlessly into the evening sky. For a brief time they were given relief from the endless flow of snow that fell from thick grey storm clouds. Stars temporarily came into view and dotted the deep hued indigo heavens, but despite the calm weather, the temperatures continued to drop to freezing as night was falling.

The warm clothing Deanna had donned did little to ease the chill inside that had absolutely nothing to do with the arctic elements. Even as Verial rode along side of Sedric but twenty paces in front of her, it seemed miles of distance separated them, and Deanna knew why. She need not have been a soothsayer to deduct that Verial was not as obtuse as she previously thought him to be concerning her current condition. Verial knew and his ire, though not verbally admitted, wasn’t difficult to discern. She could feel his fury radiate toward her, fury and deep sense of sadness and disappointment.

And this, dearest Sahar, is why I never wanted for him to know. Deanna reflected bitterly.

Captain Sedric and the guard Francis Vanelo were oblivious to the waves of tension that flowed between the two, seemingly focused solely on rectifying the issue of thievery. It was more than recovering the stolen goods...their honor was at stake, something Deanna could completely understand.

When they finally reached the treeline all four dismounted and tethered their horses to the tall spindly pines that flourished in this wintery continent. Perhaps a quarter of a mile away was the campsite, for they could see not one but several fires burning brightly. From here on they would go on foot, Verial and Deanna leading the way through the forest. It was upon the Lord’s insistence that Sedric and Francis follow the two close behind. Verial did not offer explanation regarding enhanced vision compared to the two humans, but his order was followed nonetheless.

Deanna kept what she deemed a safe enough distance from him, but it wasn’t necessary. Verial barely glanced at her, and even in the dimming light, Deanna could see the hard set of his jaw, the grim line of his lips pressed together and she knew his body language had little to do with the upcoming confrontation. A clearing was noted ahead and one had to descend down a slight slope to approach. It was here that the campsite was located in this isolated area of permafrost surrounded by tree groves. Verial held up a hand to halt their movement and the four pressed firmly against the pines, as they surveyed the campsite and its inhabitants.

A frown formed on Deanna’s lips as her gaze swept over the clearing. There were five bodies present and from what she could discern, they were asleep, littered amongst several bonfires. Nothing of this situation seemed right and as Deanna glanced toward Verial and noted his narrowed brows, the intent look in his eyes, she knew her hunch was correct. Perhaps it was a trick into luring the group into a false sense of security only to spring into attack, but somehow Deanna did not believe this to be the case. The thieves lay far too still against the hard packed ice and snow and without proper covering against the frozen earth. Amazingly enough, she could see the two stolen horses with leather cords on their bridles attached to stakes in the ground, apparently unharmed. A small cache of goods were loaded up on carts near the edge of the clearing, though far too small to contain every single item stolen.

Weapons were slowly and quietly drawn and they began their descent. Without prior instruction, they paired off, Sedric joining Verial to the right, while Deanna and Francis took positions to the left. While Francis had his pistol drawn, Deanna herself bore no weapon and the guard shot her an incredulous look that she came unprepared. He kept one eye on the campsite as he withdrew a dirk from his weapons belt and passed it to Deanna, gesturing for her to use it if need be. She shrugged and slipped it inside one of her thickly lined boots, figuring it couldn’t hurt, but for now Deanna continued to remain unarmed, much to the shock and dismay of Francis.

The silence loomed as they encircled the campsite, waiting for signs of life, but as they moved in closer and closer to examine, they discovered that each one of the thieves were dead. Dark blood, congealed from the cold, splattered and soaked the frosty earth near each wide eyed corpse, their mouths opened in frozen screams. Deanna crouched down next to the nearest body and regarded the death wounds made. Axe perhaps. Some cleaving weapon was for certain. This particular victim had been split nearly in two from shoulder to hip. As she lifted her gaze, she realized that there was only one true campfire, that the others were merely tents and bedrolls that had been set ablaze. Considering the freshness of the deaths, Deanna could only assume that those responsible for the carnage were still nearby, maybe hiding amongst the trees.

Francis was nearby, muttering in disgust to himself as he stepped over a body, and as Deanna stood and looked across the site, she watched as Verial and Sedric examined each corpse and the manner in which they had died. Sedric had seen enough and wandered over to where the small stockpile of Chaliceton goods were, trying to assess what remained. Five men went through a great deal of trouble to steal from Chaliceton’s armory, food storage and stables, and now they were dead with only partial supplies remaining. The questions of why and who was responsible remained unanswered for now.

Deanna’s amber orbs fastened upon Verial as the drow hybrid Lord turned his attention off into the forest of pines, studying the treeline. He believes we are being watched, she thought as she followed his line of sight into the darkness. Deanna remained very still as she focused on whoever was hiding, waiting for them. Francis approached her then, wondering why they were still standing around and not gathering what was left of the supplies when Deanna silenced him abruptly. She tilted her head, a look of concentration on her face as she listened for the faint, but familiar sound that caught her attention.

She had finally deciphered what it was when she saw Verial, whose ears were far keener than hers, break out into a run toward her as he shouted something at Sedric, and Deanna immediately sprang into action. “Get down!” She hissed to a confused Francis before grabbing the guards arm and spinning him out of the line of fire. As Deanna pivoted on her heel and flung the poor man to the ground, the bolt from the crossbow she heard mounted earlier, whizzed by her head and Deanna instinctively dropped to the ice hardened ground as a secondary bolt followed.

Deanna rolled to her knees and instructed Francis who was prepared to fire a responding shot with his gun, to follow her behind a medium sized rock formation as temporary shelter and it was then that men began pouring out of the forest.

From what Deanna could quickly count there was a dozen of them, large masculine forms covered head to toe with animal pelts, their faces obscured by thick fur hooding. The weapons they carried were of no doubt stolen from the armory, but these savages obviously knew how to use them properly. Deanna had zero opportunity to see if Verial and Sedric were alright when Francis rose from his spot to fire his few mounds. He managed to hit one of the men in the leg, but that did not stop his friend from charging the duo.

Deanna reached inside her boot for the dirk Francis had given her and with a dexterity and speed possessed only by enhanced genetic makeup, Deanna flung the dirk at her attacker, the bladed weapon imbedding itself in his unprotected throat. Deanna left Francis to finish reloading and made her way swiftly to the fallen man who was clutching at her weapon, blood pooling out of his mouth as he made one final gurgling sound and died. She yanked the dirk free and was about to turn toward Francis when she felt a hand clamp down upon her thick rope braid and toss her in the air only to have her land hard against snow packed earth near the campfire.

The impact drew a sharp cry from her bleeding lips as she had landed face down upon the ground. Pain shot down one side of her body as she attempted to get to her knees, and through her blurred vision, saw that Verial and Sedric had their hands full with their own attackers. Her head throbbed fiercely and she brought her hand to her forehead only to have it come away with blood. Disoriented, she fought through the hurt to get to her feet, but was forced onto her back by her assailant. As she groaned, she could hear Francis off somewhere close by shouting, and his pistol discharging.

He was a giant, weighing at least three times Deanna’s weight and at least a good two feet taller than her. Deanna was strong and exhibited incredible stamina, but this ogre of a man pinned her down as if she was nothing more than a child’s doll. His breath was foul, most likely due to his rotted teeth, but that didn’t stop him from grinning as she struggled to free herself from his grasp. It was an effort to do so, as sharp pains lanced through her with the slightest of movements. Her actions became frantic when she caught a certain look in this beast’s eye that filled her instant dread. Oh he would kill her without doubt, but first...

Deanna screamed and cursed him as she felt his meaty hand tear at her coat, dirty fingernails clawing at the woolen tunic she wore underneath and Deanna vowed she’d rather have him crush her skull before he violated her in any way. The dirk was of no use to her as she lost it at some point during her flight. Craning her neck, Deanna saw her only opportunity for escape and seized it. At some point, she thought she heard her name being called but had to focus on her plan of attack.

As the burly man was busying himself fiddling with her clothing, Deanna managed to free her right arm and thrust it out toward the fire, her gloved hand groped blindly until she felt the searing heat from flames lick at the leather that was her only protection against the fire. Another scream tore at her throat as the sleeve of her coat caught fire, but her hand clamped firmly down against a log and she drew it out of the flames to swing it at the man’s head. He roared as the burning wood caught him full on in the face, and Deanna turned her head quickly aside as embers rained down on her. She felt his crushing weight leave her and did not hesitate to crawl away as far as she could before shrugging out of her coat which had begun to smoke and burn.

Her injured hand was a throbbing nightmare, the leather having seared and charred away leaving her hand blistered and reddened, but though it burned and ached, Deanna was relieved to see it was only the upper dermis that had been exposed long enough to the flames. She would heal, her sword arm would be of use to her again. Deanna sat up and scrambled to her feet when she heard the first shot ring out, then another. Wiping at her eyes, she saw it was Francis standing ten feet away, blood running in a slow steady pace down his face and neck from his newly mangled ear, staring at her now dead attacker. Francis turned his head slowly to face Deanna, and wearily nodded. “Got the bastard good, my Lady. Right between the eyes,” he grinned lopsidedly before limping toward Deanna and she noted this his breeches were stained a dark crimson above his thigh. Francis finished reloading when Deanna snatched the weapon out of his hand and sighted it just above Francis’ shoulder, firing until the ammunition was depleted.

Francis turned, his eyes impossibly wide to peer at the one he had shot earlier in the leg who had dropped to the ground not twenty feet behind him. Francis realized now he had not killed him as previously thought. Deanna rectified his miscalculation and nodded as she handed the watch tower guard his weapon back, a tired smile offered to him. “Got the bastard good, Francis. Right between the legs.” This drew a shudder from Francis as he gawked at the dead man.

From her quick count, Deanna figured that between she and Francis, they had disposed of six. She then turned to look for Verial and Sedric. She saw the Captain running one of the men through with his sword before he lifted his gaze in Deanna’s direction. It appeared he finished off the last of their enemies, and ran across the campsite toward them, sweat pouring from his brow. Apart from some minor bruising and exhaustion, Sedric seemed fine.

“Where is he, Captain?”

Sedric followed Deanna’s gaze, his brow furrowed. “I lost track of Lord Verial early on, my Lady. I’ll find him. Don’t worry.” The Captain regarded Francis sternly. “Take the horses and bring her back to the Villa. See that Lady Sahar... my Lady, where are you going?” Sedric hurried to catch up to Deanna, with Francis hot on his heels.

“My Lady, I must insist you return home with Francis. Your injuries-,”

“Are unimportant, Sedric,” Deanna snapped at the Captain as she stepped over one of the fallen. “Your lord is out there somewhere. We need to find him. Now.”

Sedric grasped Deanna by her injured arm, drawing a sharp cry from the woman which he immediately apologized for. “Deanna,” he said in a low pleading voice. “I beg you, hear me. If something happens to you because of my negligence...”

“Please, Sedric. Please,” That was all the Captain need to hear, the anguish in her voice and amber eyes enough for him to relent and nod, and together the trio scoured the area and called out Verial’s name with hopes to hear some sort of response from the missing Lord of Arthuran.

Though the journey to the smoke southeast of Chaliceton took a little less than two hours, the entire trip was filled with a strained silence, broken occasionally by the sound of the horses gently neighing. Verial wanted his thoughts focused on the task ahead. Chaliceton needed its supplies returned to them especially with winter settling in. The criminals that even thought to do such a thing had to be apprehended not only to ensure that Arthuran's capital city was safe from future threats but because Chaliceton's honor was at stake. After all, Chaliceton had built a reputation on having good soldiers and trustworthy men, not drunks and fools.

Despite all of this and though Deanna was but twenty paces behind him, Verial's mind was consumed by the facts he had revealed to himself only a few hours before. He did not blame Deanna for his lack of concentration; as Lord of Arthuran he certainly had to learn how to brush things like this to the side. However, these secrets between them - these little hidden truths - only further increased the anger and disappointment he had for himself. Verial would have liked to help Deanna carry the burden, but she would not allow him and would not say a thing about it. So by himself, much like her, the knowledge of something forbidden weighed heavily on their shoulders. This pregnancy should not have happened for so many reasons (some Verial did not know about), but it did.

Verial's thoughts were finally shaken from him when they reached a line of trees where the quartet from Chaliceton dismounted from their horses, tethering the animals to nearby branches. The forest was moderately sparse here, so the smell of smoke coming from the campfire was more prevalent. Verial stepped first through the trees, motioning for Sedric and Francis to follow behind hoping Deanna kept in tow. Even though the darkness of night consumed the forest and slow flurries of snow drifted from the sky, Verial was able to see a bit better than the two human men behind him and so he led the way.

Besides the footfall of the people behind him, it became obvious to Verial that they were not alone. There were others lurking out in the forest and Verial imagined it was only a matter of time before the vandals sprung forth from the trees to attack. Verial's jaw set as they came to a clearing in the trees. Just ahead of them was the source of the smoke - a campfire - and it was here that Verial flicked a hand back and waved for the others to press closely against the pine trees that dotted the perimeter of the clearing.

With a quick count, Verial took in five bodies lying around a campfire. Deanna would not be alone in her thoughts that this situation was not quite right; there was something more to this setting. The bodies were still and for a group that had just stolen a large portion of Chaliceton's supplies, there was not a soul on watch. This would have been a foolish move indeed. In addition, their faces were pressed against the cold, wetness of the snow and there was no way any conscious person would be caught sleeping against Arthuran's bitter elements in such a manner. Verial noticed not far off two horses from Chaliceton were tied to trees, seemingly unharmed, and carts were about half loaded with the stolen goods. Things were missing, but this was the least of Verial's concerns as he made a step to progress further into the clearing.

By his lead, the group paired off to the left and right, Sedric following Verial and Francis going with Deanna. Out of the corner of his eye, Verial saw Francis pass an unarmed Deanna a dirk. Looming closer to the fire, the group began to make out that the people lying about the fire were indeed dead. Upon closer inspection, they had clearly been slain by cleaving weapons like axes, some of the people nearly split into two. The blood had not yet been frozen, which meant that the kills were fresh. Likely the sight of smoke in the sky had drawn others before Verial and his company.

As Sedric went off to check on the condition of Chaliceton's supplies not far from where Verial was, Verial moved to the tree line where he thought he heard some footsteps moments ago. He took a glance over his shoulder at Deanna who was close by Francis and examining one of the dead bodies. Should trouble arise, Verial hoped that Francis' skill in fighting and protecting others was as good as his keen eye sight while in Chaliceton's watchtower. After all, it was not only Deanna's life at risk now - something which he valued - but the child inside of her that she carried.

Verial's odd colored gaze reluctantly turned from the pair of Francis and Deanna to focus on the darkness that enveloped the pines. The movement in the forest grew louder, rushed footfall approaching the campsite. Verial made out shapes, hulking barbarian-like men covered in animal furs and armed with newly sharpened blades from Chaliceton's armory. Arrows from crossbows whizzed from the trees, hoping to make their targets in fresh bodies. Verial turned on his feet to avoid these arrows, pressing his back against one of the pine trees so he was momentarily out of sight to the parade of savage men that began to trample through the forest. For a very brief few seconds, Verial saw that Deanna and the others were lying against the ground in wait as their enemies spilled from the forest, readying to counter attack.

Then he lost sight of them.

Taking action, Verial spun around from the sanctuary of his tree, sword now armed. With the hilt of the blade, Verial bashed the man with the cross bow in the face. This completely caught the man off guard who dropped his ranged weapon in response and searched in a frantic daze for the person who had hit him. Blood poured from an open wound on the man's forehead that obscured his vision leaving him to shout out for assistance. This ultimately drew the attention of about three others. Verial ducked and dodged out of the way to avoid axes and two-handed swords, but their advancement pushed him further into the forest and away from Sedric who had his own hands full.

Verial had no choice but to fall back into the line of trees. The man he had previously stunned was still stumbling on his feet after Verial. Considering this titan's large girth, he had not fallen yet. All of these men, likely from some sort of tribe, were at least six to seven feet in height and layered in thick muscle. Though Verial was a bit over six feet, their sheer body size alone was enough to give him some trouble. His one advantage was that he was more athletic in build and so the trees were more helpful to Verial rather than a hindrance. Weaving between the pines and moving out of the vision of the four men in the forest, with a running head start Verial had just enough time to advance on the man who was previously armed with the cross bow to slit his throat open.

As this man fell, Verial quickly grabbed a dagger from the man's belt, yanking it free with a tug and threw the blade with accuracy in the eye of one of the other men, landing a fatal blow. The barbarian let out a wounded yell as he crashed to the ground to utter his last breath. Quickly Verial thanked all those years he spent as a child training to properly throw daggers and actually hit his targets. Unfortunately, the other two tribal savages that had followed him into the forest were not as easy to dispatch.

Before Verial could even spot the other two, he felt the wind knocked out of him. A large fist pummeled into his stomach and as Verial faltered on his feet, it was all he could do not to drop his sword in response. A few seconds was all Verial was granted to catch his breath as the man swung his axe with the intention of cutting Verial's head from his neck. Allowing his sensitive hearing to get his timing right, Verial ducked out of the way with less than an inch of space and the man's axe became lodged in a pine tree due to the ferocity of the swing. As the man fought to yank his double-sided axe free from the tree and growled in obvious agitation, Verial dipped low, rolling forward with sword in his hand to get out of the way and put some space in-between him and the lumbering beast.

The man eventually ripped his axe from the tree with such force that the tree split in two, the top half of the tree headed in a slow descent downwards towards the earth. As the barbarian was wielding his axe in triumph and turning to find his victim, Verial had gotten to his feet and gave the man a hard, swift kick to his back knocking him into the path of the falling tree. The trunk pinned the kicking and thrashing man down to the ground and Verial was left to impale his sword in the man's chest. After a sharp turn of Verial's sword, blood flowed from the man's mouth and he began to choke, his last breaths a mixture of a wet gurgling sound.

Verial knew there was at least one more in the forest and using his hearing, Verial sought the final man out. It did not take long to find the remaining warrior who was brandishing a two-handed claymore and charging towards Verial. The two met and were engaged in battle, blades clashing together. Again, Verial used the trees to his advantage and being that his enemy was wielding a giant sword, staying out of reach and evading the man was quite easy. That was until he heard a familiar scream pierce the night air.

Deanna.

He froze and despite his worry for Deanna, he regretted letting his guard slip. Verial knew his foe had a sword, but he did not expect to get shot in his sword arm by a bullet. Apparently the man had a pistol in addition to his claymore. Verial fell back from the sudden impact and dropped his sword. As he tried to regain his composure and attempted to reach for his sword with a now wounded grip, a shadow loomed over him. Suddenly the man's large fist lowered, punching Verial across the face and opened a gash on his forehead. Verial thought he also heard the sound of his jaw cracking, but that was the least of his worries as two hands wrapped around his throat. The man had every intention of strangling Verial beneath his weight instead of using that claymore, which seemed at the time to be working well.

There was no way Verial's sword was an option and even the futile attempt he made to kick the man off of him was of no use. Verial choked and lost his breath as the barbarian man happily throttled him to death. It was then that obsidian colored scales began to surface over Verial's arms, beneath the covering of his clothing, something Verial's assailant could obviously not see. Verial's hands began to transform shaping into lethal dragon-like talons that wrapped about the man's forearms. However, it was a bit too late before the man realized his leather armor and flesh was being ripped and that he was in pain. He didn't have time to react to Verial grasping onto his head and twisting it roughly to break it. There was a sickening cracking sound, the man went limp, and his grip slipped from Verial's throat as Verial pushed him to the side.

As the scales and dragon claws disappeared from Verial, returning him to a more "human-like" form, Verial slowly sat up, groaning from the throbbing pain in his forehead and his arm. By now, Verial had realized that it had grown quiet which meant either two things: one being that Deanna, Sedric and Francis had been killed or two, that the tribal barbarians had been killed. Using a tree to steady himself, Verial pushed onto his feet, cursing quietly into the frigid night air and took his sword with his other hand, hoping he would not have to use it. Only the sight of the clearing would give him answers and so Verial began to wander out of the forest.

He had sworn it was silent earlier, but as Verial neared the forest clearing, that was not the case. His name was being called out by voices he recognized and Verial did not imagine how he never heard Deanna, Sedric and Francis yelling for him before. They were safe. Breathing a sigh of relief, Verial placed a foot out into the clearing and came into the path of Deanna who was searching for him. Verial saw the stunned and relieved look in Deanna's amber colored eyes as she stopped suddenly in her tracks.

Blood was soaking the clothing that covered Verial's upper arm, one side of his forehead was covered in crimson and where he was previously being strangled, fresh purple colored bruises were already starting to surface. Deanna, as Verial glanced at her from head to toe, had suffered just as much damage. Her clothing was ripped in places which Verial assumed was the work of one barbarian trying to take quick advantage of her. To this, his mouth set in a hard line and for a brief few seconds, he wished there were still some of those men left to slay. The side of her face, in particular her forehead and lips, were caked in blood. Not to mention, one of her hands and part of her arm had somehow been badly burned. Verial did not ask what had happened, but instead pulled her towards him with one arm and embraced her regardless of what pain either of them might have been. However short it was, Verial finally spoke over Deanna's shoulder.

"I'm here," he said. Though his voice was strangled, he did catch the attention of Sedric and Francis who came rushing over to meet them.

As the two men neared, Verial released Deanna from his grip. Though the threat was over, Verial kept her closer by his side this time. There was nothing that could cure the hidden tension between the two except perhaps Deanna eventually telling Verial she was pregnant. Nevertheless, there was not a thing Verial could fathom that could shake Verial's love and devotion towards Deanna, no matter how angry he might have been. Deanna being alive and safe was important to Verial and even though he knew she was a skilled fighter and could take care of herself, she was also very much with child and more vulnerable than usual. Her off-balance sense of smell and quickly sickened state was testament to this. Thinking of it now, Verial wasn't sure how she wasn't hurling over the scent of blood and smoke.

"You're okay," Verial said his words neither a question nor a statement. A thumb gently traced across Deanna's chin and then Verial's hand dropped once Sedric and Francis fell in line next to them. Verial nodded to Sedric, the mere movement sending a small jolt of pain across Verial's jaw. "Who were these men?"

"The Qi'zale Tribe," Sedric said nodding. "They are raiders in the land of Arthuran. We usually do not see them much until winter where they try to pick off unsuspecting travelers and steal their goods. Looks like the criminals who intended to make off with Chaliceton's goods were killed by them."

"And the men around the campfire who died?" Verial asked.

Here Sedric's brow furrowed, his lips turning downwards. "Some of Chaliceton's own folks. They were men who were recently removed from the guard due to irresponsible behavior and laziness while on watch. Looks like they planned some sort of revenge. Regardless of their actions, we should take the dead bodies back with us to their families."

"I agree," Verial said. "Let's gather the remaining supplies on the carts and head back."

"Not so fast," Sedric said. "You're wounded by gunshot and Lady Amelia is burned badly. If Francis and I make it back with you two passed out and slung over our horses, Lady Sahar will likely send us out in the cold with fresh bruises." Sedric paused and Verial could not help but smile a little knowing all too well it was true. "I think at least a very small healing session is in order and should make the difference. Come with me - all three of you."