Innocence and Corruption

Thunder shook the rock walls of Westerfell castle as Sabrina sat straight up in her bed, her blue eyes a darker shade than usual matching the deep shadows. Seconds later, she heard voices approaching her large intricately carved ebony bedroom door.

The male voice was not familiar but the hushed urgent response was her handmaiden. "It isn't propper for you to enter these chambers without letting me dress the princess first." She struggled to sit up, the pure silk of her night gown sliding slippery between her and the woven bed linens.

The night's silence carried unfamiliar sounds of metal against metal, through the distance. It replaced the insects and night creatures that usually serenaded her to sleep.

She shook her head, the ends of her dark brown wavy hair brushed against her shoulders. She tried to make sense of her surroundings but the fog of her nightmares still clung to her conscience. It filled her with a dreadful urgency to get to her father. He would listen and soothe her, as he had before.

The gruff voice replied, "then get her dressed immediately for riding. It will be a long night. And King Halbert said we must move immediately."

Sabrina felt her heart racing, as she wondered why her father would wake her before sunrise. He usually ensured she slept well so she could properly attend to her duties throughout the castle.

The door swung open for a brief moment, the room beyond unnaturally bright. Sabrina thought she saw a light magician's magic out there.

The handmaid whispered, "Princess, princess." When Sabrina did not answer right away, her handmaiden took a couple steps closer to the bed. "My eyes won't adjust well after that bright ball of light." Sabrina could tell she was worried about tripping over an unseen object, despite the fact that she kept it spotless.

"Tracena?" Sabrina whispered, not wanting the girl to struggle unnecessarily. "What's going on?" Her voice cracked slightly, the cobwebs of sleep affected her throat as well, apparently.

"The King sent men here to take you to his hunting cabin. You need to get dressed. Apparently it is some emergency!" Tracena had made it to her clothing cabinet. The mahogany wood creaked softly, as the large doors opened.

Sabrina pushed herself out of her feather bed before allowing her bare feet to land on the cold wooden flooring at her bedside. The handmaiden knew her cabinet well, having dressed her since before either could remember.

Tracena was only a couple years older than Sabrina and had been given to her father, when a nearby farm could not pay what they owed the King. It was a simple exchange of labor for debt.

It had taken a couple months before they had come to an agreement, Sabrina being a brat, and proud of it, and Tracena prefered life with her own family. But neither had a choice. The King had tasked Tracena with caring for Sabrina and there were dire consequences to pay if they had not figured it out.

The wisp of a girl had grown into a full bodied woman. Sabrina had seen eyes on Tracena from would be suitors. But she knew the handmaiden's heart belonged to one man. Sabrina's favorite feature was Tracena's soft brown eyes. She kept her straight black hair chin length and loose.

As the years had passed, Sabrina came to think of her handmaiden as a big sister, always reminding her of why she should not do what she planned or covering for Sabrina when those plans went awry. They had their fights and disagreements but it was always settled between the two of them. Then, there was all the fun they had had together.

She allowed Tracena to remove her nightgown, her own skin glowing softly pearlescent in the moonlight. She glanced up in the mirror, meeting her own blue eyes. Her soft brown hair pulled behind her in a braid now messy from sleep. There was no time to fix that, she thought to herself.

Her face was feminine with soft curves around the edges. She had heard people whispering in the castle where they thought she could not hear. They would say how jealous they were of her creamy skin. One woman in the kitchen had even compared her to a swan. It had made Sabrina laugh at the time.

She was dressed in her riding gown and being pushed towards the door before she knew it. Tracena had become adept at her job, Sabrina admired quietly. "Get dressed. You're coming with us." Sabrina whispered to Tracena, even as the maiden pushed the princess through the door.

In the other room, a light magician was followed around by the signature glowing orb of his kind. He smiled and bowed deeply. The two knights behind him had been chatting quietly when she entered but quickly quieted to follow the same protocol.

Sabrina was unimpressed as she waved a hand at them. "Hello! What is going on?" She stood proudly with practiced poise, as the men looked up at her from beneath their bows. Sabrina huffed and used her right hand to indicate the usually required chivalry. "Come now. I hear there is an emergency. We can save all this." .

The three stood quickly. "We are to take you to the hunting cabin, your highness." The light magician answered. He clearly thought he was in charge. It was not unusual for the magical to automatically be given rank. But Sabrina was not impressed, she allowed it to show on her face. He paused, a wrinkle furrowing between his brows. "It is of dire importance."

The sound of metal on metal finally registered in her mind as it now carried through her room and the opened door. A scream rang through the night, and the light magician looked at her impatiently. "Please princess." He pleaded.

"Tracena!" She called before her handmaiden came quickly out of the bedroom, completely dressed and carrying Sabrina's plain gray cloak. "There is a chill in the night." Tracena explained.

Sabrina nodded. "Let's go. But you shall tell me what is happening outside the castle walls before we get to the stables." She figured they would take the castle halls until they reached the door that led directly to the stables. The magician turned with the knights, sabrina and tracena on his heels.

Sabrina -

As they walked the magician gave a very brief report of spies on the walls around the city. The barbarians had come from the north. Since before she could remember, the cities to the south of Greymoore woods had been safe from invaders.

None risked travel through the forest that separated this half of the continent with the northern half. When someone traveled too deeply into the forest from her city, they would return with wild tales of never before heard of magics and nightmarish creatures that surely could not be real.

But the rumors still found their way to them- The bruising brutality of the people locked in war north of the forest. Rumor was the land was filled with all kinds of horrifying creatures and was led by demons of all things. It seemed like such a contrast to the peace loving societies that Sabrina had visited at different times in her youth.

"Barbarians from the north coming all the way down here?" She murmured, surprise evident in her voice. She squeezed her hands in front of her chest. How many times had she told her father of those nightmares? He had said not to worry - that they were just her mind playing with her while she slept.

"Yes, Princess Sabrina." He said seriously. "But your father's men are holding them beyond the walls." She shuddered. Her nightmares from tonight flashed before her eyes.

Bloody flags with her land's insignia laid in a giant fire. Bodies, torn and broken, strewn across the courtyard.

From the carnage, a man dressed fully in steel armor stepped forward, he seemed to tower over her. His arms and legs flexed with huge muscles, as he moved. Areas gashed in the armor revealed the underlying rippling muscles.

A metal helm adorned his head, decorated with blood as diamonds decorated her father's crown. Although shadows hid his face, through that helm, glowing red eyes had met hers, filling her with dread. And that is when the thunder had awakened her.

"I need my father." Sabrina said, panic grabbing her painfully through the chest. "I need to tell him..."

"No, your father's orders were very specific. Take you to the lodge and away from here and he would catch up with you in the morning."

She understood the attempt to calm her nerves. But this was not the time for calm. She needed to warn her father about her dreams. If this much of them had come true, could the rest?

"You interrupted me." She said in a matter of fact tone. He lowered his head in shame and mumbled an apology. She nodded, trying to swallow the panic and continue through the fear that twisted within her. "No matter. Please send someone to him. Tell him this battle will end badly. He needs to get away while he still can."

The magician smiled at her. She detested this attempts to soothe her. She was no little girl prone to hysterics! "No need to panic. Your father's men are experienced, well armed and twice as strong as any enemy." She resisted the urge to roll her eyes before turning to the guards. She had stopped in her tracks, causing one of them to almost walk right into her. She was facing him before he had a chance to turn around.

"I am your Princess, am I not?" The guard nodded quietly. "You will do as I order?" He nodded again. "Deliver the King my message. Tell him I had a dream. This battle will not end well. He must get out. His men must eliminate the red eyed man!" She smiled at him and pointed down the hall opposite the way they were going. "Hurry!"

The guard turned around and hurried the direction she had pointed. Filling herself with resolve, she lifted her skirts and nodded at the light magician. "Let's hurry." She said firmly before stepping in the direction of the stables, not waiting for him to take the lead.

When they had arrived at the stables, five of the King's men were awaiting her. She recognized 3 of them. They had escorted her before and had earned that post through glorious battles in the arena as well as on the battlefield. It was obvious her father had given her the best protection that he could afford in this moment of need.

"Your highness..." Zayne had bowed deeply, his languid movements seemed so awkward on a man his size. But Sabrina knew he was not only strong but swift. Many a man had underestimated one or the other aspect of him and had, when lucky, lived to regret it.

He was tall with shoulder length brown hair. His green eyes had been rumored to pierce souls. His slim athletic body kept him nimble in a sword fight.

"Princess..." Jethro was shorter and plumper than Zayne but was not to be underestimated either. His round belly and face did nothing to slow him down in battle. His brown eyes were always so kind.

Although his most useful quality on their journeys together had been his humor. But now was no time for jokes, she respected his serious look. "These two are Lancelot and Jerome." The last two to stand from their bow, smiled in her direction afraid to make eye contact.

Quentin had not paused in saddling the horses, as everyone else had done to bow. Sabrina's eyes went to him, after she acknowledged the others.

While the other guards were quite a bit older than her, Quentin and Sabrina were within a year difference. He was slightly taller than her and had large muscles that he was proud of. He liked to keep his brown hair shaved.

Quentin's brown eyes always sparkled with mischief. His lack of following customs had gotten him in the stocks a time or two. Where the King saw disrespect, Sabrina had always seen a rare kind of stubborn courage.

They had taken classes together and fenced in their free time. Their time together had brought them closer until she began to think of him as the brother she never had.

"No time for addressing your princess..." She teased, the intensity of the situation making it sound harsher than she intended.

He flinched at the words before turning towards her. "We must... go." His words were strained and she saw the war of emotions behind his eyes.

She could tell he wanted to stay, to do his part in the fighting. He did not want to run away. But the set of his jaw and determination on his features said that he was doing the job he felt most important - keeping her safe.

She shivered. Nodding her understanding, she jumped into the saddle of her own horse, which had been gifted to her on her last birthday.

The wild stallion had fought being tamed by the handlers. They had probably thought it a funny joke giving her a creature that did not want to listen, probably not having thought it through.

If in her attempts to come to an agreement with the creature, she had been injured in a way the King had taken notice of, the men surely would have paid. But she had been delighted with the gift. The horse and she had come to an unspoken agreement. She wanted to call it friend.

Leaning forward in the saddle, she patted his neck. "Ride swift, my sweet. There is blood in the air." As she spoke, Jerome opened the stable doors.

The area of the court where they were was buried in shadows, nothing moved. They burst forth taking the west exit out of the castle gates. They rode fast.

The sound of horseshoes against cobble rang through the air, as the sound of the clashing metal got louder. She hoped to catch sight of the battle. But they turned from the wall away from the fight before she could judge what damage had already been done to her home.

As the horses ran, the sound of the fighting grew quieter. She prayed to whatever Gods or Goddesses would hear her that this battle was not the end of her family and her father would return to her as he had said.

Prince Jozin/Bane's perspective

As daylight rose on the City of Westerfell, Jozin burned brightly, covered in the blood of his enemies. He was 6' 3" feet tall with strapping muscles that slimmed down to his waist. His body embraced the balance between burly and athletic. Jozin's eyes were ice blue and pierced through the fog of this war.

He was surrounded by his foes. But that had never bothered him. He had heard of people having anxiety before battle. But he had never felt anything but hungry anticipation.

He had fought this far through the battlefield. A hatred for the enemy burned through his chest. He was coming for this kingdom. The king and princess within this castle would fall before his father's army. As many others had done trembling at the might of Jozin alone. But he always accredited it to the army behind him. But Prince Bayne Senyorydimoni, most called him Jozin, was leading them.

He smiled at the enemy. It was a wicked smile that made him look half mad. But it was joy - the joy of battle - that brought it to his face. Fighting is what he had been raised to do, maybe even born for. And while he may be covered in blood, it was not his own.

With an eager gait he parried a swinging sword, swinging all the way through his step as he allowed his own sword to move upward through the armor of the man attacking him.

His sword danced merrily along the steel armor and up to the man's chin cutting through his lower jaw. The man's eyes widened before he dropped.

Before Jozin had pulled his sword back, another man was charging him with a woodcutters ax. He smiled and used the motion of stepping backward to pull his sword out. The charging man staggered, as he attempted to adjust his charge. Jozin did not waste the opportunity to send the head flying.

Jozin's fighting was fluid. The style itself had been passed down from father to father for generations. He had learned young, but even at that young age, he had a certain knack for it.

Jozin thought of fighting like dancing but instead of entertaining, it crushed enemies and overcame obstacles. But he thought that could be pretty entertaining. His father had been very strict about his training. It was never ok to allow your opponent to get the upper hand. In a real battle that could cost your life. In training, there was severe punishment. He had adapted quickly.

He moved through the crowd of enemies, swiftly bringing them down. It was good for kings to have a large force of men. But when you bolstered your forces like that, oftentimes, you accepted inexperienced fighters into the battle- the peons. Any leader would expect them to fall. They approached him with fear in his eyes and fell moments later.

For each enemy Jozin cut down, a different memory assaulted his mind. There were moments where he had done better in training than his father expected. Those were good days of special treats and rewards.

But when he disappointed him, he had been flogged. Or made to do his next day's exercises on broken glass. Nothing like trying to do push ups with broken glass beneath your bare hands and feet.

He would make his father proud this day, he told himself. Peons fell at his feet. Several shallow scratches adorned his arms for his troubles. But they did not slow him. The slight pain set his pulse racing a little faster, heightening the heat of the battle.

The surge of enemies waned and he threw his arms into the air, yelling. It seemed to renew his strength and bolster the men that had followed him into his corner of the battlefield.

He turned in a circle, looking for the greatest challenge. He would bring it down next! Not far to his right stood a man.

Despite Jozin's 6', the other man was still taller. Muscles, that matched the other man's height, flexed behind blood coated armor, straining the armor. The huge battle ax he held was covered in blood.

Jozin charged him, screaming. The mountain of a man turned to Jozin, his bloody weapon twinkling in the sunlight. Despite the ax being an obvious two handed weapon, Jozin was not surprised to see the man lifting his weapon in one hand.

The man had started to swing at Jozin's chest, before he had even stopped running. Jozin slid under the blade of the ax and sliced up between the layers of armor, where they were bursting at the seams to keep the large man inside.

While the blood soaked his clothes, the man howled angrily. He was quick to evade Jozin's next strike. Jozin continued forward with the motion, not allowing the miss to take him off balance. But the moment gave the man the chance to come down hard with the handle of his ax against Jozin's leg.

He heard a large pop and groaned. But he would not allow this man to take him down! He forced himself to his feet, the pain caused his eyes to blur as if he was crying but no tears would escape him this day.

He ignored it, screaming with all the rage of battle he could muster. It filled him again, as it had so many times before, with an unnatural resolve and strength.

He faced the giant and began exchanging blows. Each of them taking turns blocking. But Jozin was able to get a couple of jabs through the man's defense, continuously missing the spots that Jozin knew would end the battle.

He saw the sweat on the giant man's head and knew his own matched. He laughed and told him, "If you were at my father's court, I would let you live so we could battle again."

The giant grunted in response without speaking, deflecting another attack. Jozin tried to goad him hoping his words would cause a moment's hesitation or confusion. "Big ugly guy like you would make a great pin cushion to play with." The words were accompanied by a flash of painful memories. A time that he had learned quickly it was not worth having affiliations attached to your emotions.

Anger shone in the man's eyes, as he hastily attempted to bash Jozin. It was all Jozin had hoped for. As the man stepped forward, Jozin cut through the seams on the inside of the man's leg, slicing deeply through fabric and skin from knee to thigh.

He staggered but he did not go down. Jozin's eyes widened in surprise, as the retaliation of blows clanged hard against his defensive sword.

"What you got here, Jack?" A man ran up to them, addressing the giant. Jack ignored him, his eyes glowing with rage and hatred. His facial expression wore his pain.

Jack had 3 men with him. They had obviously seen their colleague in trouble. Jozin turned slightly, not allowing these men to see his back. He wanted to see what was coming at him.

The giant swung at him and the men around all jabbed at him. It seemed they did not want to get in the way of that battle ax. Not every jab found its way through Jozin's armor but the ones that did hurt and he began to lose a lot of blood.

The fatigue began to weigh down his muscles. He groaned, swirling around the man. Jack had grown overconfident, as his allies assisted him.

As he moved he realized that he could see beneath the helmet from the back. Before anyone had the chance to react to his movement, his sword was jabbing hard beneath the underside of his helmet.

It cut through the back of Jack's neck. The angle he had used caused the blade to move up between the bone's of Jack's jaw, up through the roof of the mouth, finally exiting through the eye. His helmet fell off, as his allies cried out. The man dropped like a bag of rocks.

Once Jack was down, Jozin turned towards the others. He smiled wickedly at them and they all paused to stare. He saw the desire to flee in their eyes. One man stepped out, breathing heavily. There was no fear in this man's eyes. "You killed Jack." He seethed.

Jozin laughed, enjoying the banter. "Did you expect me to hug him instead? That would be a new war strategy."

The man gave him a confused look. He swung at Jozin with his sword as he screamed, "you can hug him in hell". Jozin stepped to the side, deflecting the sword. His leg screamed at him. He needed a break from this battle.

As Jozin countered, he noted that the other soldiers that had Jack's back were in fights of their own now. He smiled at the adversary. He would win this fight and then retreat to where he could take a moment to assess his wounds. A sudden dizziness made his head swim and he squinted his eyes. He would just have to finish this first.