Royal Blood *Closed*

A medieval adventure between a young princess' new curse and a young knight's new promise. Closed for MaskofSand

Sir Gareth rode his horse to the top of the next hill. The surrounding forest opened itself up at the top of this hill, and made for a nice clearing. It was far enough from the road and the trees that no real ambush could be prepared.

His horse snuffed at the ground and shifted her weight from side to side. Gareth glanced down at her. She seemed irritated about something. She lifted her head up to sniff the wind, bowed down and then hoofed at the ground once more.

"Is everything all right girl?" She only did this when it meant some kind of trouble. An animal nearby. Bear perhaps? Gareth glanced back and forth along the road.

They were miles from any inn or way point now. If they kept riding it would be almost midnight before they made it to the next town. Going back would be even more of a pain, wasting nearly half a day's ride simply to have sheets and cots to sleep on.

"We'll just be extra careful," He patted Caramel's neck assuring her, but she continued to beat her hoofs at the ground.

Gareth pulled on the reins and brought his horse back to the rest of the caravan.

"There is a clearing atop the hill. We will make camp there tonight."

Nods from a few faces. While the idea of resting out under the stars tonight might not be a happy or safe one, at least they were stopping for the night. The day's journey had taken its toll on some who were used to a simpler life in the castle.

Gareth rode at point, keeping an eye out for dangers.

By the time sunset came, their camp had been set up. A pavilion was put in place for the princess and several other tents for servants and guards. Gareth thought he would just wait out the night on guard duty, seeing as it was the final leg of their trip before they reached the far kingdom, he would not need much sleep.

The entire trip had been pleasant. Princess Rosalie had been sweet and kind. She had chose him specifically for this assignment. Lord only knows why. Gareth was only two and twenty years old, barely a man. The youngest of all the knights, and yet when she chose to make this trek as an ambassador she asked him to lead her.

Gareth was vain enough to admit perhaps it was because the princess had some infatuation with him. He had seen her at several of his jousting events.

Lord Gareth came to her pavilion as soon as things were settling down for the night.

"My lady," He said, just outside of the flap, bowing even though no one could see him, "The camp is set for the evening. I was wondering if you'd prefer some company before..."

But, that's as far as Gareth got. Beyond the tents a fire had been made for light, heat and cooking of the evening meals. Beyond that the horses were pitched on the far side of the clearing. All of the horses now were crying and whining, stamping on the ground and trying to pull themselves from their reins.

Gareth drew his longsword from his side.

Something must be scaring them. Some animal. He knew Caramel had smelled danger. It must be a bear. It was too cold normally for one, but if they smelled food from supper it would have come running.

"Lady stay here..."

He heard screaming from the camp. Guilt set into his stomach like acid. What had he done?

He rushed towards the sound.

What had he done?

It was to be one of her first acts of diplomacy on her father's behalf; the king having been reluctant in many ways on allowing his daughter to leave Aerawin even for such noble purposes. "I am old enough, Father. You have taught me well over these 19 years, more than ever in the last few. I will do my best to make you proud, and strengthen our relations with the people of Jeralith. I promise you, I will stay safe."

She had seen it in his eyes. Her words seemed to cause a slight sway, but that doubt, that fatherly fear. He was worried on her well being.

"I will only allow this if the Royal Guard escorts you."

"It is not very encouraging for peace if a small army is brought, Father. One of our bravest, greatest knights. There will be others with us as well... And I will stay in Lord Gareth's sight continuously."

The king's eyes took a new emotional turn. "A fast decision on your guardian, dear Rosalie..." A smile. A nod. "Very well. Young Sir Gareth shall be your escort. But I still beg of you; be safe, my daughter. Our kingdom waits for your rule... And an old man's heart would shatter if he were to lose his only child."

She hugged him, thanked him for his faith in her, his blessing to take this journey. She wanted to prove herself to him, and to show that she could be the same great ruler than the people of Aerawin found in him. It took only a few hours for the horses to be loaded, the men to be prepared. Lord Gareth was waiting for them; brave, strong, handsome Lord Gareth.

Her father had seen the reasoning behind this choice.
Merely the mention of the young knight brought a smile to the girl's face, a hue to her cheeks.
A princess' infatuation.


All thoughts that returned to the young woman's mind as she sat in the small taste of home provided, her royal robes exchanged for a modest night dress as she sipped the tea brought to her earlier by one of the servants. "To help you sleep," The smiling young man had said. Joseph. She tried to remember the names of everyone who served her. This man was Joseph. Always so happy. Infectious, really.


"My lady."
Sir Gareth!
She stood from her bed, setting the small cup on the little table beside her as she moved closer to the opening of her tent.
"The camp is set for the evening. I was wondering if you'd prefer some company before..."

She smiled, starting to reach for the opening, hesitating at the horrific noise coming from further into the camp. What was going on? had something happened? "Lord Gareth?," She started, fear beginning to creep in. "What-"

"Lady stay here..."

An ominous warning. She backed slowly from the fallen fabric, her heart racing. What was happening? Were they under attack? Who in heavens would be attacking them here, like this?

"Sir Gareth-!," She called, her voice growing louder with a second call. "Sir Gareth, please!"

A rustling came from the back of her tent. Rosalie turned, hoping that perhaps he had returned; someone of their party, coming to tell her of what was wrong.
But nothing.
Silence.

She returned to her bed, resting her head into her palms, tears of fear dripping into them. This was not how she had intended this to be. A simple trip, a chance to show good faith between the two kingdoms- but not this. Not harm to those near her... She had never wanted to put her people in danger.
Another scream.
Her tears fell in greater numbers. "What have I done...?"

"The lady weeps. And why is this?"
A man's voice.
Not Gareth.

Her head raised quickly, eyes widening at the unknown man standing before her. "Who are you?! You have no right to be in here-!"

"Ahhh, but I do. My men are laying siege to yours... and making quite quick work of them, really. But I do have to wonder, why would such a group travel with a woman such as you in their midst? And this extravagant dwelling- What have I stumbled upon, hm? Tell me your name, sweet one." His hand reached out, cold fingers touching her cheek.

She hastily yanked away, trying to pull back further upon the bed. "I am Princess Rosalie of Aerawin, and you, sir, have made a terrible mistake to attack us in such a way! Lord Gareth will-"

But her warning was not heard. "Princess, you say? Royal blood...? Oh, now this- This is certainly a wonderful find." The man smiled, a horrible smirk that frightened the young woman even more as he drew closer. His hand darted forward once again, this time not for her cheek, but her neck. His thin fingers were stronger than she had first thought possible, tightening against her skin. "Don't scream...," He warned, dragging her off the small frame and into his arms, one holding tightly against her chest as he pinned her back against his body. "I have often wondered... What one such as you would taste like."

He had told her not to.
But she did anyway.
A scream. Frightened, pained. Horrified.

His teeth pressed through her flesh.

Another scream.
With but one word.
"GARETH!"

Gareth made it to the campfire, giving off its eerie inconstant light on the surroundings, when he saw the first intruder. The adrenaline of danger had pushed out from his body, making his ears warm with free flowing blood.

He could see several man wearing only black and moving through camp like shadows. Two were hovering over a servant girl, tearing her apart with their bare hands as she screamed with her last breath.

Gareth did not think, he could not think. His hands gripped the blade as best he could and he rushed into battle. One man fell, the other raised his hands in a simple protest, but was not able to get a word out in time. He collapsed onto the ground with his lips still trying to form protest.

Gareth turned to see more, trying to focus his attention on the next target.

Who were these people? Where had they come from? Why would they attack a peaceful ambassador mission such as this? Were they mere bandits?

Another man in cloaked shadows rushed for Gareth, but only met the cold steel of his sword.

And then Gareth heard the princess scream his own name.

His veins turned to ice at that moment.

Gareth looked back to her pavilion, "Rosalie..."

What had he done?

Shaky legs could not bring him to her pavilion fast enough. He lowered his head as he rushed inside, the simple flap opening drawing away to reveal her modest accommodations.

Gareth paused in search of his Lady. Fear gripped at his heart as he saw Princess Rosalie fighting what he could only describe as a blackness that held her. It looked like no man he had ever seen before, instead of muscle and sinew this man looked to be formed by shadows sewn together.

It... he... held her. She stood at such an angle her head arched far to the side, allowing this thing access to her neck.

"My Rosalie, "Tears welled up in the knight's eyes as he rushed forward. Shadow or no, this thing would taste his steel. He brought the sword down as carefully as he could, with Rosalie right next to the foul beast, but nevertheless his blow struck home.

But he hit only open air.

Empty.

Gone?

Gareth's weapon hit the ground next to his lady's feet. Where there once stood a man, or beast or abomination now held nothing. Gareth turned around, thinking perhaps he missed when the thing dodged his blow, but the dark inside of this pavilion held only normal shadows that clung to the edges.

Gareth looked back at his Rosalie.

"My lady," He reached out one hand to hold her. She looked like she had seen death himself. The normal dress she wore so flatteringly yet so modestly had turned almost a bright crimson from the wound at her neck.

Gareth's tears rolled down his cheeks as he saw her like this. How could he have been so foolish?

"My lady, what-"

And then Gareth felt something against his shoulder. Cold as ice, strong as steel. He didn't have a chance to breath as he was flung from Rosalie's touch.

He landed on the hard ground, his armor stopping the crash to be anything more serious than a few cuts and bruises. He rolled to a stop at the edge of the tent.

His sword lay by the princess' feet.

She could see him, hear him... but it felt as though it were through a fog. So distant. His fear, however- that she could see, certainly. It matched her own. Rosalie tried to reach out for him, only a mere whimper passing her lips as she felt her body grow so heavy in this man's grasp. Hard to stand. Was she even standing?

Gareth swung. Rosalie trembled still, not in fear of his sword; she trusted both he and his aim.
This... thing.
This thing that was gone.
Gareth's sword found only the dirt, the tip of it embedded into the soil. Another sight seen through hazed eyes, like a view to a painting. Something not of her own life.

She felt weak. Dizzy.
She fell to her knees, trying desperately to keep herself from fainting.

Lord Gareth was the intruder's next target, the now unseen attacker sending him across the tent's space with little effort at all. Rosalie gasped for breath, for strength, reaching out to clutch the hilt of the sword before her.

A laugh. Deep.
Mocking.

"And what shall the lady do? Attempt to strike? The lady can barely stand, let alone raise a weapon. Sit." His voice was ominous, frightening with its flat tones. "You will sit. Drop that sword. You have no need for that."

Rosalie was trying to fight her tears, her fingers shaking against the metal still warm from Gareth's touch. She wanted to attack. To fight back. "Stop. Please..." Her hands refused to cooperate. They lost their grip on the hilt, slowly withdrawing as she drooped back to her knees. Too hard. It was simply too hard.

"We were interrupted..." The shadowy man approached once more, his footsteps barely touching the ground beneath him as he circled the fallen girl. "But that makes this all the more enjoyable." The devil of a man stooped, his lips nearing her ear briefly. "I've tasted enough to know those pretty little thoughts..."

She stiffened as his hand clutched at her hair, pulling her head back once again. Straight back this time, no longer to her shoulder's rest. "Your sweet knight shall see what becomes of you," The man purred, his wrist coming to his own mouth as he bit against the skin, forcing the bleeding gash to her lips. "A taste for a taste..."

The demon man stared at Gareth. A smug smile.

The world began to spin out of focus. Gareth opened his eyes and reached out, his hands grasping as the ground beneath him. He grunted as he pulled himself up. He could see stars as his arms gave way and he collapsed.

Gareth looked back towards his princess.

She lay on her knees and this shadow of a man walked to her. Gareth felt anger rise through him, his muscles tightening at once. He clutched at the ground, cursing himself for ever letting this thing get anywhere near Rosalie.

He felt so useless. Empty. Hollow as he heard the demon's words. The horror came when he throw Rosalie's hair back, biting his own wrist.

"Taste for a taste..."

"Milady, no..."

And all of a sudden Gareth realized what was happening.

This was a demon forcing the princess to take part in some sort of ritual. She lay humbled on her knees and was being offered this man's impure blood as some foul communion.

Unholy. Desecrate.

Gareth realized his sword would be useless in this fight.

Instead he tore at his armor. The chain was reluctant, clinging to him through the padding and straps, but he peeled it off of him. Underneath he wore only an undershirt.

And his cross.

Knights were humble, loyal and kind. They followed only two codes, that of the King and that of God. Gareth was no exception.

He got to his feet once more. The wave of nausea creeped up to him, but he fought it off. He had to. He couldn't lay down in the dirt while this demon befouled his princess.

"Begone foul best, in the name of the father," Gareth said as he walked forward. He removed the cross from his neck, a simple wooden cross from a silver necklace. It looked small in Gareth's calloused hands, but every drop of faith he had poured into this small symbol. It would help his lady.

It had to.

"Now you come at me with trinkets?" The cruel and hollow laughter came from the creature, looking upon his struggle with mild amusement. Gareth only lowered his head and continued to walk forward.

"You disappoint me, knight. I thought you'd be much more entertaining."

Those dark eyes shined a dirty red, unfocused from the very shadows themselves.

"The son, and the holy spirit... forever and ever."

"Hush your old words, knight!" The shadow creature hissed now, sharp enough so the words had an edge. Gareth only heard a sign of desperation though. The thing did not shout from anger, but fear.

Whatever Gareth was doing, it was making this thing afraid.

Now he had a weapon.

"Amen," And Garth launched himself at the creature. The shadows moved and twisted, letting go of Rosalie and stopping her unholy communion at last. The dark man tried to move, either dodging back or forward, but it mattered not.

Gareth's pushed the cross into the side of the dark man's face.

The creature released an animalistic scream. Bright light emerged from the cross and lit up the entire pavilion in a peaceful blue light. The shadows that raveled this thing in mystery, now pulled back.

Gareth watched in horror as the thing changed before his eyes. First a shadow creature, than a man, then a demon then something large with teeth and eyes that shone in the dead of night. This took only seconds, but Gareth's eyes remained open, unable to pull away from the insanity.

And then the thing bolted. It cut through the back canvas wall, leaping into the forest beyond.

Gareth stood there, his cross out in front of him like a shield, holding it up against empty air.

He waited there, looking to see if the thing would come back, hoping it would not.

Nothing.

Then he turned back to his Rosalie. He turned back to the princess. He knelt alongside of her. She looked in a stupor, unable to move, her eyes dull and lifeless.

Was she dead?

"Rosalie," He spoke softly, tentatively at first. His warm hand brushed up against her cheek. It felt cold. He wasn't sure why her cheek felt cold.

"My princess," He leaned down, whispering in her ear.

Some of the demon's blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. He wiped it away, hoping the large lurch in his stomach was wrong, hoping he had stopped whatever it was before it was too late.

"Please... come back to me."

Rosalie could hear him, but not react. Gareth was still trying. Her body was frozen in fear, her throat choking on the crimson rush that this demon forced upon her. Tears lined her cheeks as she closed her eyes tightly, whining around the creature's wrist.

The monster snarled and spat, spoke its words of fury.
A man of the sword. A man of the king, a man of god... facing a creature of darkness.

My knight...


She fell as Gareth's words, his cross, struck a blow to the creature, her body crumpling to the ground. She felt lost inside herself. Pain, so strong a pain- and she could not react. Her body did not feel her own. She simply wept without words, silently screaming.

My knight, Please- Please, help me...

The creature fled. It's attack- what had it done? Why could she not move? Why did she feel so- so...
...Strange?

Her stomach felt horrific, a terrible burning flow that filled her body. She wanted to scream once more, to sob... to cling to Gareth, beg for his help. The feel of that monster's teeth still held at her neck, a nauseous heavy feeling overcoming her. That pain in her stomach grew worse still; ill, disgusted... hunger.

A strong hunger.

Help me, please...

He spoke her name.
She wanted to say something. Anything. Acknowledge him.
But couldn't.

He spoke again. Begged her to come back.
She felt herself stir... but not from her own motions. A part of her moved, a part uncontrolled by the Princess' command.
Slowly.
Slowly, she raised a hand, touched his own against her cheek.

A whimper. Soft, meek, frightened.
"I..."

The pain, that hunger- What was this? Was this what moved her now?
She turned quickly, her hands moving from his to instead claw at his armorless chest, her mouth lunging in for his neck.
That pain... That need....
Hunger. Yes. End this. He can- He can provide-

She stopped herself. Pulled away.
She stared at him, horrified.
Gareth.
Her dear Knight. The man she loved...
Rosalie screamed then, her hands clutching over her head as she sobbed. What had she just tried to do?!
"Forgive me, Gareth, please- Please, forgive me for what I have done-," She begged through her tears, shaking her head still as she clenched her eyes closed.

She came back to him. A slow and surreal stir rose from within her, so soft at first. It reminded him of a newborn foal just getting to its legs. The strength came fast though, the realization. A mask of clarity dawned upon her face.

Gareth didn't know why, but she looked more beautiful now than he had ever seen her. She had some inner light, her features sharpened, her skin held a pale glow that reminded him of cool moonlight upon the surface of a lake.

His shaky hand reached up to touch the small blush of rose upon her cheek.

But she moved.

She moved faster than he had ever seen her move before. In an instant she was on top of him, next to him, her fingers desperate to tear at his chest. The strength in her arms felt like the strongest of steel.

He had no time to react. Instinct was to grab her arms and push her away, but his grip did not move her. He might as well have been asking a tree to stand aside in his wake. Tried as he might he could not get her off of him.

And then she screamed, hurling herself away from him.

Panic set in. Gareth flung himself back from the princess. A dark thought crossed his mind and he flinched from it as much as he flinched from her now.

The unholy communion she had....

This thought ran rampant in his head, refusing to loosen its hold. He wished for it to go away, wished he had never had such doubts.

"Lady," He started, but he had no words. What could he say? What could he do? What comfort was there for seeing a monster inside of his mistress?

"There is... nothing to forgive," He said, a dark and cold tone coming to his voice. He looked away from Rosalie now. He could not force himself to look at her, his head bowed deeply as he reached for his sword.

"Are you... all..."

The tent flaps ruffled open. Gareth did not hesitate as his sword drew upon the intruder. It was only one of Rosalie's young maids though, who gave a very loud gasp or a very soft scream at the sight of the knight's weapon.

"I-I hear-d a comm-comm..."

Gareth lowered the sword, "My lady has been hurt. See to her wounds."

The maid gave a very swift curtsy and rushed to the princess' side.

Gareth switched his focus from the tattered sides of the pavilion to the front entrance. He thought of which would be better to guard in the case of the dark thing's return. He couldn't tell where to place himself.

But, those thoughts were only on the surface. Deep down his heart ached, fighting between the woman he loved and the monster he had seen. Gareth simply wanted to find a way outside of this tent. He had to leave.

"If you need me, my lady, just call," Once more he spoke in that low distant voice, the way one might speak to a stranger on the road, passing off instruction to a superior officer.

Gareth decided that the shattered wall would be better. He made a deep bow, his gaze still unable to look upon her perfect beauty, and walked out as quickly as he could.

She felt ill, so incredibly ill. What had she just done? Gareth was... She sobbed again, shaking her head as he spoke. So ashamed, frightened. Horrified. What had made her want to do such a thing to him?

Her mind seemed lost to the world around her for the moment, only drawing back with the arrival of her maid. Gareth's sword greeted the girl in a less than friendly manner, Rosalie's hand shakily reaching out to her as her knight ordered the maid to tend to her. "Please, I- Yes, I need help...," She agreed softly, her other hand dotting it's fingers against her own cheek.

The maid took to her side, inspecting the wound still bleeding on the Princess' neck. Rsalie herself, however, was watching Gareth, that heavy stone inside her chest growing harder and harder to bear as he left the tent.

He wouldn't look at her.
"I have done something terrible, Miriam...," She breathed, shaking her head.

"No, no, My Lady. You have done nothing wrong. This was not a fault of yours... Do not blame yourself for a creature's intrusion...," The maid whispered in console, tearing the sheet from Rosalie's bed into strips. "We will tend to this, and speak with Sir Gareth. All will be well once more, you'll see. You have done nothing wrong."

Rosalie tried to force a smile, looking to the young woman.
The pain again.
That horrible, terrible pain.

"I wish you were right. I truly do." She closed her eyes, turning her head away quickly. "I fear I may do something horrific, to someone close to me. I have already come close, now."

Miriam moved closer, bandaging the Princess' neck and shaking her head. "You could never do something as horrible as you seem to believe, Lady Rosalie. I do not think an evil thought could ever enter your mind..."

Rosalie looked back to her maid, her pale face solemn. "Miriam... You're so warm..." She reached out, touching the young woman's cheek, her expression unchanging. "I can hear... I can hear your-" She sucked a sharp breath, hastily pulling her hand away. "Miriam, please leave!"

"My lady, your wounds-"

"Leave, Miriam! Leave, leave me now- LEAVE!" She was all but screaming, stabbing a finger furiously for the entry. "Get out, get away, please-!"

"Lady Rosalie-?!" The maid's voice was shaking, frightened as she clutched the Princess' shoulders. "Calm yourself, my lady! You're only going to do yourself more harm!"

That hunger. That pain. That NEED that ripped from the very depths of her soul, an ache that howled like a wolf on the hunt. It demanded to be resolved, and it demanded it to be given action at this very moment. Rosalie's body lost her will once more. That other side stole control, took presidence somehow. She could feel the tears in her eyes as her hands darted forward, her fingers clutching into the maid's neck. Delicate skin. Fragile bone.

Was Miriam screaming? Or was that her own voice? She couldn't tell.

She couldn't stop herself this time. The maid was far less struggle. Rosalie's teeth found the young woman's neck, puncturing into the throbbing vein and allowing the Princess her first taste of another human's blood.

She didn't hear the screaming anymore.
She couldn't pull away. Not yet. That hunger, ache... It was starting to go. This was what it had wanted. Rosalie swallowed the warm fluid as it seeped into her lips, suckling like a babe to its mother.

Sated. She was finally sated.

She let go.
A silent stare at the pale, unmoving Miriam in her arms. Her dress, already smeared with blood, was now covered in a fresh coating.

"What... What have I done...," She choked out, shaking hands pushing the girl from her lap as she backed away. Gareth had said to call for him if she needed him. But- but for this? He would see her as a monster. No better than the creature he had sent away earlier. A twisting, burning pain filled her stomach, a metallic taste in her mouth. She felt like she was going to retch. Stumbling to her feet, she flailed at the back of the canopy, gasping for breaths as she tried to get out. She couldn't stay here. She couldn't bear to see Miriam, to have Gareth find her in this state...

She couldn't find her way out. Too hard to see, too hard to move. Between the tears and lack of coordination her body seemed to still be experiencing, the most she could do was collapse to her knees once again, another scream leaving her lips.

He would see her as a monster.
She was a monster...

Outside people were still unsure what had happened. They ran around, some holding weapons such as daggers, others grabbing onto any frying pan or hunk of wood they thought would be useful as a weapon, rushing to help where they could.

The monsters had gone though. They had fled into the surrounding darkness of the forest, the only sounds one could hear was the occasional snapped twig or rustle of leaves.

Three people were dead. They had been laid next to the fire, their faces looked like grotesque masks of torture and pain, only added by the firelight dancing against their eyes. Gareth ordered them to be buried as soon as they had daylight.

Confusion circled a lot of eyes as they looked at Gareth. He stood there, but the air had left his sail. He barked orders, but they had no snap. He felt like a man wading through thick water, pulling so hard in a direction he wasn't sure he should go.

Everyone stayed by the fire, they would watch out for more to come.

Gareth didn't think they would return, but he would rather not be found wrong twice tonight.

Another scream, this time from the princess' pavilion once more.

Gareth felt the lurch in his stomach as he rushed once more to her aid. The flap of her tent fell open and he saw his Rosalie lying in the corner, blood dripping from her hands.

The handmaiden lay at her side, dead.

Gareth felt cold inside.

So cold.

He did not hesitate to fall to his Rosalie's side. He grabbed her and held her, bringing her into his arms. She had a hue of beauty that hung around her now, draping over her like a well places shawl. She looked scared, alone, graceful, strong and weak all at the same time.

"My Rosalie," He said softly against her forehead.

Other people came into the room, but Gareth refused ot let them see the princess like this. Instead he just shouted that to get the maiden out of the pavilion.

"Leave Rosalie alone this night. No one is to disturb her," He growled these orders clutching at his princess, keeping her safe next to his chest.

She felt cold, but soft. Gareth had laid awake at nights imagining the one day he might be able to hold Rosalie in such an intimate way. The thought of fulfilling some fantasy did not quite dawn on him though. He simply wanted to help her, however her could.

"I'm right here," He said, kissing her forehead, "I will protect you my princess, however I can."

No one else could know what happened in here today. If anyone knew they might imprison her, or even kill her. Gareth would not allow that to happen. He had to protect her however he could, even if it meant keeping this a secret.

"My pledge is to you my princess, and you alone. I am your knight."

He smiled, even when his eyes swelled with tears.

She wanted to cry again. To sob and weep, to bury herself deeply into the comfort of her bed, of her own clothing, of her knight's arms-

No, no she couldn't do that. She couldn't, not...

Rosalie couldn't rise from her spot on the floor. No tears from her eyes, no sound from her lips, just a somber, lost stare at the floor. Horrified. Frightened. What had she done?

Gareth. He had come back...

She slowly looked to him, trembling lips attempting to part, to speak somehow to him.

It finally gave way when he held her. She felt the tears break free, the cool path of the first tracing down her cheeks. Her eyes closed, her head burying in against him as he spoke her name. "Gareth...," She started softly, oblivious to the others who entered. He seemed the aware one, his words to them bringing their existence to light for her.

Don't look. Please, please, do not look... She burrowed closer to him, the dread and fear that filled her feeling like a lead weight in her stomach and upon her spine.

His lips met her skin. He was warm, unbelievably so.

...Protect her...?

She finally looked up at him, her eyes wide and frightened. "I have done something so horrific... and you still choose to keep your pledge to me...?" Her hand reached out, the reddened stains almost forgotten until her fingers touched his cheek. "I am... I am not sure I am your Princess any longer, my sweet knight. I am a monster. What I have done is- unforgivable. If these people were to find out... If..."

Another thought.
A painful one.
A thousand times more painful than the ones prior.

"...If my father were to know what I have done this night..." The words were choked out from her pale lips, her hand withdrawing from his face. "Demon... Beast, horrible thing not worthy of life-" She gave a sudden horrified sob, her face buried once more into his chest. "My intentions were to help my people, not... not this...," She said softly, shaking her head slowly.

"I... I must fight this. Please, Gareth. Do not let me leave this tent. Do what you must to keep me from hurting anyone else. Help protect me from myself, please..."

Gareth held her in his arms. He cupped her sweet face in his hands, forcing her to look up at him. His eyes were blue steel unforgiving as they stared down at her. Still this ever beauty surrounded her, despite the fear invading her every thoughts.

"Listen to me," Gareth spoke as softly as he could,"You are no monster. You are a princess. There is simply something inside of you... some unholy communion. But it is not who you are. Don't ever think that."

He had to believe despite the changes that his princess was inside of there. The denom had left an impression within her, urges and callings unknown to either of them, but it didn't mean she was no longer herself. If she knew enough of herself to cry and feel regret for her actions, there would still be hope.

Gareth sunk into her, holding her tightly.

"We'll just fight this together... this hunger," Demonic and possessive. It tore at her from the inside, leaving her cold and yet beautiful. He tried to take his gaze away from her, but he felt it near impossible. Her simple beauty electrified him, enough that thoughts of longing surfaced and made his cheeks blush a bright red.

Her beauty. It must be part of something.

Gareth rose from her side. He held her hand as long as he could before he began searching her pavilion until he found a simple steel mirror. He knelt before his princess and presented it to her.

"You feel cold, to the touch," he wished he had the hear to tell her how much he enjoyed her touch, even if it was cold.

"And you look like an angel," He looked down at the mirror, "You have always been the most beautiful person I have ever seen, but today I find it hard to look away from you."

Gareth felt his cheeks grow red once more. Some noble knight he's turned out to be, can't even give his own princess a compliment without thinking young schoolboy thoughts.

"What is it you feel inside, princess? The more we know perhaps we can find out what it is, and fight it. Can you open it... see what it is that it wants from you?"

Rosalie trembled at first, his words seeming so distant to her frightened ears. Hatred toward her own horrific actions, despair over losing her faith in her own strength, fear over... Losing him. Her people. She had a duty to uphold, a future to commit to. Her kingdom... Her intentions....

"I need you, Gareth," she whispered weakly, the warmth of his touch drawing her attention in many ways. The frightened girl begged to be held, the newly bestowed darkness aching to find the source of that heat. A gentle sob leaked from her lips as that ache grew once more, forcing it away.
Not Gareth.
Please, not Gareth.

She slipped to the floor as he stood, her mind racing, countless What Ifs and Whys trying to find answers.

The mirror, however...
The mirror shattered them all.

Rosalie stared into it. She listened to his words, pleading to her to recognize the Her that remained, the way she seemed different. The choking feel in her throat resurged, her fingers laying the reflective surface down on the ground.

"Gareth...," she started softly, looking to him as he asked what it felt like.

How to say it...
How to say it without....

"A desire that refuses to be silenced. A voice inside me that screams, demands its need to be met... And when I tried to ignore it, it... Something inside me just... A pain, horrible, terrible pain. Like something was tearing me apart from the inside to punish me for disobeying it."

She reached out, gently touching his cheek.
"It's trying right now. After what I have done... It still rages for more. But I... I can't. I won't."

The mirror reflected his face to her, the concern and love etched in his features, every wrinkle in his brow as he looked her over, the redness that flushed his cheeks.

He looked... Wonderful. Strong, loving. Her knight.
"Gareth... I..." She hesitated, her gaze returning to the mirror once again. "The words you've used have made me blush. Or I would believe they have.... I- I cannot see myself in that mirror."

Gareth felt a spike of terror enter him as he heard what she spoke. Dread forming like cold snakes slithering around each other, moving in his stomach in some frothy ecstasy that only they knew. He didn't want to believe it, didn't dare think that something inside of her formed with rage and threatened to take away everything he ever loved about his princess.

His steeled reserve faded from him though, and he glanced down at the mirror.

It was enough.

He looked away.

It was too much.

Gareth got up. He left her now, walking over to one of her large chest's. He opened it up, looking for some of her clothing.

"We need to leave, now," He said, trying to remain harsh in his tone. He didn't want to give away any of the fear inside of him, coagulating and threatening to break down his strength. He had to keep moving or he would surely crumble.

"No one can know of this. Not your father, no one. We will leave at once, travelling at night so not to be spotted. We have to go..."

But where?

Where could they go to hide? To solve this problem? He couldn't take her to any church, he didn't trust anyone. They would think she is some demon and prepare to exorcise her. He had seen what the church does to exorcise demons. He would not let his princess fall for that sort of treatment.

"The Doctor Goodman?"

He paused, holding one of the princess' dresses in hand, looking back at her sunken on the floor. Doctor Goodman had been the royal doctor for the family for plenty of years, even giving birth to young princess Rosalie, if he wasn't mistaken.

Now he retired with his family on a lone estate to be with his family.

He would be discrete and perhaps know of a medical answer to her problem.

"Can you trust him?" Gareth began putting some of her clothes into a simple knapsack. He didn't know what she needed. Some dresses, shirts, even underthings that on a calmer day he would have blushed at the very thought of touching them.

He couldn't afford to blush right this moment.

She expected still for him to leave her, more so now after her confessions on what raged within her, even though he had given his word on loyalty. How could someone give their oath to such a thing as herself? Her gaze fell to her hands, the pale version of what they had once been, her eyes slowly closing as he stood, moving through the tent. He would go. He would leave, abandon her to the fate she had been forced into and-

Her head rose as the sounds of his work filled the air, curious eyes taking in the sight of her knight hurriedly working, randomly snatching as he plotted and planned.

He truly was set on that promise.
Even after.... Even after all that... Her dear, sweet, beloved Gareth.
How she hated herself at that moment. For all the devotion he gave to her, the more that new darkness inside her wished to harm him. Wanted to use his loyalties, to take what it desired.

She could not stop the tears that leaked from her eyes, breaking her gaze from him to instead fall upon the mirror left upon the floor. Another point of pain. He called her beautiful, an angel. Why could she not see it?

"We need to leave, now."

Her head lifted, her eyes widening. "Leave...," She whispered, gingerly shaking her head. "No- No, I..."
If she were to stay, others could- would be harmed. She could not control herself. She would not leave the burden of protecting all those around them to Gareth. It was safer, for everyone, for her to leave. She nodded slowly, sighing gently. "You are right. We should... No. I should. I should go."

But he still spoke of them both, of travelling together. His mind worked as a guardian, a knight, a savior... Plotting their course, presetting his plan. At the mention of no one knowing, she cringed, looking away and biting her lips together. The pain of leaving all those she loved behind was unbearable, but to cause them harm was unforgivable.

The doctor. Yes, he was an understanding man. A compassionate man. She nodded at his question, rising to her feet. "I do. If he will believe me, I do not know... But... But I have faith in him."

She went to his side, watching a moment as he thrust item after item into one of the packs. Her hand reached out, gently resting on his. "Gareth... I cannot promise that I will be able to control this. I can only swear to try. But I will never, never let myself bring harm to you." It sounded strange even to her own ears. A tiny thing such as herself, promising not to harm someone such as he.

"I need for you to promise me... that you will not let me harm others."

The task of packing felt good to Gareth. He enjoyed doing something, keeping his mind and his hands occupied with a simple task. He searched through various chests and drawers to find something else his princess might need, only stopping at her cold and gentle touch.

Gareth could not help but stare into her eyes, and fall in love with her anew. He cursed himself for thinking her an angel now, her own personal demon came with a layer of beauty that pulled at him.

Gareth held her hand in his own. She had such soft and dainty hands. They looked almost comical next to his own. Calloused and laced with filled with the scars of unbridled youth. Yesterday those were the hands of a princess, today they were the claws of a demon.

He still could not quite understand it all. He hoped the doctor could help.

Gareth gently brushed his fingers over the top of her hand.

"Thank you," He said, knowing what a struggle it must be for her. She would have to fight against herself almost daily to keep up with such a simple promise.

"I promise my princess, you will harm no one else," He smiled, daring himself to look upon her beauty once more before he handed her the small knapsack of her belongings.

"Come, we will get a horse and head east. We can get a few hours of travel in and be far away from here come sunrise."

Gareth thought of his own belongings, but they were unimportant. He had some supplies on his horse and that would be all he needed for this short journey. They would need as little as possible to complete the journey.

Turning back to Rosalie, Gareth squeezed her hand once and led her out of the tent.

"Talk to no one, get to the horses... hurry"

She listened to him, took in every instruction and detail as best she could, nodding firmly as he spoke. He rushed in a haze, it seemed... so many thoughts, while she seemed to have none at all. It seemed... easier that way. When she attempted to focus, that other part tried as well, claimed every notion as something it could warp and destroy.

Like at this moment.
She wanted nothing more than to just hug him, wrap herself in his arms, bury into his chest- and weep. Not for her own state, but for those around her, the pain she had caused thus far- and what she knew was to come.
Her father. Her poor, beloved father.

But that other side staked its own claim into those thoughts. A desire to harm those she loved, a sudden urge to see them as nothing more than a source to feed.

Her stomach twisted and churned, left her feeling ill once again.

Gareth's hand found hers, forcing her to look up from that warm touvh. She tried to manage a smile. It almost hurt to do it.

"Talk to no one, get to the horses... hurry."

She nodded again, staying close to his side, keeping her dress tightly wrapped against her. The camp was still working on its recovery from the attack, but the sight of motion from the royal tent seemed to draw attention. She felt eyes upon them, her own gaze locked on her own feet, the steps made by her knight. Stay by his side, say nothing, keep moving.

"Lady Rosalie!"

She was crying. The sound of her name, called out like that- concern, anxiousness... A need for reply. But she couldn't. *Please forgive me...,* she thought as she closed her eyes, shaking her head as they came to the horses.

"Lady! Where are you going? Sir Gareth, wait! What is- What is wrong? Something is wrong, isn't it?" The concerned voice now gained a body, others following after the man as he came to watch the two at the horses.

"There is no need for concern...," She noted softly. He had told her not to speak... but she couldn't keep to it. They worried on her. She had to say something, anything. "Continue in my journey. Make peace with Jeralith, make my father proud. Do not worry over me..." She couldn't look at them. Shame, fear, and that horrible feeling inside her; they all prevented her gaze from raising from the back of her horse. "I will return to you when I can. I promise this."

She prayed she could keep that promise.

Gareth tried to block out the questions. They seemed to come from all sides now. Gareth felt thankful he had to untie the leather straps keeping the horses in place. He took a small horse for Rose, light and fast. That is what they would need if they were going to head through the forest now.

He helped Rosalie onto the horse.

Gareth looked back at the gathering crowd. Some still had bloody rags black with ash in their hands. He saw wide eyes and tight mouths. They looked at him as if he were abandoning them all. Gareth supposed that thought wasn't far off from the truth. He couldn't hold eye contact for long.

Instead he mounted his own horse.

"Forget what you saw this night," He said, before he kicked the sides of his horse and rode off into the night. It was a knight's best words of encouragement as he deserted them. Gareth felt his pride ache with each passing moment.

He rode alongside Rosalie as they began to ride. With the moonlight out they had enough vision to let the horses jog most of the time. The dark shadows of the canopy overhead led to them finding a few animal trails and being able to follow them with relative ease.

Gareth didn't dare go on the road. They could be too easily followed. He didn't even know what could be following them at this point. After tonight's fight, he imagined the forest to be filled with many darker things than before. He made sure his sword was by his side several times during the night's ride.

They finally came to a stop when he noticed a nice brook running through their path. The horses were tired and to be honest he felt stiff himself. He eased off of the horse, stretching his legs. One of his hips still pained him.

It must have been from the fight earlier with that thing. He had landed hard on his side and it only gotten worse with the riding. He winced when he put weight on it.

Gareth helped the princess down.

"We should stop here for morning," He said. This would be as good a place as any. There was a clearing by the bank of the brook, with some grass for the horses. They could lay out and wait here until they felt rested once more.

Away from people.

Gareth liked that part the best. They were deep within the woods, far away from anyone.

Gareth knelt down, once more wincing as his right hip blared with pain. Instead he put his leg out onto the side so he could take a few sips from the brook. He cupped the water in his hands to pour it over his face.

"Do you still..." Gareth started, but then he didn't know how to finish that sentence without it sounding too forward or rude. He tried a few others ways to begin, but they all seemed to sounds just as bad.

Instead he thought of saying it more simple, "How are you feeling now?"

He had a worried look as he turned back to her.

She tried to fight her tears. All those she loved, having to be left behind... And Gareth's commanding tone, stern and stoic. It hid so well the fear she had seen in his eyes. Not of her... For her. She prayed it didn't become the other.

Rosalie stayed silent as they rode, afraid words would lead her to releasing those tears. She simply tried to make sense of her own head, questioning and fighting the conflicting horrible desires and thoughts that passed through her mind. He was keeping her safe. He was keeping others safe. She trusted him with her life... But how could he trust her with his?

Her attention returned to him as his own horse slowed, only watching while he came to her and helped bring her to the ground. Her hands rested on his shoulders for that brief moment, both the strength and warmth found in them bringing a momentary delight over her- as well as that malicious feel of earlier. As soon as her feet met ground, she hastily pulled away, wrapping her dress closer to her cool body and looking away from him.

Why...?

"I'll.... Pull the blankets....," she noted softly, reaching into one of the packs as he went to the stream. She couldn't keep her gaze from wandering back, as though fascinated by his every move. When he spoke to her, she hesitated, finally letting the blanket unroll against the dirt and going to his side. She kept a slight distance, lowering to her knees and dunking her hands in.

"I... Feel... Well enough." Hesitance once more. "I am not sure of exactly... What..."

She sipped at the water in her palms, closing her eyes briefly.
They finally came; tears straining through her lashes as she shook her head. "It hurts me so terribly, Gareth. Not only from that furious hunger... From it all. To fight against causing more harm and..... This other... Feeling."

Another dip into the stream, this time splashing the collected water against her face. "A different hunger. One that grows so much in your presence. It..."

She frowned, staring at the water that bore her unseen reflection. "Carnal things, Gareth. Savage, wild things that it feels must be done...."

Gareth wished with all his heart that he could take this pain from her. If he could somehow bring this demon into him, he would. She did not deserve this pain, this frustration. And Gareth sitting beside her unable to help in any way made him feel the most absurd kind of useless in his entire life.

The doctor will help. He must.

"A hunger in my presence?" Thoughts dug into him, the sight of Rose covered in blood, the dead maiden's body lay discardered at her feet. A sudden intense image of his own fallen body hit him, of Rosalie tearing at his flesh. He tried to push it away, but a cold spike of ice had lodged itself into his throat and refused to move.

"Can you fight it, milady?"

Thoughts inside her head that were not her own, asking her to do such atrocities. Could anyone ever withstand that for long, deny such sweet voices all they ever wanted in the world?

He reached out to her, one arm against her shoulder. She still felt cold, and the heat from his hand seemed to radiate, like coming inside from a winter's day, feeling the sharp blood pulsing against your cheeks.

"I can help, perhaps. Just tell me what to do."

She couldn't look at him, not with that concern that flowed from his lips. What was she to say? How could she explain this?

"It... it is not... the same as it was at the camp," she finally uttered in a soft voice, staring at that water that refused to show her face back to her. "It is... a different hunger. One that confuses and hurts, but not with that same pain. It is an ache, at the very core of me. An ache that I have only heard of harlots and whores speaking of so easily." She closed her eyes, turning her head from him, ashamed of how much she had already said. The warmth of his hand upon her shoulder both comforted and frightened her; a confusing mix of the two that made her want to pull away - but couldn't.

"It is not so much desire... as it is a type of hunger. One that I find myself hating as much as this other need that pulls inside me. I find it overtaking me whenever I look at you, Gareth... But... I am so afraid that the two are entwined, like those creatures I have heard about... The ones that devour their mates..." She shook her head. "I will not allow myself to hurt you, Gareth..."

She slowly pulled herself away from his touch, still trying hard to not face him. "It is late, and you have done so much for me. You need rest, My Knight. I find that I am not tired... Simply full of thought. I will keep my distance from you, while you rest..."

It pained her terribly to do so, but she took the blankets she had removed from the horses and laid them down for him to sleep, one for herself being tucked under her arm as she walked a distance off. Not far enough to lose sight of him, but enough to restrain herself.

Hopefully.

He was certain the Doctor could provide answers, some type of cure for her. Rosalie had her doubts on this, but tried to keep faith. There was so much she felt she still needed to complete, so many tasks she wanted to fulfill... And a life she wanted to lead with- Someone special...

And here she was, hurting that man she adored.

That hunger flowed again. Tearing inside her, screaming to be met. "Leave me be," She whispered at it bitterly, shaking her head as she closed her eyes. It continued still, seeming to take her request as a challenge. It refused to be denied, a fire raging inside her that scalded her heart.

She would not bring harm to her beloved.
But it had to be soothed.

Creatures of the forest. Animals looking for safe places to rest in the night... She had always loved the little rabbits of the castle gardens. They had come to trust her, if she stayed still, if she let them come to her first.

How a thing of happiness had now turned into a method of hunt.

A little white one inched to her as she sat on the ground, her fingers extended with some wild herbs. It nibbled at them delicately, starting to pull away as it came to the cool touch of her hand. Her other darted out, snatching the creature from the ground and pulling its struggling tiny form to her lips. She was crying again as her teeth punctured its little neck, the taste so different from that of her first.

The rabbit stopped fighting.
She tossed its remains in the stream, washing once more. At least the lack of reflection saved her from the shame of seeing herself...

A thousand protests ran through his mind, he could not keep track of them all. Every argument bubbled up from that stubbornness inside of him, wanting, knowing, pleasing to have some semblance of reason throughout this whole debacle.

In the end, Gareth chose to hold his tongue. no amount of words could change the princess' mind right now. No amount of comforting could console her any more. If anything, Gareth's own presence here presented its own unique problem, but he couldn't help them.

He flat out refused to leave the princess to such a daunting task alone.

Instead, he simply agreed. Rest would be the best thing to do right now. He wanted to sleep, forget about the brutality of this day and start anew in the morning. Gareth walked over to the blanket Rose laid out for him and knelt down on it.

He took off his armor, hissing when it pressed against his side. The undershirt he wore had a stain of bright red. He eased it off as well to reveal the wound. The bleeding had stopped, the gash only a few inches across his ribs. No wonder it hurt when he breathed, each movement kept opening the wound.

He would have to bandage it. There were bandages in his saddlebag.

But, it looked so far away. The horses had found a small field of grass and despite the pain the sweet lull of rest had begun to take hold on his tired muscles. He laid down, promising himself to do something in the morning.

One last look at the forest, he could see the princess just across the way, almost out of sight of him. He thought he heard her say something, he thought he saw movement, but perhaps slumber was getting the better of him.

Instead he whispered a good night, and rested his head against his bare arm.

Within minutes he was sound asleep.

HShe attempted to sleep, but her body found no solace in the night. It ached to wander, explore, quench what still howled inside for its attention. Rosalie tried so hard to keep her gaze from falling to her knight... But it was wasted effort. When eyes could not see, thoughts would interfere.

Brave soul.
Glorious man.
A man you must have... A man you need, crave- his blood, his seed-

Rosalie gave a pitiful whine with the thoughts, clutching the blanket tighter still. No, she couldn't. She was a princess, not some... Harlot. Not the type to force herself upon a man of the royal guard. These thoughts and actions were not her own. They were the work of that creature.

But... Was she not one as well?

She slowly slipped from her blankets, creeping across the mossed ground to simply watch, admire him as he slept. She could not allow herself to bring harm to him...

That want, begging for contact. For more...

Rosalie moved closer still, dropping to her knees and curling against his side. His warmth was overwhelming, a thousand suns coursing through him and radiating against her. She tried to simply make due with that, but it spurred more. Demanding, screaming inside her.

Satisfy.
Any, either- end this fury and ache!

Rosalie sat up once again, delicately reaching over him, pulling herself atop him. Even to rest upon his lap in this way stirred that desire, her lips trembling as her hands moved on their own accord. Fast, driven motives, tearing at the knight's attire. Bloodlust, pure lust... Both were demanding at that moment. Her fingers dove for the hem of his pants, Rosalie whimpering as she swayed above him.

"There is less harm...," she whispered, her eyes tightly closed. "Gareth-!"

Gareth found himself having troubled sleep. He fell into unconsciousness in a wear way, fighting slumber before it overtook him. He had no dreams, except vague waves of darkness. At one point he thought he was running, but he didn't know why, or what for. In the end exhaustion seemed to drag him deeper and deeper, trying to forget the day's memories.

At one point he felt a coldness. It touched him, caressed him. He shivered in response. The forest had little to offer for warmth, and the blanket covering him didn't do much to protect him either. Gareth didn't have much choice to be cold.

He felt movement. That is when he first stirred.

His eyes opened.

The world came to him fuzzy and uneven.

Her touch was like ice.

Gareth reached up on instinct, grabbing for something... someone. At first he wasn't sure what it was, but it hovered over him and clawed at him. His grip felt on pure muscle though, like steel beneath skin. For one terrifying and frightening moment Gareth thought the monster had returned, fangs glistening and claws wanting to tear at his flesh.

That brought the world into a sharp focus as adrenaline began to pump through him.

But... the vision above him was no monster.

Rose.

His Rose.

She was atop of him, her hands gripping at his waistline. She had a look in her eyes that he had never seen on her before, wide and wild, looking at almost everything at once.

She barely even noticed his grip on her.

Gareth moved his hands down over hers, holding them.

"P... Princess?" He asked, unsure what she was doing, why she straddled him as he lay on the ground. He wasn't sure what she was doing, until one of her hands slipped beneath his clothes and brushed against his manhood, half hard from the movement between them.

Gareth gasped aloud. The soft cold of her fingers delighted him in a way he had never known before.

The rush.

The shiver. Liquid sex drowning out all thoughts.

Gareth felt weak at this moment, a lifetime of fantasies pouring over him with one single touch.

"Rosalie, what are you doing?" He asked, staring up at her, but he knew... he knew just what she was doing. He had to bite his lower lip to stop himself from moaning.