Prince Henry Wynter was the Heir to the High Throne of the Heptarchy and prophesised to one day lead his people to unparalleled greatness. Twenty two years after he abandoned his destiny and his throne for the chance to be the person he felt he was meant to be, he finds that Fate has not yet finished with him. The events surrounding the proposed appointment of a new Heir to the High Throne have consequences that reach as far the remote farmstead refuge of the former prince and threaten to destroy the new life that she has built for herself.

 

CHAPTER TWO

 

A farmstead cottage on the slopes of the Downs Mountain Range, Kingdom of Cantia

Tiw's Day (Tuesday) 23 April EY 2471

Georgina's eyes narrowed as she studied the six riders who entered the clearing in front of the cottage from her vantage point at the window in front of the kitchen sink. She absently fretted with the plate that moments ago she had been scrubbing clean, knowing that the riders presence was a potential threat to the life she had built here with her family. She'd thought - or perhaps more accurately had desperately hoped - that they had long since stopped searching for them and began to regret her foolishness in persuading Daniel to go to Wye. Her pale porcelain complexion flushed red with the shame she felt about having sulked until her husband had relented and agreed to go against his better judgement to an Artificer. Blinking back tears she looked heavenward for a moment and offered a silent plea to the á‰se to watch over and protect her family from her foolishness.

The red and white diamond chequered livery of the riders tabards with its ornately embossed golden crown in the centre marked the riders as being the Yeomen of the Household, the Royal Family's personal guard. She recalled from memory her father instructing her as a child that they only left the court at Avalon for one of two reasons - to either escort a senior member of the Royal Family or when the Crown expressly wished someone to feel it's displeasure. Given the cottage was more than four weeks hard ride from the High Court at Avalon she doubted that they were escorting a senior royal, though she feared they were here to collect one.

The riders fanned out as her husband and eldest son entered the clearing in front of the cottage from the path leading to the farms small workshop. She watched her eldest son, Hal, fumbling with the buckle on his sword belt and mentally tried to will to him the calmness the situation warranted. In contrast her husband was calmly wiping grease from his hands with an old rag as he approached the riders. She knew that the easy confidence he exuded was a product of the many hours he had spent on the training grounds in his youth. Putting the plate down gently on the draining board she dried her hands on her apron and headed towards the back door of the cottage to find her remaining children.

 

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Daniel focused on the riders before him, noting the livery that he had once worn in his youth. Had it really been twenty-two years since he last wore the livery of a yeoman lieutenant he wondered? He knew that both Georgina and himself looked more like people in their early-20's rather than the mid-40's they actually were thanks to the blood of the ancient race, the á¦lfe, which ran through many noble family trees in the Seven Kingdoms. Those high noble born like himself tended to have even greater longevity due to the relatively small pool of socially acceptable breeding partners from other noble houses constantly reinforcing the á¦lfe bloodlines and it was very likely he'd look like someone in his mid-50's well into the eleventh or twelfth decade of his life. However, he knew potential longevity was just that, potential. It didn't make him invulnerable to harm or death.

Satisfied that his hands were clean enough to hold the hilt of the sword hanging from his belt if needed, he stuffed the rag into the back pocket of his work trousers and quickly flexed his fingers to stretch out any stiffness. He'd have liked to have worked through some warm up exercises but there hadn't been time. He had been surprised when his eldest son, Hal, had come running to the farm's small workshop with sword belts in hand to tell him that he had seen the riders approaching along the track from the lower meadow. The cottage had been purposely built in a natural depression nestling in the gentle slopes of the Downs Mountains that allowed the forest on the mountain side to screen it from view from the plains below. Unfortunately, it also worked against them in obscuring some of the view of the approach path to the farmstead.

He ran a hand briefly through his shoulder length dark hair to brush the loose strands away from his vision and to better hide the rounded point to his slightly elongated ears which was a mark of the high concentration of á¦lfe blood which his noble bloodline had given him. With his grease covered trousers tucked into a battered set of knee high leather boots and his loose smock with its sleeves rolled up over arms he looked every bit the rural farmer.

Originally, Georgina and he had planned to spend six months hiding on the remote farmstead which was part of his father's extensive land holdings, pretending to be a newlywed young farming family. Then rather unexpectedly given that Georgina was a child of the gleaming spires of the city of Avalon, his wife had fallen in love with the quiet life of the farm. Daniel was far too happy enjoying life as a newlywed to push the issue of their original plan to move on to one of the provincial cities and he knew he would struggle to deny her anything that would make her happy.

Their stay of six months became a year, then two years. Two years spent learning to become the farmer he had originally pretended to be and, more importantly, learning about each other in the ways all newlyweds do. And when Georgina fell pregnant with their eldest child, Hal, in the autumn of their second year on the farm, Daniel knew then she'd never move from the home she had made at the farm.

In order to remain hidden, Daniel had set about establishing their new identity as the 'Stockbury' family. It was only now, on the verge of potential discovery, that he realised how much this farmstead had come to mean to him as well and how entwined it was with all the good things in his life. The unexpected gift of happiness and peace that this quiet family life had blessed him with had far outweighed the prestige and riches his life as a member of a senior noble family would have given him. However, he now feared that his past was catching up with them and that the á‰se would demand payment for the wonderful years of happiness they had unexpectedly granted him in answer to his prayers twenty-two years ago.

Hearing his son fumbling with the clasp of his sword belt behind him, he turned his head letting a genuine smile appear on his face for a second as he remembered the problems he had with his own sword belt as a youth. He gave him a reassuring wink that the riders could not see. While Hal was skilled enough with the sword for most opponents in competition, Daniel knew from bitter personal experience that there was a big difference between knowing in theory how to kill a man and being able to look another man in the eye and end his life with a stab of the blade.

 

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The White Bridge, The Island of Avalon EY 2449 (22 Years Ago)

Daniel let his blade glide down Thomas's blade before pulling back from yet another feint as the two swordsmen continued to probe for weaknesses. Behind him he could hear the sounds of a struggle between the second yeoman and the princess as the man sought to drag her back to his horse. From the swearing he heard, it was clear that things weren't going entirely the yeoman's way.

Cursing himself for being distracted, Daniel was only just able to side step a lunge from Thomas using his sword to turn the blade away from him. With a flurry of movement, Daniel sought to turn defence into offence with a feint of driving his blade towards his opponents stomach. As Thomas parried the attack with his blade he was driven further back to avoid a slashing attack from a turning Daniel. Now that both swordsmen had some distance between them, they both lapsed back into defensive postures, warily circling each other.

"Is that all you've got?" teased Thomas with a smirk playing across his face.

Thomas advanced on Daniel, the point of his blade moving in slow circular movements as he first feinted one way then another. Daniel parried a sudden lunge and launched into his own riposte, driving his opponent back. A slip on the muddy grass by Daniel as he advanced swung the balance of power back to Thomas who proceeded to lunge narrowly missing Daniel's ribs with a savage strike.

A high pitched scream from behind him once again distracted Daniel, and Thomas pushed his momentary advantage driving Daniel to retreat under a flurry of strikes. The sound of his swords metal reverberating from the blows against Thomas's sword and cursing from the second yeoman momentarily drowning out the dawn chorus.

With a thrust Daniel drove Thomas back a couple of paces opening up a gap between the two men. Both men slowly circled again attempting to draw the other into the first move. Daniel stepped forward bringing their blades into contact briefly before stepping back.

"You should have studied harder on your footwork, it's telegraphing your moves," taunted Thomas.

In response, Daniel closed the gap with a short charge bringing both blades together as Thomas parried the attack. Now that their blades were bound, the more muscular Thomas sought to bring his slight height and weight advantage to bear pushing his blades swept hilt into Daniel's in an attempt to point his opponents blade downwards.

"We didn't study this," snarled Daniel through gritted teeth as he brought his knee up into Thomas's groin. As Thomas doubled over, Daniel brought the equally elaborate swept hilt of his sword down heavily across the back of Thomas's head, knocking him onto his knees and causing his opponents sword to fall from his hand. Stepping back, Daniel rested the tip of his blade on the back of Thomas's neck.

"In answer to your earlier question, I was always better," said Daniel. "I just never wanted to win as badly as you did until today."

His hands firmly clasped over his groin, a clearly pained Thomas looked up at Daniel with eyes full of fury. The meaningful silence as both men locked eyes was only punctuated by the increasing sound of the dawn chorus around them. Thomas was the first to break the silence with a snort as he looked away from Daniel.

The sound of a muddy footstep behind him was the only thing that allowed Daniel to side step the thrusting rapier blade. Even so, he felt pain searing his right side as the point of the blade cut through his flesh and glanced across his ribs. As the blade retracted from his side, Daniel staggered forward his left hand instinctively pressing down on the wound. Turning, he barely parried a second blow from the yeoman before failing to block a downward slash into his leg which pitched him backwards into the muddy ground. To his horror, Daniel saw his sword slide from his wet hand as he hit the ground with a jarring thud. Desperately trying to scramble for it he was stopped by the yeoman's boot pushing down on his wrist and the tip of his sword gently pushing against his chest to turn Daniel onto his back.

Behind his attacker, Daniel saw that Thomas was on his feet and gingerly advancing on the pair, all be it he noted with some satisfaction that Thomas's left hand was still cupped over his painful groin.

"Yield now. There will be no second time of asking." spat a clearly pained Thomas as he approached.

Daniel closed his eyes, sinking back into the muddy earth as he released the tension from his body. 'So this is how it ends,' he thought.. 'Blanchefleur...I'm sorry'

When Daniel next spoke his voice trembled with emotion. "The Princess... is she okay?"

Thomas looked at the second yeoman in response to Daniel's question.

"She'll live. She'll have a few bruises where she fought back but nothing that can't be healed by a Weaver," he said. "I've left her by the horses."

"You left her tied up by the horses," corrected Thomas with a frown.

"Err... no Lieutenant. I didn't have time what with you being in trouble and all. Besides, unless she's going to needlepoint us to death I can't see what harm a scared little princess can do?"

At the yeoman's comments a deep chuckle started to emerge from Daniel, until his body convulsed with almost hysterical laughter. A look of alarm crossed Thomas's face. The King had been very specific about keeping the true situation secret, which meant most members of the yeomanry only knew they were searching for a kidnapped princess. As Thomas turned he saw the princess standing by her horse raising a string less recurve bow into a firing position. As her fingers delicately plucked at the air where the bow's string should have been a thin ribbon of light appeared between the tips of the bow. Thomas watched as in one fluid motion she pulled back on the glowing string and a horizontal line of energy crackled into existence forming into a rough arrow shape which she proceeded to sight against her target and then release. The impact of the arrow staggered the second yeoman causing his body to convulse as wisps of energy curled around it. His arms jerked like they were boneless sending his sword flying through the air away from Daniel before he collapsed heavily to the ground.

Thomas watched in horror as the princess turned the bow towards him and like a harpist plucked again at the air with her right hand causing a ribbon of energy to spring to life. He prepared himself for the inevitable only to watch her convulse under a tremor of pain, causing the energy string of her bow to wink out of existence as her right hand dropped from the bow to clutch at her abdomen. Knowing this might be his only chance to snatch victory in this encounter, Thomas gritted his teeth and set off at a full sprint across the 60 or so metres towards the princess. Without a doubt, he knew this would be the most important 10 seconds of his life. He would return to the high court a hero or not at all.

The princess was key to his victory as Thomas was confident that if he could neutralise the threat of her bow then he would be able to beat an injured Daniel one-on-one.

1 second... the princess screamed, her voice cracking as she did so to reveal a deeper, more resonant voice. Her eyes tightly shut, Thomas could see her grip on the bow start to relax.

3 seconds... Daniel could be heard starting to scramble for his sword as Thomas began to reach his stride despite the muddy ground slowing him down. The princess's scream had now taken on a very tenor like quality.

4 seconds... Thomas watched as the flesh on the princess's face rippled trying to superimpose a square jaw line and stronger nose of the Heir on her face. Her scream had now dropped far enough in pitch it was better characterised as a yell now. Her grip on the bow had let it slide through her fingers so that she was now only holding it with a few fingers on the lower limb.

6 seconds... The wet thud of Daniel's footsteps behind Thomas indicated that he also had now begun to reach his stride in pursuit. He was now close enough to the Princess that he knew Daniel couldn't catch him given his injured leg before Thomas got to her. Tightening his hold on the sword he prepared to bring the swept hilt up to punch the princess with it, knowing he would only have a few seconds after he reached her before he would have to face Daniel again. Thomas could see virtually all of the Heir's face now in the princess.

8 seconds... Thomas was within a few metres of her now pulled his sword back as he prepared to punch her with the hilt guard hoping to deliver a knockout blow. The princess's voice jumped up an octave as her features started to revert back to their feminine glory. Her eyes snapped open and she started to sweep the bow upwards holding it firmly by one of its limb.

10 seconds... Thomas hit the ground heavily, the vision in his left eye obscured by blood running across his face. At least he hoped it was that and not more permanent damage. With the vision in his remaining one good eye he could see blood dripping from the top end of the princess's bow now raised above high her head. In addition to the pain he felt and the ringing in his ears, Thomas had been aware of a spark of energy from the end of the bow as it had swept upwards and hit him. He could already feel his vision starting to dim as small energy shocks coursed through his body. The last thing Thomas saw before unconsciousness claimed him was the princess rush to embrace Daniel.

The Princess kissed Daniel hard on the lips, her bow now forgotten at her feet where she had dropped it. Her hands clasped around his neck as she sought to pull herself as close to him as it was physically possible. In return, Daniel had placed his arms around her waist and was pulling her to him equally as hard. In between snatched kisses they both frantically babbled at each other.

"Oh gods, Danny... is that blood?"

"Did the yeoman hurt you?"

"I was so scared they would kill you..."

"We can't stay here..."

"I thought I'd lost you!"

"I promised you..."

"I love you so much..."

"Marry me..."

"We need to treat your... What did you say?"

Daniel smiled as the Princess pulled back from their embrace to look up into his face. In a small voice, she asked again "What did you say?"

"Please marry me," he said with a confident smile. "I love you. I have since that day I first saw this you when we were children."

For a second the princess just stood in front of Daniel, her eyes the widest he had ever seen them. Daniel wondered if perhaps he had been mistaken in asking her as he saw her start to shake as tears streamed down her face.

"You don't have to answer right now," he said softly, fearing that the question he'd asked had been asked at an inappropriate time, a product of the adrenalin rush resulting from emerging victorious in a conflict he should have by all rights lost. Preparing to turn to gather the horses, and recover what was left of his dignity, he was almost knocked to the ground as she tackled him in a fierce hug. The pain he felt from the wound to his side was eased by the one emotion filled word he heard uttered repeatedly into his chest as she embraced him wildly.

"Yes."

The two childhood friends remained locked in an embrace for a few minutes before either had sufficiently recovered from the emotions of the moment to speak. Wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve, the princess was the first to speak, her voice still retaining the nasal quality of someone who had been crying.

"Yes...with one condition."

Daniel frowned. "What condition?" he asked tentatively.

"Granted, I've not had much experience of kissing bearded men.."

"I should hope not!" teased Daniel.

"As I was saying," the princess replied gently poking him in the chest on the other side from his wound for interrupting her. "Although, I've not had much experience of kissing bearded men, I'm not sure I particularly like it. So my condition for marriage, is you shave off the beard. It's all prickly, a bit like what I would imagine kissing a hairbrush would be like."

"You never did like my beard," Daniel said with a wry smile. "But if that's the price you setting for marriage, I would be a fool not to pay it. I accept your condition. Now let's get out of here. The sooner we reach Cantia and the protection of my people, the sooner I can get my wound fixed up and we can marry."

"And the sooner you can give up the vow to be chaste outside of wedlock that all the Queen's yeomen under twenty-one must take?" asked the princess with a sly smile.

"I'm not the only one here that made that vow," said Daniel with a grin. "Though the thought that I'm still seven months, two weeks, three days and a number of hours from my twenty-first birthday hadn't even crossed my mind..."

 

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A farmstead cottage on the slopes of the Downs Mountain Range, Kingdom of Cantia

Tiw's Day (Tuesday) 23 April EY 2471

Sir Thomas Albany shifted uncomfortably in his saddle as he watched the two figures emerge from the path leading off to the side of the cottage. He had been in the saddle for nearly four weeks now chasing down leads and had grown tired of the picturesque forests and meadows of the lands of the Cantwara. He longed to return to the comforts of court life in Avalon. Had it not been for the Queen's insistence that, as Queen's Champion, he personally lead the yeomanry expedition he would have happily delegated the mission to a subordinate as he felt their mission to be little more than a fool's errand. Their quarry had already alluded the yeomanry's most rigorous searches over twenty years ago and frankly he felt they had long since fled the seven kingdoms that made up the Heptarchy.

He straightened himself up in the saddle as he watched the two figures approach. This was the third lead he had followed up personally where individuals matching the description of one of their quarry had been sighted. Like the previous two encounters, he fully expected this one to be fruitless as well but felt he had to demonstrate to the Queen he'd taken an active interest in the investigation. The one suggestion that something was remiss about this time was that the tithe lists and land registration maps he had brought with him indicated there were no farmsteads at this location. This was probably just administrative incompetence but there remained the possibility it was something else. He sighed, as given the laissez-faire attitude amongst many of the Cantwara to the taxation authority of the Angelcyn Crown it was probably the former. He was torn between wanting this fool's errand to be over and the consequences of its success.

He also found the regional dialect of the Cantwara was becoming increasingly irritating and wished for a conversation with someone who could say the words 'dune' and 'June' and not make them sound the same. He grimaced as he recalled spending six fruitless months in the lands of the Cantwara as a young Lieutenant searching for their quarry. 'Wellllll...' he thought, his grimace softening to a smile as he remembered the faces of the farmers daughters he had charmed into bed as a dashing young Lieutenant 'maybe not entirely fruitless...'

Glancing briefly at his second-in-command, Lieutenant Fairfax, he felt a small surge of pride in the professionalism of his promising yeomen lieutenant as even after all these weeks of chasing dead end leads he still kept the men in his detachment sharp and alert. He snorted quietly, wondering for a moment how many of the other young lieutenants had maintained such discipline amongst their search groups. A wry smile formed as he couldn't help but think that many would be better officers if they spent more time training and less time chasing social advancement and marriages of opportunity.

As the two figures halted a short distance in front of the riders, Sir Thomas turned his attention to them and nearly dropped the reins of his horse in shock. The darker haired of the two was undoubtedly Daniel, while the second was the spitting image of the Heir when he was younger. Not a day went by when Thomas hadn't at some point reflected on the outcome of that day twenty-two years ago and he still wasn't sure what he had want the outcome to have been.

 

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Daniel looked up at the rider wearing the insignia of a Major in the Yeomanry and found his hand moving towards his sword hilt in shock. Unlike his own features which had barely changed during the intervening years, the face of the man he had once called friend showed the effects of age. Thomas's ears showed only the barest signs of any point, marking the absence of any significant quantity of á¦lfe blood in his family tree and his short cropped black hair was showing the first signs of grey at the temples. His face had a few lines around the eyes from time spent squinting into the sun, an occupational hazard for someone who spent much of his time outdoors, and of course the faded scar from their last encounter.

For a few minutes the two former friends just stared at each in shock, neither sure what to say or do. Two decades ago, they had been closer than brothers and in their hearts both regretted the events of that day at the White Bridge and what it had cost their friendship. Beside both men their companions exchanged quizzical glances at each other and at their respective elders. Thomas was the first one to break the silence.

"Harry was always on at you about shaving that beard off. Said that it made you look scruffy," said Thomas with a grin.

Daniel rubbed his chin with his left hand, his right never leaving the pommel of his sword. "Yeah... made me shave it off the night after the White Bridge. I still miss it after all these years," said Daniel smiling ruefully.

The smile faded from Thomas's face as he spoke next. "I'm not here for you, Dan. Where is the Heir? That's clearly Harry's son, so don't even think of denying you know where he is."

Hal frowned, looking to his father questioningly unconsciously mirroring Lieutenant Fairfax who was similarly looking questioningly at Thomas.

"Tom, that's not just the Heir's son. That's my son as well."

Daniel nearly laughed at the look of confusion that crossed Thomas's face. A look that quickly changed to one of shock with realisation of the implications of Daniel's statement.

"Gods, but we... that is the Queen... assumed that his latency wasn't strong enough to permanently counter the Royal Weaver's spell to purge him of his...unnatural desires... then that means..."

"Do you honestly believe mere magic could stop the Heir when he put his mind to something?" asked Daniel. "You only saw things from the King's perspective, Tom. You never listened to what I tried to tell you earlier that day before we fled the Wynter Palace. What the Oracle, the King and even you saw as 'deviancy' was actually the true expression of the person the Heir felt she was. I honestly don't pretend to understand this for a second Tom, I've always been happy being me but for Harry... Harry was only ever truly happy being herself."

Thomas stared at first Daniel and then the youth standing next to him. Removing his wide brimmed felt hat, Thomas rubbed his hand across his short hair contemplating the significance of what he had learnt. This impacted on the plans that the Queen had imparted to him in ways he had never anticipated and he needed to think about it. His reverie however, was interrupted by Lieutenant Fairfax.

"Your orders sir? If these are who I think they are should we not take them into custody?"

"Custody? Gods, that... boy... is the first person in 2471 years to be heir to two thrones. The founding documents expressly forbid an Heir to the throne of the one of the Seven Kingdoms to marry the Heir to the Angelcyn Throne, less it cause discord by favouring one kingdom over the others. That boy is.. an impossibility. He is..."

"My son," called Georgina, emerging from the trees beside the path leading back to the cottage. She noted that the yeomen had been so focused on Daniel and Hal that they had never noticed her approach. As she walked she wiped her hands on her apron to remove the sweat from her palms so that she might hide the nervousness she felt before stopping beside her husband and wrapping herself around his left arm.

"Gods...Harry, is that really you?" asked Thomas. He felt much of that which he had been certain slipping from his grasp like sand.

"Yes, in every way that matters this is still me. You just see the real me now. My name isn't Harry now either. It's Georgina...Georgina Amherst. And that is our son." As if to emphasise the fact, Georgina tightened her grip on Daniel's arm. A move that did not go unnoticed by Thomas.

Meeting his gaze directly for the first time, Georgina gave Tom a sad smile. "Tom, I'm truly sorry for my part in giving you that scar."

Thomas found himself instinctively reaching up to touch his face and trace the scar with his fingers. It had taken him six months to convince the King that he was worthy of having his sight restored by the Royal Weaver to his blinded eye. The King had held him personally responsible for the failure to recapture the Heir and had it not been for the fact he was a member of the Queen's Own Regiment, he felt he would have been dishonourably discharged from the Yeomanry of the Household. To his surprise the Queen had forcefully and publicly spoken out in favour of Thomas. She had defended his honour and anointed him to all that would listen as a man who would go on to do great things. He'd sworn an oath there and then that he would never fail his Queen in the completion of any duty she set for him. And for twenty-two years he had kept that oath. Now he found himself facing the same choices as he had twenty-two years ago. Would he do that which he felt was wrong but honour demanded or would he throw away his honour and do that which he felt was right?

It had all seemed so clear to him as a chivalrous young Lieutenant. His honour had seemed to him to be the most important thing in the world. More important than family, friends and even his own life. On the practice fields as cadets it had been hammered into them, day-after-day that a man without honour was not a man. A Yeoman's word was his bond. A Yeoman's oath was unbreakable.

Death before dishonour.

It therefore made perfect sense to Thomas that when a man closer to him than his own brother dishonoured himself by breaking an oath to the High-King, it was his duty to bring him back or die trying. Even after the melee at the White Bridge, Thomas still desperately clung to his sense of honour, his belief in what made a good man. And that belief remained unshakable until the uprising by the pretender to the High-Throne in the Twin-Kingdoms of Bernicia and Deira.

Even now after all these years, Thomas could still hear the screams of the men, women and children as he gave the order to torch those settlements that had supported the Pretender. He had joined the Yeomanry to do great things. He didn't join it to slaughter livestock and thereby deprive the villagers of milk and meat. He didn't join it to salt the ground so that the following seasons crops failed. He didn't join it to burn villages and put scores of unarmed men, women and children to the sword. And yet he did all those things and worse because his honour and oath demanded that he follow the instructions of his King and Queen. And it was as a consequence of that campaign, a campaign in which he had been highly decorated and richly rewarded with monies and title, that he came to realise how wrong he had been at the White Bridge. He had spent the many sleepless nights that followed in the years after the uprising praying to the á‰se that his friends had found sanctuary far from the lands of the Angelcyn, perhaps in the 'Septem Provinciae' across the Great Sea.

With a deep sigh, Thomas lightly dismounted from his horse signalling Lieutenant Fairfax to do the same. He carefully approached the three figures, making sure to keep his hand clear of his sword hilt. Stopping a few paces in front of the trio, Thomas crouched down on bended knee while beside him, Lieutenant Fairfax stood looking on uncertainly.

"My Prince..ess," he said bending his head so that he looked at her feet out of respect. "I am here on instruction from the Queen, your most royal mother. You are summoned by her royal edict to return to the Wynter Palace with me, in order that the issue of succession might be resolved."

"And if I refuse?"

"Your most royal mother has ordered me to bring you back with or without your consent. I am oath sworn to do so."

Georgina closed her eyes and rested her head against her husband's shoulder, a small sob escaping her lips as she realised whatever the outcome she was likely to lose someone dear to her. Yet, despite this fear she could not find it in her heart to bear malice towards Thomas. She of all people understood the burden that duty could place on an individual. With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach she realised the Thomas she knew twenty-two years ago could not let her walk away now. And there were just too many yeomen for any other outcome other than death or serious injury of her husband or son if they had to fight.

"However, I...will not force you to come with me. I won't make this mistake a second time. I won't let my honour dictate my actions at the expense of my morality. If you say 'no' then we will leave."

Scarcely believing her ears Georgina paused for a few moments to digest the comment before speaking.

"Thank you Tom," said Georgina in a ragged tear filled voice, letting out the breath she hadn't been aware she had been holding. She could feel the tears rolling down her cheeks as a sense of relief washed over her. Releasing her grip on her husband, she stepped forward to pull Thomas to his feet before embracing him in an equally tight hug to express her gratitude.

"Dad? What's going on?" asked Hal, confusion clearly etched in his voice. "Why is everyone calling mother the Heir?"

"It's...complicated, Hal."

"Actually it's more complicated than your think," stated a new voice.

Thomas released Georgina and turned to look up at the mounted figure of Sergeant-at-Arms Ackers. In surprise he noted the drawn cavalry crossbow resting in her hands.

"Sergeant. I order you to stand down," said Thomas.

"I'm afraid you lost the right of command when you became derelict in your duty, Sir. You know what happens to oath breakers." Her voice was calm and cold, with no trace of emotion to colour it.

Lieutenant Fairfax noted that the look of surprise on Thomas's face was quickly changing to that of anger. Stepping forward before his Major could speak, Fairfax addressed the rest of the men.

"Yeomen! I order you to stand down and place Sergeant-at-Arms Ackers under arrest!"

In response a faint smile played across the Sergeants lips.

"Sorry, Lieutenant. When you split the men to approach the cottage you left me to determine how to split them. You will find that these are all my squad not yours. The Queen had concerns that Sir Thomas's past friendship with the Heir might affect his judgement. That was why Lieutenant Bathurst and our squad were told to stick close to you both. She was well aware of the doubt that has troubled Sir Thomas since the uprising in the Twin Kingdoms. However she had hoped that he would remain true to his oath."

Finding his voice again, Thomas spoke. "What do you intend to do with us?"

"My orders are very clear on the matter in the event that we found the Heir or Lord Amherst and you were not able to carry out your mission."

Sergeant Ackers raised her crossbow and levelled it at Daniel. In a fluid motion she pulled the trigger loosing the bolt into Daniel's chest. Georgina's scream of anguish echoed around the clearing as her husband pitched backwards into the ground, the bolt sticking from the rapidly reddening front of his white smock.

"Consider that your formal discharge from the Queen's Own Regiment of Yeomanry, my Lord."

 

To be continued...

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This chapter has undergone some dialogue rewritting in the final scene since the original version posted on Stardust which should hopefully clarify some of the supporting characters personalities a bit more.
As always, I hope you enjoy this story and thank you for taking the time to read it.