The screams, the cries of the wounded, the sound of steel cutting through flesh and the whisp of arrows soaring through the air. These were the sounds of battle, sounds that Tycon had heard his whole life, but this, this was different. The sheer intensity of his surroundings encased him in a state of hyper-awareness. His chest was beating hard and his breaths shaky as he scanned his surroundings. The cavalry swept back and forth, cutting anyone down who lingered in the open. No hesitation, no mercy.

The snow was now red, limbs scattered amongst the crystalized rain. Spattering its purity with the blood of the weak. The sight was disturbing, even for a mercenary like Tycon. He, Ren and Tai took cover behind the farmhouse, now encased in flame. Anyone left inside, dead to smoke inhalation or worse. The archers had done some damage at least, he counted four cavalrymen scattered amongst the bodies of the rebels, he hoped there was more lying about.

He knew that it was impossible for him to fight the cavalry as a simple infantryman. If they weren't outnumbered they'd might have stood a chance but he refused to leave Ambre behind and retreat. They had to fight, he had to fight. If they didn't, the soldiers would most likely storm the underground base and slaughter all that dwelled within. 

He took a step out from behind the house but was stopped as Ren grabbed his arm.

"Don't, you're going to die," He said quickly, his words shaking.

"I have to get Ambre!"

"The princess will be fine," Tai added.

"How? She's going to die."

"Shut up, why do you care so much?"

Every part of him wanted to punch Tai in the face but now wasn't the time. With every second that passed, his anger grew.

"Do you take us for fools?" Tai said, "You think we wouldn't build an escape route in the tunnels? We have to go, there's a rendezvous point deeper in the forest."

Tycon shrugged Ren off, "No, I'm going after her."

"You fool!" Shouted Tai as he grabbed Ren and retreated into the forest.

Tycon stepped on to the blood-soaked open ground, watching as the cavalry came back for another charge. He didn't wait for their approach. He could feel the thumps beneath his feet as the horses galloped towards him, leaving a trail of snow in their wake. Tycon rushed to the trap door, ripping it open just as the first swing from the rider came down at him, he felt the blade slice a deep cut into his arm, the pain searing and sharp, he let out a cry and threw himself into the open hole, knowing full well the drop would be painful and painful it was. He hit the dirt floor with a thud, the breath bursting from his lungs.

He dragged himself across the dirt, desperately clawing for any sort of distance. Eventually, managing to climb to his feet, clutching the wound on his arm, he limped forward. Only the will to find Ambre kept him moving, wanting desperately to collapse and pass out, he continued on. The blood seeped between his fingers and rolled down his hand, he could almost feel the blood pumping out with every heartbeat. Between the pain and the daze of falling from such a height, he hadn't noticed that the tunnels were empty.

Shit.

Tai was right and he felt stupid for it. He let his emotions get in the way of his usual rational thoughts. Even though he didn't like Tai one bit, it was no excuse for his impulsive behavior in the midst of battle. That wasn't usual though, then again.

love makes you do stupid things.

He couldn't turn back, only move forward in search of the escape tunnel Tai mentioned. As he continued to make his way toward the war room, he heard the clink of armor coming behind him. Close enough to hear but far enough away that he could remain out of sight. The whole base was empty and mostly quiet, he used that to his advantage, hearing the sounds of the enemy soldiers and avoiding them. But they were much faster than he was, so he kept to the walls and the shadows.

He heard the voices of the soldiers, as he arrived into the war room, where he had met Grohir the day prior. Tycon fiddled with random objects in hopes of one of them being a lever or a button of some sort. Time was running out and the soldiers were getting nearer, their steps growing louder with each second that passed.

 Shit, shit.

Beneath him was a small rug, covered in dirt. He lifted it, the particles wafting into his eyes, under the rug was a trap door. He couldn't help but smile to himself. Tycon slowly lifted the trapdoor and slipped himself inside, he had no time to attempt to cover it again and knew that the soldiers would be following soon. 

The tunnel was small, only large enough for him to crawl through. Making progress was difficult with his wounds, the pain still hadn't subsided and his arms were sticky with blood. The dirt stuck to him like an adhesive as he crawled, he swore under his breath. At least the claustrophobic tunnel would make it impossible to crawl through in plate armor, he knew the soldiers would soon discover this and would have to turn back, or so he hoped.

There, just ahead of Tycon was light, the end of the tunnel. The fresh winter air wafted through and he shivered but still reveled in it. He was lucky, incredibly lucky, almost hearing Balin's voice mocking him for his stupidity. He solemnly smiled to himself and quickened his pace. Tycon could hear hushed voices outside and he drew his dagger just to be safe. But he stopped once he heard it, the familiar and beautiful voice of Ambre. Sighing in relief, he continued to drag himself forward.

"Where's Tycon?!" He heard Ambre shout.

"He ran off my lady," Tai replied calmly.

He was nearing the mouth of the tunnel and he heard someone shoosh the two, then silence. 

"Wait, it's just me," Tycon croaked from within the tunnel.

"Tycon?" Ambre said.

"Yeah, can I get some help here?"

An arm reached in and he took the hand, dragging him outside and into the wet snow. The cold air pierced him yet again and he quickly felt his face go numb. Glancing up, he saw Ambre with her arms folded and gazing down at him, frowning.

"Quick, someone patch his wounds," She commanded.

Suddenly everyone came into action, they formed a circle around him, staring outward with their swords drawn, while one man hastily wrapped a cloth around his wounded arm, tight, painfully tight. He knew it was necessary to slow down the blood loss until they could get somewhere safe. Ambre crouched next to the man, eyes full of worry and fear. It was clear she was relieved, yet also afraid of his wounds.

"I'll be okay," He coughed, giving her a thumbs up.

"We need to move," He heard Grohir say from outside the circle, "Get him up."

---

 They traveled for what seemed like hours, keeping to the forest and avoiding roads. Their numbers were halved in the attack and the solemn silence lingered upon the group with every step. Ambre kept close to him, walking by his side and occasionally passing a glance his way. Ren kept Tycon's arm slumped over his neck as he held Tycon's weight and helped him walk. He was grateful for that, Tai, however, stuck to Ambres side, noticing their glances to one another. His face seemingly stuck in a scowl, pretending not to notice.

Tycon wondered if he suspected the relationship between him and Ambre, not like he cared all that much. He did, however, seem bothered by it. Tai seemed bothered by everything, so it wasn't too far outside the norm but Tycon found it incredibly frustrating. He didn't like him one bit.

They arrived outside yet another dilapidated farmhouse, this time far deeper into the woods than the one before. It was hidden by thick and dense trees. Tycon guessed the house was far older than the one prior. The snow had seeped in through the open windows and half of the wooden roof had caved in. What were they going to do now? He knew they wouldn't stand a chance in a frontal assault, they didn't to begin with. A wasted effort was what Tycon thought it was, best to just cut their losses and run. But he did have an admiration for them, their efforts in taking back their home, despite it all.

Ren lowered him down by the left wall and watched him for a moment. Tycon noticed Ambre hadn't come in with them, he guessed she was speaking with Grohir somewhere nearby. Ren's face was one of concern as he studied the wound on his arm, Tycon hadn't had a chance to see it himself, so he checked it too. It was deep, enough for it to scar. The blood was beginning to soak through the cloth that had been hastily, yet, tightly wrapped around it. He guessed it would need to be stitched and shuddered at the thought.

His guess was confirmed to be true when the man who treated him prior came over with a leather pack, removing a needle, a bottle of alcohol, and some thread.

"Extend your arm for me," The man said, his voice unwavering and professional.

Tycon did as the man said and he soaked a cloth with the alcohol, dabbing it over his wound. The pain was immense and sharp, it stung enough for him to bite the collar of his coat, he waited desperately for the stinging to disappear. Once the man was done, it wasn't long before he felt the needle slip through his skin, the thread moving like a snake slithering under his skin. As the mean worked the thread into his arm, Ambre walked through the door with Grohir and Tai in tow. Tycon watched where Tai's eyes were placed on Ambre and he wasn't happy. He shifted his gaze just in time to catch Tycon's scowl and brushed his hair back, almost as if mocking him.

Again, he wanted so badly to punch Tai in his smug face and again he still couldn't. He sighed and let it slip out of his mind. 

Better left that way.

For now, he had to pay for the consequences of his stupidity. Unable to fight, all he could do was sit there and wait until his arm was healed. That bothered him more than he thought it would.

---

 "We have to launch a counter-attack," Grohir insisted. 

Ambre knew he was right, but what were they to do? Their numbers were halved. It felt as if all was lost, everything they had worked for, gone in one single attack. Perhaps they should have been smarter, she didn't blame anyone though. It was a collective effort, or in this case, a collective failure. 

She watched Grohir's expression. He seemed worried, almost in a panic. His aging face seemed to show more wrinkles when he was worried or afraid. Tai, however, seemed confident, which made her worry a lot more than she would have liked. Then there was Tycon, he sat over by the wall with Ren having his arm stitched up. She shook her head, she knew that he was looking for her. In retrospect, she wished she would have told him more about their plans and what to do if an attack came, though she had assumed there was more time.

He was an idiot, an idiot that she loved dearly.

Their sudden separation caused by the shift in each other's social status made her feel bad for him. She'd been so caught up in dutiful matters, that she'd neglected to speak to him. Maybe deep down she knew that once this was all over they'd go their separate ways. She wasn't stupid, she knew that Tycon had guessed the same too. Perhaps drifting apart would make it easier for both of them.

She had hesitated, she still did at the thought of becoming Queen. There was an inner pull, like a spectral nudge that always made her drift back to him, to Tycon. The blonde, ragged elf who always tried to find the best in people, who always knew how to make her feel special. The title of the princess seemed insignificant next to the things he'd call her. 

She was afraid to let go.

"Hey, my lady," Grohir's gruff voice pulled her from her thoughts.

"Yeah, right, counterattack. How do you propose we do that with our forces halved?"

Grohir sighed deeply and brushed his graying hair back, "I've got an idea but it's risky."

"Speak," She said.

"Maybe later, I need some time to collect my thoughts. No sense rushing into this now, we already don't have enough time as it is."

"All the more reason to tell us," Tai chimed in. 

Grohir sighed again, "Heres the general idea, I've not had much time to go over it," He paused a moment, "We go to the city at nightfall and get inside, stealthily."

"Seems pretty basic," Tai remarked sarcastically. 

Grohir raised an eyebrow at the man, "Don't see you coming up with anything, chicken shit."

Tai chuckled mockingly before Ambre stepped in.

"Have some time to think about it Grohir, but it's running out. I'm going to check on everyone."

"Why?" Tai asked.

Ambre was taken aback, but she didn't answer him and instead made her way over to Tycon. He was now stitched up and had a bandage wrapped around his arm, his black coat was blanketed over his shoulders and she watched as a snowflake floated to rest on his scruffy long blonde hair.

His eyes were like hers, ocean blue. He always argued hers were prettier but he was absolutely wrong. He sat casually chatting to Ren, she was glad he had a friend to pass the time with. That made her smile.

"Tycon, how are you feeling?"

The two men stopped and looked over to her as she approached.

"Hey Ambre," Tycon said, Ren simply bowed.

"Your arm... Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah, should be fine."

She studied his wound again, "Tycon, I don't think you should be fighting with that wound."

Tycon shook his head, "Not about to sit this fight out."

Ambre leaned down and put a hand on his shoulder. 

"You can't, the stitches will tear and you'll re-open your wounds."

"I'll be fine," Tycon insisted.

"You should listen to her," Ren added.

"Tycon, listen to me. You're staying here to heal, that's an order."

His eyebrows arched for a moment and then he sighed, "If that's what you want."

"Good," She paused and kissed him on the cheek, "Please stay here."

"I will."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Somehow, deep down, she knew he was lying. She considered leaving Ren with him so he wouldn't leave but she knew that wouldn't make a difference. Tycon was a determined person, she knew him most out of anyone there and she knew he'd somehow find a way to the city. 

Even in the midday sun the earth was cool, blanketed by the crystal water. The air thin and clean, steam coming from each breath she took as she gazed into the forest. It was eerily quiet, save for the sound of archers perched up in the trees. The whistle of a weak wind would occasionally sweep through the broken homestead, carrying with it, pain. Something she hoped would change very soon.

She hoped the plan would prove to be useful. They didn't really have a choice, it was fight or flight and she'd be damned if it were flight. Time was running out and they'd have to carry out their attack in the coming night. That would be the night things change. 

---

The night where the world would change forever.