“Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up.” –James Arthur Baldwin

The two kids ran through the field, giggling as they did.

“I’m gonna beat you!” The boy taunted, pumping his chubby legs as fast as he could. The girl laughed and easily ran past him, hand slapping the tree as she beat him.

“I win again~!” She taunted. He glared at her and huffed.

“Cheater.” He tackled her and began to tickle her. She squealed and squirmed beneath him.

“Herst!” She giggled. “Stop it!”

“What’s the magic word?”

“Please!”

“Okay.” He got off of her and laughed at her red face. “Hey, look! Your hair and face finally match!”

“Shut up, meanie.” She pouted, folding her arms. But her colorful eyes, a trade mark of her people, twinkled with mirth much like his own oddly-colored eyes did. He hugged her.

“I’m sorry, Rosie. I won’t do it anymore, promise.” He smiled brightly and ruffled her russet-colored hair. She frowned and fixed it once more.

“Herst!” From a distance, his parents’ voices could be heard. He whined and stood up.

“I gotta go home.” He pouted. “See you tomorrow?”

“Of course!” She stood with him and hugged him tightly.

“Herst!”

“I’m coming!” He yelled at the top of his lungs. He jogged off towards the blurry figures that were his parents, waving at the girl with his bright smile.

The next day, she waited for him by their favorite spot. She waited and waited and waited. Her stomach growled hungrily, and her throat was dry with thirst, but still, she waited. Finally, as the sun dipped under the horizon, she stood, tears streaming down her face, and trudged back to her house.

Her best friend had never shown. 

2: The Mission

“Serving soldiers develop a tremendous sense of obligation to their comrades, and are trained to see the mission through.” –Anthony Cordesman

            Death and Destruction. That was all he knew anymore. The three of them walked hand-in-hand, wherever he went. They followed like hounds who worshipped their master. He, in return, worshipped them as gods, gave them sacrifices by doing their bidding, which had been instilled in him as a young child.

            “LeBlanc.” A cool voice called. He stopped in his tracks and turned. His boss stood behind him, hidden in shadows, swathed in any and everything black. “This is enough. You have completed your task.” LeBlanc sheathed his blades, tucking them back into their hidden niches before nodding his head.

            “Have I a new assignment?” He asked, picking at his nails in feigned disinterest. The figure nodded its head.

            “Yes. You do. Report back to headquarters and prepare to leave.” A faint hint of a smile was heard in the other’s tone before they disappeared in a flash. LeBlanc shook his head. Hologram; always a hologram.

- - - - 

            “Mistress! Do wait up!” The fumbling maid fussed and hurried after her, trying to bring her the things necessary of a lady. Her mistress sighed softly and turned, teal eyes alight with impatience.

            “Do hurry. I have places to be.” She frowned sternly. The maid whimpered and held out her gloves and handkerchief.

            “Y-You forgot these, mistress…” She bowed her head and closed her eyes. The other smiled softly and took them.

            “Thank you, Sofiya. You are a dear.” She lightly patted her head. “Now, run along and finish your chores.”

            “Y-Yes, ma’am.” She turned and hurried away without another word.

- - - - 

            “That’s the woman?” Wyatt LeBlanc, assassin for the leaders of the Commonwealth of States, raised his fine eyebrows in disbelief. “You want me to target the Princess of the South State?”

            “Yes.” His boss nodded. “She is the only thing standing in the way of our capture of the South State to incorporate it into the Commonwealth.”

            “You’re out of your mind.” He drew out a cigarette and lit it, puffing out smoke as he pocketed his lighter. His boss made a slight face of disgust.

            “I don’t see how you can use such antiquated technology.” They shuddered. “We have much better, healthier options you could use.”

            “To each his own.” He shrugged and closed his eyes, letting the nicotine soothe him.

            “You don’t have a choice about this, Mr. LeBlanc.” His boss hissed. “Either you do it willfully or we make you do it.”

            “I have nothing to lose.” He smirked and puffed out a ring of smoke.

            “Not even your sister?” The other’s tone grew sadistic and dark.

            “What have you done to her?” He had known it would only be a matter of time before they had found his sister. “If you have hurt her, I swear…”

            “Relax, LeBlanc. She is unharmed, as of yet.” The voice was teasing. “But she will be, if you refuse to cooperate.”

            “…How long do I have?”

            “One year.”

            “If I don’t?”

            “Your sister will die.” LeBlanc sighed softly and dropped his cigarette, grinding it under the heel of his boot.

            “All right. I’ll do it. After this, though, I’m retiring.” He opened his eyes, the plum-colored orbs set afire by determination.

            “That’s all we ask, Mr. LeBlanc. I’m glad you see it our way.”

            “When do I leave?” He growled out.

            “Tomorrow.”

            “Good.” He stalked past the boss and headed for his room, pressing his thumb to the scanner before the door opened, stepping inside with a soft sigh. He flopped on his tiny cot, door sliding shut with a soft hiss. His hands were clenched into fists. “I promise they won’t hurt you, Beth. I’ll be home before you know it.”

- - - - 

            His eyes scanned the surroundings as he stepped into the heart of the South State, the city of Vene. All around him were the results of the war between the Commonwealth and the South State. Poverty, sickness, famine, all of them had taken their toll on the people. Despite the conditions, they loved their Princess, holding a fierce devotion to her and her leadership.

            Behind him, the hover-train let out a loud wail before taking for the skies, off to its next destination. He sighed softly and grabbed his wheeled pack, dragging it behind him as he walked. His clothes, made of exotic furs, swished around him as he walked, tickling his skin. In his other hand rested a letter, his recommendation for “work” in the Royal Palace. He wiped the sweat from his brow, internally cursing the heat for which the South State was known.

            “Halt!” A brusque voice called as he neared the gates. He stopped mid-stride, holding out the letter to the approaching guard. “State your name and business.”

            “LeBlanc.” He answered. “I’ve been recommended to work for the Princess.” The guard eyed him suspiciously before opening the letter and scanning the contents carefully.

            “Very well, Mister LeBlanc. You may proceed.” He handed the letter back and returned to his post, his watchful gaze never straying too far from the man dressed in furs. Wyatt nodded and proceeded onward, searching for the steward to find his new temporary quarters. The castle stood before him, a picture of grandeur in the South. It was squat and made of slabs of white stone, the roofs made of blue-dyed thatch. At the highest point, a flag colored in alternating black and blue stripes with a pure-white lion decorating the center was raised, the flag of the South State. It was no beauty compared to the castles of old, but it was fairly well built for the poverty that had constantly plagued the State ever since its creation after the Third World War almost 1,000 years ago.

            As he wandered around, slightly irritated from the heat that constantly hammered him, he bumped into a soft figure.

            “Oh, goodness me!” The voice was quiet and slightly surprised. “Do forgive me! I should’ve watched where I was going…”

            “Nonsense.” He flashed a soft smile as he looked down, only to find a woman in his arms. “It is I that should be asking forgiveness.” She jumped back and looked up at him with wide teal eyes. Only then did it strike him that she looked just like the Princess.

            “It was my fault, sir.” She smiled sheepishly. “I should have watched where I was going.”

            “If you wish to believe so.” He examined her carefully, eyes discreetly searching her for hidden weapons. “Might I ask if you are the Princess?”

            “Why, yes I am.” She dipped her head. “You caught me unprepared for guests.” Her leader-like appearance immediately slipped into place. “I am Princess Rosetta Amalee de Herrsantos.”

            “A pleasure.” He bowed deeply. “Please call me LeBlanc.”

            “Also a pleasure.” She curtsied lightly. “Now, tell me, sir LeBlanc, why have you travelled all the way from the Commonwealth to come here?” Her eyes narrowed slightly, inspecting him much as he had, although less discreetly. Inwardly, he was surprised that she had known from whence he had come.

            “The Commonwealth, milady?” He decided to play dumb. She was not amused. Her full, peach lips pressed themselves into thin lines.

            “You may think your accent is perfect, but, in truth, it is horrendous.” She sniffed slightly, a sign that she considered him beneath her. He merely blinked.

            “Milady, the war is hurting both you and the Commonwealth.” He murmured. “I came on a recommendation to work in the Palace.” He produced the letter from his pocket and held it out to her. “I simply wish to work.” She scanned the contents of the letter carefully. Not a thing out of place. Yet she couldn’t quite push away a niggling doubt. His clothes indicated that he had money, and quite a bit of it. Yet, there was something else about him that wasn’t quite right, something that she couldn’t even begin to put a name to…

            “Very well.” She said begrudgingly, handing back the letter. “Your chambers are down the hall from mine.” She pointed to show him the way. “After that, you are to report to the gardens. Make haste, Mister LeBlanc.” With that, she sashayed down the hall, out of sight. A soft breath of relief left his lungs as she did.

            Fooling her would be no easy task. 

3: Wyatt's New Job

Chapter 2- Wyatt’s New Job

            “And, after all, what is a lie? ‘Tis but the truth in a masquerade.” –Lord Byron

            The small lake glistened in the early morning light as Wyatt made his way through the gardens, searching for the princess. She had told him to meet her in a specific spot, but she was nowhere to be seen. Using his very keen tracking skills, he managed to find faint impressions upon the ground from her flat slippers. He smirked inwardly and followed them off the path discreetly, making sure that no one saw him. The princess was making his job so easy.

            Her footsteps finally ended at the base of a large, aged oak tree. He peered up into the foliage and looked for her, freezing when a knife was pressed to his throat.

            “Think again, Commonwealth.” The princess purred in his ear. He mindlessly took her wrist and twisted it behind her. She laughed softly. “Impressive, Mr. LeBlanc. You have passed the test.” He blinked and dropped her arm.

            “Pardon?” His deep voice held a lilt of confusion.

            “The test to determine if the job is the right one for you.” She smiled brightly, a spark of cunning in her teal eyes. “Congratulations, Mr. LeBlanc. Welcome to the staff of the South State’s royal family.” He blinked again in surprise, simply standing behind her in shock. She shook her arm from his grasp and turned to face him. Her hair, as fiery as the attitude she possessed, shone like a smoldering fire in the bright sunlight. Wyatt immediately knelt, as he knew he should, head bowed in a sign of respect.

            “Thank you, my lady.” He said, losing his apparently-horrible accent. “I’ll do everything I can to help.”

            “Oh, I know you will.” She smirked then, eyes sparkling in mischief. “You can’t simply let the princess die, now can you?” Her words were taunting, striking him as he realized what all she had assigned him to be.

            “A bodyguard, princess?” He raised his eyebrows in disbelief, cursing those who had trained him so well.

            “But of course.” She smiled mockingly. “What other occupation would suit you but that?” She giggled and gestured for him to stand. “Come, we must go to get you equipped for service.” She grabbed his wrist and began to drag him behind her, a certainly un-princess-like thing to do. He followed her dumbly, his mind whirling. Bodyguard?

            “Dream later, Mr. LeBlanc.” She smirked. “Can’t have you slack off just yet.” He blinked and nodded, remembering that he had a job to do and a sister to save.

            “Sorry, princess.” His words were spoken seriously, but Rosetta caught the faintest trace of fire and sarcasm. She chuckled softly and rolled her eyes, stopping by the armory.

            “You have 10 minutes to acquire everything you need.” She pursed her lips and folded her arms. “Tick tock.” He scowled inwardly and slipped inside, the fur pelts that adorned his body making a soft swishing sound as he moved. His plum eyes scanned his surroundings, analyzing any spots for surveillance as well as potential weapons. His gaze lit on a thin blade, made of the strongest metal known to man. His fingers immediately grasped at it, an unconscious effort to get the best he could.

            Rosetta was waiting impatiently at the door, watching him with distrustful eyes. Something about the man seemed off. Why would he come to work for the Palace when he had furs and such finery to clothe himself? There was something deeper to him than she had originally perceived, and she would find it out, no matter what it took.

            “Princess, I’m finished.” His deep voice broke through her planning and preparing, startling her. It hadn’t been 10 minutes already, had it? From the look on his face, it must have been. Her dark skin flushed, growing darker by the second.

            “Let’s go then.” She huffed, beginning to march off. His fingers wrapped around her wrist, pulling her back to him. She whirled, lips pursed and ready to berate him, when the tip of the knife met the delicate skin of her throat. She licked her lips and trembled faintly. His eyes were hard and unfeeling. Her eyes closed as she uttered a silent prayer to spare her soul.

            Wyatt’s hand trembled slightly, a first for him. Normally, he had no qualms about disposing of the latest victim. Here he had her, alone, undefended, and unarmed. So why couldn’t his hand push that little bit more to kill her? His fingers loosened around the blade’s handle, pulling away from her. Her breath left her in a loud exhale, her body visibly trembling from the scare.

            “What in God’s name was that, Mr. LeBlanc?” She asked, clutching her skirts to hide the tremor in her fists. Her voice, however, still lilted, her fear quite evident in the way she held herself.  “Was that an assassination attempt?”

            His eyes widened slightly. “No, Princess.” He lied, his voice growing just the smallest bit deeper. “I was testing to see how well you could hold your own, should anything happen to your bodyguard.” He smiled charmingly, an internal tirade at himself threatening to break his cool, collected façade. She glared at him and turned on her heel, stomping away like a young child would. He rubbed his face and cursed quietly. “Idiot! You almost gave yourself away!” He followed after her, hoping he could dissuade her from his intentions to kill her.

            Meanwhile, Rosetta was trying her hardest to get away from him, tears threatening to spill from teal eyes. This was very much unlike her, to be so emotional about an event like that. Her body still shook from the fright she had received. His excuse made sense, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling that he was up to no good.

            “Princess Rosetta.” His voice was right in her ear, causing her to let out an otherworldly shriek and whirl around, slapping him across the face. The sound from the contact resonated in the air, neither of them moving. Finally, Wyatt dipped his head, sliding away rather quickly, his cheek flaming and red.

            “Stay away from me.” She ordered, voice trembling even more. He looked up in shock at her.

            “My job is to protect you.” He said softly, not meeting her gaze. Her heart felt a soft pang of pain at his refusal to look straight at her, confusing her to no end.

            “You just tried to kill me!” Her voice rose to a high screech. His heart stopped in his chest. If her voice got any louder, the whole nation would know! She paused to draw a breath, and that was when he saw his opportunity to silence her. Before she could raise her voice again, he had pressed himself close to her, smothering her cries with his lips. Her eyes widened, cheeks flaming. Her lips moved hesitantly against his.

            “Please do not scream anymore, Princess.” He said softly when they drew apart. “It is not becoming for the leader of the South State to be in perceived hysterics.” Her cheeks darkened even more. Another crack rang through the air as her hand once again connected with his cheek.

            “Do not tell me what to do.” She growled, although a hint of respect and gratefulness hid in the depths of her teal eyes. He bit back a smirk and dipped his head.

            “Sorry.” His tone indicated that he was anything but apologetic. She nodded and turned back, and this time no bodyguard trailed her. He simply stood and watched her, still wondering what on Earth had caused him to pause in his attempt to kill her. 

4: Decisions in Disaster

“Every decision is liberating, even if it leads to disaster. Otherwise, why do so many people walk upright and with their eyes open into their misfortune?” –Elias Canetti

            “Here you go, sir.” The cook smiled as she handed him a plate. Her bluish-purple eyes twinkled happily. He smiled back warmly and sat at a stool to eat, having received a shock when he realized that servants didn’t eat at the main table. But the other servants seemed nice and helpful, particularly the cook, who was smitten with him as soon as he walked into the room. Perhaps he could use them to help in his assassination plot…

            “Is there a Mr. Wyatt LeBlanc in this room?” One of the butlers poked his balding head in. Wyatt blinked and nodded, standing up and laying his eating utensils down.

            “I am he.” He said, sizing up the portly man. Out of shape, unequipped, and cowardly, this man would be no problem to subdue should an issue arise between them. Wait, was he wearing a toupee? How odd.

            “Come with me.” Without another word, the man turned and began to walk off, leaving Wyatt no choice but to follow. He looked balefully at the delicious food on his plate and sighed, following the butler down the corridor that contained both his and the Princess’s quarters. “Here he is, Your Highness.”

            “Good. You may leave.” The Princess’s voice was curt, and the man gulped before bowing and scurrying away. Wyatt stepped in, his eyes wide in disbelief at her quarters. Being a princess, her quarters should have been lustrous and grandiose; they were the opposite. They could have belonged to any normal person, were it not for the luxurious gown strewn across her bed.

            “You called for me?” He said, slightly irritated at the fact that she had, presumably, called him for help in some sort of fashion emergency or something of the like. She nodded and held up the dress against her frame. The fabric was an emerald green to compliment her wild red hair, but the front-most panel and bodice were a teal color to match her eyes. It made her look absolutely stunning.

            “What do you think?” She asked, watching him with hawk’s eyes.

            “It compliments you nicely.” He answered honestly. “You would look beautiful if you were to wear it.”

            “Exactly why I’m getting rid of it.” She sniffed and threw the garment away, as if it were offensive to her. He blinked in surprise.

            “Why, in God’s name, are you getting rid of it?” The words were out of his mouth before he could censor them.

            “Because it makes me look beautiful.” She replied, her voice as serious as could be, either not noticing or ignoring the tone of his voice. Wyatt, however, still didn’t understand.

            “Is being beautiful a problem, Princess?”

            “It is when it brings suitors that you don’t want.” She huffed disdainfully and began to move away from him. A soft tick sounded, and Wyatt immediately sprang into action when, in hindsight, he should have left.

            “Get down!” He hissed, tackling her to the ground and covering her body with his. She let out a scream before his hand covered her mouth. “Quiet!” She made some muffled retort against his hand, but he gave her a warning look before closing his eyes, listening for where the bomb probe was. The soft ticking of metal against wood was heard as the tiny, spider-like creature came into view. A pulsing green light emerged from its back, indicating the readiness of the bomb. Unlike most of the older bombs, which detonated at the press of the button, this bomb probe responded to the intonation of a certain person’s voice, most likely the Princess in this case.

            Rosetta was horrified, lips pressed together tightly. Another attempt on her life, within the same day? Despite Wyatt’s reassurances that the attempt was merely a test, her instinct told her that she couldn’t trust him. Yet, here she was, depending on this 19 year-old boy to save her. She didn’t know how to dismantle a bomb probe. If she spoke even the quietest of words, she would have to hope that her God would take her where she believed she belonged.

            “Stay here, and don’t make a sound.” He warned in a voice that couldn’t technically be called a whisper. She nodded and watched him silently as he stood up, striding towards the probe. The tiny thing tried to escape, but Wyatt grabbed it and crushed it in his hand, opening her window and tossing it out. She let out a quiet sigh of relief before he grabbed her and looked at her with wide eyes.

            “Don’t make a sound.” He whispered frantically. “Those things never travel alone!” Her heart stopped. Had she just condemned them to death? After waiting for what seemed like years, Wyatt’s eyes and ears scanning for another probe, he finally relaxed his grip on her, but pressed a finger to his lips to keep her quiet. “We have to get you out of here.” She nodded and looked around for a trunk to pack a few things in. The other shook his head.  “We don’t have time.”

            She opened her mouth to speak but clamped her lips shut; giving him the meanest glare anyone had received from her in ages. He raised his hands and backed up, watching her as she hurried around her room, gathering up a few articles of clothing to take with her. A plum-colored gaze fell upon the dress she had discarded earlier, and an urge to pick it up overwhelmed him.

            “Take this, too.” He said softly, holding out the gown to her. She looked at him oddly but took it, their fingers brushing against each other as she did so. A bright blush rose to her cheeks, and she hurriedly turned away. Wyatt, having always been a man of destruction and death, had never quite understood the way women worked, especially not this one. He shook his head and went to stand outside the door, looking around for a sign of another probe or a person.

            “I’m ready.” Her voice was inaudible to all but Wyatt’s ears, her hand lightly touching his back, sending chills down his spine. He nodded and grabbed her wrist, dragging her to his chambers.

            “Wait here.” He said, ducking inside for the shortest amount of time that he could, thankful that he had not unpacked hardly anything yet. “Let’s go. We’ll take the next hover-train out of here to get as far away as possible.” She blinked but nodded. He ushered her in front of him, on the look-out for other people. This was the perfect way to get rid of her, in his eyes.

            However, as they were leaving the gates, a cry arose from within the Palace.

            “The Princess has been kidnapped!”

            Wyatt growled and scooped her up in his arms. “Hold on.” He murmured as his training kicked into gear, his feet carrying him swifter through the crowds than any mechanical alteration could. She merely clung to the furs that covered his chest, her cheeks flaming, her breathing quickening. He slowed and let her down once they reached the hover-train station, his breathing having not changed in the slightest.

            “What…?” Her heart still hammered in her chest, and not just from adrenaline of their escape. He ran a hand through his blonde locks and sighed.

            “Come on. The hover-train leaves soon.” He took her hand and leaned in close. “Act with me, all right?” She nodded and followed him onto the train, blinking in surprise when he let her choose the seat.

            “Thank you.” She whispered. He gave her a lazy smile.

            “Welcome…” He leaned in closer. “Wife.”