Spirits of the Earth

His mind was drifting in terrible ways, his dreams transporting him into deeper and further darkness. A darkness that he walked through, leaving bloodied footprints in his wake. A babe, nestled atop a pile of bodies, sheltered among the cold stonework of an abandoned cathedral. A figure, vicious and disfigured, made its way up the pile of bodies, using them to climb up towards the babe. Dean stood on the outskirts, feet glued to the ground as the figure lifted the infant from the pile. As the tattered blanket fell from the infant's body, he noted how limp it was.

Another figure, a cloaked woman, approached and ascended the pile of bodies. "Witch." He thought to himself...

The warmth of naked flesh tugged on the outskirts of his mind, dragging him out from underneath the dream and back into the waking world. He groaned groggily as he felt breasts pressed against his back, a hand snaking down his bare chest. As he moved to turn over to face the woman in his bed he suddenly realized his hands were tied together in front of him. A hot mouth pressed against his ear. The sound of the voice that came next provoked him to gag. Throwing his full weight into it, he turned to face her.

Black eyes smiled back at him in the face of his mother, though her features were distorted and grotesque. His mother... This thing... Shoved him onto his back and straddled his waist with unusual strength, her plump, old body writhing against his pants. "Shhh... Mother knows what's right. Never really been yer "ma," though. Time to make good of you, boy. Time to seal the deal made."

The odd need to obey kept him pacified as the thing began fumbling at his belt... Until it began to drool, the saliva burning wounds into his bare chest. Something inside of him snapped, wakening as if he had been sleep walking all of his life. Dean began to thrash beneath her, suddenly recalling the dagger beneath his mattress. As best he could, Dean dislodged his arms from beneath her to grab at it with his tied hands.

He plunged the dagger deep in her belly and thrust as hard as he could upwards. The blade cut into her, spilling blackened guts and blood out all over his half-naked body. She- it- let out a guttural, gurgling noise and dropped on top of him. The smell was repulsive- like rotting corpses. He just barely turned his head to the side to vomit, the thing's face, now the face of the woman he'd thought was his mother, pressed against his shoulder. The drool from it's mouth burned his shoulder as he struggled beneath her vast weight.

Finally he was able to roll himself out from beneath her onto the floor. Her body rolled off with him, but this time landed on his calves as he fell to his knees. Kicking her off of him frantically, Dean turned onto his butt and scooted as far as he could get from her corpse. Taking his dagger, he struggled to cut the rope tying his hands together, his eyes flickering between it and the lifeless body of his mother. His mother! The whole room was dark except the flicker of a single candle, and the ringing in his ears was terrible. Breaking the ropes, he looked down at his shaking hands... They were covered in blood... Dark red blood, not black. Eyes darting back to the corpse, he found himself looking at his mother. His very human mother.

He was crazy... He had to be! Turning over to kneel on his hands and knees, he began retching so violently that tears sprang to his eyes. Retching until nothing more would come up. His body trembling violently, Dean grabbed at the rickety table in their shared room, pulling himself to his feet. He looked back at her... Still, her naked body lay where he had left it. Still human. Still his mother. No evidence of the monstrous thing that had straddled him.

Their small tub still full with cold water, Dean forced himself into it, still with his pants on. He scrubbed himself hard of her blood, trying to gather his thoughts. Though Zantaric was a lawless city, there were folk who would kill a mother-killer. "Matricide," a dark voice inside his mind told him. "You've murdered your mother. You stripped her bare and when she fought you, you killed her."

A near-sob tore from his throat as Dean hurried from the tub and stripped naked, grabbing at a clean set of clothes. Still wet from the bath, he pulled the clothes on, shaking his head violently. "No... No, no, no..."

The voice returned. "Leave this place. Set a fire, lock the door." The voice was right. He would be killed for this! He could no longer distinguish the truth... Was what he had seen reality, or had he lost touch with reality and the voice was right? Shoving clothes and supplies into a pack, he adorned himself with his usual weaponry. Taking the candle, he quickly lit the bedding on fire of his mother's cot... He could not go near the body again.

Standing in the doorway to their cramped quarters, Dean waited to ensure the fire was properly lit. With one last look at the body of his mother, or the beast, whatever it was, Dean closed the door and locked it with shaking hands.

He took off into the night, first walking, and then running. He would not stop until chance... or the voice... struck him.

"My lady Bartok, please don't stray so far."

Reina sighed heavily, slowing her pace so the manservant who had been assigned to keep an eye on her while his master conducted his business inside one of these rather shady looking stores that dotted either side of the street could catch up.

His master, a young heir to a very well off merchant family, who just so happened to be her betrothed. The young noblewoman sighed again, resisting the urge to run her hand through her hair for fear of mussing it. She still couldn't quite believe this was happening. "Yes, yes. I'll stay right here," she muttered, most unladylike in the petulance in her tone.

The manservant came up beside her, eyes flicking warily around. Reina wasn't stupid. She knew what Zantaric was, the kind of people who lived here. She was absolutely positive that if her parents had known just where he future husband was planning on taking her when he decided she should come with him on one of his business ventures they wouldn't have been so keen on her going.

Still...her curious nature had her wishing that she had at least a little unsupervised time to herself, to explore a bit. She wasn't just some wilting flower, she was confident that she could handle herself.

In fact, she was fairly sure that she was more competent than the man who was supposed to be "guarding" her, judging by how easily he was distracted by the woman dressed in a low cut bodice and skin tight breeches across the street. She bit her lip, thinking.

She really shouldn't go. It wasn't a wise choice. But... Moving as stealthily as she could, Reina slipped down the alley beside the storefront, casting glances back as she hurried away. She knew where the the store was, she could find her way back. She hoped.

Dean drummed his fingers against the wooden booth, boredom displacing his initial unease as the day wore on. He had just recently returned to the hard streets of Zantaric after a long stint abroad. After the death of his "mother," Dean had taken off to pillage and plunder the world abroad. At first at the bidding of the voice, but eventually it, too, had faded. It was eleven years since his mad dash away from Zantaric, since that horrid night, and nine years since the voice had bid him do anything. The two years between his fifteenth and seventeenth year were a blur... What had transpired, he hardly knew. After murdering his "mother," it had taken him time to get the voice back under control. Whether that be a voice concocted purely from his imagination, or an actual demonic force, he did not know. Its long absence had since lulled him into what might very well be a false sense of security.

Something inside of him had begun to stir after he had turned 25... The ten year anniversary of "the night." He had begun to find himself pulled back towards Zantaric. For a year he had avoided it, but every road seemed to lead him perilously close to the city. Hell, he'd even gone so far as to take a boat to try and go out to the islands! Some freak storm had washed them back to shore to a port town uncomfortably close to the city. All roads led to Zantaric, in spite of any concept of geography or reality. He'd taken every road possible away, and would always find himself staring at a road sign pointing him to Zantaric.

Needless to say, these odd occurrences were beginning to interfere with his "business." This very last time, he'd found himself in front of one of the signs with a sparsely full cart of odd books and trinkets. Nothing close to the treasures he had looted before. He'd grudgingly decided to go to Zantaric to see what might happen, hoping he'd find some way to break the odd magnetism of the city.

And so here he was, minding a booth in one of the less populated markets of the city. All the wares were illegal in these booths... Well, most likely all booths in the city were illegal. They had been when he had last been here. At the beginning of the day Dean had been concerned about being recognized and running into trouble with the gangs his "mother" had been associated with. He'd even gone so far as to don a brown leather akubra style hat ((OC: australian hat)) to partially obscure his features. He quite liked the hat... He'd pinched it off a drunkard during his travels.

But as the day passed and nobody seemed to take note of him, Dean began to relax, realizing that others were unlikely to recognize him. He had been a lad of 15 when he had left the city, and now he was returning as a man of 26. He was well-nourished now, not the half-starving bastard of a bar wench. If "she" had ever actually been anything at all like she'd led him to believe.

As he relaxed, Dean began to become bored. Not many were interested in his wares. Mostly he had books. A few odds and ends of minor value, but mostly books. He'd hoped that the refugee mages might take interest in the contents of the books, but not many paused long enough to learn that some of the books he had were quite valuable. Leaning his chair back against the wall of the building he was set up in front of, Dean lazily watched the thinning street traffic.

Somehow, Reina found herself in what appeared to be some kind of market. Casting one last glance over her shoulder to assure herself that she'd lost her guard, she relaxed slightly and looked around, blue eyes bright and curious.

She meandered through stalls, but nothing particularly caught her eye. In fact, though she didn't realize it, she was the most eye catching thing in the street- all finely embroidered skirts and elegantly pinned hair, tripping through Zantaric like some sort of fae creature dropped in a mortal world.

Then she saw the books, and was instantly crossing the street to the little stand. "Um, excuse me? Sir?" She tried to catch the vendor's attention.

He'd seen her already, walking along the street looking far, far too dressed up. Were nobles coming into the city to do business themselves now? Back when he'd lived here, nobles sent their servants to get the dirty work done in Zantaric. They would never be caught in the city themselves, let alone fully dressed up and walking about one of the seedier sections of the city like the young woman was doing now.

Besides her manner of dress and the way she held herself, the young woman was behaving profoundly too curious for her own good. Too innocent. Like a little flower, waiting to be plucked from the streets and devoured whole. No, you weren't supposed to act curious in Zantaric. Curiosity, even idle curiosity, could rouse the suspicions of nearly anyone in the city. He had learned that the hard way as a boy when he'd stared in childish amazement at a man missing an arm. Apparently the man had been making a rather illicit deal, and had suspected Dean of spying on him. Beat the ever-loving shit out of him to pay for his misplaced curiosity. Now a fancy looking young woman like this one? No, she'd likely suffer something worse than a beating. It wasn't his type of crime. No, he liked to think of his line of work as victimless. Rather noble, almost. He never killed, raped, or stole from the living or able-bodied. Nope, just the dead and the incapacitated (usually drunkards). Well, at least those were the rules after he'd gotten his mind back at 17. What he'd done in the two years was beyond him. He could have been on a murderous rampage, raping and killing and stealing. That was, however, in the past, as was the "voice."

He watched as her eyes slowly zeroed in on the books in his stand. Tipping the brim of his hat down, Dean feigned a nap as she approached. Made her ask twice before he looked up to acknowledge her. Luck help her, she was too polite! But what happened after she bought from him wasn't his business, so for the moment he put on his most charming persona.

He flashed her a bright, charming smile, his handsome features friendly. He didn't want to scare her off, what with her likely heavy purse full and waiting to purchase books. "Good afternoon, lass! What might I help such a pretty lady like you with? I have a few good books here. Rare books. A necklace or two, broaches, hair clips..." He strained to contain his thick accent, leaving it light and lilting. Rich folk liked a pleasant, humble accent. Not the heavy, thick accent of thieves and criminals. He wanted to put her at ease.

Reina gave him a polite smile in return, completely oblivious to the occasional passerby giving them- well, mostly her- odd looks.

"What sort of books are you selling?" she asked with great interest, leaning in a bit to peer at his wares. The pretty baubles held no interest for her, but it was possible that one of these books might help with her studies, and that she was very interested in.

"A wide assortment..." He motioned to one little shelf set up in the booth that he though a young lady like herself might be interested in. "Poetry, literature, love spells and the like..."

He took a longer, purposefully appraising look at the young woman before clapping his hands together. "But y' seem like the type of learn-ed young woman uninterested in such trivialities..." He drummed his hands on the booth before slipping out of his chair and moving around the front table to the young woman, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and guiding her behind the table and into the booth.

He knelt down beside a locked chest, opening it up and motioning her to kneel down beside him. "Books of real magic, these are..." He said conspiratorially. How true that was, was a bit beyond him. He'd not looked closely at these books, but had taken them from the home of a mage of moderate notoriety in Connlaoth.

Wary of his sales pitch, Reina was perfectly prepared to roll her eyes and walk away. "Is that so?" she drawled, letting him guide her around. She frowned a bit as she knelt to look in the chest, now slightly wary of him and his goods. Something about the way he spoke rang false to her.

Then her eyes lit on the books and widened slightly. "Oh..." She reached out unthinkingly and picked up a thick, dusty tome, the title- written in an old language of Adela- emblazoned across the front cover in peeling gold letters.

Opening it, Reina gasped quietly, eyes positively lighting up. "Adris Cayne," she murmured in delight, completely surprised to find such a mage's work in a place like this.

She looked to the vendor. "Where on earth did you get this?"

So the books were of some worth. Good to know should she choose not to buy the whole lot of them, though he was hoping she would. He doubted many in these parts would be as prone to fawning over them as she was.

The young woman continued to make mistakes that a lesser man might take great advantage of... Excitement and asking where he had gained the books. Nobody asked the origins of goods in Zantaric... Most likely they would not want to know. Still, he might price-gauge her a little. It would do the girl good to learn a little hard lesson about life, perhaps dissuade her from returning to such dangerous areas. "So you know of his work..." He guessed at the gender... Hoped it was right.

As she gazed into the book Dean looked over her bent head, seeing a rather sinister individual eyeing the girl. Deftly he maneuvered her so he was blocking her from any wandering eyes on the street, telling himself that he couldn't have somebody disrupting his business. In truth, though, he felt a tiny niggling feeling that could be something akin to having a conscience.

He cleared his throat a bit, uncomfortable with his sudden streak of morality, half-perching on the booth table. "From my travels to Connlaoth. Lots of folk throwing out anything remotely related to magic. Shame." It was close enough to the truth, though that wasn't the way he had procured these books in particular.

"I see..." Reina looked up at him, eyes rather dazed and unfocused. "How much would you ask for it then?" She stood, closing the book and brushing absently at her skirts.

Reina was quite frankly delighted to stumble across such a find in a place like Zantaric, and she doubted that the man himself even really knew what the book was worth. It was possible he would set a price that she could afford with the "allowance" she had been allowed to bring on this little trip.

Gods she hoped he did. She would hate to have to resort to asking her new fiance for the funds to buy the book.

It almost hurt to see her so unaware of her surroundings... Perhaps draining her of money might make her a less likely target for muggers and the like, but it still didn't detract from how painfully pretty she was. Truly, she was an eyesore among the types that populated the streets of Zantaric. All other women he knew of here were hardened criminals or cut-throat whores. Where in the world was her escort? At least that's what he assumed a lady like herself should have in a place like this... Well, a lady like her had no business in a place like this. He tried to keep himself removed from what happened to her after she gave him her money.

He thought on the matter a moment... Glanced over his shoulder as he noticed the crowds thinning even further as the day drew near its end. "While it's a steal..." He eyed the outline of her coin purse among her skirts. She had a good deal on her, but not as much as the book was likely worth. Oh well. "I'll take whatever you have on you." He held out his hand for the coin, "As long as you promise to bring your escort with you should you choose to visit again." He smiled easily at her. "Might interest some of them in a few purchases, too." More that he wanted to make sure she didn't wander back her on her own again.

Belatedly, he pulled one of his daggers out and offered it to her, sheath first. "I'll even throw in this little beauty, too, if it might tempt you to return to see the rest of my books." He toed the chest with the rest of the books closed, the lock clicking.

Reina's eyebrows went up and she almost protested that he didn't even know what she had on her- then saw the way his eyes flitted to the purse in her skirts and she realized he probably did know, or could at least guess.

Tossing a carefully curled lock off her shoulder, she unclipped the purse from the thin belt at her waist and held it out. It was probably only two thirds of what the book was worth, maybe not even that, and she almost felt guilty. "I'd be a fool to turn down such a bargain."

She frowned at the mention of her escort, but didn't say anything. Then her eyes widened and she looked from him to the offered dagger. "A blade?" She shook her head quickly. "I wouldn't even know what to do with it. I'm more likely to cut myself than anything else."

He took the purse, dropping it into another open chest and closing it. He'd stash it in one of its secret compartments later, until he had the time to take it to one of his many stashes. He wondered if there were any of his old stashes around the city from when he was younger... He'd not stopped to empty them. It would likely be too risky to go check.

He was, however, becoming more anxious about how late in the day it was... Hell, even he didn't like to be on the streets once it neared dusk. Especially not with all of his goods. He'd need to pack up quickly once she'd left... Although he'd likely just be beat up for the three chests he now traveled with, it was still not something he'd like to avoid. Plus, if the rest of the books in the chest were even half as valuable he could make enough to allow himself to live semi-comfortably until he could leave Zantaric and go to his other treasure stashes across the countries. Perhaps go visit Thanatos in all its tropical, far away from Zantaric, wonder.

"Pointy end goes in." He made a stabbing and then a slashing motion before tossing the blade up into the air and catching it so the flat of the blade rested on his forearm, the hilt in his palm. "Think of it as a souvenir... Can't walk the streets of Zantaric without one, y'know?" He put the blade in its sheath and stepped in close, his fingers reaching out to her belt to secure the dagger at her side in plain view. "I'm sure all yer lady-maids and proper lady friends'll think you quite daring with one of these."

She drew in a sharp, slightly startled breath as he fastened the blade to her belt. Normally people were much more careful to keep a polite distance around her. "Ah-"

She thought about protesting further, then snapped her mouth closed and just nodded slightly. "Well, thank you then." Reina took a sharp step back once he seemed finished and gave him a small, polite smile. "Well, it was a pleasure doing business with you, Mister..."

Trailing off awkwardly, she shook her head and made her smile a little brighter. "Perhaps I will return to see the rest of your selection sometime before we leave Zantaric."

She was clearly flustered, and he found himself thinking that she was rather cute. Cute was an adjective he'd never associated with women before, especially not the women of Zantaric. His smile faltered slightly at the thought. Cute women didn't survive in Zantaric, women like his "mother" did.

When she stepped sharply backwards and asked for his name, he produced a grand sweeping bow, surprisingly proper for a man of his social standing. Taking her hand in his, he kissed it chastely, thinking to himself that he could be quite convincing as a proper young lord, given the right attire. Perhaps he'd begin looting nice clothes from his "clients," too.

"Dean, m'lady. And I'd fancy seeing you again. Bring yer escort." He released her hand and straightened from the bow. Something in him spurred him into speaking further. "Take care. Don't take anymore alleys," he'd seen her pop out from one of the alleyways, "and mind your surroundings, yeah?"

"Dean, then." Reina smiled, much more used to a kiss to her hand than having him so close, his hands at her belt. The man was too charming for his own good. Or rather, her good. "A pleasure." She bobbed into a shallow curtsy, nodding and smiling at him. "I'll try to come back," she murmured, choosing not to mention her escort.

Turning to go, she paused and added over her shoulder, holding the book to her chest, "Oh, my name is Reina, by the way." Another smile and a wave, and she moved off down the street.

Just as she was moving out of sight, a rather tall man in fine servant's clothes and a shorter, more lavishly dressed man came hurrying through the market, obviously looking for something or someone. The obviously more wealthy man looked around the stands and his eyes lit on Dean's booth, particularly the books.

"Excuse me, sir." He approached quickly, brow furrowed and jaw set. "I don't suppose you've seen a young woman pass through here? Blond, blue eyes, finely dressed. She's quite fond of reading, she may have stopped to look at your wares." Much more familiar with Zantaric than his betrothed, he pulled two silver coins from his purse and subtly clinked them together. "I'd be very grateful if you could give us any information."

Reina, already two streets away, was flicking through the introduction to her new book, so absorbed that she completely forgot, or ignored, Dean's warning to "mind" her surroundings. It wasn't until she heard a voice- a female voice- raised in distress that she lifted her eyes.

A flash of skirts and hair as two men ushered a woman into an alley. She frowned, heart jumping uncomfortably in her chest. Oh no. Should she call the guards? Oh, right- she didn't even know if Zantaric had city guards.

Taking a deep breath, Reina snapped her book closed and slipped into the alley. "Pardon me, is there a problem here?"

The two men held the woman between them, one with his hand over her mouth. Her eyes were wide and scared, chest heaving with frantic pants. "What's it to you?" one growled, jerking the woman around behind him as the other moved forward threateningly.

Reina's hand moved to the blade at her hip, despite the fact that she knew she was more likely to hurt herself than do any real good with it. "Let her go," she said firmly, voice steady but knees shaking.

Suddenly the men smiled, and the expression made her stomach drop. She had an awful feeling all of the sudden.

"No problem."

That voice came from behind her. She froze, swallowing thickly. Oh gods... Smirking, the woman emerged from behind what Reina now realized were her partners as the man behind her grabbed her around the waist, pinning her arms to her side. "Why don't we just have some fun with you instead?"

She screamed, and a hand flashed out to crack across her cheek. Stunned, Reina slumped, book dropping to the ground as she blinked dizzily.

Dean watched her go, casually noting which direction she was headed off in. Might do him some good, somehow. Perhaps he'd set up his booth closer to the more civil parts of the city, seeing as she might wander past his booth and buy more books. And it would also prevent her from going as deep into Zantaric as she currently was... He told himself his concern was motivated by his interest in her coin. He couldn't very well profit from a dead or kidnapped lady... Well, he smiled to himself, he could and he had profited from dead noblewomen before, but he would rather not see the young woman he had just met meet that same fate. Plus, it would probably be difficult to loot anything should she die. Either her assailants or her escort would take her belongings.

He was packing up when the rather wealthy looking man approached. Setting down one of the chests full of books onto his handcart, Dean rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and placed his hands on his hips, squinting down at the decadently dressed man. These rich folk and their ignorance of their own invisibility. How did they not all just die of their own naive stupidity? Traipsing around sketchy cities in their fine clothes and proper hygiene.

Dean stepped forward so he was clearly looking down on the man, irritated by the way he clinked the coins together as if Dean were a dog waiting for reward from his master. Without taking the coin, he responded. "Aye. The lass was here. You best not let her wander Zantaric unescorted. Ain't safe here, specially not for a proper lady like her." He crossed his arms and nodded his chin in the direction of the street she had taken. "She took off down that street, not ten or so minutes past."

He waited until the men took off in that direction before he resumed packing up his things, thinking to himself... She was fine now, surely. The short man, most likely her betrothed or husband, would find the lass and collect her up, take her back where it was safe. They'd catch up to her quickly enough, she hadn't been gone long before the men came to inquire after her.

Still... Dean rushed to put the rest of the chests onto the cart, grabbing the handles and beginning to pull it quickly behind himself. He'd just take that same road she'd taken to get back to his hideout... Check things out, make sure she wasn't wandering aimlessly with her nose in the book. It wasn't too far out of his way, really.

"Ben, someone's coming!"

The woman's sharp voice stopped another of the men's fists from connecting with Reina's stomach and she shook in his hold as he dragged her back against the wall of the alley. She saw a flash of red- Matthias and his manservant- slip past the alley and could have cried, squirming and shouting into the hand that covered her mouth.

The man's grip tightened until she saw stars and she slumped, desperately trying to breathe in enough air to keep from passing out. Desperate, she bit down on his hand, hard.

With a yelp, the man holding her- Ben, maybe- snapped his hand away from her mouth long enough to smack her across the face. "Feisty bitch," he snarled as she gasped with pain, too shocked and frightened to even scream.

"Easy there. No point damaging the goods, we'll get more money if she's returned in decent condition."

Ransom. Of course, they were going to hold her for ransom. Well, it was hardly ideal, but somehow she felt a bit of her fear waning. That was actually better than what she'd thought they were planning.

"See, now, how do you define decent?" The third man, the one who hadn't been talking much, leered at her and all that fear came swamping back.

No. No no no no no, she was not going to let this happen without a fight. Reina went wild, kicking and wriggling desperately in an effort to hit something, anything, and she screamed into the hand clapped over her mouth, silently praying that her betrothed was still close enough to hear her. Or that someone was.

Dean hastened down the street, sweat beginning to bead his forehead from the effort of pulling the cart behind him. Why he was rushing, he couldn't say, but something spurred him forward. His eyes darted down every alley, until he heard the sound of a scuffle and gruff voices. He slowed his footsteps before he reached the alley, acting as if he were passing it by... Most folk in Zantaric would ignore this sort of thing. Everyone for themselves. He glanced idly down the alley, and there she was, the little flower giving it her all to escape two men.

Nonchalant, he surveyed the narrow alleyway... A window, above and to the left of their struggle. Just as their lookout was beginning to find him suspicious, Dean continued to walk on and out of sight. He looked unassuming, just another street merchant to them.

Rather casually, though hurried by his standards, he backed himself against the door of the building with the window. Leaning against it as if resting, he began to pick the lock of the door behind his back until it clicked. Keeping the satisfied smirk from his face, he waited until nobody was looking before pushing his cart into the building. Closing the door, he locked it behind him and surveyed his surroundings. It was a fairly disgusting abode, but seemingly empty.

He was moving quickly now, shoving his cart into a closet and securing one of his many padlocks onto it, hoping it would still be there if he had the opportunity to return. Taking a rope from his chest of "business" tools, Dean tied it as he took the steps to the third level, two at a time. He strode quickly down the upstairs hallway, thrusting open doors on the side of the building where the alley was until he found the room with the window.

Once in the room, he quickly peeked out the window... Yup, still there. He set up his work station. The rope, his blow darts, a heavy object, a dagger. Quietly, Dean wedged his fingers under the window and quietly pried it open, though it caught a bit on its rusty tracks. Peering into the alley, he quickly reassessed the situation. Looked like the men were having some nasty thoughts about the lass... "Just like your dearest mother had for you, Deanie." His heart stuttered in his chest. The voice. It was back...

For a brief moment his vision swam, his fingernails digging into the rotting wood of the window frame as he felt the need to kill, rather brutally, the men below. Shaking his head to clear it, he swallowed heavily. No, no... He was not a killer.

Taking the darts, he blew one to hit the man holding her and the man approaching her. The man holding her released one of his hands from her to rub his neck where the dart had landed, a look of confusion crossing his features as he began to sway on his feet... Now. He acted quickly, dropping the lasso rope down so it rested on the girl's shoulders. The man holding her swayed away, and before he could drop and take the girl with him, the rope slipped the rest of the way down, over her arms and to her waist.

With a quick tug he secured the rope, running it around an exposed building support in the broken out wall, praying that the support was not as rotten as the rest of the building. Using that as leverage, he quickly began hoisting her upwards, grunting... Something tugged at the rope. Tying it off where it was, Dean strode over to the window to look down where the lookout woman was holding onto the girl's legs, tightly. The woman sneered up at him, "The girls ours! We got her first!"

Almost in amusement, Dean leaned over the windowsill and looked down at the woman. Her companions were stumbling around the alley like drunkards... Hmm, he'd miscalculated the dosing on those darts. "Is that true, darlin'? Seein' as this little lady is attached to my rope, and yer thugs are quite useless, I'd say she's now rightly mine." He gave the rope a playful tug, jerking both the girl and the woman a bit. A wicked grin spread across his features as he disappeared from the window, grabbing up the heavy object- some weird, weighty ball, and placed it with some effort on the window. "Wooee, this things heavy. Might not be too good if it were to drop on that head o' yers. Might crack it open. Mightn't it?" He placed his hands on the ball, and then his chin, smiling rather cutely down at them.

The woman swore, releasing the girl's legs and dropping down to the ground below. Before she recover and run off, Dean grunted and held the ball out away from the window. Glancing around it to ensure it wouldn't hit the girl, too, he dropped it with some flourish so it landed rather prettily on the woman's head, knocking her out with a sickening crack. Impressed with himself, Dean whistled through his teeth to take in the scene, still not pulling her the rest of the way up. "Now that deserves an award, yeah?"

The first shock came when the man holding her started to sway. Then there was a rope around her and Reina instinctively renewed her struggle to free herself. Then she realized that she was free- from her original captor at least, and suddenly the rope was around her waist and she was being jerked into the air.

With a cry of surprise, she clutched at her lifeline and looked up, eyes wild and utterly confused.

Oh dear gods. There was just no way- Dean?

And then the woman had grabbed ahold of her legs and she started kicking, but that made the rope creak in a distinctly not reassuring manner and she held very still while her unlikely savior dealt with the woman.

Or at least she'd hoped he'd be a savior, but he didn't seem too interested in pulling her all the way up out of danger.

"Um, yes," she squeaked, staring up with wide blue eyes. "An award. Right." Clearing her throat, she did her best to look dignified- which was rather difficult in her current position- and said primly, "Would you mind either lowering me down or bringing me up? It's getting rather uncomfortable just dangling here like this."

Dean leaned an elbow on the windowsill, chin resting in his hand as he drummed his fingers against his face as if considering her proposal. "One of my more impressive feats, really." He smiled down at her, dark eyes twinkling in amusement. "It's like I'm fishing fer ladies! Might you have gills? I sure hope not." He chuckled to himself, relishing in the humor of the situation now that the trouble had passed... Well, for the most part. He couldn't be entirely sure how long the men would be too addled to not notice their captive was still dangling within relative reach.

Grunting, he wrapped the rope around his wrists and into his hands. "Right then, up with you." She was light, despite the dress. If she would just lose the dress, perhaps it would be easier to haul her up. He certainly couldn't drop her back down into the alley. Even with the men as drugged as they were, he wasn't sure the girl would be able to get past them. Plus, what would he do if she ran off and got herself in more trouble? The rest of his darts were stashed away in his hideout. Still, he wouldn't suggest she lose the dress. Seemed she might find that idea distasteful, and he was still playing the role of the hero.

When she got close enough, he reached down and hoisted her up from beneath her armpits, bringing her in through the window and against his chest. "We meet again, m'lady Reina." His fingers slipped beneath the rope rather sensually at first, staring down at her flushed face before giving the rope a sharp tug to loosen it, bringing her forward against him. He used the close proximity to tug the rope the rest of the way up and over her head before taking a proprietary step back and looping the rope around his shoulder. "I believe your man to be looking for you. We ought not make him worry, yeah?" He offered his arm to her, acting rather nonchalant about the whole situation.

"Oh-!" Reina gave a little squeak as she was lifted up to the window, then pulled sharply against his chest. He was touching her again- she knew it was just to get the rope off, but his hands seemed to linger a bit too much. She swallowed, cheek very warm, and ducked her eyes, only managing to look at him again when he'd stepped away.

She frowned. "My...man?" Oh. Right, of course. "Oh, Matthias," she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. For some reason, despite her general apathy toward her future husband, focusing on him made her feel a little better. It helped ground her, at least. "Yes, we should...he's probably worried sick by now," she murmured.

She took a step forward and gently slipped her hand into the crook of his arm automatically, quite used to the gesture. Then she paused, suddenly wary, and removed her hand, taking a step back as she looked him up and down. "What are you doing here? How did you find me? Whay did you...help?" she demanded, hand creeping toward the dagger. Her rather trusting nature seemed to be overpowered by recent experience.

"Good, lass!" Dean barked out a laugh, "Startin' to catch on." He pointedly looked at the hand moving towards the dagger, to make her aware that he knew exactly what she was doing. Shrugging, he collected his things from beside the window, his back to her and clearly unconcerned about the danger she might present.

He didn't turn to address her as he spoke, "Y'took the same road I happened t'take. Heard a scuffle, saw it was you, thought I'd help. Be a shame should y'not be able to read that book." He gave a cursory glance out the window and tsked. "Lost it already though, haven't you?"

Turning back around he walked passed her to the door, sidestepping a hole in the floor. "Mind that hole there. I'll be on my way then." He tipped his hat to her and continued out into the hall and then down the rickety stairs, thinking he was lucky to have not fallen through some of the rotten wood on his way up. Once in the downstairs hallway, he began to dig in his coat pocket for the key to the padlock when he heard a rather heavy knock on the door. "Who is it?" He chimed brightly, striding to the door and looking out through the small peep hole.

The short, rich man was standing at the door. Frowning, Dean called out to the girl. "Seems yer man has finally found his way back t'you. Don't y'think it took him a bit long? Man must be quite daft... First lettin' y' stray all alone in the city, waitin' t'be plucked up like y'were. Then takin' his gods damned time t' find y'. The idjeet." He flung the door open now, a wide smile on his face as he bowed deep to the man. "Hello again, m'lord. I believe your misplaced lady is here," He gestured behind him towards wherever the girl was.

Reina dropped her hand at his look. It wasn't as though she'd really be able to use the damn blade anyway.

"Well, um- thank you!" she called after Dean as he started to leave, casting a glance at the window and biting her lip. It really was a shame that she'd dropped the book...of course, that was really the only part of what had just happened that she could focus on without completely panicking.

Brushing at her skirts, she started carefully down the stairs, just in time to catch the end of the trader's little speech about her betrothed. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she hurried down the stairs toward the door.

"Matthias, I can explain-"

Before she could get anything else out, the manservant- Garret, that was his name!- hade a short sword drawn and was pointing it at Dean's throat, scowling.

Reina's eyes widened and unthinkingly she threw herself forward, putting her body between the near stranger's and the blade. "No, wait! He helped me, it's alright."

"My lady." Matthias Torrin stepped forward, waving Garret aside and extending a hand to her, worry plainly written across his face. "I told you not to wander off. You had us worried sick!"

She ducked her head, feeling a little contrite but also trying to hide the flash of anger in her eyes. "I know. I'm sorry..." she murmured, stepping forward to take his hand. She cast a glance over her shoulder at Dean, mouthing, thank you.

Dean was readying himself to fight back, when the girl threw herself between them. Shocked, Dean looked down at the top of her head as she smoothed things over with the grace befitting a woman of her stature. His lips quirked. So that was the benefit of a wealthy upbringing. He'd have to incorporate some of that tact into his next heist, should he go through with impersonating a young lord... And perhaps he would so that he might have the opportunity to see her again. He saw no other way that they might encounter one another again, and he felt drawn to her. She was amusing. Spunky and pure, a rather contradictory pairing of character traits.

The man, Matthias, did not acknowledge Dean any further as he began to lead Reina out of the doorway. Dean crossed his arms and tilted his head to the side, a charming smirk on his lips as she mouthed her thanks. He followed them only briefly, standing in the entrance of the building.

"My lady, that was an incredibly reckless thing to do."

Reina sighed as Matthias helped her up into the carriage Garret had brought around, settling herself on the seat and nodding demurely.  "Yes, I know. I'm sorry." Clearing her throat, she started to add, "Perhaps under the circumstances, Matthias, you could call me Reina-?"

Her fiance cut her off and she sighed quietly, glancing out the window of the carriage as they rattled off down the street toward the inn they were staying at. She bit her lip, brow furrowing as she relived the last few hours.

She really wished she hadn't dropped that book...

"...which is why I will not be leaving your side for the remainder of this trip."

Reina had to bite back a groan, simply nodding and giving Matthias a brief smile. It was going to be a long four days.

Dean watched the man help her into their carriage, dark eyes scrutinizing the carriage and committing it to memory. As it took off down the street, Dean turned and fetched his cart from the closet in the house, dragging it back out to the street and over to the alleyway. The woman still lay unconscious, but the men were nowhere to be seen. He hoped they'd taken a dive into the canal and drowned.

Pulling his cart into the alley and within sight, he strode across the cobblestones and knelt beside the woman, placing his fingers against her throat. Still alive. Poking her head with the toe of his boot, he inspected the wound on her head. She'd be... Well, she'd live. Perhaps mentally handicapped for the rest of her days, but that wasn't any of his concern. At least this way she wouldn't be able to cause anymore trouble.

He turned and, to his surprise, spotted the book she had dropped. Leaning down, he plucked it up and grinned to himself. Perfect! An excuse should he happen to bump into Reina again. There wasn't any harm in having a side-project to busy himself with while he awaited whatever epiphany he was meant to have, was there? His mind already churned with ideas. There was an ailing exiled noble living somewhere down the way that he could check in on... While he wasn't dead quite yet, Dean had no qualms in getting his hands on a little pre-death loot. The man didn't have need of all of his clothes, did he? He was likely just lain up in bed in his bedclothes, with no need of any fancy attire. After he procured the clothing he would just need some sort of event or location to ease his way back in front of her. He was sure she had gotten a good look at his face, as good as she could have with his hat obscuring his face. Her man, however, hadn't given him more than a passing glance. Not even a thank you. He wasn't likely to be recognized.

Claiming exhaustion and an approaching headache, Reina retired to her room of the rather unsavory inn they were staying in that was still somehow slightly more savory than most of Zantaric. Matthias seemed content to leave her to her own devices, as long as Garret was standing guard at her door. Which was good, because she could feel a bruise rising on the skin of her cheek where she'd been struck, and she'd really rather not deal with explaining it to him just then.

Dropping onto the bed with a sigh, she leaned back on the pillows and covered her face with her hands. Gods what a day. And tomorrow was only likely to be longer- Matthias wouldn't let her out of his sight now, so she'd be stuck to his heels while he searched the markets for goods.

Forcing herself to stand and change into a nightdress, she curled up on the bed and burrowed into the covers, closing her eyes and furrowing her brow. Sleep. Go to sleep, Reina, sleep.

It took her a long time to drift off, haunted by thoughts of sneering faces and a heart-stopping panic, of foreign hands holding her captive- and of a charming smile and deep brown eyes, somehow making everything alright again but not exactly helping her to relax.

The rest of his evening was composed of his visit to the ailing lord in question. A simple procedure, really. In and out without a fuss... Many lords exiled to Zantaric ended their days alone and uncared for, surrounded by whatever their remaining wealth provided them. Be that a small home and clothing, or nothing at all.

This one, he decided, had managed fairly well for himself. The man in question, word had it, had been terribly fond of the ladies and had spent his days in the pockets of Zantaric that offered the cheaper lay. And, as most native born and bred Zantarians knew, those whore houses were notorious for spreading disease. This man, as far as Dean cared, deserved it. Well, to be honest, many individuals who suffered often had asked for whatever misfortune befell them. A man contracted a fatal sexual disease after years of paying for sex in disease-ridden whore houses- deserving. A woman who jumped strangers in the street received a crack on the head hard enough to ruin her mentally for life- deserving. But the young noblewoman... Perhaps he was a bit distracted by her beauty, but he couldn't make out a way that she had been deserving of ending up kidnapped or worse. Other than her own ignorance, the young woman hadn't seemed terribly deserving.

He rummaged through the ailing lord's clothing before settling on two pairs of clothes that best reflected the most recent fashions Dean had seen worn about in the more civilized corners of the world... They would still likely seem outdated, but perhaps he'd be mistaken as a poorer, out of fashion lord.

Tucking the clothes into a knapsack, Dean glanced over at the feeble body of the lord in his bed... Not long before Dean would return to this place to truly clear it out, but he had at least enough respect to wait until the man was fully dead before stripping the place bare.

He returned to his hideout in the city... A place that had been present since his days spent as a youth in the streets. Beneath the streets of the city, many of the city's orphans claimed unused (and used) portions of the sewage system as their home. Dean had been one of those children, often using this place as a way to escape the cruelty of his mother. He could recall a time when she had beat him nearly blind, and had needed to use his hands to guide him through the sewage system. As he had aged, however, Dean had been able to procure an unused portion of the sewage system that was inaccessible except two points. One from the main entry in the city's sewage system, and one that dumped out outside of the city. Very hard to find, Dean was pleased to discover the place had been mostly untouched since his leave.

Before ducking beneath the city streets Dean stashed his cart and wares in a small shed on the outskirts of the city. He ducked into an unused manhole covered with moss, making his way back to his hideout. Unlocking the door to the place, he entered the small space, the light from the end of the tunnel leading out of the city giving him enough light to see as he lit a candle. He looked at the clothing, considered trying them on, before deciding he was too exhausted. Curling up rather haphazardly in his small nook, he blew out the candle and quickly fell asleep.

They were out in the markets again, although at least this time Reina had insisted on wearing her least flashy dress- it was still of finer material than what anyone else in Zantaric could afford, but from a distance she may be mistaken for something other than what she was.

If she hadn't been forced to stand glued to her fiance's coattails, that is. Sighing, she hovered at Matthias's side as he made his way through the markets, evidently looking for something in particular that he didn't feel the need to share with her.

She tried again to get more information. "Perhaps if I just knew what you were searching for, I could help look-"

"You will not be leaving my side, so I really don't see how you would do that," the young merchant cut across her before she could finish.

Reina bristled, wanting to snap something scathing back but forcing herself to bite her tongue. Yes, it was going to be a long day.

In the morning, Dean debated for a good deal of time on whether or not he should seek the girl out or set up shop again. He could make some more money, but the prospect of sitting in a low-traffic booth all day sounded so boring he almost couldn't imagine himself dealing with it. He could always set up another day, after the ailing noble died and he had some more interesting wares to sell.

He bathed and shrugged into the well-made ensemble, the pants a faded black leather. Surprisingly the pants were rather comfortable, well-worn in and nearly his size, only a bit snug on his thighs and butt. The blouse was a dark garnet, the black vest snug against his broad chest. Looking in his mirror, he shaved the stubble and then combed his dirty blonde hair. He considered cutting it, briefly, but he thought it looked rather good clean. He added a sword at his hip, a ring, and an earring with garnet in them... The other man had clearly preferred the stone or the color.

The only unfortunate part of his outfit left were his boots... The man had exceedingly small feet, and so Dean was stuck in his own worn leather boots. Well, if he was asked, he'd spin it some way that would hopefully be believable. A final touch with the addition of a little "cologne" he'd made to smell like cedarwood to mask the smell of the bodies often present at his "workplace."

He asked around in the morning until he was able to track her down in the marketplace, spotting her rather quickly despite her more conservative dress. So then he waited, watching until Matthias and his manservant were temporarily distracted in a stall. While Reina was still close to the men, it was an opening. He approached her from behind, placing an arm around her back and gently cradling her elbow. With his other, he slipped the book beneath her arm and whispered against her ear, "Don't lose it this time, yeah?"

Smoothly he released her before the men were aware of his closeness, and this time he approached the man Matthias. Jovially he approached the man, his voice loud and confident, his street accent undetectable. "Ah, Matthias! I was told you were here doing business. I had hoped you would call on me, but you must not remember me from before!" He stepped forward and took the man's hand, shaking it firmly and pulling him in the speak low as if trying to keep Reina from hearing. "I believe we may have been a bit drunk at the moment..." He added, as if to a friend. Still not releasing the man's hand, he continued. "It's Damian, Damian Lock. Perfume and cologne merchant. Remember? Here, smell my latest." He shoved his wrist beneath the man's nose, and then smelled it himself. "Ah! Makes one feel like a man of the woods, does it not? Well, we simply must catch up! Are there any parties in this dreadful city? If so, we all must attend..."

He trailed off as if just noticing Reina, and he turned to look at her. "And who is this lovely young lady?" He took up her hand and kissed it, winking up at her before he turned back to Matthias. "I wasn't told you had found yourself a woman! You dog!" He clapped the man on the back like he would a good friend. This bit had at least a 90% success rate... Most people reacted with embarrassment for not remembering him.

Reina froze as she suddenly felt a stranger far too close for comfort, one hand automatically reaching toward the dagger she really didn't know how to use. Then the book was slipped under her arm and her eyes went wide, snapping up to search the not-so-stranger's face. "You-"

But then he was slipping away, clasping her betrothed's hand and laughing and joking as though they were old friends. Her eyes were very round and she resisted the urge to let her jaw drop, frankly stunned that Matthias didn't recognize the man.

Which he really didn't seem to. After a few moments of awkward fumbling, the young merchant smoothed his expression into a smile. "Ah. Yes. Master Lock, good to see you again," he said with the ease of a man long used to not remembering names and faces but knowing he needed to be polite. Garret relaxed slightly, taking his master's cue to be friendly.

Matthias slipped an arm around Reina's waist and drew her forward, a touch that made her scowl before she could quite stop herself. Like she was a prize hound, being trotted out and shown off. "Yes, yes, allow me to introduce my betrothed, the young Lady Reina Bartok. It's a recent arrangement, and I thought she should see my work, if she is soon to become my bride."

Reina stared at Dean long and hard, taking in his new ensemble and accent, before she extended a hand demurely and gave him a small, polite nod. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance...Master Lock."

Her expressions were priceless. Just priceless! And, as he had hoped, the man was not too quick in the head... Either that, or he was so full of himself as to be unaware of the reactions of others around him. First he fell for Dean's trick hook, line, and sinker, and now he was utterly unaware of his betrothed's displeasure. "Just betrothed? Hmm." He couldn't help the small twitch of a smile at the corner of his lips. It would certainly make things easier.

To displace some of the future suspicions, he continued on as he began to walk, the group following him. "Ah, yes, to be married! My own betrothed could not join me on my business here... Her family disapproves of the whole city. Not that I would wish to bring her here... Such a flower is my little love! She would be plucked right up. Not nearly enough street smarts like you and I have, Matthias." Dean so hoped that Reina would catch on to his light mocking of Matthias... He wanted to see her reaction.

Walking beside Matthias, he continued as he saw Garret's eyeing a woman across the street. "And I do find it rather constricting... The whole idea of marriage, that is. Especially in a city like Zantaric." He laughed and clapped Garret on the back. "My lad Garret knows!" He zipped right into the next conversation, and while he was speaking to Matthias, his eyes often strayed to Reina. "What business are you about these days, Matthias? I myself dabbled in the spice market briefly... Terribly difficult to manage, what with the war in Connlaoth going on." 

"Yes, I am beginning to think it was unwise to bring my lady, despite how it would pain me to be apart  from her. These streets can be unkind to those who don't know how to navigate them," Matthias said easily, oblivious to Dean's mocking. Catching the man's look, Reina rolled her eyes theatrically where she knew neither her fiance nor his manservant would see.  Sure, he could navigate them well enough for her to give him the slip yesterday.

"But I dare say my Reina wouldn't have allowed me to leave her behind," the merchant continued, chuckling. "You know, she gave us quite a fright yesterday, managed to slip away when Garret wasn't paying attention. Thankfully she was lucky enough not to come across any untoward characters."

"His" Reina scowled at his back, then quickly schooled her features into a mask of polite emptiness when he glanced back at her. She raised her hand unconscious to the bruise on her cheek that she had covered with an artful combination of powders that morning.

"-here on a variety of business ventures, you see," Matthias was saying when she tuned back in to the conversation. "There are several merchants my father deals with who have bases here, and it was more convenient to meet them all in one place."

It almost made Dean angry at the man's ignorance. His betrothed had encountered plenty unsavory characters, but he had been there to pluck her up. Not to mention that Dean himself was an unsavory character. Dean's dark eyes looked back to Reina as he responded. "Is that true? Well, she was very lucky indeed. Just last year there was a young lady who was kidnapped when she wandered astray... When her husband could not pay the ransom..." This time he stared hard into Reina's eyes. "They found her in the canal."

He cleared his throat. "I took up training in combat after that, and have taken to training my betrothed. Eases my heart to know she could defend herself." He opened the locket he had pinched from the ailing nobleman, a picture of a plain young woman in the frame, possibly the man's daughter or his wife years ago. He showed Matthias the picture, strengthening his lie further. "Do you see how tiny she is? Why, she just wrote in one of her more recent letters that she was able to defend herself from a pickpocket!"

He knew that he should not address Reina in front of Matthias. The man seemed the sort to like to imagine he had all the control. "I could show your betrothed a few moves to protect herself with, in case she finds herself 'lost' again." He said the word with just the smallest inflection, again slipping an inside-joke in with Reina. "My business is not doing as well as yours, I'm afraid... I have far too much time on my hands."

Matthias gave him an odd look for a moment, evidently surprised by the offer. "Well...I'm not sure that would be entirely proper," he mused. "Perhaps if Garret or I were there as well, but-"

"Actually," Reina cut across him, heedless of propriety. She had been silent for a few long moments, the "canal" comment making her shudder as she fully realized how easily she could have shared that fate. "I would feel much better if I learned some basic self defense techniques." She met and held Dean's gaze. "Though I am not entirely helpless."

"Hmm..." The merchant glanced at her for barely a moment before shrugging. "Well, I suppose... And it may give the lady something to keep her occupied while I conduct my business in town.

"I'm sure you're not, Lady Bartok. But I would be honored to show you more." Dean returned her look in kind. He had, indeed, seen her putting up quite a fight in the alleyway, and could see the swelling beneath her eye. It was actually what had given him the idea of offering to train her in self-defense. It would give him time to get to know her, and even might eventually give him time alone.

"But of course, Matthias, if that would set you more at ease..." He paused, as if considering whether or not he would share the next part. "Though the lady might not wish to have her groom-to-be see her behaving so unladylike. I wish I had respected my betrothed's modesty more. It is hard for most young ladies to focus when they know their beloved is around."

The man seemed to agree rather easily, obviously prioritizing his business over his betrothed. Well, that had been evident simply in her presence in Zantaric. Any man who valued his betrothed more than business would never dream to bring her here. Dean gave the man a serious nod, before pulling out a slip of paper and pretending to write on it. The paper already had an address on it, though Dean had not written it out himself... He couldn't write, and could just barely manage to read. He was the true product of the streets, smart but unlearned. He handed the manservant the slip of paper. "This is the inn I am staying at on the outskirts of the city. There is a small courtyard where you might find us across the way in the stable yard." It was a place he could easily pay off the stable lads.

He patted Matthias on the back. "Do come before nightfall to fetch her. Perhaps you and I might share a drink afterwards. Best of luck, today."

"Now," he extended his arm to Reina with a twinkle in his eye, distinctly recalling her refusal of his arm just the night before, "if you might, m'lady."

She caught the knowing look in his eye and found her lips twitching up into a small, crooked smile. Knowing it was probably not the smartest decision she'd ever made, she took his arm, calling over her shoulder, "I will see  you tonight, Matthias."

Once there was a bit of distance between them, enough that she wasn't afraid of being overheard, Reina gave her companion an arch look. "Damien Lock? I assume Dean isn't your real name either," she said wryly.

A wicked grin spread across his features as he looked down on her, jostling her a bit on the end of his arm before sucking in a large gulp of air. "Ahh! How refreshing it tis to stroll about merrily!" Now his structured speech was mocking, spitting it out as if he had been dying to do so since he had begun talking to Matthias. "Tis not moral and right for a lady to be seen unaccompanied! She is the rightful property of men!" And then he laughed, "Ahooo ho hohoho!"

Tears sprang to his eyes as he laughed harder, a real laugh, sucking in air and nearly hiccupping as he tried to rein himself back in. With his free hand he wiped the tears away from his eyes, finally responding to her question. "Not one o' my better pseudonyms, yeah?" He steered her down another street. "Dean is my real name... More or less." He shrugged. It was the name he had taken up after he had come out of his two year stupor, a name he felt more comfortable using than the name his "mother" had given to him. That name was better off staying buried.

He slowed his steps and stopped her out of the way of the rest of the foot traffic, holding her shoulder with one hand before staring hard at her face. He gently brushed a thumb over her bruised cheek, eyes intense. "That 'man' o' yers isn't terribly bright." Again he pulled away from her before she could react, continuing to walk in the direction of the address he'd given Matthias. "Which is why I'm gonna show y' a thing or two about fightin'... Yer obviously the brains o' that relationship, why not be the brawn, too?"

Reina scrunched her nose up at his overly dramatic little speech and laugh, not sure if she should laugh or be offended. "We don't all talk like that, you know," she muttered a little petulantly. She wasn't quite sure if she really believed that his name was Dean, but she decided to let it drop for now.

Then he was touching her so familiarly again and she froze, wincing slightly as his thumb brushed over her cheek and hissing in a quiet breath.

"He's not my man," she murmured as they started walking again, brow furrowed. "Not...yet, anyway. And I'm certainly not his lady." And she never would be, if she had anything to say about it. Glancing sidelong up at her companion, she added warily, "I hope you're not planning on getting any ransom from him. Garret may be thick, but he's built like an ox. If you try something, he'll snap you in half."

She was bluffing, a little, but it made her feel a bit better.

He skipped a step before turning around, walking backwards in front of her with his hands shoved in the pockets of his pants. "Good. Never trust no one, 'specially me. Most folk're out there fer theirselves and theirselves alone." An easy grin lit his features, "But," he swung back around to walk forward again in front of her, "Not lookin' fer ransom. Not my bit, to tell the truth. Nope. No killin', rapin', kidnappin', et cet-er-ahhh neither."

"Of course he isn't. Arranged marriage, yeah?" He shook his head bemusedly, "Funny how rich folk got a whole lot of money and next t' no freedom. 'Specially the women." He smacked a passing sign with the flat of his hand, sending it swinging on its hinges. As they passed a food vendor, he plucked up two of the strange fruit, belatedly tossing a coin down to pay for them. He was trying to be on his best behavior! He offered her one. "Ever tried this fruit? Don't know what it's called, but it's bloody delicious." He bit into one, the juices running down his chin, pleased at how well the day was turning out.

"And I'm supposed to just take your word that you mean me no harm," she said dryly. Though, for some reason, she had the strong feeling that he was being truthful, at least about that part.

Her spine stiffened as he talked about her betrothal and her brow furrowed. "Arranged, may not be the correct word," Reina said coolly, somehow relishing in the fact that she could speak freely. "I'd say something more along the lines of negotiated."

She took the fruit and turned it over in her hands, sniffing at it curiously and watching Dean take a bite. A little cautiously, she took a small bite. Her eyes widened. "This is good!"

"I just told ya, y' shouldn't take my word for it... But I've had plenty o' opportunities t' harm ya before this and haven't done nothin' yet." He took another big bite of the fruit, chewing the food in one cheek. "Plus, why else would you've come with me if ya thought I'd harm ya? Dearest Matthias can't be that dull."

She was just as expressive when eating fruit! Seeing genuine emotion on other's faces was unfamiliar, and so watching her do- well, just about anything- was refreshingly entertaining. And exhausting. He moved so he was walking on the side of the buildings, keeping a close eye on the alleys. While many "gentlemen" would take the street side to prevent the women they escorted from being splashed with water and other less savory liquids, Dean knew the importance of creating a blockade between them and alleyways. At least in Zantaric. He could not longer count on his fingers and toes how many times he'd been jumped from an alley. Hell, she'd gotten a taste of that lesson the prior day.

"So, how does this negotiation work? Why Matthias, and not another man?" They stepped out onto a street that now looked out on the more open streets of the city's outskirts. He led them down this street, stopping at the gate of a stableyard. Opening up the side gate, he led them down a flight of steps that ran along the horse path until the ground leveled off and they were standing in an empty courtyard. Only one or two stable lads seemed to be about, and neither seemed to pay any mind to Dean or Reina. He had paid them a great amount to keep hushed about his visits here, seeing as this stable yard had access to one of the better entrances that led to his hideout. Not that they were aware of that, they just assumed he was coming to check in on his horse... An old plod of a horse that had just 'happened' to escape its pasture and find its way to him.

Reina shrugged, nibbling delicately at the fruit as she followed him. "Because he had the best offer," she said simply, if bitterly. "You seem to understand, at least somewhat, that marriage is not a union- exactly-  for people like me. It's a business transaction."

And Matthias's father was a very wealthy man, the fact that he wasn't of noble birth easily overshadowed by his good business sense and the offer he'd made her parents to pay them back triple her dowery within a year of her marriage to his son. Noble the Bartoks may be, but they were running low on the family fortune lately.

"Why so interested?" she asked as they came to the stable yard.

Dean stopped and turned to face her, wondering if it had been lands or money that had swayed the decision. Sometimes it was even to keep feuds at bay. She was right, it wasn't any of his business to be curious, but he was curious about her nonetheless.

Crossing his arms, he ignored her question. "First lesson. What n' where are my weapons?"

She blinked at him. "What?" Her eyes flicked over his form, searching, but she couldn't see anything that looked like it could be used as a weapon on his person. "Um...your fists?" she guessed, feeling rather foolish.

"Fair start. But if you were sizin' me up for a fight you'd be in trouble." He unbuttoned his vest, pulling a dagger out of the lining along with a small flat bag with tiny darts and blow gun. Casually he flicked his wrist and the dagger struck straight up in the dirt, while he carefully placed the pack with the darts on a nearby wall. "Always assume your opponent has somethin' sharp n' stabby on 'em." He continued to remove his daggers, pointing out the outlines they made, first in his pants at the small of his back and atop his thighs, and then the small blades in his boots. All in all, he removed seven daggers. "An' there are only this few weapons on me 'cause of how pretty I had t'dress."

"If possible, run from somebody like me... 'Least until ya learn how to fight proper like." He walked over to her, "But you got a lot more weapons than just yer fists. I saw ya using them. Yer entire body is a weapon. Teeth, fists, elbows, knees, feet, head... Y'just gotta know how to use 'em effectively."

Reina's eyes got progressively wider the more blades and various other weapons he revealed, and she had to exert a decent amount of willpower not to let her jaw drop open. "Gods above," she muttered, nodding a little jerkily as he pointed out the telltale lines the blades made in his clothes.

She managed to snap out of her stupor a little bit as he approached. "My...really?" She looked down at herself, turning her hands over and clenching her fingers experimentally into fists a few times. "And...that's what you aim to do," Reina said slowly, tilting her head as she looked back up at him. "Teach me to use them...effectively?"

"Seein' as that's what I told you an' yer man I'd do, yeah. I'm a man o' my word..." He grinned and shrugged, "Well, mostly." He just didn't make promises all that often, and at the moment he didn't have any better ideas on how to spend their time together. It was as good a thing as any to pass the time with.

Taking her hands in his, he smoothed them out from the fists she had been making. "With yer size, you'd do best leavin' the fists to the last. If you've not got the chance t'run, that means yer likely caught up. If y've got a hand free, go for the eyes first." He took her hand and leaned down, shaping it so her thumb was at the corner of his inner eye. "It's surprisingly easy t'pop out an eyeball... But if y'can't manage that," He pulled back, "Just jab yer fingers in real hard."

He let go of her hands and then patted her knee and elbow, "These got more strength behind 'em than a fist. Go fer a man's jewels or his throat. But never strike with yer leg extended. Leaves it open to bein' grabbed up."

She had to stop herself from flinching with every touch- not necessarily because she didn't like it, she just want used to people taking such liberties with her.

"Alright," she murmured slowly, trying to relax and let him guide her. When he told her not to kick with an extended leg, she arched an eyebrow. "So...like this?" She brought her knee up to the fork of his legs, stopping just before contact.

Reina frowned, not used to moving her body in such a way, at least not with any force behind it. Perhaps learning some attack spells would be useful... If she couldn't rely on physical strength, maybe magic would help her.

Dean flinched slightly when she brought her knee up towards his groin, but otherwise didn't give any indicators of how nervous that made him. "Yeah, 'cept you'll wanna do it pretty hard and swift."

The sudden realization that he was actually helping somebody struck him, well at least that he was helping somebody with little to no benefit to himself. Why was he doing this again? Sure, it was entertaining and she was attractive, but it wasn't as if he was trying to impress her... Or was it? This was the first time in Dean's life that he had actually tried to impress a woman without ulterior motives. He simply wanted Reina to like him.

After his experience with his "mother," Dean had developed a suspicious nature towards women, only supported by the types of women he met. Many of them would steal the shirt off your back or skin him alive if given half the chance. The fact that he somehow didn't suspect this woman of being capable of those things terrified him. He had somehow found himself conversing with her normally without realizing it until this point. He was making some kind of connection with her.

Rather gruffly, Dean grabbed a hold of her wrists tightly. "Escape." Was all he said to her, his expression much more serious than before.

Reina yelped a bit in surprise and stared at his hands clasping her wrists with wide eyes, then looked back to his face. She really wasn't used to being touched like this. "Escape?" She frowned, pulling lightly, a part of her sort of assuming he'd just let go at the show of resistance.

Which of course he didn't. Frown deepening, Reina twisted her wrists, first out, then in toward his thumbs. It didn't seem to be doing much good. She leaned away from him, putting more force into the tugs, growing increasingly frustrated with each passing moment.

Quite without intent, she gave a small growl of irritation and jerked her wrists inward. A familiar buzzing flashed up her spine and she suddenly yelped, trying to warn, "Let go-!"

Before she could stop it, a flash of magic ran down her arms to her fingertips, skin going ice cold and frost creeping along his fingers.

Dean watched in amusement as she went through several of the incorrect ways to get out of such a hold. She wasn't as weak as she looked, but she was a good deal smaller than he was and he had plenty of reasons to be more physically fit than she.

He wasn't expecting what came next, though. He could tell she was reaching the end of her patience, and was about to give in and let her know how to get out of the hold when he felt the sharp bite of cold spread over his fingers.

It was fortunate that he had quick reflexes, because he yelped in pain and withdrew his fingers to find them turning blue. He was willing to bet he could have lost a finger or two from frostbite if he hadn't been quick enough. His face a bit shocked, Dean stared down at his fingers a moment before shoving them deep into his armpits. He looked over at her with a wide grin on his face as he laughed again, the second time he'd genuinely laughed in front of her. "Bloody hell, lass! If you'd told me ya could do that I wouldn'ta bothered to teach you all that nonsense. Hell! Ya probably don't need the dagger, neither!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Reina exclaimed, face rather red. She shook her hands a few times and felt the tingle of magic fade, then reached out for his hands unthinkingly. "I didn't mean to- it just sort of happened- I'm really sorry!"

Usually she had better control of her magic, but it seemed intense emotion messed with her concentration. Perhaps that was why she hadn't been able to really fight back with a spell the day before, the fear and shock blocking her connection to her power.

Taking a breath to calm herself, she added a little more softly, "It's...not as reliable as truly learning to defend myself. I'd appreciate you continuing to teach me, if you wouldn't mind."

She was sort of worried he'd want nothing to do with her now, and quite aside from the fact that if he left she'd be stranded in an unfamiliar and clearly dangerous city, she found that- a little despite herself- she was rather enjoying his company.

It was his turn to flinch at the gentle contact. Nobody had touched him out of concern with the gentleness she reached out for his hands. It unnerved him, though she might interpret it as pain. He shook his hands out as if that were the case, grinning at her. "Nothin' to apologize for, lass. Just wasn't expectin' it, s'all. Doesn't seem like you were expectin' it neither."

Her lack of control over herself endeared her further to him. He had plenty of experience of being out of control... Way, way more out of control. So out of control he couldn't recall two years of his life. A quizzical look crossed his features as he tilted his head, looking closely at her. "But what if y'could? Course I can continue t'give ya lessons, but it might do y'better in the long run to learn how to use that trick on command, yeah?"

He stepped out and around her, circling her once before standing in front of her again, reappraising her. "Y'got a mage yer learnin' beneath? Don't much know how that works, but seems like somethin' they've got schools and the like for where you come from. Serendipity, yeah?" He guessed from her clothing, accent, and the like.

Assuming she'd hurt him, Reina dropped her hands and flicked her eyes to her feet, murmuring a few more apologies.

She gave his suggestion a shrug and a small sigh. "Honestly, I'd love to learn more, but I've really been teaching myself. No one else in my family is much inclined to practice magic, so they don't really understand why I want to." Except Mikhail. Her brother had always supported her little rebellion.

Another shrug, and she finally raised her eyes to look at his face. "Serendipity," she confirmed with a small nod, impressed but no longer surprised by his astuteness. "I...I've been trying to go to Arca, attend one of the colleges. Unfortunately, it seems unlikely that my betrothed would support such a venture."

She had been so close too, wearing down her parents a little more every day. Then along came Matthias and his father and just like that what she wanted had taken a backseat to what the family wanted.

He felt a small thread of guilt at making it seem if he had been hurt rather unnerved, but not enough to make him regret the action. Even with all of her apologies, it was better than letting her know that gentle touches were so unfamiliar to him that they made him nervous.

Instead he guided her hands so she was gripping his wrists this time, hopefully showing her how unafraid of her he was after her loss of control. "Sounds t'me like he's not the man y'should be marryin'. Seems t'me like you oughtta just go to Arca, seeing as you're not a slave or nothin'. Nobody owns you. Y'make your own decisions." He gazed down into her eyes and smiled. "An' now you'll be able t' defend yourself, too."

Rotating his thumbs out quickly, he gave a sharp jerk of both of his arms and dislodged his arms. Holding out his wrists until she took them again, he explained. "If they've got you by the wrists, rotate out yer thumbs," he demonstrated slowly, "an' then jerk your arms back t'yerself." This he demonstrated quickly. "Then, either drive home yer knee to the groin, kick or sweep the back o' their knee," he gripped her shoulders to steady her as he demonstrated how easily her legs might crumple if struck behind the knee, "or use the palm o' your hand to strike up into their nose," he crouched so he was shorter than her and demonstrated slowly against her nose. Rather humorously he turned and jogged a circle, smiling "Then o'course y'run merrily away as they weep in pain. Might even flip 'em t'bird!"

Jogging back in front of her, he took her wrists firmly in his hands again. "Now try it."

"It's...not that simple," Reina murmured as he guided her hands again, a little twinge of relief lighting in her chest that he didn't seem to care she'd nearly given him frostbite. Gods she wished it could be that simple...

She shook her head and focused on what he was saying, watching with a slightly furrowed brow and a few soft noises of surprise as he demonstrated what he meant. Then he took her wrists again and she huffed out a breath, frowning determinedly.

"Alright." Quick and sharp as she could, she turned her thumbs out and jerked her hands back toward her body, eyes widening a bit in surprise at how easy it was. She actually forgot to follow up on her "freedom" for a moment, then quickly scrambled to throw her hand up and tap her palm lightly against his nose, not wanting to actually hurt him.

"Like that?"

"An' why not? Here y'are, alone in a city away from your people. Could find someone t'guide you to Arca. Give 'em the slip..." He knew little about familial loyalty, or doing what others told him to do. Since he had escaped from beneath the spell of his "mother," and then the voice, Dean had made certain that no one ever had control over him again. He never knew when the voice might return to take control of him again, so he relished his freedom with a willful abandon.

He took her wrists again. "Close. But do it all together. Practice the runnin' bit, too. Your muscles will remember when your brain is too slow with fear er shock." He added a bit. "Might recommend the leg sweep over the palm strike if y'don't have the advantage of surprise. They might just grab yer wrist again."

She sighed as he took her wrists again. "I can't. It's... My family is depending on me. It probably seems foolish to you, but this is what I have to do. I- I love my family, if this is what it takes, then I'll do it." She wouldn't be happy about it, but she'd do it.

Nodding for his advice, she repeated the move, much more quickly this time, and feigned throwing her leg out to kick the back of his knee before turning and jogging a few paces away.

"I feel silly," Reina said, turning with a small frown as she was forced to gather up her skirts so she wouldn't trip.

"Dependin' on you for what?" He grunted as she tore her wrists from his grip. "Money? Land? Power?" Those were the first things that came to mind. "Unless it's their lives, there wouldn't be nothin' t'convince me to marry if I didn't want t'."

He watched her run away... She did look rather silly, all dolled up in her lady's outfit. "I'd say y'oughtta   get a pair o' breeches, but y'need t'practice in what y'might be wearin' should y'ever need to use what I'm teachin' you." He took her wrists again. "Do it again, but this time actually try t'knock me off my feet. I won't break, and y'oughtta get comfortable hurtin' others." He raised his eyebrow, referring back to her over-apologetic response to defending herself from him earlier.

They were depending on her for all of those things, really, but she didn't want to tell him that. Instead Reina just scowled as he grasped her wrists again. "Never mind. I suppose it's not something you'd understand," she murmured.

With a sigh, she shook her head and gave his fingers on her wrists a rather hard look. "I don't want to hurt you," she protested, glancing up at him and then back down. "I just- I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this. Can't I just pretend again?"

"Hm. You're right, I don't understand. Which is why I asked you t'explain it."

Without warning he let go of her wrists and used his leg to quickly kick the back of her knee, letting her buckle and nearly fall before he reached forward and snatched up her wrist. Pulling her back up to him, he looked down at her. "Doesn't hurt, see? Now, if y' did the palm strike to m'nose first and broke it and then swept my feet from under me, that would hurt. I'm not askin' ya t'do that, just t'try and knock me off my feet. Worst I'll have is a bruised bum."

Taking her small wrists again in his hands, he encouraged her. "Now try it. Y'can even fake the palm strike while yer at it."

"Ah-!" Reina's eyes widened and she grabbed at him automatically when she started to fall, then he caught her and she was wavering between relief and anger, glaring at him and snapping, "Was that really necessary?"

She huffed and tossed her hair- a few tendrils had come loose from the elegant crown of braids she'd pulled it back into that morning- then straightened her shoulders and jerked her wrists out of his grip. Her leg swept out, meaning to connect with the back of his knees but fumbling a bit because of her skirts. Instinctively, an a little bit to get back at him, she threw her elbow into his gut to ensure that he actually went down and skipped back a few steps.

Dean had the air knocked out of him in a funny sounding wheeze, doubling over and gripping his stomach. While it didn't drop him like she'd intended, it did incapacitate him.

Still bent double, he looked up at her as she skipped back, clearly pleased with herself. She was a bit spiteful, surprisingly. He wheezed out, "Good... Good." He straightened up with some effort before pointing his fingers a little higher than where she'd hit him. "Go a little higher next time, hurts more."

Cracking his knuckles and smiling, he began to take great strides towards her. "Defend yourself." It was all he said before he grabbed hold of her and held her from behind, pinning her arms down at her sides like one of the men from the day before had done. He was beginning to try to find ways to incite her anger, recognizing quickly that it was the only time when she would willingly fight back.

"Hey!" Caught off guard, it took Reina a moment to collect herself and fight back, and the flash of concern she'd felt when he doubled over faded quickly.

Twisting from side to side, she kicked back at him, trying to get his knee again. She knew it wouldn't drop him like a blow from behind would, but a joint was a joint, right? "Let go!" she growled when that didn't work. "You've made your point, alright?"

She thrashed around again. Growing desperate, she let her head drop and tried to bite his hand, which was possibly the most unladylike thing she'd ever done in her life.

He grunted, surprised at her strength as she fought against him. "Calm down, you'll wear yourself..." He let out a hiss between his teeth as she bit down on his hand, instinctively pulling his hand back.

"Good, good start." He changed positions, grabbing her arms so that they were in reverse positions, blood dribbling out from where she'd bitten. "Now, here's how I'd do it." He sunk lower to mimic their heights before gently thrusting the back of his head into her chin, "Head butt..." He continued and chicken-winged his arms out before flinging out his outstretched arms to dislodge her arms, maintaining a grip on her wrist before yanking her forward and gently pressing his knee into her solar plexus while dropping his elbow onto the back of her downturned neck, using the leverage on her wrist to bring her body against his knee.

Stepping away from her, he quickly reversed their positions again, pinning her back against his chest again. "Alright. Try it this time... Don't put yer full force into the neck drop though, might break my neck."

Not realizing she'd actually broken skin, Reina forced herself to relax- or at least not tense up so badly she was afraid she'd break apart- as he demonstrated again how she could free herself from an attacker.

"Fine," she snipped. She snapped her head back, pausing a fraction of a second before she made contact with his chin, then threw her arms out and twisted away from him, trying to mimic his move to bend him into her knee.

"There." She tapped the back of his neck, then released him, stepping back and folding her arms over her chest. She was breathing a little heavily, cheeks flushed. "Satisfied?"

Because...well, she kind of was. That was actually the most- well, not fun, exactly, but something very like it- that she'd had in months.

Dean straightened and shrugged at her, "It's a start, certainly." He could remember learning how to fight in a much different way than this... He'd first begun to learn how to fight as a lad getting jumped in the streets by gangs and the like, and then had refined his methods by watching others fight. He wasn't the largest of men in build, but he was quick and knew how to use his body to his advantage- something most men of great natural strength never learned much about.

He found himself thinking that's what made him the best candidate to train Reina, or any other small woman. Though, he had to admit, she was quicker to pick up than he'd first guessed. Dean had expected to spend most of their day trying to convince her to at least throw one hit in, but she was striking back at him without much prompting. Although she had complained for a moment about hurting him, she didn't seem to have any qualms with it in the heat of things.

He had also expected her to want to quit sooner, or complain about being tired. Yet there she stood, panting and sweating, yet to ask for a break. Taking in her flushed form, he walked over to the well and hauled up a bucket of water. "You'll need t'practice more, o' course. But first, get a drink o' water."

"Oh." It was only then she realized how thirsty she was. "Thank you." She moved forward and took the bucket delicately, eyeing it with some combination of confusion and distaste before she gave a mental shrug and just took a sip.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Reina asked, glancing at him with a furrowed brow. She didn't think she had, but then again she really didn't know what she was doing.

Dean smirked, leaning on the lip of the well beside her, "Are you kiddin'? Takes a lot more t'hurt me. They breed us tough here in Zantaric." He inwardly questioned himself about the origins of his birth... His recurring dream had taken on a frightening feel of reality since he had returned to Zantaric, no longer feeling like a dream at all, but a memory.

Bringing himself out of his reverie quickly, he teased, "But I wouldn't recommend tryin' any o' that on yer betrothed." Pushing himself off of the well, he walked back into the open yard. "Do'you want to practice more before he comes t'collect you? Or d'ya want to do somethin' really fun?" This was accompanied by a wicked grin. 

Reina started to move into the open yard after him, then paused. "What did you have in mind?" she asked warily, taking a few small steps closer.

She really shouldn't even be entertaining the idea, but she couldn't seem to help herself. Besides, as long as she met Matthias on time, what was the problem?

He picked up all of his weapons and carefully returned them to their former hiding spots. "Good!" He exclaimed, grabbing hold of her arm, "It's decided then."

He led her up the hill and out of the stable yard, and then down a few streets until they reached an abandoned looking warehouse. Knocking rhythmically, he waited patiently until a small window in the door was opened. A stream of sound and smells streamed forth, not all of them pleasant, a dour man looking cockeyed out at them. "Yeah, what do ya want?"

"T'get a good look in on the show." He pulled out two coppers and rolled them across the tops of his fingers flashily, a neat little trick often known by pickpockets. The man eyed Reina doubtfully, but Dean leaned forward so his face was completely blocking the window, grinning. "We've just been catchin' rubes at the east end o' town, mate. Not had the chance t'change. No reason t'be givin' us the stink." He laid his Zantaric street accent on thickly now, a deep brogue accent that might hardly pass as Common. The man gave them one last hard stare before slamming the window shut and opening the door, admitting them past as Dean slipped the coppers into his hand.

It would take their eyes a few minutes to adjust, but when they were standing inside a large, open building. All around the edges were different booths with food, drink, goods, and strange wares. People of all different races and nationalities crowded the place, in various states of dress or undress. A rather burly topless woman passed by them carrying a platter of some drink. Dean scooped one up and gave it a inquisitive sniff, and then handed the woman a copper for two. Handing Reina one, he leaned in close to her ear so she could hear him above the din, slipping an arm around her waist to keep track of her. "Don't drink all o' it, yeah? An' certainly don't drink a second. It'll lay y'out."

He had brought them to one of the many black markets scattered about the city. While most of the goods and wares sold on the street were illegally gained, the black markets were where illegally gained and illegal wares were sold. Rare, banned books and dubious tinctures and potions, drugs and weapons, rare creatures of worth... But it wasn't what he liked most about this particular market place. No, he would take her to that after she'd gotten her fill of the market itself.

Reina found herself speechless as Dean pulled her along. Even once they were inside the market and her eyes had adjusted some to the gloom she couldn't quite make her voice work for several long moments.

"What- where are we, exactly?" she whispered to him, leaning unconsciously against him despite the rather inappropriate touch at her waist. She eyed the drink he'd handed her with no small amount of trepidation, then hesitantly raised it and took a sniff.

Her nose wrinkled and she resisted the urge to sneeze or cough. Gods above that was strong!

"Hmmm..." He took a moment to ponder her question, trying to decide how best to describe the place. "Y'could call it a covert marketplace n' entertainment hub. Willin' t'bet you've never seen anything like this, nor will y'likely find anything similar. Hell, this'll probably pack up n' move if y'give it a couple more days." All of the markets across the city rotated to new buildings every few weeks or so.

He laughed at her reaction to the drink, taking a large, rather dramatic, swig of his own drink and exhaling. "Ahh! So refreshing! That'll grow hair on your chest for sure!" He steered her in the direction of a booth he thought she might appreciate. The seller was a magic peddler of some note in Zantaric, and somebody whom Dean often pawned his own "acquisitions" off on. The man nodded in acknowledgment, recognizing Dean. The man's stall was full of magical artifacts and books. "Be careful about what y'go touchin', yeah? Now have at it." Dean pushed her forward and into the stall, wandering around the outside of the stall to inspect a few items curiously. He knew nothing about magical objects other than how to identify that they were magic.

A black market. That was a roundabout way of telling her this place was a black market. Oh gods, she really shouldn't be here.

Still, she found herself swallowing an instinctive protest and allowed him to steer her to the stall, rolling her eyes at his dramatic swig of his drink. "And why would I want hair on my chest?" she muttered, before she was distracted by the wares in the booth.

There were plenty of magical odds and ends, some she recognized and some she didn't, though from her knowledge of magic and the place they were in she could rather guess to their purposes. "Do you come to...places like this often, then?" Reina asked, deliberately casual, as she eyes a small charmed bracelet.

Dean perused the shop rather flippantly, flicking a charm with his fingers or toeing the corner of a chest. Stepping up behind her, he reached over her to bat at a charm above. "Aye..." He said, a wry smirk crossing his lips, "Not all o' us grew up with a proper way t'live. 'Specially not us raised in Zantaric."

He walked a step away from her, his fingers twanging across a small lyre. The sound stung into his ears, a disorienting ringing sound reverberating throughout the booth for the fraction of a moment. The shop owner glared at Dean, but his familiarity with him prevented him from acting further on the matter. Dean brought in highly profitable items. He made a queer, sarcastic sound, "Hmm! But seems as though some as had a proper raisin' still make business deals in places like this. Seems a bit unfair." He leaned forward to check his teeth in the reflection of a gauntlet, referring to her betrothed.

Years of navigating the many intricacies of noble affairs meant that Reina could pick up on such a hint very easily.

She frowned a bit, feeling an automatic need to defend her betrothed. "Matthias is here at the behest of his father. It's just...easier to conduct business where so many of his trade partners congregate."

It sounded halfhearted even to her and she shook her head slightly, taking a step back from the booth and giving the proprietor a nod and a small, polite smile.

"Doing someone else's business makes y'just as culpable, and havin' so many business associates who hang around here makes them just as sketchy." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and strolled along, shrugging, "Who knows? Might just be yer betrothed really is just that dumb and has no idea the implications of his business affairs."

He walked out of the stall, peering in one stall or the next while making his way to the main attraction of the market. He made certain to keep one eye out for Reina on their way, eventually grabbing a hold of her wrist as the crowd thickened and got rowdier. When they finally neared the center of the mass of people they could make out a fighting ring where two fighters were beating the tar out of one another. He grinned wickedly and pulled her up onto the bleachers. "Now, this is some o' the best fightin' in the city. Y'can learn a thing or two by watchin'."

She chose not to respond to that- mostly because she really couldn't think of an argument for what he was saying that would hold up under scrutiny.

When he led her to the ring, she gasped quietly in shock and something very like fear. She allowed him to pull her into the bleachers, but a sickening crunch from the fighters had her squeaking and burying her face in her hands.

"Oh, that's horrid," she exclaimed quietly. "Why on earth would people do this? For entertainment?"

Dean grinned, hooting and hollering as the smaller man dodged a blow and struck the larger man in the nose. The larger man staggered back a handful of steps, spitting blood from his mouth as he glared at the other. The fight was savage, though it was not clear that they were trying to kill one another. By the end of the match the two were shaking each other's hands and grinning, likely off to go drink beer with one another.

"Y'all train yer guards and soldiers, yeah? Same as that, 'cept we do it here to entertain others. Honin' our skills while givin' others somethin' excitin' t'look at." His own hands itched as the next match began and the first blow landed solidly. He itched to be in the ring himself, but he wouldn't risk leaving Reina for that long. "That, an' often it's way for folk t'find work. Show yer a scrappy fighter, an' lots o' 'businesses' will find a good use fer ya. It's how I got my first decent job, runnin' supplies about. Boss knew I'd be able t'defend myself an' the goods when I got jumped."

He'd been just a lad of ten at the time, but he had been quick and good at fighting. He had been so proud of the job and being able to bring in money more reliably than pick-pocketing. Pick-pocketing in Zantaric was a high-risk and low-profit occupation- pick-pocketing criminals was near impossible and most often ended up earning the pick-pocketer a beating or a body bag.

Well...when he put it like that, Reina supposed it made a sort of sense. "I still thinks it's horrid to watch, she muttered, biting at her bottom lip. She'd been flinching and giving soft sounds of sympathy with every blow that landed.

Glancing at him, she tried to question subtly, "You grew up here, then? In Zantaric?" She'd suspected as much, but it never paid to assume.

"That's life, m'lady." He shrugged, eyes intent on the fight as he watched for different moves to learn.

His eyes didn't leave the ring when she asked the question, though the tightening of his jaw signaled his discomfort with it. "Yeah." The answer was sharp, the first sign of any emotion other than good-humor he'd shown to her. A dark look was cast over his features as he fought back the darker memories of his past here, and there was little leeway for her to ask further questions.

"We ought t'get back," he pushed himself off the bleachers, still not making eye contact with her. 

She was a little startled by the abrupt change in him, rising quickly to her feet to follow after him. "Um, alright..."

Reina trailed after him in silence for a few moments. "Dean?" she tried warily after a while. "I, ah...I'm sorry. If I was prying. That- wasn't very polite of me." She'd sort of assumed those sorts of rules wouldn't apply here, but it seemed she'd been wrong.

He released a long breath before turning towards her, his shoulders relaxing a bit as he forced himself to smile. "Ain't nothin' about bein' polite, just most folk who're raised here don't want t'remember being raised here. No need t'apologize." He gestured around him as they passed through the tight crowd, finally reaching back to take her hand so she wouldn't be lost. "Zantaric ain't the friendliest place for wee ones, contrary to popular belief."

"Liar... You were just thinking of me, Dean. What, you don't want her to know about your darker roots?" The voice wormed its way inside his head for the second time in the last 24 hours. He internally flinched, biting back the response he wanted to give to the voice. Perhaps if he never responded, the voice would just simply go away?

He shouldered their way through the tightest outskirts of the crowd before emerging into the lighter traffic of the main market. 

"Oh." Reina pondered that with a soft, "I see."

She fell silent for a while, then murmured as the crowds started to thin, "I'm sorry, Dean." She realized she was reaching to touch his arm quite without consciously making the decision to do so and quickly snatched her hand back.

She cleared her throat and tossed her hair. "I, um... We should probably get back. Matthias will be looking for me soon."

The gentleness of her voice made him feel... Guilty and ashamed, two emotions he was not accustomed to. He had never had anybody genuinely apologize to him for anything, and she truly sounded remorseful for something she could not have possibly guessed at. Why would she feel apologetic to a man like him? Sure, he was a product of his environment, but it was by his own decisions that he continued to behave the way he did.

"She does not feel sorry, she pities you, Dean. She thinks you are pathetic."

Dean's jaw clenched as he ignored the voice as best as he could. Her voice was what broke him away from the darkness, and he turned to look at her, missing the movement of her hand. "Yeah, no worries. We'll get y'back in time."

He pulled her through the crowds and then out into the streets of Zantaric, moving faster than before out of reflex. He was beginning to feel concerned about the voice... What would happen if it took complete control of him while he was around Reina? He didn't know what the voice had made him do before, but he was certain it had not been pleasant. He suspected the origins of the voice had something to do with his nightmare... The piles of bodies, the blood, the dark creatures.  He wanted Reina as far from him as possible. Why had he been so foolish as to track her down and hang around her longer than he had needed to? Why had he tried to connect with another person in the first place? For years he had kept his nose out of others' business, only conversing with the dead and trading with the underbelly of society. And now that he was back in Zantaric, the birthplace of his evil, he had decided to try to befriend the most innocent lass in the city? Shame on him.

She noticed the way he set his jaw and frowned slightly. Had she upset him again? She picked up her pace in an attempt to match how quickly he was suddenly moving.

"Is everything alright?" Reina asked quietly, trying to match her steps with his so she could walk beside him. His legs were quite a bit longer though, so it was rather difficult.

He wasn't going to tell her that she needed to get as far away from him as possible, wasn't going to tell her that he was only bad news. No need to voice the cliches, no reason to make his resolution ineffective. She would surely deny what he would say, seeing as how innocent she was. She might even be the type that saw the good in all things and all people. His polar opposite.

Instead he squeezed her hand and slowed down for her, turning towards her and tugging on one her blonde curls. "Aye, lass. Just lost track o' the time, s'all. Don't want you t'be late t'meet..." He just barely was able to pull her against him and out of the way as a fist hurtled past his face. He had been too distracted!

Shoving Reina behind him, Dean faced his attacker, who lunged towards him again. Dean ducked and dodged the blows from the man, landing his own in all the right places. He just managed to knock the man out, panting defensively as he looked back to find that the fight had taken them into an alley. And on there was a group of men at the other end of the alley. Cursing, Dean pulled Reina in the direction of the end of the alley they had come in, but skidded to a stop when they were met with another group of men. Trapped. His eyes darted around the alley, spotting a window just above them.

Grabbing Reina up by the waist quickly, Dean shoved her up towards the window. Just as she was gripping onto the ledge one of the men knocked Dean clean off his feet. Skittering a few feet, Dean looked up to where Reina hung from the windowsill, praying she'd be able to get away. Jumping up, Dean fisted his hands and prepared himself for the onslaught, fighting with daggers and body, unable to use his darts in such close combat. Though he fought well, it was clear he was fighting a losing battle.

It all happened so fast, Reina barely had time to realize what was happening. It seemed that one moment the were moving through the crowds, the next she was clinging to a window ledge while Dean fought for his life below her.

For both their lives. No. That wasn't right.

She let go, stumbling as she tried to get her balance back and whirling to face their attackers. She threw her hands out with a wordless shout, reaching desperately for her magic.

A bolt of ice leaped from her fingertips, striking one of what she assumed was a group of thieves in the chest. He cried out and staggered back, then dropped.

Oh gods. Was he dead?

She didn't have time to wonder. Another pair of arms grabbed her, locking her wrists behind her back. She started to shout another spell, but suddenly felt her connection to her power blocked. Her captor laughed in her ear.

"Magic won't do ya no good here, girlie." A mordecai. He was a mordecai.

She didn't want to, but the word leaped from her lips unbidden as the man started to drag her way down the alley. "Dean! Dean, help!"

Dean fought tooth and nail, blood splattered across his face -both his own and that of his attackers. He could not make out what was happening with Reina, his attention almost completely overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of men. There had to be at least a dozen of them! He did feel a cold breeze, and prayed to whatever gods there were that Reina was able to defend herself. Gods won't help the likes of you, Dean... But I will. Let me help you. The voice slithered into his ears, but still he resisted. He would die before he would let the voice control him again.

He heard her yell out, heard her scream for him, for his help. Dean leapt forward with a renewed fire burning deep in his belly as he ducked out from the men who had been fighting, stabbing one in the throat and another through the eye. "Reina!" He lunged forward towards her, running down the alley towards her and the mordecai.

His progress was stopped when he felt a dagger bury deep into his back. Stumbling, he lost his balance and fell forward onto his hands and knees. A harsh hand dug into his scalp, jerking him up by his dirty blonde hair. When Dean moved to fight against the hold of the man, two more men were pinning his arms as another punched him in the gut. Reina and the mordecai disappeared from sight, "Let me help you." The voice hissed in his ear as he felt himself losing consciousness. He fought against both, jerking and throwing all of his strength against the men.

Dean stopped struggling as a hooded figure strolled into the alleyway, making his way towards Dean. The man pushed the hood back, revealing Reina's betrothed, Matthias.

Reina saw the man stab Dean from behind and she screamed. The sound was cut off quickly when the mordecai dragged her around a corner and slammed her up against a wall, clapping his hand over her nose and mouth, holding a cloth that reeked of something sickly sweet.

Her world went black.

Matthias stared down at Dean with a slow, arrogant smirk curling his lips. "Seems my betrothed still has a lot to learn." He tutted, shaking his head. "Shame. I thought your little lessons might actually make this whole thing more exciting."

His manservant appeared at his elbow, face blank. "Andrew's got the girl," he said in a low rumbled. "She's knocked out. Should be for a few hours at least."

The merchant nodded. "Excellent." He glanced back to Dean, arching an eyebrow. "I'm not sure what your plan was with my darling Reina, but this is the end of it. I give you fair warning." He started to turn to go, then paused.

"Actually..." He spun back around, tapping his chin. "I think I'd rather tie up all loose ends." He gave a nod to the man behind Dean. "Kill him." Gesturing to Garret, he whirled and started to stride back down the alley.

Dean spat blood at Matthias' feet, scowling up at the other man from where the men holding him kept him bent low. He could barely make out the man through his swollen eyelids, but it was well enough. He grinned up at the man, "She'll be somethin' to be reckoned with one day soon." He listened closely to the exchange between the men, eyes sharp and intelligent. "But I don't think I'll let y'live long enough for that t'come about."

The other man seemed unconcerned by his threats, turning and walking away. Dean exhaled sharply when another blow landed in his gut, but still Dean kept a vicious gaze on the other man. The men beat him, Dean fighting against them, until one finally grunted. "Right, that's enough fun. Time to complete what the boss wants."

Dean felt the cold steel against his throat as one man jerked his head back to exposed his neck. Wild eyed, he swallowed heavily. "Let me help." This, the third request made by the voice, felt almost like an incantation being enacted. He responded. "Yes."

Something dark seemed to bubble up from the depths of his own blood-stream, his skin growing hot and blood streaming black through his veins. His dark eyes blackened, his lips splitting in a wicked grin as he grabbed the other man's wrist and with one punch forward severed the other man's Carotid artery with his own dagger.

The rest of the massacre he did not remember, but when Dean came to he was kneeling atop a pile of mutilated bodies. He gagged, stumbling away and puked heavily. The richness of the market food was acidic from his stomach fluids, and came streaming out with a black liquid he couldn't explain. He cried out and heaved, revolted by the scene around him. This is who you are, Dean. You've always known it. You've denied it. Your mother lay with..."

"No!" Dean screamed it out, hoarse against his throat as he clenched his fists over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. "No!" He stopped the voice, but he still felt his grip on his sanity was slippery. "No... No, no, no..." He whispered, rocking back and forth in the alley with his back turned towards the pile of bodies. The girl...

"The girl." The voice was joined by another. The alley darkened, taking on a red glow, a chill sinking deep into his skin. He looked down the alley, his heart hammering in his chest as he fell back onto his behind. The dark figure... The dark figure from his nightmare! Wide-eyed, he scrambled to his feet and took off running in the opposite direction. He did not hear the figure say, "I will take care of your mess today... But you cannot run forever."

Wheezing, Dean scrambled out of the alley and into the street. He spun around to look at the alley, and blinked in wide-eyed terror. It was empty. There was no evidence left of any sort of fight, of any of the blood or the bodies, of his dark stranger. Swallowing heavily, he looked down at himself. The blood covering his clothes was all that was left of the massacre he had wrought. He took to another alleyway, pulling clothing off a line and ducking into a doorway to change. Jerking off all of the clothing, he used the extra shirt he had pulled off a line to wipe as much of the blood that had soaked through away. His body was still bruised and cut all over, his left eye swollen shut and his right just barely open, but the stab wound on his back was nearly healed.

Trembling in fear of what he had done, Dean only just maintained his sanity with a one-word mantra."Reina..." He muttered under his breath. "Reina..." He jerked on the pants, "Reina." Pulled on the shirt, "Reina." Her name began to leave his lips in anger now, anger at Matthias. An anger that boiled and bubble, an anger not entirely his own. Yes. The girl. You must retrieve her. And kill those who did this. Kill them all." Dean did not fight the voice back, his right eye opening up partially to reveal a black iris and pupil. "Reina." This time it was resolute as he began stashing all of his daggers away, pulling on his boots.

The voice chuckled, "Yes. Embrace your true nature. You can control it if you accept it."

He jerked the laces of his boots together in knots, shoving himself up despite the pain from the beating. He set to his feet and stood at the mouth of the alley. He responded to the voice, steel in his voice, "Where is she?"

She was far away, trapped in a dream of fire and fists and blood, of a darkness diving down her throat and smothering the breath from her body. Reina moaned and writhed in her sleep, almost making the mordecai who was carrying her to down the cellar stairs of an old, abandoned house drop her.

"What's the problem now?"

"She won't stop squirming."

"You serious? She's the size of a pixie, just hold the bitch!"

Reina could hear the words, but they didn't make sense. Her limbs were heavy, and each breath felt like an uphill battle. She went through waves of semi-consciousness, rising almost to the waking world before the drug the mordecai had used  to knock her out dragged her back under.

"Where is she?"

"In the back, boss. Wouldn't stop whimperin', so we gagged her."

"Fine. Just no permanent damage. She's worth more that way."

That voice. It was so familiar... Why couldn't she remember? Why couldn't she wake up?

She didn't know how much later it was that she finally managed to open her eyes and found herself bound and gagged and tossed in the corner of a small, nearly pitch dark room. Reina screamed into the filthy cloth in her mouth, eyes flying wide open with panic.

"Sounds like she's awake."

"Aye."

There was a creaking sound and a door that had been too dark to make out against the shabby stone swung open a crack. A man peered into the room, his face unfamiliar. He gave Reina a cursory glance and nodded once, then slammed the door shut again. She heard muffled voices- presumably he was talking to his companion.

She screamed again, reaching desperately for her magic as she thrashed pointlessly from side to side. Nothing. She felt nothing. The mordecai must still be close.

Oh gods. She was helpless.

An image of an abandoned house flashed through his mind's eye, though it was not helpful. There were plenty of abandoned houses strewn throughout the city and on its outskirts. Hell, they'd been through one just the previous day. He swore darkly before addressing the voice again, "Some more details might help."

The voice chuckled before another image flashed through his mind of an overgrown road leading over the river and to the very outskirts of the city. He shivered... The plague sector. There had been a plague sweep through the city during his childhood, but the worst of it had befallen a section of the city on the western outskirts. Any who had fallen ill after the plague had begun had been taken to the section and left to die or survive. Dozens of the city's inhabitants had perished in that sector, and after those being punished were sent to clean up the aftermath. Twenty-something years later the plague sector had still not been inhabited by any of the living.

Dean took off in the direction of the plague sector, trying his best to balance between conserving his energy and rushing. He suspected that they were not going to harm Reina, not now that he knew it was Matthias who had organized the entire stunt. But still, he was concerned for her. And the darkness within him drove him on, seeking vengeance for the death sentence he had been given by Matthias and his men.

He crossed the bridge and took the road down to the plague sector, the houses vandalized and in disrepair. He walked the streets, eyes on alert for the house that looked like the one in his vision. When at last he spotted it, Dean felt the rush of the darkness coil in his stomach before quickly abandoning him. He stumbled out of the sight of the house to vomit up more of the black liquid, sweat beading his forehead and upper lip. He stared angrily down at the liquid, cursing its choice to leave him at such a time. He had begun to believe that he had some semblance of control over the darkness, and that he could use it to his advantage. Well... No use crying over spilt- black liquid? He didn't know what the fuck it was, but it was gone now and he could not rely on it to return anytime soon. He had no time to wait on it. He had a girl to save and vengeance to seek.

Perhaps some of the darkness within him remained, for when he took out his darts he placed the lethal ones. He hoped the serum would still be effective, for he had purchased it long ago and not yet made use of it. Darting around the corners of the houses to remain out of site of the old house at the end of the row, he made his way into the doorway of a house to assess his surroundings. There was a long stretch of grass between the rest of the houses and that house- it must have belonged to one of the wealthier inhabitants of this sector- it made for a perfect safehouse or hideout. Anyone wanting to visit would be seen upon approach- there would be no hiding. From what he could see, there were two lookouts circling the house and one standing at the front door. He suspected others to be stationed at any side or back doors as well, and likely in the windows.

Readying his darts, he prepared himself as he timed the location of the lookouts. He needed to be quick about it so the other two would not give the others the alert. Just as the two circling lookouts were both close to passing by the front door he blew out three darts in succession, willing them to actually make the distance and to be effective. All three men swayed and ropped like rocks. Dean nodded to himself, "Huh, guess they do work."

He took off across the stretch of lawn, sprinting as quickly as he could before reaching the house and ducking low behind one of the hedges of the house. Should he try to take out whatever other men might be stationed around the house? "Yes," the voice hissed in his ear, pleased, "kill."

Sliding alongside the walls of the house, he darted a man at a side door leading to what he assumed were the kitchens, before finding the backdoor and darting that man. Deciding on the back door, he slid up beside it and quietly turned the knob. Pushing the door open as silently as he might, Dean peered into the house for anybody before slipping inside and silently closing the door. Surveying his surroundings, he ducked into a dark unoccupied room as he listened for any signs of life from within.

It was less than an hour later, at least by her reckoning, when the man from before peered into her cell again.

"Here," he grunted, moving toward her and shoving a plate of what looked like moldy bread across the stone floor. "Eat. You ain't no good to us if ya starve." He leaned forward to take the gag out of her mouth.

Eyes flashing, Reina twisted her head and sank her teeth into his hand as hard as she could. He yelped and tried to shake her off, but she hung on like a starving dog. She only released him when his hand cracked across her face, slamming her head into the wall behind her.

Dazed, she slumped slightly and tried to glower up at her captor as he stood, cursing, and covered his bloodied hand with his good one. "You little bitch!" he snarled, and his foot snapped out to catch her in the ribs. She saw stars, gasping as pain flashed through her.

"Oi, Liam. What the hell you doin'?"

"She bit me!"

A new man- no, not new, she recognized him. The mordecai- stepped into the cell, glaring at his associate. "The boss said no damage," he growled. He jerked his head and the first man sullenly moved toward the door. As they closed it behind them, Reina thought she heard the mordecai mutter something about Alan not coming down to take over guard duty, and where was the stupif sunnovabitch?

Liam was the one unfortunate enough to be sent upstairs to find his replacement. "Alan! Where've you got to now?" he grumbled, slamming the cellar door open as he reached the top of the stairs, striding unwittingly through the house. "I swear, if you're drunk on the job again..."

Upon hearing the door slam open, Dean pressed his back against the wall beside the door and waited. A smile curled across his lips as the man called out for his coworker- so he had at least two more men to get rid of. Though he normally would have tried his best not to kill anyone, something deep within him needed to kill these men. As Liam passed by the open doorway, Dean jerked the man into the room and quickly slit his throat. He let the man release a small cry, hoping to draw "Alan" out to investigate. Rolling the man's body into the shadows of the room, he heard footsteps approaching.

"Fuck off, Liam. Ain't your business if I decide to have a drink or not. Not like anybody's coming for the bitch." Dean listened to the footsteps of the other man land heavily down the stairs to the main floor and head towards the cellar. Sliding out from the darkened room, Dean calmly approached the cellar as well. The man did not hear him as he approached from behind, gripping the man's hair and slitting his throat. Best he could, he dragged the man from the top of the cellar stairs and into the closest room before quietly entering the cellar.

Dean slid his feet along each stair before stepping on it, testing for any give that might produce a creak or a groan to give him away. Carefully he descended the steps, listening intently for anyone below. Using a small mirror, he attempted to see if there was anyone around the corner... It was the man who had dragged Reina off. Stepping out into the open, Dean playfully smiled- a rather ridiculous look given the state of his pulverized face. "I think I've misplaced a lass. She's about, hmm..." He used one of his hands holding a dagger to float it up and down at her approximate height, "Blonde hair, cute little thing. Oh, and," his face darkened as he paused, "not yours." He threw one of his daggers at the man, the flick of his wrist quick and precise as it flew towards the mordecai's chest. Quickly he produced another dagger, prepared for a fight.

The mordecai shot to his feet, eyes widening. "You- How the hell-"

That was about all he could get out before the dagger came flying at him and he dove out of the way, knocking a small table that had been used mostly for drinks and apparently some sort of card came onto its side to use it as a shield.

He flicked a knife of his own out of the sheath on his wrist and tossed it at Dean with a snarled, "You should have let them kill you in that alley!"

Reina heard the voices, heard the commotion, and she shot up, her bound wrists and ankles throwing off her balance and making her crash to the floor. "Dean," she realized, eyes going wide. Struggling to sit up, she awkwardly tried to inch her way toward the door, wincing as her ribs protested. "Dean! Dean! I'm in here!"

The mordecai hissed in frustration and kicked out at the door to the girl's cell, hoping to startle her into silence.

Dean ducked out of the way of the dagger, smirking and giving the man a comically quizzical look, "Should I have? T'be honest, I prefer livin'. Seems like y'don't, though."

His eyes flicked towards the door where a commotion could be heard, followed by Reina's voice. Looking towards the mordecai, he walked calmly in the direction of both the door and the man. Although he looked as if he were going at a leisurely pace without trepidation, internally he was on high alert. So Reina was still alive and well enough to cause a raucous, which was a good indication that she would be prepared to escape. He needn't worry about carrying her out of this place, a feat he wasn't certain he could complete with the state his body was in. Plus, trying to defend against attacks while carrying a person was excessively difficult.

"Ah, there she is! Be there in a jiff, lass!" Dean blocked any advances the man made, kicking the table out of the way and crouching. "Time t'fight like men, yeah?" Engaging the man in the fight, the two scrappled outside of the door. Dean finally managed to slip one of his non-lethal darts into the melee, stabbing it down into the man's neck. Holding onto the man, Dean did his best to guide his body out of the way of the door. Kill him! The voice hissed venomously. Shaking his head, Dean gripped the handle to the door. Reina needn't know of the kills upstairs, but she would be able to see the dead mordecai if he killed the man on her way out.

Swinging the door open, he found Reina tied up and inching her way towards the door. Bending over to look down at her, he grinned, "Didya miss me?"

Despite his wisecrack he moved to her side swiftly, cutting loose her bonds while assessing her state of being. She appeared to be mostly unharmed, only a little bit worse for wear. When he had untied her he pressed the hilt of the mordecai's dagger into her hand. "A little souvenir for your troubles. Now, are y'ready t'get outta this place?"

She couldn't breathe, anxiety freezing the air in her lungs as she listened to the scuffle in the room outside her cell. Dean seemed confident enough, but she was desperately afraid that the mordecai would take him down.

A needless fear, apparently, as he swung the door open and knelt to untie her. Reina nearly cried with relief, both that he was safe and that this nightmare was almost over, at least it seemed to her. She wrapped her fingers around the dagger and staggered to her feet, wincing as her sore ribs and recently bound ankles protested.

"R-ready when you are," she tried to toss back, but there was too much fear in her voice. Biting her lip, she suddenly threw herself forward and wrapped her arms around him in a brief, tight hug. "Thank you," Reina sobbed quietly, clinging to him. "Thank you."

It took some effort, but she managed to pull herself together and step back. She wiped at her eyes and adjusted her grip on the dagger's hilt. "Lead the way then."

"Ooof..." Dean exhaled sharply as she threw her arms around him, surprised and more than a bit uncomfortable with the warm contact. His skin felt as if it were on fire, sensitive to each touch to the point that even his clothing sent his skin prickling. He felt on edge from his brief blackout and all of the killing, and her gesture of kindness made him even more aware of the monstrous crimes he had committed just hours before.

Still, he tried his best to return her hug after the initial shock faded, wrapping his arms around her and laughing. "Yeah, yeah," he comforted her, letting her pull away when she was ready. "This all just means I got more teachin' to do, yeah?"

He took her free hand in his, leading her down the dark hallway to the staircase, passing by the unconscious mordecai as they did. As they ascended the stairs and entered the light of the hallway she would be able to see the damaged state of his face- he was certain it looked like it had gone through a meat tenderizer and was a bit concerned it might frighten her.

Dean led them down the hall towards the back door, guiding her around the creaks of the floor that might give them away. Just as they were about to reach the door he heard a yell from below. The sound of footsteps and the loudening yells of the mordecai made its way up the stairs, and Dean cursed, "Damn.. Knew I should have killed the bastard." He also should have locked the man away in the room they had been keeping Reina, but he had been so distracted by her hug that he'd forgotten. "The girl makes you soft. Weak. Stupid." The voice hissed in his ears as he reached out for the doorknob, twisting it only to discover it locked. He let out another curse as he turned to face the mordecai, who had been joined by Matthais and his man, along with two other brutes.

Dean moved Reina behind his back, gripping his own daggers as he took position in front of her. Smiling bashfully, he gestured amicably with his daggers at Matthias. "Oops, sorry to have woken you from yer slumber, princess. Just comin' t'collect the lass and be on our way. See it as my way o' forgivin' ya fer tryin' to have me offed back in the alley there, yeah?" It was a struggle to maintain his control of whatever darkness lurked within him, a darkness that was calling to him to brutally kill all present. He was afraid that it wouldn't see a difference between Reina and the men, that he would hurt her. He was afraid that even if it didn't make him hurt her, that she would see whatever it was that he really was and she would think him a monster. He was even more afraid of the notion that he probably was some type of monster.

Allowing herself to be pulled along, Reina started and gave a small whimpering sound of fear that would have been embarrassing if she hadn't been feeling so disjointed when she heard the mordecai following them.

She cowered behind Dean's back, part of her wanting to stand tall and be brave but the rest hurting, scared, and convinced that it was only a matter of minutes before she'd be captured again.

Then her eyes widened. She found herself speechless as Dean confronted the men. Then, slowly, she managed to breathe out, "Matthias?"

She shouldn't have been surprised. It made sense when she thought about it: if he staged a kidnapping, Matthias would get the ransom from her family, and then her dowry in just a few months when they married.

Still, the betrayal hurt. She hadn't loved him, but she hadn't hated him either. She'd rather hoped that they may manage to get along, if they had to be married. She'd trusted him, if only a little. Gods, she was an idiot.

Rage swept through her and she tried to lunge forward, teeth and dagger bared. "You son of a bitch-" she snarled, then cried out as her ribs protested again and her step stumbled.

Matthias remained where he was, protected as he was behind his men. He gestured loosely in mock apology as Reina cursed and stumbled. "It's regrettable, really, that you had to discover my true identity. It truly ruins all of my plans, the ones where you were able to get away alive. But now you know who I am and surely you will tell others of this little... unfortunate circumstance." He motioned his men to begin advancing on the pair. "It really will be for the better- you were not quite as biddable as your parents told me you were. Don't worry, I shall make your death easy."

Before Dean could reach out and pull Reina back behind him, the men had her. Dean threw himself at the men, but was restrained by the much larger men. Matthias turned towards Dean. "Though I do find it curious that you made it here alive, despite all of my men. I might have had employment for a dirty street rat like yourself, if only you had been a bit smarter. Unfortunately, your death will not be as easy when my men finally catch up."

Something cold swept through Dean and he felt himself lose his grip on the situation, his head slumping forward and his golden hair obscuring his features as his shoulders began to shake. At first it appeared as if he were crying or shaking in fear, but soon a chill laugh could be heard as he leaned into the hold of the man. The laughter subsided as he looked up, grinning wickedly, eyes darkening.

"Your men are not coming." His voice was rough and dark, tempered with an amusement not belonging to him. Dean seemed to observe his own actions and decisions from a distance, as if he were still in his body but not in control. Or was he in control? Some deep, dark thread within him was thrilled by the prospect of killing.

His next movement was barely recognizable as his hand darted up and managed to get a hold of his captor's knife, stabbing it into the man's neck. Dean side-stepped the body nonchalantly, wiping the blood onto the other man's clothes as he stepped over the body. The temperature of the room dropped significantly as Dean advanced, the man holding Reina releasing her in fear as he began to back quickly away.

Matthias breathed out nervously, holding his ground even as Dean approached. "Get a hold of them! Now!" Dean brushed past Reina, dodging easily as Matthias' right hand man and the one who had been holding Reina advanced on him. He noted the flight of the mordecai, but there were more pressing matters. He would hunt him down later. He was swift and efficient about it, their deaths. And when he reached Matthias, the man's pleading fell on deaf ears as he swiftly enacted his sentence of death...

The world came rushing back into focus as he looked down at his bloodied hands where he was straddling Matthias' body. His hands shook violently as the dagger clattered to the floor, Dean standing up and stumbling back and sitting heavily on the steps. His ears rang, and he couldn't even remember how he had arrived nor why. He dropped his head into his bloodied hands, his breath ragged and panicked as he fought to recall and come to terms with what he had done. His fingers fisted into his hair, pulling at it as he closed his eyes tightly against the world around him.

The voice soothed him, pleased, "Good... You have done no wrong, it is just your nature. Shhh, Deanie, you were a good lad. Doesn't it feel just so delicious to live this way?" Dean shook his head vehemently, pulling at his hair harder as he struggled to drown out the voice and the world. It had been so easy to kill.

Reina gave another yelp of pain as she was grabbed, cold panic clutching at her heart in a vice-like grip. She couldn't find the courage to speak, or to do much of anything else, and she hated herself for it. The mordecai was still too close, she couldn't even reach her magic.

Then Dean started laughing, and the chill running through her suddenly seemed to be coming from an entirely different source.

She gave a sharp cry when he stabbed the first man, eyes going wide with surprise. But why was she so shocked, it was self-defense, wasn't it?

That mantra became harder to maintain as one after another Matthias's men were killed. Reina stumbled back when she was released, her hand flying up to cover her mouth while she simply stared in stunned silence. Her eyes were fixed on her betrothed's body- she was panting, but each breath seemed distant and jagged all at the same time.

Come on, focus! Snap out of it, you have to get out of here.

"D-Dean?" Her voice was barely a whisper. She took a shaky step toward him, then whimpered as her ribs protested and sank to her knees. "Dean?" She reached out, then hesitated, her hand hovering a few inches from touching him. "We- we have to go. We have to..." Suddenly her throat clogged up.

She was crying. When had she started crying?

Dean sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, trying to force the breath back into his body, to reclaim it as his own and expel whatever continued to have hold over him. He repeated this several times before pulling his fingers from his hair and pressing them hard against his knees to try to steady himself. Still he did not look up, though the world around him was slowly coming back into focus.

Raising his head, his own face wet with his own tears and the blood of the men he had killed and his own, Dean looked to where Reina was crying. "I..." He tested his own voice, the sound gravelly. He swallowed, tried again, "I'm sorr..." Dean stopped himself. He did not deserve any forgiveness for what he had done. All of the rage and darkness which had been driving him forward up to this point was absent, leaving him exhausted and feeling defeated. She had seen him... The voice whispered in his mind, jeering, Letting her live is risky you know... No one has seen the real Deanie before." It paused for a moment, "Though she is more useful to you alive."

Dean stood on unsteady feet, swaying and stumbling as he used to wall for support on his way to the front door. Leaning against the frame, he tested the door knob before swinging it open to reveal the quiet night beyond. He squinted, even the light of the moon too much for his eyes. There was no sign of the mordecai. Turning to look back at Reina, the light of the moon illuminating his figure, he brought himself to speak again. "I don't think the mordecai is nearby... Y'might be safe..." He released a long, shaking sigh and closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against the doorframe. She would at least be safer than she would if she remained by his side. He stepped back inside, leaning down to jerk the coin purses off of the dead men. He knelt in front of Reina, not touching her as he dropped them before her. "Reina, you've gotta get out of Zantaric. I don't know who'll be lookin' for ya after the mordecai gets t'them. Take this coin, get yerself a horse, and ride t' the nearest town. Buy some guards, a guide, get yerself back to yer family."

Reina stayed kneeling by the stairs as Dean started to move- to come back to himself, it seemed. She watched rather listlessly as he dropped the coin purses in front of her, reaching up to wipe absently at the tear tracks on her cheeks.

"Dean..." She looked up at him and slowly got to her feet. "Are- are you...?" She sniffed and wiped at her eyes again, then reached out.

She didn't know why, but she suddenly had an incredibly strong, protective urge, despite what she'd just seen. Maybe even because of it.

He'd been crying. He seemed just as scared as she was.

She really wasn't sure why she did it, but suddenly she found herself moving forward and wrapping her arms around him, hiding her face against his chest while her shoulders shook as she fought back sobs.

Was he what? Was he some type of evil beast? A psychopath? A demon? "Yesss..." His heart skipped a beat as the voice responded to his inner turmoil. No, he must have imagined it... Before he could sink even deeper into his self-hatred, he felt Reina throw herself against him.

Dean stumbled back a bit, surprised as he stared down at her in confusion. What was she doing? Why was she crying? Why was she crying against him of all things? She should have been running for her life!

Yet he found himself wrapping his arms around her and pressing his cheek against the top of her head, the smell of her hair comforting as his chest constricted with the influx of emotions he was experiencing. He wanted to push her away, to tell her to run as far from him as possible. He wanted to burn this place down, and him with it. But he didn't. He pulled her closer, his chest expanding before he breathed harshly out through his nose. His hands tensed into fists against her lower back and shoulder as he pulled her in, trying to control the emotions for fear that they would lead him back into the darkness. The anger was quick to rise and fall, anger at himself and a residual anger at the men who had forced his hand. His hold of her felt like the last handhold of a man dangling on the edge of a cliff.

The tension in his body finally released as he took a shuttering breath, nestling a gentle hand against the back of her head and smoothing down her hair for her. "Reina..." His body tensed again as he looked up to see the same dark figure from before standing calmly at the end of the hallway, watching them. Dean stroked the back of his hand down the side of her face, taking her chin in his shaking fingers as he looked her in the eyes. "We need t'get y'outta here." The dark figure held up a bony, clawed hand with seven fingers. It curled first one finger, and then the next before Dean realized it was counting down to something.

Not wanting to alarm her, Dean took her hand quickly in his and pulled her behind him out of the house, running by the time they hit the porch stairs. Once in the yard, he swung around to see the dark figure standing calmly in the doorway with two fingers still held up. It dropped one. Upon dropping the last one, he watched as the house seemed to catch fire unbidden. "You owe two favors now, Deanie. You really should learn to clean up after yourself."

Dean shuttered at the voice, his hand still gripping Reina who had not seemed to see the dark figure. He watched, fearful amazement clear on his face as he watched the house go up in flames.

The sobs she'd been forcing herself to swallow came bubbling to the surface when he said her name and she pressed a little closer against him, the coppery scent of blood growing stronger as she did. Her hands stroked up and down his back in an almost instinctively soothing gesture.

When he tilted her head back Reina felt her breath hitch, eyes flicking over his bloodied and beaten face. Gods, he looked like he'd been through hell. She nodded quickly and allowed him to pull her out of the house, stumbling a little as his pace picked up.

Then they paused, she glanced back over her shoulder- and screamed as the house was suddenly set ablaze. She shrank back against him instinctively, perhaps something of her ice magic recoiling from the blast of heat.

"G-go," she gasped out, snapping her head up to look at Dean with wide, terrified eyes. "We need to go now."

Something was very, very wrong, she could feel it like a claw running up her spine.

She was right. Something was wrong, and that something was now running with her away from the blazing house. Even if the cloaked figure was not following them, Dean knew it was not far away should he kill again. What did the voice mean by clean up after his own mess? People were killed in Zantaric and left on the street all the time. Why did it make a difference if his kills stayed out in the open?

Finally, an interesting question Deanie. It's because of what you are... There's a bit of a rule that our kind leave no evidence behind of our existence. Would ruin a lot of fun for us, if most folk knew that we weren't just bumps in the night... Dean's skin broke out in goosebumps as the voice got ever nearer to whatever dark, sordid secret had begun bubbling up about Dean and his heritage. He'd known his mother had been a witch- an evil or bad one- but what did that make his father?

Gripping Reina's hand, he ran with her along the outskirts of Zantaric until they reached a heavily fern and ivy covered wall. Dean pulled a small section of the ivy loose to reveal a heavy locked wooden door. Pulling a key from a necklace around his neck, he opened the door for her. He led her down through the old sewer system until they reached another door which he unlocked, leading her into a dim room. The light from the moon shone through a grate overhead which he knew was in the woods outside of Zantaric, and he lit a few lanterns around the room for light.

The space was cozy, the walls covered in tapestries he'd salvaged. There were a few messy corners in the room filled with piles of books and treasures he had planned on selling, an old used couch, a hammock, and a cot for when he changed his mind on where or on what he wanted to sleep. Beneath the overhead grate was a firepit he had built, and he lit the fire to warm the contents of food within a big pot. He had preoccupied himself with making the space more comfortable for her, but when he slowed he began to think over exactly what the situation meant.

Dean pulled a wooden chair out from the wall and then grabbed a bag of medical supplied he kept on a shelf. "Come over 'ere and let me have a look at what those thugs did t'ya."

She started panting after only a few minutes of running, her ribs protesting every step- loudly- but she pushed through. By the time Dean lead them through the sewers though, her vision was going fuzzy at the edges and she was feeling distinctly lightheaded.

Reina had enough presence of mind to take a cursory glance around what appeared to be the man's home before he was speaking and she was desperately trying to process his words. Everything seemed to hurt, though she had a feeling that was more a result off shock than anything else.

"O-okay." She took a step forward.

Which was about the time her knees decided to finally give out and she collapsed with a small cry, panting desperately. One hand went to her burning side and she looked up at Dean with watery eyes.

"I- I'm sorry. I don't think I can m-move anymore..."

"Ah, ah," Dean took a clumsy step forward and caught her beneath her arms before she fell to the ground, "Alright then, lass." He scooped her up carefully and carried her to the cot, laying her down. "You're alright then, yeah?" He soothed, using his foot to reach out to hook the medical bag and bring it over. Reaching into the contents, he pulled out two bottles and looked at them quizzically for a moment before returning one to the bag. "Take some of this."

He gently pressed two fingers against the spot on her ribs she had been babying, watching her flinch beneath his touch. "First time you've broken ribs, yeah?" He suspected his own were at least cracked. "The key is t'breathe shallow. I... I can wrap 'em if you like? The pressure sometimes helps."

Dean looked around, thinking about how she might maintain some of her modesty... Getting to her ribs while she was wearing a dress would be a bit of a problem. "D'you hurt anywhere else?"

Reina whimpered as he picked her up, but she took his advice and tried to take smaller breaths. It did help with the pain somewhat.

"Yes," she murmured. "First time. I- oh! Ouch. I've never really...broken anything actually."

She nodded quickly at the offer to wrap her ribs- anything that might ease the jagged soreness was a good idea in her book.

"I- I don't think I'm hurt anywhere else." It was mostly true- she was just sore, and she knew she would bruise just about everywhere, but the ribs were definitely the worst of it.

Almost unconsciously, Reina reached out to grab his wrist lightly and focused on his face, concern replacing some of the pain in her eyes. "You need care too. For gods' sakes you were stabbed in the back an hour ago!"

Dean found a pair of breeches and a blouse that would fit her... Well, at least they wouldn't fall off of her if he gave her a belt. They were clothes from when he had arrived at the city, when he'd been a bit strapped for cash and for food. When she stopped him, her small fingers wrapping around his wrist, he stared down at them as they stood out against the dried blood on his skin.

"I..." He couldn't explain it, could he? How his wounds seemed to begin to heal themselves when he lost control of himself and let the darkness take over. How did he explain something he didn't entirely understand himself? "I'll be fine, no worries. I don't think he got me too bad." That was also a lie. He had felt the knife plunge hilt-deep into his back, but it did not feel that deep anymore. He would have to check it. 

He gave her a fleeting smile, "Do you think y'can manage to change into these? It'll be easier to get at your ribs." And it would help her protect her modesty, a concept pretty foreign to him but one he knew proper ladies like herself would be concerned with. "Not a whole lot of privacy here, but I'll go over here and turn my back."

He walked to the opposite side of the room and sat down on a stool, turning his back to her as she changed. He stared down at his bloodied hands and forearms... He needed to wash. He probably looked like a monster. Tentatively he reached over his shoulder to the wound on his back, flinching as his fingers prodded into the hole in his back. He'd been right about it... Though it was still deep, it was not nearly as severe as it should have been.

"Alright...thank you." Reina sat up, wincing and biting her lip to keep from crying out, and tried to change her clothes as carefully as she could.

She found herself flushing, even though she kept glancing in Dean's direction to make sure he wasn't looking. She'd never been in a situation like this- well, none of this was exactly normal, but somehow if she focused on preserving some modesty it allowed her not to panic about everything else that had just happened.

Once she was in the blouse and breeches, she said softly, "You can- you can turn around now." She was still blushing. She tried to curl her legs up self-consciously, then squeaked at the flash of pain that elicited and forced herself to hold still, even if she'd never been wearing so few layers around a man before.

Least of your problems, Reina. Calm down.

Dean wasn't quick to turn around, walking over to a water basin to wash off the blood from his face, hands, and arms. Wiping dry his face, he walked to Reina's side and knelt in front of her. "I'm goin' t'take a look at it, yeah?"

Slowly, and with a concentrated gentleness, Dean raised up her shirt just high enough to get a look at her ribs. The skin was already sporting an angry blue and black bruise, spreading down her side. Gingerly he palpitated her skin, testing the extent of the damage. There didn't seem to be any clean breaks, and he suspected they were just fractured, though her pain level reminded him of somebody with a break. Then again, this was probably the worst pain she'd ever experienced in her life, as protected as she had likely been.

It was a testament to the cavernous gap between their lives, ever widening, though she had been slipping closer to his world since their first meeting. Well, he was not entirely to blame... Her suspicious ex-fiance was to blame. He let go of her shirt and pulled out some wraps from the bag, lifting the shirt again as he began to wrap the bandages around her, talking to her all the while to distract her. "Now, the trick is t'keep breathin' as normally as y'can. Too shallow, and y'might catch pneumonia. This wrap'll help keep things in place a bit better, speed the healin' along. If y'can, y'might try t'use that ice magic o'yours. Could feel pretty good, keep the swellin' down. And take some more o'the pain killers like the stuff I gave y'earlier." 

It felt like her whole body blushed when he raised her shirt, but she knew he was just looking at her side. That didn't stop the proper little lady in her from wincing slightly at the immodesty of the situation. Gods, what would her mother think...

Well. The woman had also thought Matthias would make a good husband, so perhaps she shouldn't be using her as an indicator of successful life choices.

"Thank you," Reina said quietly as he wrapped her side. She really tried not to flinch- the man was much worse off than she was, and some little, stubborn part of her didn't want to seem so fragile in front of him for some reason.

She nodded along to his instructions and attempted to adjust her breathing accordingly as she reached into herself for her magic. Cooling her fingers, she laid them gingerly against her ribs with a quiet sigh of relief.

"I don't...I don't think I'll be able to move much any time soon," she murmured, glancing up at him. "C-could I...stay here? Just for an hour or two?"

"That's fine." He stood back up, crossing the room as he peeled his shirt off his back, the material sticking to the spot where the knife wound was. He sat next to the water basin, using the cloth to scrub off the blood from his upper body, his abs contracting in pain as he cleaned off the area around the wound on his back.

Although his silence would not give any indication of it, he was thinking about what to do next. As he dunked his head into the basin to scrub the blood from his hair, he tried to think about what might be best for Reina. Should he offer to take her to the nearest town, where she could hire guards, maids, and a guide to protect and lead her back to her home? Or should he get away from her as soon as possible?

Taking a soap bar from a small dish, he soaped up his hair and continued to scrub it, trying to get the blood out from it and dying the water in the basin pink. He did the same to his upper body, wetting his pants as he continued to clean himself of the blood. As he did, he revealed his bruised and beaten body, covered and pock-marked from the scars of the last few hours and scars from the past. Lashings he had suffered from his mother and city guards were evident across the skin of his muscular back, a patchwork of tragedy written for others to see. Scars telling stories of his rough past, though they didn't even tell the whole truth.

Taking the wet rag, he disappeared out the door and into the hallway long enough to peel his pants off and clean himself, reentering the room wearing fresh and worn leather breeches. Pulling a shirt on to cover himself, it stuck in places that were not entirely dry yet. He'd come to a decision.

"Y' need to get out of the city and get back t'your people. I'll take y'to the nearest reputable town an' find y'some guards, maids, and a guard t'see you safely home. We'll take some horses... Y'know how t'ride, yeah?" Any of his natural good humor or the vulnerability from before was gone... He'd let himself grow too near to her, he needed to distance himself from her before she got more hurt than she already was.

Reina couldn't stop herself from watching with an almost morbid curiosity as Dean stripped his shirt off to clean himself. She winced slightly at the marks he revealed, biting her lip as an instinctive swell of sympathy rose up in her.

She tried to look nonchalant when he left, though her mind was whirling. What did she do now? He'd said he'd let her stay long enough to get back on her feet, but what then? Where did she go from here? Home, she supposed... But then what? She couldn't just forget everything that had happened here, pretend it hadn't affected her. And her family-

Oh gods, her brother. He was so protective of her, knowing what had almost happened would just about kill him. And her mother...

She almost didn't realize when Dean came back into the room, and it took her a moment to register what he'd said. "Oh." Carefully, Reina got to her feet. "Yes. That's- that's a good idea...thank you."

Hesitantly, she moved toward him. She still winced a bit with every step, but she was determined to work through the discomfort. "Here." Still calling on her magic to keep her touch cool, she carefully reached out and laid her hand against the wound on his back. This brought her pretty much flush against his chest and she dropped her eyes. "I, um...I know it's not much, but I think I at least owe you this."

He flinched beneath her cool touch at first, feeling uncomfortably aware of her closeness as he sucked in a deep breath. Swallowing heavily, he looked down at her where she was pressed against his chest and was reminded again of how attracted he was to her. Though Dean was no pure virgin by any means, he wasn't accustomed to gentle affection and slow-burning relations. His experience with women had been primal and animalistic, void of emotions other than lust or greed. But looking down at Reina, he found something deep in his chest squeeze, and he uncomfortably wondered if it was that thing called love seeping in.

He stood still for her, letting the coolness of her hand ease the pain at his back, closing his eyes in an attempt to seal the moment in memory. Instinctively, Dean looped his arms around her, his hands resting loosely on her lower back as he opened his eyes to look down at her.

A gentle hand came up to her cheek, his thumb rubbing away a smudge of dirt before he leaned forward and pressed his lips softly against hers.

Reina's eyes flicked up to his face when he touched her cheek and she almost opened her mouth to say something- anything- but the way he was looking at her made her voice die in her throat.

Then he kissed her, and her eyes flew wide open. She was frozen for a few moments, utterly stunned. She should push him away- shouldn't she? This was so far from her realm of propriety. She really...should...

With a sigh against his lips, Reina let her eyes flutter closed and leaned into the contact. Gods, she was just so tired, and frightened, and she realized that she positively craved the comfort of human touch. She pressed her hands a little more firmly against his back to hold him against her, eliciting an instinctive whimper of pain as her ribs protested that she really couldn't have cared less about.

Once again she found her emotions welling up and escaping in the form of tears that she desperately tried to ignore.

Dean froze when he felt the wetness of her tears against his skin, pulling back from the kiss and flushing bright with embarrassment. What had he been thinking?! Kissing a proper lady like her of course she'd cry! He was really a brute, pure and simple. First he'd killed all those men in front of her, and now he was forcing her to kiss him... Though he could have sworn that she had pressed herself against him. But she could simply be afraid for her life, fearful of refusing him after what she had seen him do to those men from before. He had, after all, taken her to a secluded and unpopulated hideout, where she had no chance of escape or calling for help.

"Shit..." He swore under his breath and pulled away from her completely, stepping back from her and drawing a hand down his face as he looked at her tear streaked face. "Shit, Reina, I'm sorry."

He'd really fucked things up this time... He seemed to be ruining her innocence without even trying.

"That's really just part of your nature, Deanie. Pure, innocent things like her can't stay untainted around you."

Dean swore again, regret clear on his face as he looked at her again. But, hell, he wanted to kiss her again! The urge to step forward, to feel the soft swell of her breasts as they pressed against him, to press his lips against her warm mouth again, was undeniable. He imagined himself closing the gap between them to take her face into his hands, to kiss her more heatedly, pressing himself against her...

He clenched his hands at his side as he fought back his thoughts, body tense and on alert. "I... I should probably fetch some horses..."

Reina actually made a small sound of surprise when he pulled away, confused. She stared at him for a few moments in silence, breath hitching in her chest. She swallowed thickly, opening her mouth to ask why he was apologizing- she highly doubted he had the same sense of propriety that she did- but the words just wouldn't come out.

She was shaking lightly now as she stared at him, still crying but hardly aware of the tears that traced down her cheeks.

"W-wait." Moving almost on instinct, she stumbled forward to clutch at his arm. "Please, don't..." She bit her lip and dropped her eyes. "Don't go," she said quietly, clenching her eyes shut. "Please, don't- don't leave me alone..."

"Take her..." The voice whispered when Reina returned to his arms again. "It is clear she wants you to... Take her."

Dean's breathing hitched as he closed his eyes tightly. "Reina..." He whispered under his breath, as if to himself. "Reina, y'don't understand."

With a great deal of control, Dean raised his hands to wipe the tears from her face. Gods, he wanted her. Needed her. The voice in his head was screaming at him and he could feel his own body responding in turn, as if he had no say in the matter.

His voice was tight, coaxing, "I'm not a man y'want around, Reina. Y'shouldn't trust me like y'do. It's not..." His skin paled as he felt himself harden at the sound of desperation in her voice, begging him to stay. He gently pried her fingers from his arm. "S'not safe," he finished, swallowing heavily again. His body felt on fire with his need, his heart hammering in his ears as he forced himself to look away from her flushed, innocent features.

Dean took her face in his hands, unable to keep himself from running his thumbs over her lips as he looked into her eyes. "It'll all be fine then, yeah?" He forced himself to give her a smile. "I'll be back before y'know it, and we'll get y'to yer family, safe and sound. You'll be safe here, I promise y'."

Biting his lip to keep from stealing another kiss from her, Dean stepped away and to the door, turning one last time to her. "Make yerself at home, I'll be back shortly."

He ducked through the doorway and made his way down through the tunnels, his fingernails digging into his palms and his jaw hardened with purpose, his breath jagged.

She didn't know what to say that would convince him to stay, so she reluctantly let her grip on him loosen as he pulled away from her.

"Okay..." she whispered, sniffling a bit. "O-okay."

She slumped back onto the cot as he left, wincing as her bruised side protested, and for a few long moments she just stared at the door. Her eyes flicked down to her hands, clenched in her lap, and the drop of tears onto the backs of her trembling fists finally made her realize she was crying.

Oh. Reina supposed that explained some of what had just happened. She swiped absently at her cheeks and took a few deep breaths in an effort to calm herself down.

Dean had said he would get her home. Maybe she shouldn't trust his word- in fact, she was nearly positive that she shouldn't- but she did. She knew it was foolish and naive, but she did.

He killed those people. And probably more that you don't know about. He killed Matthias, the logical part of her brain argued.

Reina shook her head and covered her face with her hands. But he'd been protecting her...right? Gods, she was so confused.

"That was a close one, Deanie. Almost let yourself slip, didn't you? Would have been some fun."

Dean grit his teeth, shoving his hands into his pocket as he travelled deeper into the tunnels leading into the city. "Leave her outta this. Whatever this is, is between you and me."

"Ah, ah, but is it? We've actually been waiting for her to come along to be plucked up by you... Sweet, innocent, pure thing that she is. Your mother never paid us, and her debt it now yours."

"Paid you for what? Doesn't matter, I ain't my ma and I don't owe nobody nothin' for her nasty deals."

"Ah, but you are her deal, Deanie." Dean's feet faltered, encouraging the voice on, "Yes, Dean, you were part of the deal your mother made. You know how much she loved to make deals, and she made a particularly interesting one to make you. Aren't you curious as to why you are the way you are? Why you can hear voices nobody else does? Aren't you curious to know how deep the well of darkness is within you?"

Dean began walking with agitation now, "No, I ain't curious." He reached the rungs of a steel ladder, climbing up them and shouldering open a trap door that led into an unused shed at the stables they had been at earlier.

"That's alright... You'll want to know soon enough."

Dean didn't respond this time, heading into the stables and saddling up his horse and another for Reina. He left enough money to pay for Reina's horse, not wanting to have anybody after them should they find their horse stolen. Mounting his own horse, he led her horse out of the city and deep into the woods where they had entered the tunnels, tying both horses up and returning to his hideout. Making enough noise so she knew that he was coming, Dean ducked into the room, hoping to find her asleep or resting.

Amazingly, Reina had managed to fall asleep while Dean was gone, though it was definitely more out of sheer physical and emotional exhaustion than a sense of comfort. She was still frightened and wary, even in her sleep- images of faceless shadows and flames and blood flashed behind her eyelids.

The noise Dean made approaching woke her up a bit and she started to sit up with a gasp, then winced at her protesting ribs. Gods, those were going to get annoying.

She blinked sleepily at him as he entered the room, propping herself up on one arm in an effort to relieve the pressure from her injured side. "Oh thank gods," she murmured without thinking.

In a few moments she had slipped off the cot and crossed the room to wrap her arms around him gently, hiding her face against his chest. "I'm so glad you came back," she mumbled, not realizing until that moment that a little part of her had been afraid he wouldn't.

Fortunately, Dean did not feel the same dark, perverse need to take her when she wrapped her arms around him. Looking down at her, he smiled, "O' course I did. I try not t'make promises I can't keep."

He smoothed a hand over her sleep-tussled hair, "Good t'see y'got some rest in. I've fetched some horses t'take, gathered a bit o'supplies to last us the journey." In his other hand he held a small parcel. "Got some meat and such t'throw in that stew that's been goin' since before. Be good to get some food in you, as tiny a thing as y'are."

Dean returned her embrace before walking over to the pot over the fire, dumping the contents of the parcel into the stock- meat, potatoes, vegetables, a few spices. He shrugged his satchel off of his shoulder and opened it up, revealing a good deal of herbs filling it up. "This should help t'keep the pain at bay, too." Lastly, he took out a soft blue handkerchief and held it out to her. "Though y'might need somethin' like this, what with the cryin'." He teased gently, trying to work his way back into his good humor.

"O-oh." Reina offered a very shaky smile in response as she took the handkerchief and dabbed at her cheeks. "Thank you," she murmured, cautiously settling herself to perch on the edge of the cot again. She actually tried to move her skirts to adjust to the position, then remembered she wasn't wearing any.

"Thank you," she repeated quietly after a moment as she watched him move about. A thought was circling in the back of her mind, refusing to be ignored no matter how much she tried.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. She had to ask. "Why-" Her voice cracked a bit and she cleared her throat, then tried again. "Why did you- why are you helping me?"

For the life of her she couldn't figure out what was in it for him. And after everything that had just happened with Matthias, she was growing ever more wary of people's motivations, which made it even scarier for her that for some reason she hadn't really questioned his before. Even now, as the words left her lips, she realized there was none of that sense of distrust building in her chest.

It was a fair question, but he didn't honestly have an answer for her. "I'm not sure..." He shrugged and tried to act flippant in his response, though there was more truth behind his words than he'd like. "I just felt drawn t'ya, and now I feel as if in a way I got y'into all o' this mess."

He stirred the pot, not looking at her as he tried to decide how much to tell her... Not that he knew all that much about what was happening, either. "I just have this feelin' that I need t'get y'away from Zantaric. That y're not safe here, especially not with me... But seein' as I can't trust nobody else around here t'see y'to safety, I'm doin' it as best I can."

Again he shrugged his shoulders, weary after all that had transpired. "I know it's not the best o' answers, but it's all I have. There are also some things you're better off not knowin' for yer whole life..." He shoved a few more logs in the fire. "But soon enough you'll be off and away, an' back t'the place you're meant t'be. Safe."

"Safe..."

Reina repeated the word as though it belonged to a foreign language, watching his back pensively. With a soft sigh, she stood and crossed the room to kneel next to him and murmured, "Anything I can do to help?"

After a moment of contemplative quiet, she added even softer, "You- you didn't get me into this, Dean. None of this is your fault. Matthias...he must have been planning this for a while. In fact, if I hadn't met you, if you hadn't come to help me..." She trailed off and cleared her throat. "Anyway. Thank you. For everything."

When she denied his culpability it made his stomach twist at all that she did not know about him... All that he did not know of himself. He didn't know what was to come or why the voice seemed to be so interested in Reina, but he wished his life was simpler. Dean wished that he could tell her to trust him, that he could feel guiltless when she thanked him or showed faith in him.

Another time or any other circumstance, perhaps he and Reina could have been together. Perhaps he would have been the one courting her... But he was truly a product of his birth, and had been fated for a lot worse than Reina should ever see. Yet-

Somehow her fate had led her to this place and this time. Somehow their fates had become entangled, even just for the time it would take him to see her back on the right path in life. That path shouldn't, no couldn't, involve him.

He grinned at her, shaking his head. "Ain't nothin', lass. Just doin' my good deed for a lifetime, yeah?" He took two bowls and scooped the contents of the stew into them, handing her one. "You've certainly had quite an adventure... Better than any o' those other proper ladies. Terrifying, but now y'can put it in the past and save it to tell as a story t'yer children and their children."

She accepted the bowl with murmured thanks and a small smile, relishing the warmth. "You're wrong," she said quietly with a little shake of her head. "It's not nothing. You saved my life. And-"

Reina glanced at him a little warily, then let out a sharp breath and said in a bit of a rush, "I can't imagine what it was like, growing up here, but- but I imagine you were never really taught compassion. But you have it, Dean, you do. It's not just your good deed for a lifetime...you helped me selflessly, there was nothing in it for you."

She dropped her eyes and sipped a bit at the stew, cheeks flushed. Maybe it was because she was so physically and emotionally drained that she found the words spilling out of her, but she continued in an even softer tone, "You were injured, badly, trying to help me, but you haven't asked for anything in return. Wh-when you-" She cleared her throat. "When you...kissed me, you could have...you could have asked for more. You could have taken more, I probably couldn't have stopped you. But you didn't."

Her shoulders sagged a bit suddenly, as if saying that aloud had taken what energy she had left. "You didn't. You're a good man, Dean." She reached out to touch the back of his hand lightly and offered a small smile. "Thank you."

Dean had a rueful grin on his face as she spoke, sitting back with his legs crossed, leaning on one hand and tipping the stew back to eat with the other. It seemed he couldn't convince her of how bad that he was, no matter what. Hell, she'd seen him close to his worse and was still thanking him.

"Well, maybe I've got a good streak there in the bad." He shook his head, laughing lightly as if it was a joke to call himself "good" at all.

"I'd have been better if I hadn't kissed you at all, Reina. Though," he smirked and looked her straight in the eyes, "can't say I regret it."

Reina felt her cheeks heat and dropped her eyes. She sipped at the stew again, then glanced back up at him.

"I, um...I don't regret it either," she said softly, then flushed a little darker and tried to busy herself with eating. She cleared her throat a little awkwardly, then added, "I-I'd never realized a kiss could be like that."

Her eyes widened as the words left her mouth and she fixed her eyes on her lap. Gods, what had possessed her to say that?!

If anything, what she said made him want to kiss her again, though this time it was purely out of his own want and not some darker inclination. He bit his lower lip, smiling mischievously at her... He almost felt as if they were having a normal interaction now, absent of voices or kidnappping fiances.

But then he started to think more on her words, his eyes widening as he asked quickly. "Wait... Wait, that wasn't yer first kiss, was it?!"

She blinked, rather taken aback by the sudden switch in his tone. "No!" she said automatically, cheeks flaring red.

Then Reina sighed and ducked her head. "Not...exactly," she mumbled. "I mean- um...does a quick peck from Neil when I was twelve count?" She glanced up with a rather sheepish smile and a positively flaming blush.

Dean let out a long, low whistle as he shook his head incredulously. "Wooee, yer more innocent than I suspected!" His own heart was hammering as he realized that he was her first real kiss. Had he ever been any woman's first anything? Most of the women he'd been with were more experienced than he would ever be.

"So y'never snuck off behind yer parent's backs t'kiss a lad? No sweet affairs with the stable lads or nothin'?" He teased her, grin widening.

She actually chuckled a little at that and scrunched her nose at him. "You make me sound like some cliched leading lady in a cheap romance novel," she chuckled, taking another few sips of the stew.

After a moment, Reina glanced up at him and admitted, biting her lip, "Actually...Neil was the "stable lad", to use your term." She cleared her throat and shook her head. "But no, I never- I was never much interested in boys, I guess. I spent most of my time reading, or practicing my magic."

"T'be fair, I've only ever read o' proper ladies like yerself. Not really spent much time around 'em." His grin widened wickedly as she admitted that he had been right, to some extent.

"Maybe y'are a leading lady of yer own. Y'could start writing, what with all that readin' y'say y've done." He finished off the stew and leaned back on his hands, watching her as she blushed prettily at their current thread of conversation.

"Mm." Reina set her own bowl aside and curled her legs to the side, propping herself up on one hand.  "I suppose I could," she mused with a small smile. A soft sigh left her and she added in a murmur, "I just...I guess I always wanted to do something more, you know? I wanted to- to see things, explore, learn..."

She scoffed at herself suddenly, brow furrowing. "It was one of the reasons I didn't object when Matthias brought me here. I guess I've learned my lesson, huh?" she muttered a little bitterly.

He listened closely, impressed by her sense of wonder. He was beginning to realize that he admired Reina, respected her even. Despite her upbringing, she seemed to be trying to make her own way in the world. If she could do it, why couldn't he?

"You've learned a lesson, not the lesson. Just 'cause y'get into trouble once, doesn't mean y'have t'give up on yer dreams." He spread his hands out. "And ain't this the best time to try yer luck? Yer essentially free. Y'don't have t'go back t'yer family just yet. Go t'an academy, learn more about yer magic, explore the world." He shrugged. "I can tell y'one thing. Now that y've gotten a taste o' the world, y'ain't gonna want to go back t'being the proper lady type."

Reina started a bit, honestly surprised by his response. Then a slow smile worked its way across her face.

"You're right," she said softly. "I don't suppose I would want to go back." She glanced down, brow furrowing in thought. "You know..." She suddenly looked back up at him, eyes bright and determined. "I've always wanted to go to Arca. There are so many universities..."

Tilting her head, she asked with a soft smile, "Mister Dean, do you think you could help me procure passage back to Serendipity?"

"Mister!" He laughed, his shoulders shaking with the humor of the title. "I ain't no mister, little Lady."

He chewed on his cheek as he thought over her request... It would get him away from Zantaric, and he could spend more time with her. There was the chance that whatever darkness was lurking beneath the surface could take advantage of the situation, but he felt it a better move than his current situation. It was clear that the darkness wanted him in Zantaric, and that it came out more frequently when he was here.

Finally he gave a sharp nod. "Aye, I s'ppose I could help you."

She let out a sharp breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Thank you," Reina told him with a heartfelt smile.

Settling herself to sit a little more comfortably, she added quickly, "I could pay you, you know. I'm not asking you- I don't want to take advantage." It wasn't any different from paying a guard, right?

Except she'd never kissed one of her guards before. Okay, Reina, snap out of it!

He didn't need her money, but he knew it would be more suspicious if he refused her offer. She had already asked him why he would help her without motives, and this was an entirely different matter. Then again, he didn't want to become just hired help to her.

Prodding the fire with his foot, he left his response vague. "We'll see."

He looked over at her as she repositioned herself, noting how relieved she was that he had agreed.

Reina nodded as though that decided the matter. "Alright then." She shivered a bit and huddled closer to the fire.

"When should we leave?" she asked after a moment, glancing at him. She knew they should probably go as soon as possible, but she honestly wasn't sure how well she could ride with her sore ribs and other bruises.

Then again, at least she hadn't been stabbed in the back that afternoon. Speaking of...

Reina frowned a bit and twisted to look at him. "I'm not exactly a healer," she muttered, "but would you let me look at your back before we go?" He was probably being all male about the whole thing and pretending he was less hurt than he was. The last thing they needed was for his wounds to open up again.

"First thing in the mornin' would be best. Get us out when nobody's up." The residents of Zantaric certainly weren't morning folk.

When she asked after the wound in his back, he again was made to decide what to do. If he showed her the wound, she might realize that it had healed a bit on its own. If he refused to show her, she'd likely keep after him.

"Ah, it's fine, yeah?" He tried to keep his voice light. "The man didn't have a good 'nuff grip to really dig it in deep." He tried to give an explanation as he pushed his shirt up for her to take a look at it. He hoped his excuse was believable enough.

She frowned at that. She could have sworn it was a bad wound, but then again, she had been rather distracted at the time.

Reina shuffled forward a bit and lightly ran her hand over his back, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth. "Well, I suppose it looks alright, all things considered," she murmured. She called a thread of magic to cool her touch and pressed her fingers lightly against the wound.

"You really should bandage this properly though," she noted, leaning around a bit to address him a little better.

Dean shivered beneath her touch, his skin prickling at the coolness of her fingers as he instinctively caved his shoulders forward. But at the same time his skin felt hot from the nearness of her and to have her hand against his naked back. "Hey, yer gettin' pretty good at that. Soon yer goin' t'be beatin' down yer own gangs." He joked, noting how she was beginning to show more control over her magic.

When she leaned around him he found himself blushing, but shrugged it off, grateful that she had at least bought his bit about the clumsy stab as an explanation for his wound. "Eh, it'll be fine, love. Don't worry, ol' Dean has had worse than this. How're your ribs treatin' y'? Y'ought to save some of that magic for yourself."

Reina smiled slightly and raised a hand to press gently against her side. "I'm fine. They're probably just bruised. I'm...not used to the discomfort is all."

Just about everything that had happened over the past few days was steadily making her feel more and more like a sheltered, inept little girl. She was determined not to let that go any further. Her lips twitched up on one side. "Ice isn't a particularly healing element- but yes, I believe I'll be studying some attacks spells in the near future."

It was only then she realized she'd been standing with her hand pressed lightly against his back, magic forgotten, and she flushed, taking a step back. "Well. Ahem. Anyway, wh-what should our next goal be from here?" She winced slightly at her stutter and hoped he wouldn't notice.

The moment she realized her nearness to him was obvious, as she took a rapid step back. And though he almost missed the coolness of her fingers against his bare back, he was grateful for the distance.

Shrugging back into his shirt, he responded, "To get to Serendipity from here we ought to head for the east coast on some horses and find a ship t'take us. That's the fastest way at least." He pondered this for a moment, then looked at her curiously. "By the way, how did you arrive here so deep in the south? Did you pass through Adela and Essyrn? Or take a boat down the coast and then horses to here?"

He rose up and began making his small cot for her to sleep and then the couch for him to sleep on.

"A boat, then a carriage," Reina responded as she watched him for a moment, then moved forward to help. It was easy to fall into the practiced motions of making up a bed, and somehow rather soothing. Her mind began to wander.

What would she do when she got home? What would she tell her family? Gods, how could she tell her family?

Her brow furrowed as she thought and her movements slowed, her manner becoming a little more contemplative.

"Once we get to the coast of Serendipity you'll have to decide whether you want to go to Arca or back home... Wherever that is."

He might have been good enough to pinpoint her accent and manner of dress as Serenian, but he wasn't so good that he could pinpoint her dialect from the provinces. Plus, she had the measured speech pattern of most nobles, which meant that she could be from anywhere in the country of Serendipity and have the same accent pattern as those from the capital. The lower class was so much easier to decipher accent-wise, as they didn't focus on correcting their speech patterns.

His own speech pattern was likely hard to place as well. There wasn't a standard dialect in Zantaric, because its "citizens," if you could call them that, came from all over the continent of La'naari. He probably had developed some of his mother's dialect, but he wasn't entirely sure where she had fled from. Guessing by his physical appearance, it wasn't likely that he was from Essyrn or the islands, and definitely not Hyoite. So that left the great swaths of Connloath, Serendipity, and Adela. And that was only accounting for his mother, and not his unknown father.

"It's something y'should think on, for sure. But t'me, sounds like y'ought t'just continue on straight t'Arca. Sounds like if y'stop in t'see your family first, they might just try t'keep y' and marry y'off again without even a by your leave."

Reina sighed and nodded slightly at that. "They probably would, but... I can't just leave. Eventually word with get back to Matthias's father about- about what happened." she sort of stuttered over trying to figure how to name what exactly had happened. "From him it'll get to my family. They'll think I'm dead."

She bit her lip and glanced away with a frown, thinking. "I can't just leave them in the dark," she mumbled eventually. Maybe they had unwittingly tried to marry her off to a sociopath- but they were still her family, and she at least owed it to Mikhail if not her parents to assure them that she was safe.

Dean frowned, thinking about the likely outcome of how the story would be told of what came of her fiance. The man's father was likely part of the nefarious operations as well, and would find a way to cover things up... And would likely tell her family that she had unfortunately been murdered alongside her fiance. But the man's father would know better than to trust in that, despite the house being burnt and leaving no evidence of her demise or continued existence. And the man would likely be after her, searching for evidence of her survival. And once he uncovered her survival, he would likely try to track her down to kill her in order to prevent her from uncovering his secret.

This was what it meant to grow up as a criminal- anticipating the actions and reactions of others. Always staying once step ahead. In addition to telling Reina's parents she had been killed and then killing her themselves, these men might also likely know about his involvement with the girl. Which certainly meant that the murders would be blamed on him, and he would become a target and likely be killed publically to fully make him the scapegoat.

Looking at her, he moved forward and sat next to her on the bed and took her hands in his. "Y'know, t'be honest, y'won't likely be safe until yer family sees y'still alive and y'uncover the guilt of yer fiance and likely his family. Even after that, y're likely t'be in danger. Y'may always be in need of guards... But until then, I'll see y'to safety." He did not mention that leaving Zantaric might mean certain death by execution for himself... He almost felt as if it might be the right solution for his life. He was a murderer, and the ever loudening call of the voices within his head assured him that he would only become more of a monster as time passed.

She stared at his hand over hers for a moment, then smiled and squeezed it lightly. "Thank you, Dean," she murmured, lifting her eyes to look at his face. "I swear, I will find a way to repay you for your kindness."

Then, because she was tired and confused and lonely, she leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his neck with a soft exhale, feeling her body almost go limp. She just didn't want to deal with this anymore, she wanted to be home, to be safe. Her eyes started to itch and she sniffed, trying to force back the tears she could feel building up.

He gave her a smirk, "I'm sure y' will, lass."

When she wrapped herself around him he stiffened a moment before releasing a sigh, feeling her chest tighten in the tell-tale warning sign of a good cry. Bringing his hand up to her hair, he brought her head closer to his chest and soothed as best he could. "Hey now, chin up, lass. Yer tougher than this and y'know it." He felt decidedly uncomfortable with all of the emotional turmoil they'd been through in the last few days... It was more exposure to emotional openness than he'd probably known in an entire lifetime. "Soon you'll be back in the safety o' yer family, yeah? This'll all just be a nightmare t'tell yer bairns t'keep 'em away from scary places like this." With scary men like himself.

Gently he moved her so she was laying down in the bed, pulling the sheets up over her and tucking her in. He smiled down at her as he did, "Yer just tired and hurt, rightfully so I'd say. Things'll look brighter come mornin' time, you'll see. We'll get us on those horses an' be off t'the coast in no time flat. I've not led y'astray yet, now have I?" He squeezed her shoulder and stood up to keep her from seeing the own seeds of anxiety begin to creep into his face. He began blowing out all the lanterns except one, before retreating to the couch and laying down with his back towards her and his daggers nearby. He would not be sleeping much, if at all, for much of the near future. He needed to stay alert through the night to keep watch, despite how secure this place had been for him in the past.

Reina didn't protest as he bundled her into the bed, nodding and sniffling the tears back. He was right, she was just tired. She needed to pull herself together.

"Thank you," she murmured again, her eyes fluttering closed. As he pulled away from her, her hand reached out automatically to squeeze his wrist gently, then dropped back onto the bed.

She was out in moments, physical and emotional exhaustion finally taking her toll. Blessedly, her sleep was dreamless- she had a feeling she'd be plagued by nightmares of this for a long time.

After he heard Reina's breathing return to normal Dean rose from the couch and walked out of the tunnels to check on the horses one last time before locking up. When he was certain that they were safe, at least for the time being, he sat down on the couch to ruminate on their next step. And to fight back sleep.

It was after a few hours that Dean slipped into a fitful sleep, if only for a while.

He was walking down a cold, dark hallway. As he passed by darkened rooms, red and black lights flashed strong enough to blind him. Along his right side he passed by a great, open hall surrounded by columns made of black stone. The longer he walked alongside it, the more he began to recognize it... It was the room from his nightmares, the room that he usually came upon after it was full of bodies, and where his mother was normally standing at the foot of the pile of bodies worshipping the dark entity and the child. It was eerily empty now.

A scream of pleasure rang down the hallway, and Dean began to follow the sounds of pleasure out of a dreadful curiosity.

The scene he came upon was disturbing. The door to the door was slightly ajar, and a young serving woman stood leering in. She did not seem to notice him as he passed by her and into the room, opening the door wider. At first he did not turn to look at the serving woman, his eyes glued on the pair making love on the bed. The woman, a young maiden in a wedding gown, squirmed in ecstasy beneath what at first appeared to be a handsome young nobleman. At first he was gentle with her, but soon he became rougher, balling her blonde hair in his fist and unforgivingly rutting into her. Her screams took on a painful, panicked edge as she fought against her groom.

Her groom's face twisted, becoming demonic and sinister as he forcefully took the young bride. The serving woman rushed past Dean's shoulder, gleeful and cackling as she disappeared into the shadows of the room and began shoving a chair forward. A chair with a man identical to the man who was taking the bride. Now Dean could hear the constrained man's groans of protestation against the gag in his mouth, but he could not overcome the face of the serving woman... He recognized her. It was his "mother."

Soon the terror was over as the demon released into the young bride, who sobbed painfully. And as he did, the demon looked directly at Dean... Dean stumbled back rapidly, falling out of the room and taking off down the hall, running as quickly as he could as he tried to escape.

The hall seemed unending until he stumbled into another dark room. The blonde woman sat crying, her belly swelled with child and her real groom kneeling before her as she shook her head mournfully, "I am still with the child of that terrible beast... It cannot be killed. All of the midwives and healers cannot cull it from my body... I am doomed to give birth to a monster!"

Dean swallowed heavily as he looked on her... On his real mother. Looked on her and knew she had tried to kill him before he had even been born. The room seemed to melt away and shifted to the scene of what he assumed was his birth. His real mother struggled through the labor, pushing him out as she died. He could hear her husband sobbing angrily, then he watched as the man came forward and tore the babe from the arms of the midwife. Just as he was about to stab his dagger into the heart of the child, Dean watched as the blade of a sword broke through the front of her husband's chest.

And there she was.... His "mother". Swiftly she grabbed up the babe from the man's arm before he fell forward on top of his wife's dead body. And then she did something disgusting... She spit blood forcefully into the mouth of the baby before sweeping her hand across the room and killing all of the servants, guards, and midwives in one fell swoop.

Dean followed her in a daze as she finally made it to the all too familiar room, where he watched the dark figure take him from his "mother" and ascend the pile of bodies. It looked again at him,introducing a screaming pain to his head...

Which brought him awake, a strangled scream bubbling from his throat. Coated in sweat, he grasped at his memories of the dream as much as possible as they slipped quickly away from him. Stumbling up off of the couch and to a water bucket, he dunked his head into the water and drank from his hands, chest heaving in the aftershock of the nightmare.

The scream woke her, a startled, almost answering cry torn from her lips as Reina jolted upright in the small bed. Chest heaving with pants, she looked around wildly as her muddled brain worked through jumbled, half-conscious memories, sorting out where she was and who she was with.

"Dean." Her voice was rough and rasping and she cleared her throat as she got cautiously to her feet. "Dean," she tried again with marginally more success. Carefully, she crossed the room and knelt beside him, touching his shoulder.

She'd had enough nightmares of her own to recognize the effects of one, though she couldn't say she'd even had a dream affect her quite so drastically. A little hesitantly, she wrapped her arms around his middle and rested her head on his shoulder.

"It's okay," she murmured. "It's okay. You're safe."

Terror still clung to him like sodden clothes, his hands gripping either side of the water basin when she approached. He had not heard her when she rose, nor did he hear her when she called out his name. When her hand touched his shoulder he whipped around, eyes wild and terrified and his heart hammering so hard in his chest that it made his vision blur and spot.

At first his face was naked with his fear and vulnerability, and he did not recognize her. But as he slowly came back into the reality of the waking world and the dream, if that was what it had been, slipped away again leaving only the shadow of acknowledgment behind.

He turned from her to hide his face, only to feel her wrap her arms around his stomach. He relaxed into them, breathing slowing down from the dramatic panicked pant. It hitched in his throat as the face of his birth mother flitted back through his mind, though he could not remember her significance anymore. This... This is why he never slept much.

As his breathing returned to normal, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel the heavy beating of her heart against his back. Something he knew he should not be aware of. She was startled and concerned, he could tell, and some sick part of his cursed blood relished in it. Fed on the fear. He looked up towards the opening in the ceiling, seeing the soft gray fog of morning from above. "Sorry fer the abrupt morning wake up, lass..." He squeezed her hands, his own trembling. "Hopefully I didn't keep y'up with my... rambunctious sleep habit." He coughed to clear his throat, which was wispy and tight still.

"Think y'can get yerself and a pack ready? We ought t'head out shortly."

"It's okay," Reina murmured, still hugging him gently. There had been such raw fear in his face, she just wanted to help him, but she didn't know how.

"Yes. I can be ready to leave in a few moments." She started to pull away from him, then hesitated. With a soft, shivery sort of breath, she leaned in and pressed a feather light kiss to his cheek, then stood.

She kept quiet, not wanting to disturb him more than he already seemed to be as she made herself ready to travel.

The kiss did not go unnoticed, but it still took him some time to get his bearings about him. He was still shaken, but after another minute he was able to goad himself into readying himself for the journey. He checked over their packs, rolling over the moment of weakness as he had done at the abandoned mansion he had found her in after killing all those within. He felt mentally unstable, and his body felt stiff as if it had been locked in the same position for hours and straining.

Looking around his small space one last time and wondering, not for the first time, whether or not he would return to it, he beckoned her out and into the main tunnel system. "As ready as we'll ever be, yeah? So long little hole, shall we not meet again for some time." He closed the door, locked it, and replaced the various vines and such over it as best he could to hide it. If somebody were to come across it, there might be enough with in it to give away their identity and perhaps even their plans. Not that he had not scoured the room for anything incriminating, but who knew what kind of things mages might be able to read about the place if they found it?

Leading them out of the tunnel system and out into the woods outside of Zantaric, they found their horses happily grazing. He began readying them, "Have y'ever ridden a horse?"

Reina followed him easily, keeping quiet, rather contemplative as she watched him hide the door then lead them into the trees.

She nodded, a small smile spreading over her face as she caught sight of the animals. "Yes, I have." She frowned slightly and moved forward to pat one of the horse's necks. "Only sidesaddle though, recently. I haven't ridden properly since I was a little girl."

But, well...how hard could it be? She had to have some muscle memory left, right?

That brought a grin to his face. "Ever the lady! Right, this should be fine... Y'should be fine." Yes, she would be likely fine, but very, very sore. He helped her grab the reins and then hoisted her up into the saddle, guiding her feet into the stirrups if she needed help.

He swung into his own saddle, his own horse tearing stubbornly at the grass in its last ditch effort to stuff its face. He grinned at Reina to alleviate some of the worry he could still see clouding her face. "Onward and upward, yeah?" He gave his gelding a sharp kick, to which it reacted by snorting in irritation and moving forward. Well, he hoped his horse wouldn't be so lazy if they needed to escape... The gelding was unpredictably stubborn, even if he was decently loyal.

He headed them towards an old hunting trail first, a path unlikely to have any other travelers on it that would lead them towards the coast. It was overgrown and difficult to maneuver at moments, but safe.

"Oh my." Reina wriggled a bit as she found her footing in the stirrups, adjusting her weight and finding her balance. While it has been some years since she's ridden this way, she remembered what it should feel like.

Her horse was a little large for her, but he seemed a sweet thing, following the other gelding placidly with barely a nudge from her.

She smiled softly in return, nodding at Dean in an attempt to tell him she was fine. "Just getting used to things." She tucked her legs a little more properly under her hips, finding she rather enjoyed the connection she felt to the animal beneath her.

"Neil was right," she laughed quietly, "nothing like having sixteen hands between your legs."

That brought a real laugh from Dean, slapping his knee as his horse picked its way along the path forward. "That sounds right dirty, doesn't it?" He laughed harder upon focusing on how it had been Reina who said it.

He turned in his saddle slightly to look at her, choking back additional laughter. "Hey, this Neil fellow, what were his intentions with you? Tellin' you dirty things like that and all." He let loose another peel of laughter, shaking his head as he turned forward. He wondered if the man had tried to say it in a seductive manner and it had been lost on Reina, or if he himself was just a pervert. He knew she was talking about the height of the horse, but still...

Reina frowned. "What do you- oh."

Her eyes suddenly went wide, cheeks flushing scarlet. "I didn't- I wasn't-" She groaned, embarrassed, and exerted a great effort of will not to bend forward and hide her face in her mount's mane.

"You know what I meant," she practically wailed, feeling like her whole body was burning up. Her eyes went even rounder as she considered what he said- probably taking it more seriously than she should have.

"Oh my gods," she groaned. "We were just kids, I don't think... I mean, I'm sure he wasn't..." She trailed off, feeling incredibly foolish.

Her embarrassment only made it funnier for him as he continued to laugh, allowing her dig the hole she'd made for herself even deeper. The more she tried to explain herself, the worse it became... Or the funnier it became for him.

"Oh, lads start t'think about those things a lot younger than the lasses, especially a lot younger than proper ladies like yourself." He shook his head, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes. "Nah, I'm just pullin' yer leg, love. I'm sure yer childhood friend never thought about you in that way." He said it in a way that he was sure would have her questioning herself for a good bit of time after.

And question herself she did. Reina found herself going over every detail of every conversation she'd ever held with the stable hand, desperately trying to figure out if she'd ever misled the boy in any way, or perhaps had missed an implication.

That is, until she realized that was exactly what Dean wanted her to do. Her mouth dropped open, then she snapped it closed quickly with a snap and glowered at him, giving her gelding a light tap with her heels so her mount came up beside his.

"That wasn't very nice," she sniffed, mock glaring at him. "You know as well as I do I'm naive about these things."

Dean grinned at her, shrugging as they continued to ride down the track. "Consider it additional trainin' from before... An exercise in non-naivete." The grin widened as he chuckled, "Plus, it's a hell of a lot o' fun messin' with you. Y'get all pink in the face... Pretty cute, if y'ask me." He teased, hoping to see her begin blushing again.

"I do not!" Reina protested automatically, even as she felt her cheeks heat. She scowled and ducked her head, trying to hide the blush.

"It's your fault," she muttered petulantly. "I wasn't like this before I met you. Or if I was it wasn't nearly as bad."

Surely she'd never blushed so easily before? She used to think it was a silly reaction meant for silly little girls, but it seemed so gods-cursed easy for him to pull it out of her! She actually raised one hand in an attempt to hide her face from him, head tilting forward so golden curls hung around her like a curtain.

"It ain't me, doll. You've been raised as a proper lady, and proper ladies get sheltered from folks like me. An' I'm the subtle type, too." He grinned, "Promise."

"So you gotta get used t'me, so when y'come across worse than me you'll be ready... Or more than y'are right now." He felt much more comfortable playing these roles... He, the bad influence street rat teaching the fine lady to survive in the world, and she, the good and innocent refined lady ever embarrassed by his seemingly improper training techniques.

"Oh dear. What would my mother think?" Reina said dryly with a roll of her eyes, but she was smiling slightly.

It was nice to talk like this, to be...normal, especially after everything that had happened. Uncurling from her embarrassed, hunched position and settling herself more comfortably on her horse, she glanced to Dean and asked, "So where are we headed anyway? The coast? I'm afraid I'm not really familiar with the geography of the area."

Dean smirked at that, trying to picture the woman who had given birth to Reina. He imagined a stern woman, one who made rules not meant to be bent or broken. In fact, he imagined Reina's entire upbringing as if it belonged to an alien civilization from his own. Certainly it was a culture at the opposite end of the spectrum from his own- though something from his dream made him wonder who the woman in his own dream had been. Where she belonged to. And if that woman had been his birth mother, then why did the dark figures and the voice insist that the witch he had been raised by was his mother?

"A decent question, Deanie. The witch and the lady were both your mothers. You have both their bloods... Though the witch's way was something you might think revolting..."

The image of the witch, his mother, spitting blood into the baby's mouth broke through his mind. He was thankful for her question, shaking his head to dispel the darkness encroaching. "Uh.." He cleared his throat, "Yes, we're headed east to the coast. Roundabout way through these trails, really, but safer this way. So, geography is a part of yer normal studies?"

Reina tilted her head at him. He seemed...distracted. Upset? But he came out of it quickly and she tried to put it from her mind.

"Not exactly," she said with a small smile. "I mean, it was a piece of my studies, but no one really cared if I learned it or not. Misha- my brother- he was the one who had to know all the history and politics and geography."

Her smile turned a little wistful as she thought back. "He always helped me though, when I wanted to learn more than dancing and embroidery. Even though he hated his studies, he'd spend hours in the library with me, helping me find the right books..."

Her eyes suddenly started to itch and she glanced away, clearing her throat.

"T'make y'feel better, Zantaric and this part o' the world ain't really mapped out in detail. Not many travel this far south, specially not with all us criminals roaming about... Then there's the things in the jungle and the shady temple... All in all, mapmakers aren't usually fond o' this place."

"Y'know, perhaps y'can get some more studyin' done in the time it takes yer folks to find another nefarious suitor to engage y'to." He nudged his gelding up a steep incline, the terrain rising. A bit longer and they would be crossing the southern portion of the mountain range, hitting a small portion of the jungle, and close in on the jungle.

"Perhaps I could," Reina agreed with a bitter sort of laugh, a wry twist to her mouth. She shook her head with a quiet scoff. "Although I think this lovely little adventure may actually help me convince my parents to hold off on marriage for another year or two," she muttered.

"Gods, I hope so..." She'd never really wanted to get married to begin with, especially not to some stranger in exchange for a dowery.