Jed's POV

As if he would need proof of Sebastian's murder, Claudius went back to the body to tuck the newly detached head of the Snake into a burlap bag to bring back to the King. I can't help but think that his behavior is similar to a cat bringing its master dead things it kills. It was good thinking on his part, though; If Aizen sees the physical evidence, he will be even more contented in knowing that the issue had been deposed of properly.

I know that Syl hadn't taken Sebastian's head from his shoulders when killing him originally, so I try not to think too intently on the bloody knife that Claudius wipes on his trousers, eyes darting to mine briefly, having felt my gaze on him. He sheaths the dagger and ties the bag shut, approaching Samson and his Guardsmen in silence.

Titus, who shadows him like a dog, looks up at me with a grateful smile, despite his bruised face and split lip. He is content with being alive, and seems to be more interested in the pain of his Prince, rather than his own. Once I give him a nod in return to his smile, he continues to trot over to Samson with the Ginger Giant.

I swallow and look away from the blood dripping a trail on the ground, soaking through the burlap bag in Claudius' grasp and mingling with the leaves and mud. I instead turn my attention on Hamais' quivering, seeing the way he keeps an eye trained on Dazarias. To say the least, it was stressful for him to pony a predator who yearned for a taste of him, and his nervousness is very plain. I press the fingers of one hand against his shivering skin, tracing calming patterns on his sweat-dampened coat and whispering words of praise into his ears. He flicks one back to listen to me and keeps the other pointed in the direction of Samson and his beast, but his quivering slowly subsides. I work my way up his neck and across his poll, then back down the other side, beneath his dark mane.

Samson's face is turned towards me, but when I glance at him, it is clear that he is not watching what I am doing. His green eyes are unfocused and glazed over, staring unseeingly at my foot. His body addresses itself to holding Dazarias still, while his mind has wandered elsewhere- maybe to Lyra, or to the pain he is trying to keep from showing on his face. While he is not paying attention to me, I survey his wounds, continuing to sooth Hamais with my hands.

The Prince bleeds through a cloth that is tied to his shoulder and there is more crimson at the corner of his mouth, which is pressed into a thin line. The paleness of his face, the slight frown upon his lips and the way his brow furrows slightly, all indicate that he is in a good deal of pain. Yet, he does not complain or draw attention to his injuries. Perhaps he has yet to feel them- it may take a while before his body settles and allows him to feel anything, depending on how severely he was shaken by whatever happened to him.

I can deduce that he had fallen from his beast and bitten his tongue, due to his dirty clothing and over all disheveled appearance, as well as the fact that when we arrived at the scene, Dazarias was a streak of white darting past us, riderless and savage. It was simultaneously at this moment when I realized that the scuffle going on nearby was of two men, one of which was very clearly Titus. With no time to think, I yelled at Syl and Adolin to help him before taking off after the Vann-Hest, who was even more of a danger to everyone without the guiding restriction of a rider.

There is a crashing nearby that steals my attention from Samson as Syl and Adolin lead their horses through the trees towards us, having retrieved them from where they were left tethered among some trees and brush. Syl's chestnut chews on its bit and follows lazily, while Adolin's mount fights him all the way, preferring solitude over his rider's heavy seat and clumsy hands.

The noise has shaken the Prince from his thoughts and he looks up as well, just in time to keep Dazarias from taking a leisurely snap at Titus' arm. His eyes become alert again and he un-clenches his jaw long enough to spit a wad of blood and saliva on the ground, turning his head away from the beast he holds.

Though Dazarias is lazy and contented with the meal he's just eaten, his nostrils flair every once in a while at the scent of blood. I remember that when Lyra first came to us, she had been shot by Syl and Lasreal had never moved to strike at her, and there was a great deal more blood then than there is now. I can't be sure if the bond shared between the Riders and beasts has anything to do with the amount of blood lust, but it isn't hard to spot the falter in the connection between the two.

With Lyra and Lasreal, it appears that their bond flows like a stream- possibly disrupted by jutting stones, with the rhythm thrown off every once in awhile by hills and deposits, but all together a peaceful and natural scene. They may have moments of disagreement, but they have a harmony that is difficult to find.

Samson and Dazarias, however, remind me more of the sea on a stormy night; the entire thing is a battle of foam and waves, crashing against each other with claws and teeth. There is plenty of violence between the two, though most of it remains unseen until lightning strikes to reveal a rearing monster, eyes wide and black with nostrils flaring as it claws at the salty air. It is difficult to see how the ocean expected the two would make a fine pair, but perhaps I don't have the eye for such things. "Destiny", and whatnot are a mystery to me.

"Sir, are we heading back now?" The voice belongs to Titus, who rubs his arm where Dazarias nearly met the flesh with teeth. He takes a well-measured step away from the beast and glances at the Prince. 

Samson looks at Titus, then to Thomas beside him. The two share a slight nod and Thomas speaks for his Prince, obviously aware of his pain that comes accompanied with speaking. Thomas is quite the vigilant sort, actually, when it comes to Samson's well-being. He seems to have surrounded himself with good people, ones that he trusts with his life.

"If all are ready." Thomas says in a gravelly tone, the sort of voice that develops with long periods of disuse. Come to think of it, he does seem to be a quiet one, relying on body language and perceptiveness for communication, rather than his words. As Thomas speaks, he scans my group and locks eyes with me for confirmation. He has decided that I am currently the highest ranked out Syl, Adolin and I, which makes me uncomfortable. I am not the leading sort, and being thought of as such makes me look away from Thomas' gaze quicker than I would have liked. If Kaladin was present, he would not have averted his eyes, or slumped his shoulders.

Hamais shutters from where I rub the same spot for too long, and is letting me know that I am starting to vex him, like a fly. If I am speaking honestly, I find that soothing him has a calming affect on me, as well, and I sometimes rely on this as a vice in stressful situations. Hamais is polite about letting me know that I am becoming a bother to him, though, so I don't particularly mind it.

I apologize to him with a pat on the neck, and reach my fingers down to touch my wrist on instinct, trying to find the second, less annoying thing that is good for calming me. My heart feels empty and slightly bitter, though, when I realize that the leather strap is no longer there. I had forgotten that I gave it back to Lyra. Feeling like an bumbling imbecile, I frown and give a reluctant nod to Syl and Adolin, who have mounted up and watch me. "Let us go, then."

Samson and his men clamber onto their mounts as well, and we are soon on our silent way back to the castle. The Prince and I end up riding fairly close together, because Hamais does the best out of the horses being close to Dazarias. We aren't even that close, really- there are several trees between us, but the distance is still close enough to make me irritable.

Hamais catches on to my mood and swats his tail at invisible flies, ears flipping back, then forward again. He lets out a groaning sigh and turns an eye towards Dazarias, takes a dancing step sideways away from him, and then quiets.

Samson glances at me, looking tired and like he is beginning to feel pain, but he also seems to be in a better state of mind than before. He caught on to Hamais' strange actions, and has little trouble in pinning me down as the source of the issue. Catching my eye only briefly, the Prince merely spits and turns his head away, understanding my silence and lack of eye contact. That, and the fact that if he wished to speak to me, he would either have to shout, which would hurt him, or move Dazarias closer, which would spook Hamais. In addition, I believe that he is smart enough to realize that I have no desire to speak with him. A man with a broken heart is bitter company to keep.

By the time night falls, we have made it half of the journey back to Nordic. We decide to make camp to let the Prince and the horses rest. Syl, Adolin and I pitch our sleeping blankets on one side of the clearing, while Samson and the rest of his men settle on the other side. His men tether their mounts with ours, grouping the horses away from the Vann-Hest to avoid any unwelcome encounters between the species. Hamais has settled a bit and now scratches the withers of a dark bay gelding, welcoming him into the group with affection. 

Syl, Adolin and I make a meal of the rations we have left and were prepared to share them, but the Prince and his companions have brought enough to spare. I should have guessed, really. With the fire I built between us, I nibble bread and some cheese, listening to the noises around us and keeping an eye on Samson. 

He holds his food up to his lips without taking a bite of it, instead just staring into the fire. Perhaps it would pain him too much to eat, but he seems to be thinking deeply about something. After a long while, he looks up and catches my eye. When he opens his mouth he speaks slowly, though it seems as though he knows exactly what he wants to say. His tongue is just heavy and aching, so it is difficult to get the words out with a straight face. 

"Will you attend the wedding?" After a moment of seeing my blank expression, he gives a sort of half-smile and continues. "The invitation is extended to all of you, of course. I think that Lyra would want you to come." 

Syl snorts, answering long before I do. "Of course I'll be there, I wouldn't let that Short Arse have all the fun."

Adolin perks up a bit, too. "I bet there'll be lots of good food, Jed." He is obviously excited. The two of them would like to go. Kaladin will obviously be there, as well, but on duty. Going to see the woman I love getting married to another man... It is impossible. I know that it would make her smile to see me there, but I am not a strong enough man to endure such torture.

I frown and don't say anything, toss the remaining half of my supper into Adolin's lap before getting up and walking away from the fire, no longer hungry. 

"Oi, where're you goin'?" Syl asks, turning to watch me go. 

"We need firewood." I mutter, not bothering to look behind me to see Samson gazing at my back from where he sits, right beside an entire stack of kindling. 

-

Samson's POV 

The remainder of the ride back is just as tense and quiet as the day before. By the time I am finished worrying about Amelia and how I will tell the King that she was eaten by my Vann-Hest, I realize that I am beyond ready to see Lyra again and to take a long rest. I find that I am excited to return to my fiancee's company. It takes willpower to restrain myself from sending Dazarias into a gallop through the gates into Nordic, knowing how close she is now.

When we arrive at the stable yard, there is a group of people standing around the out door exercise fence, the one that I attempted to ride Lasreal in not so long ago. Once we ride closer, I can see above the small crowd, which I can now see is made up of mostly Guardsmen, and over them, to who they are watching. Not only is Lyra outside, but she is wearing a dress and is stomping around in the dirt with Lasreal, so utterly oblivious to anything going on outside of the strong barrier, between her and the rest of the world. I have never seen a Rider act like this with a Vann-Hest; the scene reminds me of the way a child would play with a puppy... Except that this puppy is a flesh eating beast twice as tall as any draft horse. 

The Guardsmen outside of the fence are tense and watchful, well aware of how dangerous the situation could turn out to be. The tall black figure of Sage lays with her ears alert, pointed towards her master, ready to lunge for the Vann-Hest's throat-latch in a moments time. Though I must admit that the scene makes me anxious, I do not fear for Lyra's life with such faithful guardians watching over her so closely.

The Princess chases the black beast, who runs away with playful bucks and kicks, squealing and tossing his head, a thick wave of ebony mane rippling with each stride. He nearly looks like a normal horse from this far away, prancing playfully away from the small looking Lyra. That is, until he reaches the end of the fence and turns back around to chase Lyra, mouth agape to show dangerous white teeth, hoping to catch her in the blissful moment.

Tense, I nearly shout to her to watch out, but she doesn't need help from me, or from anyone else. She stops in the center of the ring, head held high, not giving in to the chase. I don't think her mouth moves, but Lasreal slides to a stop directly in front of her, puffing air into her hair, jaws alarmingly close to her face. Though her back is to me, I can imagine how fierce her expression must be when she reaches up and, quick as lighting, punches the huge, man eating beast across his cheekbone with an audible crack. I suppose, after all, that there is a good reason that she was able to survive as a male mercenary for months.

She never once raises her voice at him, but he pins his ebony ears, reels back a few feet and rears up, claws once at the air before his front hooves land back in their original place. He licks his lips and lowers his head, tossing it once. Lyra throws her hands up in a silent command, and begins to trots in a circle around her, docile once more.

Captivated, I watch and stare as Lasreal then heads directly towards her at an alarming canter. He doesn't stop this time, however, but Lyra hadn't asked him to. Instead, she side-steps just in time and grabs hold off his thick mane, using the momentum to help swing herself up onto Lasreal's towering back. She nearly shoots over his other side with too much force, but she rights herself in a moments time, quickly taking her rightful place as the beautiful girl atop the monstrous shadow. They lope around the dirt in the gentle swing of the black beast's smooth gait, tracking patterns into the soft ground. Her hair is longer than I remember, now that I can see it blow past her cheeks in the wind created by her mount, utterly lost in his presence. She has missed being with him, and though it is hard to see, Lasreal has longed for the company of the Princess, as well. 

Lasreal is a mass of sable strength, reminding me of a panther with his easy gait, each stride as easy as breathing. The two of them seem to slow down time as Lyra smiles, something true that I haven't seen on her in so long, and Lasreal gives a gleeful buck, feeling her happiness. The Princess has no trouble keeping her seat and lets out a pure sounding laugh at the action, using her legs to steer him back around the fence line again. She reaches her hands out to feel the wind rush through her fingers, closing her eyes and leaning her head back, relishing the moment. As they pass through the shadows of a  nearby tree, I lose track of Lasreal momentarily, but when they emerge from the darkness and charge back into the day, I swear, just for a moment, I see a pair of wings at their backs. 

I smile as they vanish from sight, disappearing into the wind, only ever a figment of my imagination. I see now why so many enjoy the sight of them- there is a calmness that washes over me as I sit there, watching them flow so freely together across the terrain. This will be one of those moments that I remember for the rest of my life, and for once, I am glad that this is one I can smile at. 

I  turn to put Dazarias away, and when I return, Lyra still sits astride the dark monster, unsaddled and free of restraints, the both of them looking somewhere far away, lost in time. Lasreal slows to a trot before ceasing, stopping to stand before the small crowd. None of them have said a word, and I know that they are all struck by the beauty of the ride. 

Sage is the first to notice me, then Kaladin. The black dog trots over to me, tail wagging in welcome. I put a hand on her head and she looks up at me with a happy, tongue drooping smile, before escorting me over to the others. Kaladin shoots me a nod of acknowledgement, and I return it. 

"Sam!" Lyra exclaims, hopping off of Lasreal's back and hurrying to the fence. She slips nimbly between two bars and I meet her with open arms. With her head resting against mine, she whispers, "Is it over?" 

I nod, holding her a bit tighter. "It's done." 

I feel her nod against my cheek. "Good." 

Once she pulls back, she scans me with her eyes and narrows them at what she sees. "What happened?" She asks, reaching to touch my shoulder with kidskin gloves, like she is afraid of hurting me. 

I manage a half smile as I say simply, "I got shot." 

"Obviously, I can can see that much," She says dryly. Her eyes smile, though, so I know that I am not in too much trouble. She surprises me by reaching to touch a lock of my dark hair. "Are you alright?" Her voice is much softer than before.

I give her a real smile this time, just a small one. "Of course. I do have a question, though," Lyra narrows her eyes a bit, but gives me a nod that signifies that I may ask, so I continue. "Why are you dressed like a woman?" 

She tries to suppress a smile. "I wouldn't be, if I could help it. My mother wanted me to look "formal" for the decorators today, for whatever reason. I wasn't going to argue with her though, since she allowed me to come out here." 

I reach to smudge dirt off of her cheek and nose. "She will faint when she sees what you've done to it." 

We both laugh, and Lyra hugs me around my neck, pulling me close. I hear her inhale deeply before she buries her face into my collar bone. "I'm glad you're home," She whispers, then pauses a moment before adding, "You need a bath." 

I smile and kiss her hair, ready to fire back. "I'm glad to be back to you," I say softly, then smile. "You smell like a fish." 

We both laugh again, neither offended, as we still hold fast to each other, each afraid that the other will be stolen away by the breeze. When I eventually glance up, I catch the sullen face of Jeddediah standing in the doorway of the stable, face laden with shadows. His eyes glare into mine before he retreats, arms at his sides, fists clenched. 

I don't feel bad or back down, though, instead holding fast to my fiancée. In two days we are to be wed, and I will not allow anyone to steel my happiness away. Not this time, not when everything that makes me smile is the woman in my arms. No one else may have her, because no one else understands her.

Any other man would wish to control her, to conform her into something softer that can be leashed. What they haven't come to understand is that Lyra is not the sort of woman you treat like a gentle creature- she is no mouse. She is the sort of woman that you go to war beside- she is a lioness. Lyra is a Queen by blood, and no one will take that right from her. Not her father, nor any other man. If any should try, she will burn them to the ground and do it unapologetically. This is the woman I cherish, and this is the woman I love.

-

Author's Note

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, my darlings! No matter how you spend your time this season, I hope you're happy and blessed!

I know it was sort of another filler chapter, but I wanted to give y'all a sweet little peek into Sam's brain before the big day. Between playing pokemon, watching anime, work and just plain old being lazy, I finally pounded this out. (Why is writing hard?)

Well, I hope you beautiful Nugs enjoyed and have a great day! Thanks so much for sticking with me all the way, I truly appreciate you guys ♡. As always, feel free to ask me anything (Well, almost anything), and keep on being fantastic!

XOXO, my Nuggets,

-A.