An answer was on his pursed lips, when he heard footsteps outside the tent and stiffened. Flaring his nostrils in an attempt to identify the potential stranger, he strained his ears. It was only then that he realised it wasn't a single pair of footsteps, but many.

It appeared that the camp had been reanimated.

That or we're being surrounded, but Charlie tried not to concentrate too hard on that idea.

Briar moved without a word from where she had remained in his arms. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to figure out if the people moving outside their shelter was friend or foe. She carefully peeked her head from the tent and waited for a second before looking back.

"We're good," was all she said as she slipped from the tent. Leaving Charlie in her wake.

Sighing that their moment had been cut short rather abruptly, he lifted himself to his feet and followed in her shadow. Cautiously at first, unsure of what he would find when he returned to the outside world.

Once outside, it became apparent that no one but he and Briar knew what had happened. They all exchanged glances of confusion and panic. Growls echoed across the clearing, and a number had moved towards the King's tent to protect him.

Following Briar towards a group of men and women, she quickly explained to them what had happened in a loud tone of voice. Trying to make it so that everyone could hear her, and wouldn't panic as to what had happened.

The boat had long sailed on that front, but it had been worth a try.

Moving to stand shoulder to shoulder with Briar, Charlie cast a nervous glance across the clearing. Trying to spot any further bodies, after the show of power demonstrated by Anthony he was scared that the damage would extend outside of the tent.

As far as he could tell, it hadn't.

He still couldn't shake the feeling that Anthony could have them all dead if he wanted it. Which raised the question, why hadn't he?

It was only one of a million questions he had that seemed he was never going to get an answer on. One that's low down on the list of priorities, Charlie let out a low growl of his own. Not acknowledging the looks of panic this gained him.

Shifting his weight from one leg to the other, uncomfortable now not just because of his wounds. Though the efforts to heal them that Briar had made were doing at least some form of good now.

Pressing his shoulder against Briar's, not doing anything further but needing the feeling of her skin against his, even for a split second. Charlie did nothing for a while, uncertain of what there was for him to do.

By now it should have been a feeling he was used to, helplessness may have well of been his middle name. But it made him feel uncomfortable, and not knowing what was around the corner made it all the more difficult to hold on.

At least this time he was able to bite back the growl that rose to the back of his throat.

Eerie silence had fallen across the camp, each man desperate to spot or hear movement from the tent of the monarch. No one seemed to want to move until the King at last reappeared to them, proving himself alive.

Until then, it was apparent they were all going to remain on edge.

Charlie was not excluded from that generalisation.

Jumping at almost every sound, for once Charlie wasn't the only one nearly driven mad by the anticipation and the need to know what was happening. A restless quiet made the atmosphere feel dark, it could have been cut with a knife by the time sound at last came from the tent.

Each pair of eyes darted to the flap of the tent and waited, Charlie tensed as he waited.

Part of him was eager for the King to exit, to find out what had happened and learn what stood in their future. The other, much more logical part of him, was terrified of what he would face when they exited.

Not long after, the King appeared through the tent flap. As far as any of them could tell he was uninjured, but the look on his face seemed to imply something else. It was dark expression, and an angry one.

Yet his voice conveyed neither of these things as he addressed the camp with his bellowing voice, confidence all but booming from it. A stark contrast from every other man and woman who gathered in his audience.

"We are to return home tonight," he exclaimed at the top of his lungs.

Not a single man spoke, but they all seemed to have the same reaction. The same thought seemed to run through their head.

Every man who had fallen the day before, has now fallen in vain.

Anger rippled at the back of his throat, and now his growl joined that of the rest of the army.

If the King had noticed the anger which now ricocheted before him, he didn't make such apparent. "And we will make the journey with our new allies."

This made at least half of the army want to rip his throat clean from his body.

One brave voice sounded from the left of Charlie, "And what explanation will you give for this change of mind. He has been our enemy for years, he has killed thousands of us." The voice snarled taking a step forward from the ranks.

Where he fell dead with a quick gesture from the witch.

Cries of astonishment, and a few of pain at the fall of their companion. But after that, no one spoke any further.

"You will get answers," the King's words were firm. "But if you dare treat me like he, I will let you all suffer the same fate."

The threat astonished Charlie, it wasn't a new thing for the King to threaten a man. But the entire army was something entirely different. It made Charlie wonder what on earth he and Anthony had spoken about.

What scared him so much that he will risk turning the loyalties of his army against him?

Briar seemed to be contemplating killing the both of them, whatever the consequences would end up being. Charlie took a grip up on her wrist, and held her as firmly as he could without inadvertently hurting her.

"Don't do anything stupid," he whispered. Using her own words against her.

She didn't seem to be happy about it, but she relaxed a little beneath her grip. Looking back at him through narrowed eyes, but she her anger wasn't directed at him. There was enough time for that to happen.

When no one further spoke up or stepped forward, the King nodded. As though thankful to them, in spite of threatening them all with death mere moments before hand. Charlie slipped his hand from her wrist until he was instead holding her hand.

His grip was gentle but firm, they both seemed to be using the other as an anchor.

"Anthony," the King explained gesturing to the witch beside him. As though at this point there could have been any question as to whom he was talking about. "Has made me aware of a threat, currently much more dangerous then the one we came here to face."

The army seemed to stiffen as one at this knowledge, as it meant two things.

One, they weren't going home because peace had been achieved and they could live the rest of their lives without a war to fight in. That would have been a long shot in any version of reality, Charlie was not meant to live in a world of peace. It was against his every nature, whether he wanted it or not.

And two; there was a threat even worse then that of the witches. One which had already terrified them all to the very core at the thought of fighting.

Both realisations were a terrifying. Even for the most seasoned veteran and courageous fool.

It seemed the audience had a few of at least the latter, as another voice sounded from the crowd. Though cautiously at first, and careful to not sound as challenging as the person who had spoken prior to him.

"What exactly would this threat be?" The words were carefully ordered, the speaker terrified he would meet a horrible fate. But the need for answers and the curiosity was too strong for him to not ask it.

Fortunately, the King was not angry, this time at least. "You are all aware of my youngest son."

The one you told everyone was a monster?

The one who killed our queen?

The one you exiled for being a threat?

The one whose back for some reason?

Charlie could all but hear these thoughts running through the heads of his fellow man. For a moment, he said nothing.

Then the army parted like the red sea, to reveal Charlie from their ranks.

He stepped forward in silence.

Every pair of eyes were burning into his back and front, piercing holes into his skin.

As best as he could, the young man held himself together. Looking only at his father and no one else, despite the strong urge to cower beneath the glares. Or do something a lot more dangerous.

James only regarded his son with a nod of his head, then returned his attention to his gathered crowds. Raising his voice again, gesturing to Anthony a second time. Something dark flickered in his eyes, annoyance.

"Would you like to explain?" He offered in a low tone of voice which seemed to thunder across the clearing.

In his position, Charlie would have been entirely sheepish and nervous. Especially under the gaze of so many judging eyes. Yet Anthony carried himself with a confidence which should have been impossible to any sane man.

It was quickly becoming apparent that this was no sane man.

His next statement only made this more apparent.

"We wanted to win the war," he spoke bluntly. Without the power that the King had spoken with, but something of his own which indicated there was something far more powerful then what it appeared.

That much was obvious, Charlie grumbled still shifting from one side to the other. A growl rumbling at the back of his throat but he kept it in as best as he could. Something dark of his own glittering in his eyes.

"We'd heard legends of Charlie, of what he was and how he became the way he is."

A third realisation hit Charlie, that Anthony was going to reveal to everyone else exactly what had happened, and he didn't know how to feel about this.

Only that he couldn't imagine a way that it could end well, especially not for him.

Though in that moment, he was not the priority.

"Our intention was to recreate him," Anthony explained further.

At first glance it appeared he was making eye contact with someone in the crowd, but when Charlie looked closer. He saw that he in fact was not, but looking into blank space. Charlie didn't know why, but he wondered, at least in some small way, if it was because of guilt.

"But it didn't work."

Charlie didn't remember giving the order to his voice box to speak, but it did. And before he realised it, it was too late and the words had resonated across the clearing, followed by a deep growl.

Anthony's eyes whipped to him, and the pair stared at eachother for a few seconds. A show down of what was meant to be of power.

No matter how many people he could kill with a snap of his fingers or a gesture of his hands. Charlie was stronger then them. Stronger then all of them.

"It did not," Anthony responded after a moment. Though he didn't sound to hurt by it.

"You made me, again." Charlie knew the answer, this time he directed his voice to everyone behind him. Eager for them to know the truth, as he struggled to hold himself together. He shook from head to toe.

"We did." Anthony sounded angry this time, as though he has any right to be. Charlie growled in his head. "Would you like to tell the story seeing as though you know so much about it?" He asked, an eyebrow raised.

Disregarding the anger and sarcasm which practically dripped like venom from the voice of the man who had been his enemy mere hours ago. Charlie let the growl echo from his throat, that alone was enough of a translation to the witch of sure.

"But you didn't stop at one."

A terrified gasp echoed across the group, like terrified little school girls rather than an army.

Charlie couldn't help but think it was a very reasonable reaction. In their position he too would have been terrified by the very idea of what they now had to face.

Being him, he was instead furious by what had happened.

And he was fighting the urge to shift then and there to rip his throat out.

The next voice to sound was even more confident and challenging as the first had been. Shaking with fury, it seemed that he didn't care what the consequences of speaking out were any more. They all have the right to be angry as well, Charlie acknowledged. But he didn't look back at the person who was speaking.

Which was why he was surprised when he heard the voice of Robert speaking out from amongst the crowd.

Now he took the time to look back, to see the muscular figure of his brother sticking out from amongst the depths of the crowds. His eyes narrowed and a growl echoing from his throat. He was as furious as any of them.

Even the King seemed surprised by the show of anger from his own son and heir. The man who was meant to be one of the most loyal to him. This time a growl came from the King's throat, the first show of anger from the monarch since the meeting had begun.

"And how many did you actually make, before you realised how incredibly stupid an idea this was?" Robert's voice almost shook from the anger. But the Prince managed to hold himself together, at least somewhat.

Only Anthony seemed unsurprised by the words of Robert, though his eyes were narrowed and arms crossed. He showed none of the anger which had come from the King, and maintained his dignity as he said in a firm tone.

"We made 80."