It was the sound of music that woke her the next morning. Joyous and melodic music floated through the fabric of the tent and danced around Madeline's bed. Turning over, Madeline's eyes fluttered open and she groaned, grabbing her head. A stinging ache thudded in her skull. Through her blurry vision, Madeline saw the vibrant colours of the patchwork tent and sat up with a start. Wide-eyed, Madeline glanced around her, not recognizing her surroundings. 

Where am I? She thought and in her panic, she flew out of the bed and to the middle of the tent. The deep and heavy bags of drums bounced off the tent walls and attacked Madeline's ears, denting her skull. After a moment and a few deep breaths, her settings solidified and the last day came rushing back to Madeline. Her panic faded. 

The Whistling Woods, the camp, and Fable. 

The Vale. The Northern Kingdom. 

Madeline's head stopped spinning and her feet flew back to Earth. Once her skin ceased crawling, the heat of the young day seeped into her bones and the young woman sighed contentedly. Her muscles did not ache that morning- Madeline had slept soundly, the most peaceful sleep she'd had in years. Despite the unusual bird calls and animals through the night, Madeline had slept without a single dream, without a single care or worry. 

She could sure get used to that. 

Yawning, Madeline turned and knelt down by the chest again. She swung the heavy lid open and picked out her dress for the new day. 

It was a long and yellow thing of a hefty weight. Holding it up to full length, Madeline could see delicate pearls glimmering in the light. Smiling, Madeline felt the soft fabric between her fingers and admired the glamour of the dress. The bodice was simple, with pearls along the neckline. Sheer, lemon-coloured fabric served as the sleeves that hung loosely while the skirt was a deep shade of yellow with layers upon layers of the beautiful fabric to create the most beautiful dress Madeline had ever seen. 

That year in the Northern Kingdom, yellow had been a wonderfully popular colour in fashion. It complemented the Kingdom's hot climate and seemed to glow in the sunlight. The Northern Kingdom had been doing it's best to stay alive and fighting during the times without a ruler. But hope and strength were fading. 

Once she had slipped the dress on, Madeline pushed the fabric of her tent door open and stepped outside, her hand immediately going to her brow. The sunlight hit her eyes and Madeline winced. 

"Careful," someone said. "You're not used to the weather yet." 

Madeline glanced up through half-shut eyes and saw Tivious leaning up against a wooden pole, some sort of fruit in his hand. She frowned and looked away. Tivious laughed and crunched into the fruit. 

"Why the silent treatment, Princess?" The use of the nickname irked Madeline for some reason, and she swung back to face the man. Orange juice spilled from the fruit and ran down Tivious' lips and chin. He grinned deviously and used the back of his hand to wipe his face. "What could I have done to deserve that already?"

When Madeline refused to respond he laughed again and pushed his large body off the pole he was leaning on. 

"I would have given it at least a few more hours for you to grow to hate me." 

Tivious leaned forward into Madeline and brushed some of her hair from her face. 

"It seems you can be smart when you want to be, Princess." Tivious pressed another one of the orange fruits into Madeline's hand and gave her a messy wink. "See you around." 

Madeline recoiled in disgust and glanced at the fruit Tivious had left in her grasp. It was orange and large, the size of a tennis ball. It was orange with red speckled across it. A small green stick stuck out from the bottom from where it had been attached to a tree. She pursed her lips and after a moment's hesitation, she threw the fruit over her shoulder and into a bush behind her. 

The sky that morning was clear, without a cloud in sight. The golden sun was rising into the sky, its warm, yellow fingers gripping the landscape and melting away the darkness. Without the excitement of her arrival, Madeline could get a clear look at Fable's camp. There were tents scattered throughout the clearing with the large communal area Madeline had seen last night right in the middle. Next to her stood a small well, dug deep into the ground, held open by a few wooden stakes, pushed into the ground. Freshwater bubbled from the earth below. 

There was a clutter and Madeline jumped, her gaze flicking to the ground where a wooden bucket rolled to a stop at her feet. She bent down and picked it up, hooking the thin metal handle around her wrist. When she straightened again, Fable was standing in front of her. 

"Good morning, your Highness." Fable smiled and nodded towards the well. "Do you mind? I've got places to be and people are thirsty for a drink." 

"Yeah, sure," replied Madeline and fumbled with the bucket. "How do I do it?" 

But Fable had vanished from her side. Madeline saw the flick of his cloak disappear around the side of a tent. Madeline bit her lip nervously and glanced down at the well. However, she spotted a hook made of vines wound up, hanging from a wooden stake. Carefully, Madeline brought the bucket over the well and fumbled with the hook, attaching it securely to the handle. She felt along the wooden contraption and found a small handle. She gripped it tightly and began to wind it around. The vine lowered and the bucket vanished into the earth. After a moment, Madeline heard the splash of the wood hitting the water and when the vine pulled taut with the weight of the water, she changed the direction she was winding the handle and began pulling the bucket back up. 

When it arrived back up, clear water was spilling over the sides and wet Madeline's hands as she reached to pull the bucket off the hook. 

Madeline grinned victoriously as she hauled the bucket to the communal area and placed it heavily on a table. 

She stood back and watched as people glanced over and saw the water. Some stood up and made their way over, a cups in their hands. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Madeline saw Fable rush from his tent, fire burning in his eyes. He threw his hands up in the air violently and yelled something in a strange language. Everyone sitting at the tables paused what they were doing and glanced over at their leader, cautious. 

In the light, the blue patches on Fable's skin seemed to writhe and tumble like ocean waves. His scales seemed almost irreverent. But his anger clouded the beauty, the madness pooled off him in waves, the emotion was almost tangible. 

Another voice joined the fray and Tivious came thundering over from his own tent. He swore and came to a stop face-to-face with Fable. Their noses almost touching, Tivious gestured harshly around the camp and said something to Fable in hushed tones. He slapped Fable's shoulder where the tattoo sprawled underneath his clothes and then the two went back into Fable's tent. 

Everything was silent. 

Madeline glanced around her nervously. She unclenched her hands that had balled up, fisting mounds of her yellow dress in her hands- a nervous tick.  

Slowly, people began murmuring again and soon it was as if Fable hadn't come storming out in a red rage. 

Quickly, Madeline spun on her heel and made for her own tent, her heart thudding erratically in her chest. She was not one for violence, especially the kind that looked as though it would get physical. Even watching Fable's rage from those metres away, Madeline could feel the sting of Danny's palms on her skin and the slime of his lips on her neck. Madeline shivered and pushed the blue fabric over her head as she strode into the tent. 

She sat down on her bed and her head fell into her hands. Eyes stinging, Madeline suffocated the sobs that threatened to rip from her throat and just sat on the bed in the devastating silence. Warmth soaked into her hands and dripped onto her dress as she cried silently. 

The music had stopped playing. 

A few hours passed and Madeline had passed out on the bed, exhaustion claimed her body. When the sun was at it's highest, someone pushed the fabric of the tent's opening apart and entered the tent. 

Alonzo sat at the foot of the bed and waited for his arrival to wake Madeline up. After a moment, the strange weight on her bed woke Madeline up and she stirred restlessly. Through the sleepy haze, she saw the dark-haired man and she sat up with a yelp. 

"What are you doing?" 

Alonzo's eyes narrowed and he pulled some paper from a pocket in his shirt. "Fable has called you to the war tent. These are the official orders." Alonzo stood up and dusted off his pants. "It seems we will be moving camp earlier than expected." 

Madeline took the papers gingerly and unfolded them. Written in blue ink in scrawly handwriting was indeed an order for Madeline to attend the next war meeting with Fable and all the generals and leaders. 

"A war council?" Madeline said. "Are you at war?" 

Instinctively, Alonzo's hand drifted to his shoulder and he rubbed it absentmindedly. "Not me. We are at war. Come-" Alonzo held out his hand- "we must not keep Fable waiting. He is already displeased." 

Madeline eyed the hand before accepting the gesture. Alonzo hauled Madeline to her feet and the pair exited the tent and weaved their way to Fable through the camp.  

War? Madeline had just been rescued from one battle. She was not fond of the idea of being thrust into a war- especially one of a different world and of different politics. 

They soon reached Fable's tent. A blood-red flag hung at half-mast and swayed in the gentle breeze. An array of strangers stood at the entrance, waiting for Fable. 

"Madeline," Alonzo said, "these are Fable's war generals. They help him lead our troops and figure out strategies." 

Madeline scanned the generals. Large, burly men, all with the tattoo peeking from their tops and reaching up their necks. 

Alonzo gestured to the largest of the generals. "This is Jon Alché, Fable's top strategist."

His pointed finger moved to the man standing next to Jon. "This is Bastian, next to him is Faramir and the one with the hood up is Fox," Alonzo whispered his next few words. "No one has ever seen Fox's face. He always wears his hood." 

Madeline nodded slowly, peering into the darkness of Fox's hood, trying to see at least a nose or a cheek. Fox's head tilted as if he knew exactly was Madeline was doing. Her eyes widened and she glanced at the remaining unnamed generals, frightened of the gaze she was sure was fixated on her. 

"And them?"

"They're Andor, Sven, and Ode. The seven of the generals plus myself and Tivious all work with Fable to make sure we win the war. The ten of us lead Fable's armies and people to-" 

"Now now, Alonzo," Fable drawled as he pushed the entrance to his tent open. "We don't want to bore Miss Ambrose to death with talk of the war and fighting." 

Fable had taken his coat and was now just wearing a tight top with short sleeves and his pants. His strong physique was highlighted by the tight fabric and Madeline saw his muscles ripple as he spoke. Along his arms were scars. They were scattered along his forearms, small scratches that had scarred white and bumpy on his skin. His tattoo was free and Madeline could see it sprawled across his torso. 

"Oh, I wasn't bored-"

Fable shot her a look that said don't push your limit and Madeline quickly shut her mouth, cheeks burning. 

"Come into my tent, comrades. The first war council has begun."