Hank wandered through the market slowly watching as the streets cleared. He glanced over his shoulder at the moving trees following their king casually. Druids had been waiting for the resurgence of power. A connection so to speak.

Druids were all connected to each other like roots to a single tree. Feeding off one another to help each other heal or grow. The king or queen was to be the source of the connections. Hank always saw it as a pyramid of power. The king sat at the top, feeding his power downward.

Now however, he realized he was simply the gate for something above him. The king allowed the doors of that gate to open feeding the others waiting in line behind him. Without a king or queen, the gates would close leaving the druids to slowly lose their connections and fade.

Over time druids slowly became the plant life they were bonded to. It was their way of returning what they had borrowed. When the forest spoke to him, it was the many restless druids that had taken on the forms of their plants. Their eternal slumber. Or it was supposed to be.

Thanks to his acceptance to the throne, the druids were shaken awake. Which is why they lumbered about in their plantlike forms. Trees walked as the flowers rose up, pulling their roots from the earth.

Hank walked faster eager to explain things to his wife. He grunted when there was no straight path to Clovers house at the edge of the kingdoms heart. Why were the pathways forced to crisscross back and forth? No matter. As king he would address this mess and make it better. The first perk of being king. And probably the only one.

"I need to speak with my wife first. The rest of you can meet me at the castle." Hank demanded as he pulled the branches creating his own bridge. He was here to stay. The true king of Trayson. Whoopie, he thought miserably. There was a reason he forfeited the throne, why didn't Ivy take it?

Darn his little sister. He was going to have to have a heart to heart with her and explain things. Maybe take out her worthless husband while he was at it.

Murmuring from below made him look down as people stopped to stare at him as he passed over head. The trees were following beneath him as a single druid followed behind him. Hank turned to frown at him.

The stranger had regained most of his human appearance, purple blooms formed his hair as moss covered his nudity. He smelled faintly of lilacs as his green eyes focused on his work. He was pruning the twigs on his fingers glancing up when Hank paused.

"I said to meet me at the castle. Why are you following me?" Hank asked annoyed. This was the same druid who seemed a little too eager to kill the broken assassin. Korbin's blood still tainting his bark like skin.

"As you have probably realized by now, you are more than just a king to us. Without you we will cease to exist. So, I am just making sure you continue living since you seem to be a target for unwanted attention." He huffed as Hank sighed.

"Did you just use yourself as an example? What do I call this newest unwanted attention?" Hank grumbled waving at him. The druid frowned as his thin bark lips reminded Hank of Clair. He simply waved him off, turning back around. Clair was more important than some deaf pretty boy.

"My name is . I was born during the immigration over to the mother's forest." Deirmus grunted as Hank rolled his eyes.

"Great. Then you knew my father." Hank huffed moving forward leaving him to trail behind.

"Yes." Deirmus growled bitterly. Hank paused turning to face him, recognizing his tone of voice. Deirmus turned away from him, his pale bark creaking as it twisted. "I am not a fan of your father. But I won't let that prevent me from being a worthy bodyguard to the king." Deirmus assured him as Hank shrugged. Or rolled his shoulders, Deirmus wasn't sure which.

"I don't really care who you like or don't like. Just don't drag me into your petty drama. Or my wife. Leave her out of this." Hank growled as he continued forward. Deirmus followed him like a shadow, down into the streets. Hank frowned when the druids began surrounding him again. Did they not understand castle?

"Hank?" A soft voice asked making him turn to face the two women who waited nervously on Clovers doorstep. The crowded streets were quiet as people whispered among themselves. Hank waltzed over, growling at the shambling army that followed his every move. Hank took Clair's hands in his as she glanced around him.

"My dear, sweet Clair. I believe I have a confession." Hank mumbled softly as he kissed her hands. Clair glanced up, her eyes widening at the deep emerald green that replaced her husband's brown.

"Just one?" Clover asked as she watched them. Hank smiled sweetly causing the woman to blush.

"Perhaps more than one." Hank muttered regretfully.

"Then you better come inside for some tea. I think I can hold them off that long." Clover huffed holding her door open. Clair wandered inside first as Hank paused at the door.

"Stay. I need to have a talk with my wife alone. Clover doesn't count, the gossiping goose." Hank huffed closing the door on Deirmus's face. The trees waited quietly for their king to reemerge and take them home.

* * * * * * *

Quinn sat on the cot with his knees pulled into his chest. Most of his armor had been removed, leaving him only with his leather pants as they tended to his wounds across his torso. His bags were gone and so was Korbin. Quinn glanced around the cell, the floor was smooth wood, but the walls and ceiling were nothing more than hard dirt. Vines wove together to block the entrance to his cell. He was alone. Again. Quinn sniffled as he tried to quell his growing depression.

"Korbin. I'm sorry." Quinn sobbed at his knees. This time it was his fault Korbin had gotten hurt. He hadn't done anything in that fight against the druid king. They had been planning on poison. That's what he prepared for. He didn't have a full complement of arrows. And every single one that he did have turned out to be useless. After the first hit, the arrows never flew straight. Impaling themselves into the wooden hut. If he had been stronger, he could have fought beside Korbin. Instead of hiding behind him.

"Goodness. If I had known you were going to be that whinny, I would have asked for a different assignment." A female voice called out making him jump.

"What do you want with me?" Quinn growled as the vines thinned slowly to reveal the ancient druid sitting in the shadows. She had long willow branches running over her shoulders with silver leaves giving her the appearance of silver hair. Her green eyes were losing their shimmer as she simply sat still watching him intrigued.

"Me? I am just the watcher. Here to make sure you are fed and looked after until the king arrives. You have only been here a few hours and now you are sobbing like a hungry infant. Not very assassin like if you ask me." She huffed drawings Quinn's attention to her layers of wrinkles.

"What does the king want with me?" Quinn asked annoyed as she simply shrugged. Normally he would feel insulted at the jab of being less than an assassin, but right now he just felt sorrow. "Useless hag." Quinn grumbled rolling over against the wall. Women scared him. It was why he killed them first.

"At least the other prisoner isn't so whinny. Though it might be because he is still asleep. Poor thing." She grumbled making Quinn stiffen as he glanced at her.

"What other prisoner?" Quinn asked sitting up. She glared at him before letting out a heavy sigh. Vines grabbed his cot shuffling him back against another wall, closer to the vines that kept her from him. Suddenly, the dirt wall across from him began to crumble as roots dug their way out. Quinn coughed at the dust waiting for it to settle. Instead of a solid wall, vines crisscrossed to keep him in his own space.

"Kor!" Quinn breathed hurrying over to the barrier.

Like him, Korbin was only wearing a pair of pants as the rest of his skin was either bruised or wrapped in moss bandages. His long red hair was unbraided, sprawling out over the small cot. He wasn't wearing his boots or any of his jewelry. Quinn pouted when he tried to get a better look at him, climbing up on the roots. He squeaked when the roots moved, knocking him back onto the floor.

"My orders were to keep you separated until further noticed. The king wanted to make sure he doesn't kill you before he gets a chance to speak with you." The druid whispered softly as Quinn growled.

"Korbin would never hurt me! He was trying to protect me from that monster. What does he even want with me?" Quinn growled never taking his eyes off Korbin. "And why did he bring him here? I thought they were going to let him go if I agreed to come peacefully." Quinn huffed holding the bars. He tried to get as close as he could to Korbin before finally sitting with a defeated sigh. He leaned against the bars, waiting for Korbin to wake up.

"The king said there was something about the pair of you he wanted to confirm. That... and a dragon asked for your capture." The old druid mumbled as she drifted. Quinn faced her confused, peeling himself away from the bars to approach her. She was snoozing peacefully as Quinn growled.

He reached through the bars trying to grab her feet. However, she was just out of reach. He grumbled to himself as he looked around the cell. He found a pebble picking it up, he flicked it at her, hitting her right on the nose. She woke startled glaring at the young man.

"You are a rude little brat. Didn't your mother ever teach you manners?" She grumbled rubbing her wrinkled nose. She paused when he stiffened holding the bars in a tight grip.

"No. She just taught me how to hate women. What did you mean dragon? What dragon? What do they want with me?" Quinn asked through a strained voice. She paused scratching her head.

"Dragon? I don't remember saying anything about a dragon. Their kind died out long before I was born, and I am old." She grumbled as her face scrunched up in thought. Quinn struggled with not strangling the vines as he dealt with this crazy druid hag.

"But if a dragon was looking for you, they would probably kill you. I have only heard stories of men that look like you. Though I was told they never lived very long. Killed off by their women." She mumbled as she glanced at his angry face.

"Come now. I was just referring to the old bedtime tales my father used to tell me. A race of women so hell bent on killing everything and harvesting their magic. The dragons rose up and put a stop to them, protecting this land and the life with in.

With hair darker than the darkest night and skin paler than the moon, the... Something, I forgot what they were called, would rise up with hunger in their eyes and thirst on their tongue. The hunger for power and the thirst for blood... Come to think of it, it's not really a tale for children, is it?" She muttered embarrassed with herself.

"I am not a child, nor am I scared by some stupid tale." Quinn grumbled settling in against the bars. She smoothed her moss like dress as she nodded slowly.

"Yes well, I was always more fascinated with the noble prince of the story. The prince of dragons fought the evil race to extinction, but at a cost. He had lost his soul. Once the war was won, he left his dragon clan never to be seen or heard from again. The lost prince of Albitonya.

That is when the ancient kingdom fell under the rule of the people. A member from each race joined a council to govern the people. However, they still needed someone to make the tough calls when they couldn't. A king or Queen. The kingdom rotated rulership among the eight races, choosing a new ruler every decade. Things were working smoothly until suddenly, the king chosen rejected his throne and disappeared." She told him getting into the story.

"So? Couldn't they just choose someone else?" Quinn asked her with a tired yawn. She nodded slowly, continuing to pet her dress.

"The replacement still had to meet certain criteria, but the Queen took her place on the throne. Though that didn't last. During her rule, the great war broke out, dividing the races for good. My great-great grandfather told me his mother was there. Watching it all go down." She purred softly as she continued to release her sleeping spores. The boy needed to rest, but he was being stubborn.