The sound of resonating booms filled the chilly night. Timothée stood on a hill, watching as multiple trebuchets launched fireballs towards the ageing stones of the large castle. He stared as his men would roll large boulders to the weaponry and wrap it with foliage and set alight.

The night was long and the sun started to rise on the horizon. Dahlia walked around the camps, searching for Timothée before eventually spotting him on a hill. She approached him and could tell by his stature that he was exhausted and agitated.

"You should rest," Dahlia tells him while wrapping her arms around his waist from behind. She didn't know if she should be this close with him. They know that there are feelings there, but they never had the time to address them.

"I'll rest when this kingdom is free." His response was blunt as he laid his hands on Dahlia's.

"This kingdom will still be here tomorrow, Timothée. Please, for the sake of everyone, get some sleep." Dahlia reasoned. He turned around to face her, their arms still encircling one another.

"I have been fighting for this opportunity for years. I'm here, at the castle, finally showing the power of united people. How can I rest now when we're so close to winning?" His stress was beyond anything Dahlia has seen from him.

"You can wait a little while longer." Dahlia's tone was final and she used one of her hands to cup his cheek. "Come." She left his hold and grabbed his hand before starting down a dirt path through the camp. She led him to his tent.

"I'll be back in five and you better be in bed by then. I'm going to check up on Nicholas." Timothée nodded at her words and proceeded to get ready while she left the tent. He decided that it's best to listen to her rather than his hyperactive mind.

When Dahlia walked back in, she saw Timothee grab a new undershirt that was folded on the edge of his bed. She saw that he was shirtless and turned away with a wild blush on her face. Timothée didn't seem to notice and if he did, he didn't say anything. He walked to his separate room and got in bed.

Dahlia was in her room, tossing and turning in bed. The loud noise from the siege weapons and men shouting in the distance sounded closer than they were. It kept her awake as a pit of anxiety started to form in her stomach. She stared at the canvas above her, wishing she was back at Islegold. Dahlia sat up and lifted the covers off of her.

She walked out of her space and into the main section of the tent. Her eyes cast to the empty goblets placed on the large table surrounded by parchment and maps. A sigh escaped her parted lips. Each minute passing was a step closer to winning and she didn't want to lose.

Dahlia's feet moved for her and she found herself outside of Timothée's room. Her hand stopped just before moving the curtain to the side.

What are you doing? Her mind was racing. Go back to bed. She took a step forward and pushed the curtain to the side. Her eyes looked at Timothée. He was laying in bed, his back to her. She blushed and looked down at the ground.

"Dahlia? Are you alright?" Timothée shuffled to face her. Dahlia looked up and her eyes met his. The candles and fires from outside cast a soft glow through the canvases.

"I just-" Her head hurt, "I just can't sleep." She confessed. Timothée was looking at her, calculating what to do. It wasn't long before he shuffled away from her and lifted the end of the blanket. He gestured to the blank space beside him.

Dahlia walked towards him, hoping the dim light wouldn't reveal her flushed cheeks. This was improper for her to be doing, but frankly, Dahlia didn't care. From now on, she'd do what she wants and not what others want. And at that moment, all she wanted to do was be with Timothée. Dahlia lowered herself and laid down beside him. He draped the blanket over her.

It was awkward at first, but Dahlia got comfortable and scooted closer. She turned on her side and put her face against his chest, letting her arm curl up and lay on his chest too. Timothée moved an arm to wrap around her waist and his other hand wrapped around her top, stroking her hair gently. The loud sounds of outside we're drowned out by Timothée's soothing heartbeat.

"Dahlia?" He sounded so unsure of himself.

"Yeah?" She responded.

"Would you-" There was a long pause, "Would you be mine?" Dahlia could hear his heartbeat increase and bump against his chest. It took everything in her to not freak out.

"Yes." There was no doubt in Dahlia's mind. At her words, Timothée pulled her in more, his lips connecting with her forehead before pulling away. No more words needed to be said. To them, this moment was perfect and it stayed that way until their minds drifted into their own dream world.

_______________

"On me!" Timothée let out a guttural scream and waited a few seconds, "Push!' A crowd of men propelled the battering ram against the main castle gate. It left a substantial dent but didn't break through the reinforced wood. Timothée kept calling the orders and the men kept pushing.

Just hours ago Timothée was with Dahlia, sleeping peacefully. Now, he was storming the castle walls. Their trebuchets did large damage and weakened the protection, but Timothée didn't want to go any further. After all, they needed the castle to stand. Timothée just wanted to go back to his tent and be with Dahlia. He had to leave her while she slept as not to disturb her. He couldn't help but feel guilty that she'd wake up alone. He wanted to be there as her eyes opened and kiss her forehead gently. Timothée wanted the peacefulness that Dahlia brought with her everywhere.

The battering ram makes one last hit before cracking the large door open. Just as his men ran through the gates and poured into the courtyard, the king's men followed suit. They met together and an uproar of blood, battle cries, and steel against steel flooded their surroundings. Timothée struck down man after man and pushed further into the grounds with his people. They fought hard and valiantly, giving one last fight for their freedom. They worked hard at the battle of Islegold, but this, they kicked even harder. It was what Timothée spent years forming. The common people rising up against the elite with a common goal.

Freedom.

It was such a small word but held the world in its letters. It meant anything and everything that they've never had. Both Timothée and his men would lay down their lives to achieve this goal. This purpose.

The time for that was now and any moment they'd win. Hopefully, their numbers and strength could pull this off. Despite all this bloodshed, Timothée felt safe. He knew that Dahlia was okay and being guarded by Armie. It took him forever, but he managed to convince Armie to try and hold Dahlia back from the fights. Timothée has indeed been training her for a while now and he would never doubt her skill, he just couldn't suffer the thought of her fighting in something as brutal as this. He couldn't put that on her consciousness.

He was fighting for so long and kept moving that he noticed he was inside the arena where Adrian was killed. The chopping block was still there, and it was stained with blood. He couldn't tell if it was from his friend or the fallen people surrounding him. Hundreds of men were fighting for their lives at that moment.

In the distance, Timothée noticed a group of soldiers coming his way. He thrust his sword into the chest of his opponent and pulled it out, letting the body plunge to the ground. He saw the large figure that marched towards him and knew that it was King Edward. The men fighting around him seemed to stop at the sight of the king and the rebellion leader meeting face to face on the battlefield.

"What say you, boy?" The king bellowed, "Let's fight and see who's the real man." Edward taunted.

"It won't be much of a fight." Timothée fired back. The king didn't seem to like that and his face flushed red. He pushed down his iron helmet, moving into an attack stance. Timothée lost most if his armour in the fight. He was tired and beaten but determined to win. If not for him or the people, but for Dahlia.

Timothée readied his sword and waited for Edward to make the first move. They circled for a bit before Edward moved forward, pushing his blade with him. Timothée moved to the right and swiftly dodged before using his sword to hit the kings back, knocking him forward. They went back and forth with sword thrusts for many minutes and Timothée started to become cocky.

He didn't notice the king's surprise advance until it was too late. The sword slashed at his side and left a large cut. Timothée fell to his knees in pain. His free hand clutched the bleeding wound, trying not to cry out in pain. Edward held his sword against Timothée's throat, trimming it a little. The king stood in front of Timothée, a smug look on his face.

"Ready to die?" Edward boasted. Timothée dreamed of fighting. To push down the gates and show what true unity and power was. He did. He may not have won, but he tried and that was damn good enough. He looked to his left and saw the chopping block right in front of him. It was there that his best friend died and it was there where he was ready to die. Dahlia was safe and Armie would take her away to a safe part of the country for her to live out her days.

He never had a backup plan for if he lost. He never felt the need, but meeting Dahlia made him realize that he needed one. Something to make sure she would be happy forever. So there, in the place of his fallen brother, Timothée prepared to welcome death with open arms.

"Timothée, no!" That voice. That damned voice was enough to make his heart race and his palms sweat. He opened his eyes to see Dahlia running towards them, Armie right behind. The king was stunned at the sight. Timothée looked into Dahlia's eyes and saw something. It was enough to push a surge of confidence in him again. Timothée lept up and grabbed king Edward before pushing his head down onto the chopping block, knocking him out cold. Dahlia stopped running, stunned at the sight before her.

Timothée stood up and watched as all the king's men dropped their swords. Prince Charlie lowered his too and fell to his knees, bowing towards Timothée. The hundreds of men bowed down and took a knee. Swords clanging against the stone ground echoed everywhere. Their allegiance to Timothée did not waver but grew stronger.

In all Timothée's year's he never thought he'd be there. His brain kept screaming at him saying different things. The adrenaline from battle starting to wear off. Of the many thoughts racing through his head, one stood out.

Is this it?