A few more moments seemed truly insignificant to her and she gladly gave him that. If it was true that they were going to Bercasitt, they had a long way to go anyway. Or if they were going anywhere else, it would still take a while to get out of Concorba, because it wasn’t safe to stay. She held to him loosely as she kept track of the surroundings that were passing by as best as she could, trying to keep her sense of direction in case.

When they came to a stop, Zephyra eyes Solomon with some uncertainty at the fact that he was dismounting and she was told not to. Naturally, she slid forward into the saddle without his bulk in front of her, one hand extended to rest gently on the horse’s neck. Hazel eyes worked through the darkness to make out him pulling off one of his bags and pulling out a map. And her world seemed to spin. She was steady on Ambrose but what Solomon gave her were ones she had never truly expected. But instinct already having a hand wrapped around the reigns of the mighty horse.

The woman looked at the map that was laid in front of her, eyes tracing across the route that was already laid out for her. She held slight suspicion against a preplanned way, but he was right in saying it seemed to be the safest of routes. That said, she already knew she would be veering from it slightly, though only to make certain there was nothing waiting for her. At this point, she was almost certain that this was as real as it could be and no traps were set, but she would rather be safe than sorry. She had made a mistake the first time, she would not do it again.

Taking the map, she rolled it up and placed it under her leg for easy access before reaching for the bags. She would need to know which bag held what before she started anywhere, in case anything came up. She was quick with it, finding which held the money and where all the various supplies were packed away. Content that she understood where to find what she needed, she turned to look at the prince that stood telling her to go and leave.

“I will take good care of him,” she offered in reassurance, offering Ambrose another soft pat on the neck. “I will care for him well.” It was small, but she hoped it could bring the man some peace in that department. She doubted she would sell the beast for a while at least, if at all, considering he was a valuable asset. Her own plan was already forming in her mind, the woman knowing what would need to be done if she was to make it home alive and in one piece. Fingers tightened around the reigns as she held them securely in both hands now.

“Thank you. For everything you’ve done.” It wasn’t much, but it was what she could offer him in form of gratitude. She had nothing to give, everything she now possessed given to her by the man. “Speed to you.” She offered a dip of her head, eyes settled ahead, heels tapping into the horse’s side to urge him forward, sending them off rather quickly into the night. She was aware of the cues the horse took due to her ride with Solomon and having watched in the silence and it served her well now as she raced through the darkness, leaving the prince and the horrors behind her. She never looked back, nor did she plan to.

Zephyra had offered Solomon kindness while his captive, shared her words and thoughts when she could. She had taken care of him when he was sick, all from the kindness of her heart. But she held no attachment to him and with the chance to leave, she did. There was nothing to stop her from returning home and what happened to Solomon... that was none of her concern now that she was set free. She would think back on him from time to time, yes, but it was only natural to wonder what had come of the man that had freed her. But that was the extent of it.

She rode Ambrose hard for a little bit before easing to a slower pace for the sake of both of them. Knowing better than to wear him out so early, she gave him choice of his pace while she took the time to look at the map again, tracing a slightly new path in her mind. It would dip closer to the Isles from the side in an area the army would not be too close to. The last place they would expect her to take route was that way, though she had a feeling they would be more concerned with finding Solomon than herself.

With her mind set, she pushed forward again, only taking small breaks to allow Ambrose to drink or walk a while, ever mindful not to overwork him. If she lost him, it would be game over for her. That would defeat the entire purpose, so she made a conscious effort not to do that. Even as the sun began to rise, she kept going though, keeping them from the paths and away from any chance that they may run into people. For now, the longer she was not spotted by anyone, the better.

Taking Solomon’s advice, she did pass by the first town, though she never got overly close to it. She would have to stop at the next one for the horse to make sure he was fed and properly rested, but until then, she rode for a little longer. Her plan was to add some more distance before attending to anything else, which she did. Though, as another day was coming to a close and the next town nearing, she pulled the horse to a complete stop and slid from his back.

Nimble fingers searched through the bags to find the dagger again, successfully claiming it before sliding her cloak off. Her hand ran through her hair for a moment as she laid the weapon on the saddle. Taking the tie out, she pulled her hair back once more, adding the tie back so her hair fell into a cleaner ponytail. It seemed a waste of time, at least until she twisted the tail and picked up the dagger, doing her best to make a judgment call as to where she was cutting.

She hated the chestnut locks. Hated how soft they were, how long they were... she hated how many hands had run through her hair and the effort always put into making it look pretty. It disgusted her and with her on the run, it served no purpose at the moment except to be in the way and identify her easily. And it was with that in mind that she sawed through the tail, allowing the excess hair to fall to the ground and the tie to fall out. It left her hair bobbing at the shoulders, not very even but at least gone. She held no regrets for it, now looking through the clothes that had been left for her.

Pants. She was not one to wear them until now, sliding them on and using a provided belt. She added the dagger and placed her boots back on, shoving the excess leg into them. Finding a baggy shirt along with some bandages, the second part of her makeover came to mind. They were meant in case of injury but had a better plan for them, pulling her top off and wrapping her chest as tightly as possible. The flatter she could make herself look, the better. And over that, she added the baggy shirt. It did not completely erase the presence of her breasts, but it caused them to be much less noticeable.

Having transformed herself as much as she possibly could, she mounted Ambrose and rode into the next town, the first of few she would stop at to get her horse the proper care and pick up the proper supplies she needed. She would buy him some food to bring along, a feed bag, and some other necessities for herself.

It was the start to a long journey home.

Solomon nodded in her direction at her farewell and watched her go, standing there until the figure and her horse faded into the darkness. From there, the man was on his own. But instead of traveling initially, the man just stared at the sky and watched the stars above. There was quiet and there was calm, the only sound being the soft rustling of his cloak by the breeze. It was a moment when his mind was clear and it would be the last one for a long time. It was the soldier’s last taste of peace before he walked back into the storm. He had thrown everything away on a risk that would dictate how he spent the remainder of his life.

But it ended as quickly as it began, the man trudging off in the direction of the Isles in hopes he would make it there by morning’s end at the latest. He might have freed Zephyra, but time was still of the essence for him as well. Solomon would be foolish to think that every horse and man would be affected. Once they realized he and Zephyra were gone, the manhunt would begin. They would be relentless in pursuit of their lost general and once they realized he had deserted them… it wouldn’t be pretty. To be wanted by the empire was a fate worse than death itself.

The night was long and the sun blinded him as it rose. It was when there was daylight that he pulled off his coat and sash, stowing them in his bag. The crimson threads were far too conspicuous, though he could do little about the pants at that moment. Solomon reached the docks mid-morning. The little town that they belonged to was quaint and one that lived off of their trade of fish. He had been there before years ago when he had been transported as a prisoner. How fitting it was that he was now returning with the intent to become one again.

Solomon approached a man who lingered about his boat, seeing an opportunity. “How much for passage to the Isles?”

The man looked him up and down then shook his head, “We don’t ferry people to the Isles. ‘Specially not hooded strangers with swords.” He spoke, adjusting the brim of his straw hat.

“Oh, but you do,” He responded, eyes narrowing, “Every man has his price, what’s yours? It’ll be a little extra to take home to your wife...” His gaze swept over the worn, silver wedding band and then to his empty boat, “Seems like this morning has been dry for you. My coin can ease some of your trouble here.” Solomon reached into his bag and pulled out a small pouch of money. It was more than enough for the passage. “You’ll be paid and you’ll never see hide nor hair of me again. I was never here.”

The stranger shifted in slight discomfort, a boney hand stroking over the beard that mimicked salt and pepper in color. “I could be arrested and banned from the Isles for this, son.”

“But you do this all day, don’t you? That boat is empty. You aren’t fishing.” Solomon pointed out, to which the other stiffened. Satisfied, he continued, “So, let's talk price.”

It took him two days to journey across the Isles. It was remarkably green, with rivers that bubbled and life more lush than he had ever encountered. Along the way, he’d heard people chatting about different colored beaches and creatures called dolphins that chattered in the sea. In all ways, it was a place of beauty, something Solomon had never really got to see when he was there last time as a prisoner. It was so much different than his drier homeland, more pleasing to the eye. There had been a stall in a market that sold necklaces carved from the bones of what they coined “whales”. In an unexpected feeling of loneliness, he bought one in the shape of a turtle, the pet his sister had wanted him to bring home to her.

For someone who had always wanted to be alone, this was his first time truly isolated. Perhaps it was because he would never see them again, but he began to miss his family. And he hated it. Solomon hated how he missed such an awful place with awful people, but he did. Because when he was younger… things weren’t so awful. Even when he had been older, he’d still had relationships with his siblings, his mother. His time traveling through the Isles made him realize that sometimes, it was better to be surrounded by people and want to be alone than it was to face the world completely by your lonesome.

On the second day, he reached the island that was home to the base of military operations. It was a massive compound, with towns sprinkled around it. The military was spread out amongst all the islands and they were masters of guerrilla warfare. Truly, what appeared to be a place that was so peaceful, with bustling markets and cities that were occupied by people of all kinds, contained a military that had hitherto been undefeated. Even Solomon didn’t know the extent of it. So one could say that him walking straight into the lion’s den was quite possibly the worst idea he’d ever had.

The entrance was guarded by two men, both young by the looks of it. The man had approached, finally stripping himself of the cloak that had kept him shrouded. He tore the now ragged bandages from his swords and ripped the blades from their sheaths. By then, the guards at the gate had noticed. "By the order of the Isles, put your blades down and state your name! I won’t ask twice!" One called, drawing his own sword as Solomon approached. In response, he threw the swords at their feet, his prized blades clattering against the dirt. Their confusion was evident.

“I am General Solomon Imona,” He announced loudly, pulling a medal with the army insignia from his pocket before holding his hands in the air, “Third son of the emperor. I come in peace and with valuable information.” As he had expected, the words were disregarded as he was seized, bag torn from him and arms forced behind his back as he was shoved forward. Solomon did not struggle. “If you value your nation, you will place me in a cell and let me speak to your commander. You want what I have.” His words came out calm even as he was marched through, no doubt to soon be put in chains.

“You are a Concorban soldier,” The one beside him sneered, “I want your head on a stake and your body fed to the pigs.”

It was the day that Solomon was apprehended for the second time in the Eastern Isles, except this time, he came bearing the information that could turn the tide of war.

It only took her that one night at the town before she was set to make it a few days without stopping anywhere, only sleeping on the ground in some secluded area. But she had only bought three days' worth of food for Ambrose, which was a decent amount and she did not need to weigh him down with his own food. Which brought her riding into a town four days after Solomon had let her go, glancing around town and lightly asking which way to the feed store, being pointed in the proper direction.

Pulling up to the area, she slid off the massive horse, offering him an affectionate pat on his solid neck, earning a nose bump. He really was a calm and patient beast, and he earned a genuine smile as she tied him to a post and glanced around, pushing her hat on a tad more. She had bought it at the first town for extra measures, preferring not to ride cloaked as cloaked figures were ones that were watched the most. At night she donned one to blend, but otherwise, she stuck to men’s clothes, her short hair pushed into a hat, and minimum talking when necessary. She did not look much like a man, but she could pass off as a lanky boy barely stepping out of puberty.

Stepping inside, she went straight for the food Solomon had written was best for the horse, grabbing one of the sacks to begin filling it with enough to last another few days. She grabbed a mixture of grains and oats, constantly glancing out to make sure he was being left alone along with all her stuff. Everything she had was necessary to her long journey and she did not want to risk losing it, though she kept one of her money pouches on her. The prince had been more than generous in that aspect, along with many others, though her mind rarely went there now, her focus purely on escape.

Zephyra was riding the border at the point, close to the docks that led to the isles, though not free from Concorba yet. It was a long side path to take, but it was the safest in her opinion, not one the army would expect of her, and not quite what had been mapped out for her. Though it seemed that fate was to use this to its advantage in the form of a weary traveler coming in, grinning like a madman as he leaned against the front counter.

“I’ll be damned, but have you heard the news Jeoash?” A sweaty palm hit the counter as the man was practically hooting already, clearly one who came by this way often.

“Depends. What’s the news?” The owner was already collecting items, another indicator that this was an often occurrence between the two, the man knowing exactly what his customer wanted without asking.

“They’ve captured General Solomon Imona on the Isles. I was there when they snagged him and let me tell you!” There was a laugh, “This idiot walked right up to the gates alone. I guarantee you they will be tearing that monster’s soul out until he can’t make any more noise and then feed him to the sharks.” His voice lowered, though Zeph had moved closer, her heart racing with this information. “All hail Concorba’s Red Dragon,” came the sarcastic sneer.

The owner was grinning himself, though he was quicker to erase the emotion from his face, “Careful where you go spouting off like that. We aren’t always safe here...”

Zephyra cleared her throat, shoving her bag of food to the counter with her face downcast to hide her features as best as possible, waiting for how much it would be as her mind raced. Solomon had been captured, which shouldn’t matter to her except for two things. One, she owed him for releasing her and the months of keeping her safe and healthy. Two, she did believe he must have gone to try and warn them and help them ward off the upcoming attack. It was the only reason she could see why he would go there knowing he would be seen as the enemy, which meant he would have no opportunity to help the Isles, and time was short. Her father, if in her position, would go to try and at least protect that place if he could have. Her home was already raided, the Isles were not. She could do little to help. But Solomon could do a lot, IF they didn’t kill him.

And those were the thoughts that haunted her as she walked out with the newly bought feed for Ambrose, offering him some at that moment as she stroked her hand over his strong withers, fighting the war in herself. She should continue her journey, find her family, and hide away and try to find some semblance of life. Should, but could she even guarantee her family was still alive? But more importantly... her father had fought for freedom and he had instilled in her to do the same, though this wretched country had torn it from her, beaten what spirit she had out until she fought no longer. She could not save her home, but perhaps by trying to free Solomon, she could at least be sure the Isles and the families there did not undergo the same fate.

The determination was final as she swung onto the prince’s steed to return him to his rightful owner, spurring him into a gallop as she made her way to the closest dock with a simple glance at the map. The journey would take a few days, and she could only hope Solomon was still alive when she arrived, but she would go, and as fast as she could manage it.

It took her four long days, a mix between riding and getting herself and Ambrose ferried to the isles. The struggle she had gone through to get a ride there had not been easy until she admitted she was a fugitive seeking refuge on the Isles. It was enough to look at her and see she was disguising herself and a sympathetic ferrier was more than willing to oblige, even refusing to accept what pay she offered. It was a safe passage, and one that had her highly occupied with trying to figure out what she would have to do to try and save Solomon. If they was any Solomon left to save. Her mind was so lost in that, that she did not take the time to digest the beauty of the tropical paradise she was entering.

She arrived by dark, greeting the guards with the same story though she added it was urgent she talked to the official in charge. There was a debate that followed before she was let in, escorted by another guard to a nearby inn. It was understood she was to be watched the entire time until she met with the man in charge, and then they would decide if she could stay or not. The woman was wise enough not to mention Solomon’s name or even indicate him, accepting the terms given and resting until morning.

It was a knock that awoke her, the woman easily pulled to her feet as she met the guard at the door. The meeting was already ready to go, and she was quick to change, though she wisely chose a dress and let her hair down, the most feminine she had looked in a week. She meant to go in to impress and make her point, her choice modest and flattering, the young woman before capture peering out, wise and thinking ahead.

She was the epitome of grace when she arrived at the official’s office, offering a kneeling bow in a symbol of respect and submission. She knew very little of the culture on the Isles except that they were heavy on wanting respect and a humble spirit.

The guard was waved away before the man indicated for her to stand, smiling softly. “My name is General Kele. I have been informed that you seek refuge and my ear. Sit, and let me hear what you have to say and we will see what can be done about your position.”

Zephyra did as told, sitting in the chair indicated to her. “General, my name is Zephyra Tambrolin, daughter of General Damascus Tambrolin of the Bercasitt army.” She watched the flash of recognition to the name, proving she had been correct in the assumption that his name still carried much weight and respect with it. “My father was killed almost a year ago and I was captured during the raid of the town. I was a prisoner to them for that time and only found freedom a week ago.” And now came the part she would have to use finesse for.

“I know now that Bercasitt has fallen and is under Concorban control. I come here not only for refuge but because I have vital information for you. Your country is the next to be attacked and someone came here to warn you. My freedom and ability to come has been due to the turning of Solomon Imona, prince and General of Concorba, who came here to warn and offer you his knowledge. I will vouch for his intentions on my life and the name and honor of my father.”

It would have been nice if that was that. But it was not, the woman spending the next few hours in a calm back and forth with Kele trying to convince him of Solomon’s innocence, who she found out was indeed still alive at least. But she was persistent, using her art of soft words, gentle insistence, and convincing wording to try and win the man. The effort was long and exhausting but somehow she managed, the understanding lying in her name and trustworthiness more than anything as she was brought down to the yard to wait for the man to be brought up and released to her.

The order was sent out that Solomon was to be set free and brought out, leaving the woman standing next to Kele, their voices low as the conversation was kept simple and respectful, her story not being dived into any further by him, and she asked for nothing more. The deal had been made, Solomon was being released and that was what mattered.

It was within a cold, dark cell that Solomon had spent his days since he was arrested by the guards at the gate. It was in a corner that he had propped himself up, body huddled against the stone walls and knees drawn up to his chest. No sound came from him and one could scarcely tell if he was breathing. If one could even tell there was a person in the cell at all. The shadows shrouded him, though it would be foolish to think they could save him. He found himself in shackles, hands and ankles chained to a peg in the center of the room as if he were a dog who needed to be leashed.

There hadn’t been a struggle between him and the soldiers. Solomon had been more than agreeable, releasing his weapons, explaining his purpose, and even going so far as to point them to the military plans he had stowed in his bag. They were extremely detailed, with enough information to mount a counter-attack. But of course, it was easier to call him a liar than to believe him. Solomon wouldn’t have believed himself either. These people more than hated him. They despised him for who he was, what had stood for, and the atrocities he had committed. And he couldn’t blame them.

“Is this really him sir?” It had been a boy, one who could scarcely be an adult.

“Oh yes…” There was a sneer, “I never thought I’d see the day where this bastard was back in chains.” He whirled around to face the group that had gathered, “I want any and all information out of this man... and by any means necessary.”

And by any means the man had meant any means. In the beginning, it had been like a game to the soldiers, who would come in and throw punches at the defenseless man during their free time. Then it evolved. He had remembered the cruelty of the Eastern Isles prison as they pulled out a whip and brought hot metal to his feet. They’d thrown cloth over his face and thrown water at him, forcing him to experience drowning. More than likely they were hired mercenaries, men who did the dirty work for them so the soldiers could sleep at night. All because they wanted the information he had already given them.

They suspected an ulterior motive when Solomon didn’t have one. So all he could do in between their attacks was tell the truth, that he had abandoned his army and come to help. Nobody seemed to believe the general had a change of heart, nor would he have in their position, but he needed them to. If they didn’t, they would realize all too late that he had been telling the truth. Solomon wasn’t sure how long he could survive. He had wounds that were open and would become infected if they weren’t already. He hadn’t been fed. One could argue he had been given water, but that was only in the midst of their torture.

Nobody had come in some hours, so Solomon spent what little time he would probably have trying to sleep, something he hadn’t gotten much of. They would come in at all hours, no doubt to throw him off, which left him constantly on edge. Just because he was tolerating what they had done to him didn’t mean the damage wasn’t existent. It didn’t mean he didn’t hurt. He was strong, not invincible. So he nestled himself in the corner and closed his eyes, hoping that perhaps because he wasn’t easily seen that he would be left alone for just a little bit longer.

And that was when he heard the click of the lock, his eyes snapping open as a burly man stepped into the room. He quickly recognized him as one of his few torturers. His dry tongue ran over his bloodied teeth and lips and bitter eyes stared at the intruder. “What have you brought for me today?” He asked sarcastically, voice raspy and barely able to carry. Not the whip. Heavens… “Anything entertaining?” Please not the whip. Burn or stab me… but not that. Anything but that.

“Keys.” The man grunted, kneeling before him and reaching for Solomon’s cuffs, “There’s a woman here who's advocating for your sorry ass.” The chains clanked to the floor, freeing the man for the first time in… well, he didn’t know how long. “Says you’re telling the truth… I think they’re making a mistake. No one with a brain lets a Concorban man walk free.” He pulled Solomon to his feet and shoved him forward, sending the man stumbling towards the door, “If you try anything, and I mean anything, you’ll find a sword in your back, understand?”

Solomon only nodded at his words. But a woman? Who the hell was here? He barely had time to think before he was thrust into the light, visibly shrinking away as he took uneven steps forward. His shirt hung off of him in rags and his boots had been taken by the guards. His pants remained intact and somehow his necklace, but both were stained by his own blood. He scarcely looked like himself. He more so resembled a giant bruise with a myriad of cuts as decoration. He appeared more unkempt than he had ever been, though spending days in a cell with only wounds as company would do that to anyone

Each step Solomon took was uneven and evidently unstable, his legs about to give out from beneath him. He squinted against the glare of the sun, eyes finding a few figures waiting for him. Who had come for him? They wouldn’t have given him back to his army… None of it made sense. He blinked, trying to make out faces as he struggled to adjust. Soon enough, as he drew closer, his eyes landed on a familiar woman, whose hair was now cropped but her face would forever be unmistakable. A woman who should be far, far away from here that he should never see again.

Zephyra

It was hard to hide his horror and distress at the sight. She shouldn’t be there. No. No no no. This had to be wrong. He needed it to be wrong. It caused Solomon’s steps to falter, sending the man stumbling before he caught himself. This couldn’t be happening. He had freed her and watched her go. “You shouldn’t be here,” He managed, pausing as he coughed, clearly struggling to speak, “How could you?” Solomon tried to push forward, but he was yanked back by the man. She was supposed to be heading home, not here with him. This was quite possibly worse than the original outcome he had predicted.

The prisoner he had risked everything to free had come back for him. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want her to help him, nor did he want her anywhere near him or the Isles. Solomon had wanted her safe. He struggled, for the first time since he’d arrived, against the man that held him back. He was angry and anguished, clearly in a state of discomfort that did not just come from his abuse. “How could you be so stupid, Zephyra?” She had been free. Free. More than he could say for himself, yet she had thrown that away for him, “Dammit, why?!” I didn't want to be saved.

Kele had warned her Solomon was in bad shape, but could anything really prepare her for the man that entered the yard? Hazel eyes deepened with sympathy at the bloodied mess of a man, struggling to stay on his feet and recoiling from the light. His shirt was almost nonexistent, and the closer he got, the more visible all his wounds were. At least those that could be distinguished amidst the blood that covered his skin, clothes, and a necklace she had never seen before. Not that her mind lingered there, taking an instinctive step forward, only to have Kele's hand land on her shoulder to stop her.

The woman flinched by instinct but stopped, waiting for Solomon to look her way. And when she did, his reaction was not one of relief but horror. And yet she couldn’t feel anything but sympathy as he rasped out his words, concern painting her features. He had come here to help, even General Kele admitting to her that the prince had willingly given information and still they had done this. And even now, a man held Solomon firmly, throwing an uncertain glance to the General.

“Are you sure about this?”

The question lingered as Zephyra flinched at the anger and volume of the broken voice demanding to know what she was doing here. She still could not stomach loud noises, but she knew better than to believe he would attack her. He wouldn’t… and she knew that. Somehow, she found it in herself to offer a small fraction of trust.

“I am. Please. Let him go. He means no harm.” She meant those words as she moved toward the prince again, thrashing in the guard’s grip still. “Release him please.” The closer she got, the more she could see how badly injured he was, how sickly and pale. “Bring some water quickly please.” Everything she said held notes of deep respect, and it was clear Kele felt the same respect towards her now, nodding at one of the men to go get the water, though hesitated to agree to let the guard release Solomon. But it was clear that she was sure in her concern that he not be held back like a rabid animal.

Her attention was on the prince now as she gently reached out to make sure he was at least somewhat steady. She was amazed he was managing as well as he was. “Because you gave me my life, and I’m giving you back yours. And the Isles need you actively helping them, not locked away… not treated like this.”

“We can bring him to the barracks and have him treated there, madam,” Kele offered, watching both closely and Solomon with suspicion.

“No. Your offer is appreciated but I would like him to stay in the inn so he can have time to recover in peace.” Zephyra had a feeling both options were miserable to him, but she had a feeling the idea of the barracks sat worse with him. That and she did not trust the soldiers and guards here not to rile him or purposefully cause trouble.

“Anything you need madam, let me know. Your name is honored here.”

“Thank you. Just temporary assistance to the inn will be all.” Zephyra eyed him again. “Someone who has not been involved please.” There was a nod as a soldier was ordered to be retrieved and brought to the courtyard. The water was brought over to them and the woman took some, her attention and kindness back on the hurting prince.

“Drink some please. I will explain more at the inn and we will see what can be done for your injuries.”

He continued to thrash about in the guard’s grip but he was far too weak to break through in those moments, malnourished and every movement causing him pain. Solomon snarled at the man and it was then the mercenary twisted his arm to quell the sudden defiant outburst, causing the prisoner to bite his tongue and stifle a cry at the unexpected pain. His gaze was hot and angry, the man furious with so many things, in so many ways. This hadn’t been how it was supposed to end. Dammit, this wasn’t how things were supposed to go. She wasn’t supposed to be there...

Not Zephyra… anyone but Zephyra.

But it was Zephyra, standing there, telling them to free him. They had switched positions in a moment, Solomon in the shackles while she pursued his freedom. Except she had been a much more pleasant prisoner to keep. He was, by no means, pleasant. No, that was evident as his chest heaved and his stained, reddened teeth seemed to flash in a way that was completely animal-like. Untamed. In a moment, he had gone from an agreeable captive who did not protest to fighting the one who held him back like a starving beast out for blood. Because in a moment, his plans had completely changed.

As soon as the guard’s grip slackened, Solomon tore himself from the man with another growl, throwing a feral glare in his direction. What he wouldn’t give to stab him… Unfortunately, they had taken his blades. Smart men… He whirled around to come face to face with Zephyra, visibly jolting away as she reached out to him. Every bit of him was on edge, and it was evident by the way he’d nearly jumped out of his skin at a single hand. A hand came up to rub at one of his wrists, the skin chafed raw, though he was lucky it was merely sore and didn’t appear to be infected.

Did she think was doing him a favor by helping him? Was that it? Did she think she was doing something noble by wasting her only chance at freedom on a dead man? He didn’t understand. All he knew was that she was wrong. So very wrong. She should have kept going and left him on the Isles to defend himself. She had a home and a family, she had a life to go back to. Solomon didn’t have that, not anymore. He had given it up and now she had done the same. He had always thought she was intelligent, but the stunt she had just pulled on his behalf proved her to be otherwise.

Solomon’s nostrils flared as she spoke to him, his breathing heavy and body tense. His gaze shot over to the general as he began to talk, eyeing him with disdain. It was Kele. He watched them interact for a moment, stewing. As far as he was concerned, he wasn’t going anywhere with anybody. “I don’t want your help. I didn’t ask for it.” He looked at the water in disgust, titling back as if to put distance between them, “Nor am I going anywhere with you.” He swayed where he stood, the man toeing the border between being able to hold himself up and crumbling, “And nobody, and I mean nobody, is touching me. I don’t care if my heart is hanging out of my chest.”

“I might have given you your life, but you’ve thrown it away coming back here,” Solomon took a step away, a dry tongue running again over his cracked lips, “You are a fool. My life isn’t a battle you want to fight for. It’s already over.” He snapped boldly, not caring nor having the energy to hide his anger, “This is a mistake. You’re only going to sully your name and turn your family legacy to ash. And for what?!” His question turned into a frustrated exclamation and every word pained his throat, his voice hoarse and harsh, “I have nothing for you. Nothing!” I didn’t set you free for you to save me.

Solomon took another step back, doubling over for a moment as he took a wheezing inhale, unable to speak for several moments as he tried to catch his breath, speech requiring more effort the more he spoke. “My army is going to be out for my blood. This is the stupidest thing you have ever done.” He lifted his head up, seething, frenzied eyes finding hers, “I told you to never look back. I told you to go home.” Solomon swayed again, but he caught himself, somehow managing to straighten, “But instead… instead you’ve done this.”

What Zephyra saw broke her heart. Solomon held no special place there, nor did she hold some kind of connection to him that made this affect her worse. But she was a gentle and kind creature, and seeing anyone in this state was hard. She had never seen the prince so jumpy, not had the coldness ever been turned on her as it was now. The man was in bad condition and yet he even refused water because she was offering it to him. The woman could not grasp why he is necessarily so angry at her, flinching when his tone shifted and every time his voice raised. But each time she waved off the general and the antsy men that danced nearby.

Solomon was injured. He was badly injured and cornered and she was even amazed he was as steady as he was, and he wasn’t even steady. So she took the verbal beating and spewing of frustration with grace, hiding any time it truly affected her for the prince’s sake lest Kele change his mind. It was too late to go back and she wouldn’t anyway. She made this decision for many reasons, ones that perhaps he could not see now but she hoped he would if she could just get him to calm down. He was frantic and it was putting them both in a precarious position.

So, as he retreated, finally doubling over, she moved forward slowly and calmly. Zeph needed him to stop. She needed him to at least wear out enough to try and realize that she was getting him out of the courtyard and torture if he would just come. He needed medical attention, water, and food, and yet wouldn’t even take the water she had offered him before. The woman's mind ran, gears turning to try and salvage this some way, thinking of what words she could try to talk him down and bring him enough of an understanding to get them out before it was too late and he was thrown back into a cell.

Her voice lowered for him, staying soothing in nature though she did not attempt to touch or steady him again. “There is no guarantee my family still lives. There is no guarantee that I will not be used in Bercasitt now that it is under the control of Concorba. It is not about my family legacy, and if that legacy is sullied, it will have gone nowhere. I am the last of the Tambrolin name and it can never go beyond me. You made your choice to set me free for the moral of it. I am making my choice to return the favor because these people need to trust you and they won’t do that until someone takes the first step.”

She had to convince him. It came down to that and hoping he could work through the pain enough for his muddled mind to grasp what she was doing or at least accept it long enough to get him out. “I can leave whenever I want from here, I am not a prisoner here. I am still free Solomon. And when I decide to leave, the people here are sure to help me return when I do. So I can still go home, that is not a worry, so nothing has been thrown away. I am offering you that same chance to be free and win these people to your side. But right now you also have a chance to get out of this place, away from these men, and have your own room with a bed and warmth.”

She finally dared to bring the water back over to attempt to try and get him to drink some. “No one else has to come if that’s what you want.” That was a hard one to say because if he went down, she would be unable to get him up, but if that’s what it took to get him to leave, so be it. “But you will have privacy and rest along with some warm food and water. Please Solomon. They are giving you a chance to do what you came to do and save them. I can’t do that, so you have to. But the longer we are here, the smaller the door for you to leave gets.”

She hadn’t even looked at anyone else, though everyone in the courtyard was clearly on edge. But the kept their distance at her bidding, watching nervously to see if the young woman could talk the beast down. “Please, have something to drink. You must be terribly thirsty and I can hear that your throat is dry. It’s at least something and then you can decide what you want to do.” She could only hope that leaving the decision totally in his hands would offer him some feeling of being in control and give them a chance.

Solomon was in pain. Every movement felt like his back was being torn into two and his muscles screamed for relief. Whenever his eyes closed, he wouldn’t want to open him. But he was angry, for reasons he understood and others he didn’t. He just… He just… He took a breath. It came out as more of a wheeze due to the constant hurt that had settled into his chest. No doubt due to the abuse the water had forced his lungs to endure. He knew he needed to take at least a week to recover. His body was overworked and his adrenaline had long been spent.

Every part of him cried out for rest. His head and heart pounded, his eyes hurt from the sudden assault of light. He didn’t care that she was returning the favor to try and win him a place to help the Isles. He didn’t care that this was something she wanted to do. She was right that she had no clue whether her family lived or if she would one day face re-capture, but it didn’t change the fact that she’d turned around and walked back into hell. She could’ve bought passage across the ocean and fled for the rest of her life.There were so many other things she could have done, yet she’d returned.

Didn’t she understand the Isles was going to become a warzone? That these islands were going to be lit aflame, pillaged and plundered until there was nothing of their culture and community left? Solomon knew what the plan for the Isles was and it was a sinister masterpiece destined to cripple this place. This place he had just learned to find fascinating and beautiful… He shook his head rather violently to clear the thoughts, which only served to make him even more off-kilter, if that was possible. He pressed a hand to his head and his eyes squeezed shut for a moment as he willed the pain to go away.

Anyone in his position would have jumped at the offer she had made, but not Solomon. He was starving, he was beyond dehydrated, and he was in severe need of medical care. But he had lived a life where he was taught to lack self-preservation and upon coming to the Isles it had only worsened. Because no longer did he have an empire to serve, nor a life to go home to. He had… nothing. Solomon wasn’t very materialistic, nor was he attached to possessions, but there was something about learning that he no longer had anything, nor was he worth anything, that had hit him harder than expected.

He knew there were people watching. He was well aware that all eyes were on him, men with fists and swords that would be more than happy to make him their next target. “That first step was not yours to take. I would have been fine without your unnecessary interjection.” He bit back, taking another unconscious step away. Solomon didn’t want to be near anyone. His wounds were too fresh. He had recovered from his time there before and he would again, but for now, no one was to be trusted. Because there was no telling when he would end up back in that cell.

“They aren’t giving me a chance. This is not about me, I don’t care how small this so-called “door” gets.” The only reason they’d freed the man from his cage that day was because Zephyra had come for him. Not because they had believed him. “They’re giving you a chance. They’re here to work with you, not me. But when my father’s army comes and turns these trees to ash and this compound into cinders, you’ll wish you’d run home.” Solomon might have been gone in those moments, with his mind in even worse tatters than his clothing, but he had enough left to understand that he was being handed over. To her. And that infuriated him.

“When they hang me from a parapet, you’ll understand why I endured their torture for a second time to warn them. You’ll regret coming here and playing hero only to rescue a monster who didn’t want to be rescued.” Solomon sneered, pausing only to catch what little breath he had, “But fine, I’ll leave with you. Only because I don’t want to give my torturers the satisfaction from my death. I refuse to die with swine in my presence.” It was a bold, foolish comment given his position, but there was little to no care in anything he said, his usual, smart filter gone with the few days he’d spent isolated and at the whim of his captors.

He pushed the offered water away, refusing it for a second time. He didn’t want to be treated like he was in need. What he wanted was to be left alone. “I don’t need water… or any other handouts. I only need my belongings.” Solomon spoke, just wanting the hefty bag he’d brought with him and his swords, “I have bandages in my bag, I won’t be seeing a doctor.“ The man wasn’t expecting her to take him. In fact, it was what he hoped for. That she would realize she had made a mistake and would leave him. One's patience could only last so long.

The pain he was suffering was evident, as much as he was being stoic through it and denying help. But Zephyra was doing her best to try and keep him as calm as possible, though it was clear that was sorely backfiring in more ways than one. Her very presence seemed to aggravate him, but there was nothing to be done about that and she knew this was the only way for him to be set free. He needed her to advocate for him to save the Isles, for them to trust the information he had already given them.

The woman hated seeing him this way, the lack of trust that he even held for her as he tried to continue to put distance between them. She did not expect him to fully trust her, or anyone here for that matter. But she needed him to have some portion of it, in the same way he had needed her to trust him on their escape. But the issue was, he wasn’t. He wasn’t even giving her the chance to offer some help, and there was little more she could do but hope something in him triggered the flight response over his fight response.

His anger was evident in his tone as he spat his words out at her, almost blaming her for his release as though it was a bad thing. It was the first time that Zephyra was dealing with his angrier side specifically turned on her. Yes, she had been the one to get him released and yes, at the moment they were trusting her, but she was no more than a buffer for them to learn to trust him. But how could she make him see that? She would have to truly sit down and lay it all out for him and hope he was receptive enough to hear, and in this moment, there was no sitting him down, no time, and he was certainly NOT receptive.

It was hard not to flinch from him, but she held her ground, not needing anyone to see that she fostered even the slightest fear of this man. She was more than aware of what he was capable of, she had seen his anger with her own eyes. But Zeph was also aware of how level-headed he could be, his morals, and his kindness. He was just in pain and probably somewhat scared, and she made the decision to see him that way and not focus on the anger he felt.

Though he did make one mistake that was not aimed towards her, and that was calling everyone in the compound swine, something anyone, but especially these men took offense to. Nor did it help that it was followed by him pushing her offered water away.

Zephyra was good at observing and knowing what was going on around her, something that had been vital to her survival and this time Solomon’s. It was one soldier that was stepping forward with fury on his face, throwing a look at Kele who took a step back as if to say he would not interfere. Solomon had greatly insulted every man there who were sacrificing their lives and time for their home. And even more so, the statement elevated the prince above them, a cardinal sin to commit at the Isles. But worse than the soldier moving forward, was the fact that he had grabbed a whip from a nearby weapon rack... which meant one thing.

The woman feared pain, and she feared angry men. But there was one thing that always seemed to override that, and it was a protective nature in her. There was no hesitation as she shifted to stand between, holding a hand out. “No! No...” Her voice softened as she threw a glance at Solomon before looking back at the soldier. “Please... You have tortured him for a while now... he is in pain. Just bring his items and we will be on our way. Please.” Her body shook very slightly, only enough for someone close to notice but she was standing her ground.

She stayed there between them until his items were brought, doing her best to make sure everyone kept a good distance from the man. Though when she went to take his stuff, she found his swords were much heavier than anticipated, though thankfully, at least Kele took the time to carry them over and shove them at Sol. Zephyra took his bag though, the thing also heavier than expected but for him to carry it would probably be too much.

“The exit is that way. We will look over the information he’s given us and then see about getting anything else at a later date. For now, it’s best he leave before I have a riot on my hands.”

“Yes sir.” Zephyra glanced at Sol now and then the exit again, “The inn is this way...” She now only hoped he would follow through and come with her. Because she was at her wit's end for what to do with the man.

He waited for a response for a few moments, but he was met with silence as she looked off to the side. Solomon’s eyes followed Zephyra’s to where her head had turned, eyes landing on a man who approached, wielding none other than a whip. He stiffened, fists clenching. He had no clue what he would do, but one thing was for certain, the whip wasn’t touching him. Instinctively, his feet spread out, the man prepared to run or fight. Neither was a good option, but they appeared to be his only options. Anything would be better than finding himself on the end of that weapon.

Solomon’s eyes flashed with a mix of fear and fury, the man terrified but both his anger and pride prevented him from showing it. No one knew what the giant man was afraid of and these men weren’t about to be the first. If he was going down, he was going down swinging his fists in defiance. His face was screwed up in the beginnings of a snarl and he waited. He waited for the man to approach and make his move. Could Solomon take him on in his current condition? No. It was suicide. Did he care? Not one bit. The former royalty had not a care in the world, except the fact he did not want that whip anywhere near him.

But that was when Zephyra moved between them, keeping the near-assailant at bay. Solomon was shocked, given the quiet, more submissive nature she always displayed. Especially since the man held a weapon and she would have no clue if he would be bold enough to cut through her to get to him. If he did, Solomon would raise a whole other kind of hell. He might have been angry with her, but that didn’t mean he would condone that abuse. Not anymore. So he waited. His chest heaved as he watched the man with venomous eyes, no doubt appearing to be more animal than human.

The soldier backed down, retreating so that instead, Solomon could be brought his belongings. He took his swords without so much as a word, not even looking the general in the eye. He doubted they would ever look at each other favorably. One had ordered the others torture and the one had the reputation of a tyrant. He hoped he would never have to work with Kele, if he ever worked with anyone there at all. At the moment, he wasn’t sure how things would do. Perhaps his sacrifice would be in vain, though in the end, the Isles would lose everything and him nothing if so.

Solomon took a moment to take his bag from her grasp, though he did it with a surprising gentleness given his current state of mind and condition. “I can carry it myself, I don’t need to be treated like an invalid. Worry about yourself.” He huffed out, slinging it over his shoulder. He shouldn’t have been carrying it, but he refused to be helped, even as the pressure of the bag on his back caused him agony. He wasn’t going to show any weakness, he didn’t care how bad his state was. All he needed was to get to the inn. Then he could be alone and finally have some privacy. Solomon wanted to sleep.

“You shouldn’t have stopped him. If he thinks a whip can affect me after a week of being struck by one on the daily, he’s wrong.” He commented, following her away from the horde of soldiers who wanted to kill him. Glancing downwards, he realized his feet were leaving spots of blood with each step. He should have put his boots on. But Solomon did nothing more but sigh and follow her to the building he would be staying in for at least the night. As of now, the man wasn’t sure what the next day would bring. He was a fugitive that had betrayed the world’s largest power and was an enemy to all. One didn’t come back from that.

Once they arrived at the inn, he was more relieved than expected, despite the fact the innkeeper looked at him with a mix of fear and disdain. Solomon assumed he should get used to that. Not that he had the capacity to care. “I’ll make sure the innkeeper knows I’ll be paying for my own lodging.” He told her as he approached his door, sliding the key in and opening the room. It was nice to see a bed again. “And before you say anything, no, my wounds don’t need “proper” medical treatment and I don’t need nor want your help. What I want is to be left alone. I ask that you respect those wishes.” With that, the man stepped into his room and shut the door, the lock clicking into place once it closed.