nothing greater than hope || SIR LIONEL

[ROWAN ALEXANDER STANFORTH]

Rowan felt and heard nothing as he was transported from the room he had basically been tortured in, to the carriage his mutilated body was being shoved into. The guards weren't gentle in any way, even though they did feel a little sorry for the young man. They had heard the local ladies talking about the Prince of Lydel, and it frustrated them to no end because they always mentioned his good looks. Now however, he was not a face that could be called handsome. They didn't even recognize him in all honesty, and they doubted that anyone really would. The murder of the Prince of Lydel would be finished quietly and cleanly if they just deposited his body where they had been directed. So, they were doing what their orders told them to do. And they weren't doing it very nicely. However, Rowan's unconscious state made it easier to move him around and basically just throw him in.

They made sure that the curtains of the carriage were drawn so no one could see in, and one of the guards sat in the back with what they considered to be the dead body of Rowan Stanforth. The Prince of Lydel was dead. Lydel would fall under Xaranth, and it had been so easy. The guards were obviously pleased with themselves, and didn't bother to check the body once they reached their destination. They didn't check for a pulse or for a breath, but it wouldn't matter anyway. A person in Rowan's condition wouldn't survive in the freezing temperatures in the middle of Blue Marsh. It would be near impossible. But they didn't know the true extent of Rowan's fighting spirit. He had so much to live for. He had someone he loved, and he had his father, as well as his country. He wouldn't die without a valiant effort first.

As they pulled the draft team to a halt in a distant corner of the marsh, one guard opened the door. Rowan was still as unresponsive as ever, and his breathing was so shallow it was hard to notice unless you stared at him for more than a few seconds. They didn't have time for that. They needed to get back and report that the deed was done, and then the word could be sent out. Prince Rowan Stanforth was dead. Wouldn't his kingdom and his father be devastated? And that little girl that Denna had taken for herself would surely not be too happy either. They couldn't wait to get back, and they threw his body into the marsh as if he was nothing more than a sack of potatoes. Rowan landed with a small splash in the part of the marsh that hadn't managed to freeze.

That splash brought him back to the world of the living however. As the carriage rolled away, Rowan managed to take a large gasp of air. It almost choked him, but he breathed out, trying to regulate and calm himself. However, the pain that greeted him in this new state was almost too much to bare. The broken ribs he had sustained from one of Denna's kicks were crushing his lungs, and it was harder and harder for him to breathe while he was lying down. The arrow wound in his side was doing nothing to help the situation, and the one in his leg was burning and aching. The blood had clotted on both of those wounds so at least he wasn't losing a copious amount of the liquid that he so desperately needed now. However, his face was a completely different story. Even though his body was bruised and battered, and completely sore, his face was even more of a mess.

He was almost unrecognizable, and it didn't help that he was dressed in plain, commoner clothing. It wouldn't get him recognized. The only thing he had to identify his body was the necklace that had belonged to his mother. It was a simple silver cross that was intertwined with a feather. It was simple, but unique, and any of the King's mean would recognize that necklace. The silver chain had come forth from his shirt, and he reached a weak hand up to grasp the charm in his hand. His eyes closed as he let the pain wash over him. His broken nose was still bleeding slightly, and his mouth was covered and filled with the crimson warmth. His eyes were swollen and already bruising because of the kicks and the hits, and his face was covered with dried and new blood. He was a complete mess, and he let himself sink down into the marsh. He couldn't fight to get up. He didn't have enough energy or strength to pull himself up. Rowan was going to die, and that thought frightened him. What of Scarlett? What of his father? And what of Lydel? He had failed them all, and he would never forgive himself, not even in death. The water of the marsh was freezing, and Rowan felt himself start to shake with the tremors from the cold. His breath rose in puffs above him, and he finally opened his eyes to look up to the sky. He would never see her again. He loved her, he knew that now. And he would never see Scarlett again. Groaning slightly, he tightened his hand around the necklace his mother gave him, thinking he would be seeing her sooner than he thought. Rowan didn't want to die, but he didn't have anything left to give. Closing his eyes, he tried resting, hoping he could try to get up soon before he froze to death.

[LIONEL ANTAEUS AYMON]

The air was cold and crips against Lionel's face. He could see the small cloud of breath in front of his face everytime he exhaled. The light was dim at best making it difficult to see, he had to trust his horse to know where to step. The moon was hidden behing a layer of clouds which allowed them to move without being seen, but also made it hard for them to see as well. Looking back he saw his detail of five other soldiers. They were members of his own personalized force. If there ever was something to be called a special forces group in the land these guys were apart of it. They were only half the group lionel had trained for such missions and if some one saw them in the streets they could easily be mistaken for thugs and thieves. They were just a small scouting and surveying party, checking to see the best way through and how many patrols were running through the area.

The marsh was a difficult land to manuever through and even harder to do so at night. It was the worst possible choice to use for an attack. The odds of getting stuck and losing armaments and troops were high, which is why it was the best point of attack. The enemy wouldn't patrol the area as much which would allow them to create a precise and crippling blow along the enemies backside. If he could lead his men through here, they could effectively eliminate the enemies chances of winning.

Lionel held his hand up and the rest of the crew stopped. He listened intently, and his eyes scanned the area. He swore he heard horses and a carriage. There he saw it the laterns of the carriage made it easy to spot. The figures looked like they were pulling something out for a dump. Well it was a good place to dump a body but why would they do it in secret. Something had to be special about this body as they didn't want anyone else seeing it. He heard the audible splash of something hitting the water and soon after the carriage was off, back towards where ever it came from. He gave another hand gesture and the group slowly moved towards the dump site making sure there was no one lying in wait. It took them the better part of fifteen minutes to make the hundred yard journey.

When they got to where they had heard the splash the group dismounted and began looking for the body or whatever it was, and Lionel was the first to spot it. At first glance the body appeared to be that of a commoner, one who was badly beaten. There was hardly any identifying marks on his face because of all the swelling. The man's hair was matted with blood and dirt, he appeared to have taken several blows to the body as well as arrows. He then noticed the small puffs of air freezing in the cold night. With quick hand motions the other soldiers ran towards the body and and pulled it out of the water.

It was when they pulled the nearly dead man out of the water and onto dry land that Lionel saw the necklace. A necklace he knew quite well, and horror filled his eyes. He quickly pulled the young mand's clothes off and wrapped him in the blankets from their packs on the horses. How could it have been possible that they managed to get ahold of the prince and no one was the wiser?

"Rowan, speak to me. Come on don't go to sleep wake up and talk to me."

Lionel gave a few quick orders and the medic of the group came to look at the young prince and fix what he could in the situation they were in. Something didn't feel right, if they dumped the body of the prince than they must also have some one else of equal value or at least some one they thought was of equal value. He was going to be quite a terror upon returning to the castle, mainly at scarlett for she was supposed to be keeping an eye on Rowan to make sure he stayed safe.

"Rowan what happened?"

[ROWAN ALEXANDER STANFORTH]

He couldn't even lift himself up to get out of the freezing water. This was just what Rowan needed. He was afraid that he was going to get frostbite from the chilly water, and that was just something he didn't need to add to his list of problems. He was already in a bad enough state in all honesty. The young prince groaned quietly into the night, but to him he felt like it echoed around him. He was utterly alone in this forsaken marsh, and no one would venture here. Even if they did, he doubted they would even see him. The guards had dumped him in an area that was surrounded by reeds and weeds, and Rowan could hardly be distinguishable. He had to accept the fact that he was going to die here. It wasn't noble, and he certainly felt like a coward, but what choice did he have? If they had dumped him some place dry, then he would have been ale to recuperate a little before trying to move. Out here, there was no hope.

Closing his grey eyes, he took a deep breath to steady his nerves. He had been through a lot, even though he would never accept sympathy from anyone. His young and fit body had been the only thing that had truly saved him from dying just from the beating he had sustained. But because he was in such fighting shape, he had been able to handle the blows. He had passed out towards the end because of the tremendous trauma, but he had made it through to the end. Until Scarlett had been dragged away from him. It was at that moment that he had lost everything, even his consciousness. Rowan couldn't believe he had given up at that point in time. He had witnessed the woman that he loved being dragged away from him, and being dragged away to a torturous time. He would never forgive himself for that, and he honestly would not blame Scarlett if she held that grudge. He had to live just so that she could escape. He needed to get her out of there. He needed to fight just a little harder. Thinking of Scarlett gave him a small drive to keep going. So he tried. It was all that he had left to do now. It was better than giving up. He didn't want to die knowing that he hadn't tried at all.

Rowan's body felt like a ton of bricks to him, and it was rather difficult for him to move at all. But he was attempting to do so. His fingers dug into the mud beneath the water, and he was trying to pull himself up. He had managed to roll over onto his back, but that had taken a lot of energy out of himself. He remained where he was for the moment, but after a few minutes had passed, he started pushing up. Nothing had happened to his arms, thank goodness, so they were still of use even if nothing else was. He finally managed to get into a sitting position, but he suddenly heard splashes through the water. He didn't know who it was, but he didn't want them to be unnerved by a body sitting up in the water. Besides, his arms were shaking, and he figured he was about to give out at any moment. He fell back into the water with a splash, and it was then that he lay still, breathing a lot heavier than before. Those movements allowed Lionel and his men to see the puffs of mist his breath was creating in the crisp night air.

Rowan was exhausted. It was taking up the rest of his energy just to listen to what was going on around him. He felt strong arms pulling him out of the water, and he was afraid that it was the enemy coming to make sure he was dead. It was obvious he wasn't, and he knew that he would be killed without hesitation now. So he needed to fight. He tried hitting with his fists, but the men tried soothing his actions. They didn't want him wasting what little strength he had left. He attempted to kick out with his legs, but that brought a yell to his lips because of the arrow wound. Finally halting his movements, he lay panting, shaking, and in absolute agony. This night could not get any worse. Groaning softly, he suddenly heard a familiar voice. It couldn't be. He felt his clothes being ripped from his shivering body, and he wished they hadn't done that. He was completely exposed to the cold night air, but he soon felt warm blankets being wrapped around him.

His blue lips did nothing to cover his chattering teeth, but even those movements pained him because of his destroyed face. Hearing Lionel's words made him focus though when all he wanted to do was sleep. However, it was a certain thing that the young man had a concussion, and one never knew what would happen if he slipped off. His blood loss was great, and he didn't think he could survive if he fell asleep. But the blankets were warm, and he knew he had been discovered. He could rest easy, but then Scarlett crossed his mind. His fingers released the necklace he had been squeezing, and he weakly grabbed Lionel's arm. Lionel was like an uncle to him, and Rowan appreciated the man more than he would ever guess, especially now.

"Scarlett. They have her. In trouble."

His words were muffled and hard to understand because of how swollen his jaw was, and speaking took the rest of his energy. His grip loosened on Lionel's arm, and he felt himself sinking back into the darkness. He just needed to sleep. However, whatever the medic was doing to him made him jump from the sharp pains. The man was fixing his leg for now, and he felt something tight being wrapped around the arrow wound. He felt his jaw being gently grabbed, but that still brought him pain. Water was passing down his throat in an instant, and at first he choked, not having expected that. Spitting it out for a moment, he finally was able to swallow. But he felt sick as soon as it hit his stomach, and he refused to take any more of the liquid. Trying to push it away, he turned his head, trying to breathe through his nose, but not succeeding because of how broken it was. It was then that one of the men turned towards Lionel.

"He's unrecognizable. Will his face ever be the same again? Is he going to make it?"

It was a whisper, and fortunately Rowan didn't hear. He was too busy paying attention to what the medic was doing to him. His side was being patched up in another moment, and that was all that the medic could do for now. There wasn't enough light, and the environment was too filthy. They needed to get him back to the castle, and the medic looked to Lionel with impatient eyes. They would lose him if they didn't get him somewhere warm and dry fast. The hypothermia was taking over him quickly, and with as much blood as he had lost, he wouldn't be able to survive for very long.

[LIONEL ANTAEUS AYMON]

Lionel watched as the young prince tried to fight off the men helping him. He wasn't able to really even stop them but it made lionel smile a bit. He certainly had his father's spirit. The boy shouldn't even be alive, but because of that fighting spirit he was holding on. Though it pained him to no end to see him lying there like that. It was almost like seeing his daughter lying there on the ground all bloodied and broken. His eyes misted up a bit, but no one said anything. They knew all too well how close Lionel was to the royal family.

"Scarlett. They have her. In trouble."

The words were hard to understand, muffled and distorted through the chattering teeth, swollen face, and possibly broken jaw of the prince. It took a minute for Lionel to understand what the boy had said. When the realization had hit what he said and what it meant Lionel stood up and looked towards where the carriage had dashed away to. So Scarlett had gone with Rowan. She had most likely given herself up in order to possibly save the prince's life, something they were trained to do. With a few hand motions his team began to split up. Two of the men were to come with him and mount a rescue attempt, the others were going to be rushing back to a safe location where they could work to save Rowan. If the rescue mission went bad, that would be it. There would be no rescue attack, that was what they risked. He helped put Rowan on the medic's horse and made sure the young man was bundled up tightly to keep him as warm as possible. He handed the medic a letter, which had a significant meaning to everyone in the group. He only ever gave this letter to some one when he wasn't sure he would make it back alive. It was to be delivered to his daughter in the even he doesn't return.

Lionel knew who did this, there was no doubt in his mind it was the Legion. Barsh was a power hungry tyrant, but he knew the prince would be worth a lot as a bargaining chip even guards. The Legion on the other hand did not care for such things, they would watch all the countries burn just to be formed in their own twisted ideals. With a quick look to the two men who were to be going into hell with him he swung on to his horse and shot off into the night.

I swear they will pay for what they've done, but frst we must get Scarlett out of there. Revenge can wait.

Lionel's mind raced as they flew towards the manor in which the Legion held their power. They had to do this as quick as possible and if they did everything well enough they would be out of there before sun up. The fast pace of the hoofbeats echoed in his ears almost as loud as the wind rushing by his ears. His face was slowly growing numb to the icy sting of the winter night, but he could ignore it as they anger at what had happened burned inside of him. He knew the gods were favoring them, for if they weren't Rowan would not have been found by him and his men.