From her helpless vantage point, Annallya could only watch as her mentor unbuckled the only weapon protecting him from the wrath of her mother. Were he to relinquish that sword to her, there was nothing to stop her mother from crushing him out of existence. Granted, she was an honor bound woman, and would never pass up the opportunity to bring in such a dangerous criminal. Did he know that though?

It seemed to matter not, for Gaelin turned around, and tossed his sword towards the crowd. It was caught in the tender hands of Rhollan, who gaped openly at the weapon, as if he were holding a live serpent. He looked back up at Gaelin, who only answered him with a nod. Rhollan took the belt and, with slight difficulty due to the girth of his stomach, buckled it around his waist. In stature, the man looked to be the least intimidating warrior ever, though his weathered face gave him the appearance of a man who had seen much in his life. Perhaps that was why he had chosen Rhollan to wear it. Her mother watched the scene unfold, trying hard to hide the worry on her face, Annallya could tell. All the while, Gaelin had also shed his quiver of arrows, dropping them to the ground, along with his bow.

“It is customary,” she began. “When surrendering, that the surrendering enemy relinquish his weapon to the opposing leader.”

Gaelin turned back to face the mature Titan, raising a questioning eyebrow, as if she were a distraction from a more important matter. “You think I’d trust you to leave this village alone in my absence?”

He smirked. “I may be leaving with you, but my sword stays, waiting for any Titan who tries to return. Along with my allied Guardians who’ll be keeping an eye on this place while I’m gone.”

“What?” she asked. “There are more of your kind?”

Gaelin nodded. “They live scattered all over, and some of them occasionally come to the village to visit. Should any of them learn of you breaking your agreement, and harassing Sol-har again, they’ll come for your Queen.”

Annallya’s mother was silent for a noticeable minute, before nodding. “Under Sun and Stars I swear that the covenant shall be honored.”

Gaelin nodded to her in response. “Alright, let’s go.”

With a breath that was so slight, it was only noticed by Annallya, Mistress Rhaolin bent down. Though he was small enough to fit in the palm of her hand, the Titan was wary of grasping the little human, imagining that he would sting her at the first sign of carelessness. She opened the lid of the cage, and sealed him inside alongside her own daughter.

“Are you alright?” he whispered to Annallya as soon as he was inside.

“I- . . .” she hesitated in answering. “Physically I am . . .”

He seemed to accept that answer, and its unspoken implication. Meanwhile, the Titan advisor turned her attention back to the ever present crowd of villagers. Clearing her throat, she addressed them again.

“As was agreed this day, you shall not be harassed by Thylara or her people again.”

Not entirely sure how to continue, especially given how relieved she was that no more Titan blood was to be spilled this night, Mistress Rhaolin elected to simply turn away from them, and lead her escourt back to the city. The second that her attention was no longer on the cage, Gaelin reached into his coat and withdrew several pieces of paper, writing carcol, and a small plank of wood. Placing the papers over top of the wooden surface, he began writing with the fury of a man recording his final thoughts before his demise. Annallya could only stare at him in wonderment.

Who was this man? What did she truly know of him?

He had had a father, and a mother. A family. He was a skilled swordsman, and a seasoned warrior. He lived by himself, cooked his own food, tended to his own chores, and remained in solitude. For all of his faults and drinking habits, he was a remarkable teacher, and a dependable friend. Beyond that, however, he was a mystery. Even now, after having just revealed what could be his biggest secret to everyone, he was more concerned with writing down his will and testament, than speaking to her. The charcoal raised a chorus of scratches as he dragged it across each page with ever increasing urgency.

“So . . .” she began after more than five minutes of uncomfortable silence. “You are a Guardian, such as the ones from the Whistler’s story?”

“Yes,” was all he said, not once looking up from his writing. Another minute of oppressive quiet fell over the cage.

“Those scars, you received them in battle?” she asked.

“Yes,” came his answer again, the scratching of the paper never ceasing. At last she became too frustrated at having learned so much, and yet so little.

“Blazing embers Gaelin! Have you nothing to say to me now?” she exclaimed.

“There’s not enough time!” he snapped back, forcing her to involuntarily reel back slightly. His features softened when he saw this, and his next words were spoken in a much wearier tone. “I have to keep my promise, and there’s only so much time. Never enough.”

He went back to writing. Looking at his now tired, almost pained expression, Annallya found her own face softening. “What promise must you keep now, when you may potentially be on the verge of execution?”

Looking down at the sight of a forest bathed in moonlight, Annallya realized that she herself may be facing a very severe punishment. Gaelin’s fate, however, was practically assured. “Gaelin, you have killed Titans.”

There was a long pause in the cage, neither of the occupants looked at the other.

“Yes,” came a very quiet, very worn, and unutterably lonely voice. “I have.”

Through the pitch black forest, and the streets of Thylara, the little Titan and human road on in silence, save for the noise of Gaelin’s writing. It was not until the Titans carrying them were ascending the steps of the Thylaran palace that the silence was finally broken.

“I assume that collar prevents you from getting any bigger.” he remarked.

Annallya roused herself from her thoughts, resisting the urge to touch the metal band around her neck. “Were I to grow slowly, I would suffocate myself. Quickly would mean decapitation. These do not break easily.”

“Are you afraid?” Gaelin asked in a hushed tone.

She looked over and give him a weak smile. “I will not be harmed, this much I know. It will only be slightly more severe than when Mother would sentence me to my room for the night as punishment.” She paused. “Are you afraid?”

Gaelin merely puffed out a breath. “No, I feel like I’ve had this coming for a long time, and I’ve put it off long enough. Honestly, I’m more afraid for the village.”

“You should be more worried for yourself. You left them a means to defend themselves after all.” she reminded him.

“Yeah,” he agreed with just the slightest trace of sarcasm. “One sword that not a one of them knows how to use.”

She frowned at hearing that, but then remembered her first trip to Sol-har, and how none of them had carried any weapons. They were not warriors. The only battle they fought was to scrape by for another day amidst the dirt.

“What of your allies?” she asked. “The ones you had mentioned? Surely they could defend the village.”

Gaelin looked up at his student, a sad smile on his face. “It was a bluff, Annallya.” he whispered. “There’s no one else around capable of fighting a Titan.”

“What!” she exclaimed as quietly as possible, so that neither her mother nor the guards could overhear.

He nodded.

“Gaelin,” she whispered. “You should not have given yourself over in such a manner! The entire village is now left completely unprotected! Should my mother decide to challenge your bluff, the consequences would be dire for them!”

“Worry less about them and more about yourself.” he instructed her. “After this is all over, you get to move on with your life. Live in the palace, become a soldier, an advisor, and be second next to the future Queen. You get to have your old life back, and it’s still ahead of you. Focus on that.”

“I . . .” Annallya froze. It was entirely possible, likely even, that what he said was true. After she serves her punishment, perhaps her old life would still be waiting for her. Everything would go back to the way it was before she met Andrill and Gaelin. Thoren, as Queen, would even sweep the knowledge of her actions under the rug for her. It would be the sort of thing a friend like her would do. She could be who she was again. . .

Would she even want that?

“No,” she bitterly spat. “Knowing what I know now, having seen all of those good, people face such terror. . . I cannot forget that.”

“There’s nothing you can do about it,” he told her. “I couldn’t. Not that I was ever anything other than a drunk.”

“I do not know what you are,” she admitted. Though she did not notice, her words made the swordsman grimace, ever so slightly. “All that I know is that those people need a protector.”

“You would take that upon yourself?” he asked.

“I would.”

“It’s not your fight.” he reminded her. “They’re not your people.”

“It matters not.” she insisted. “They carry something within them. Something . . . something I have never before seen. A capacity for . . . for love, that is beyond what most Titans show for each other. It . . .”

She smiled. “It is beautiful, and it must be preserved at all costs. As a Titan, it is the only cause I have ever seen that is worth going to war over.”

By now the Titans had navigated the hallways of the palace, and were descending the staircase leading to the dungeon. One of the guards had to strike a torch to life, before their party could continue into the abyss of shadow that was the Thylaran dungeon. The staircase ended in front of a thick wooden door, which one of the guards unlocked, before continuing on. The light of the torch beat back against darkness that was so thick, it seemed content to swallow the flame whole. Before the small party stretched a single hallway, lined on each side with cells built for to the scale of a Titan. Some of those cells were occupied by prisoners, who glared at the flood of light that had roused them from slumber. Only those that had committed relatively minor or moderate crimes were allowed the luxury of remaining at their full size. Mistress Rhaolin lead the group on passed the Titan cells, until they had come to a wall at the end of the hallway. Carved within this wall were dozens of cells, each design to house Titans that were forced to remain in a shrunken state, as punishment for more severe crimes. Only a small handful of these cells were occupied by a shrunken Titan. They looked up from their bunks at the baleful light being thrown in their eyes, with distorted expressions of pain and rage. Annallya did not envy them, for she was about to become them.

“This will be where I am kept.” she muttered to her companion, turning away from the sight before her. “Gaelin I-”

Just as she turned completely around to face him, the Guardian engulfed her smaller form in a hug, one that completely took her by surprise. It brought her mind back to that day, months ago, when he had first agreed to train her.

“Do what you have to,” he whispered in her ear. There was a note of agony in his voice that compelled her to hang on to every word. “But please . . . please don’t hate me.”

Her eyes widened as he pulled away. She was on the verge of speaking, when the immense hand of her mother reached inside and grasped her. Annallya was lifted from her confinement without a word, and placed into one of the human sized cells. The door locked itself upon being shut, and she was now a prisoner of her own people. Her mother, despite her iron like resolve and strict disposition, appeared hurt by the sight of her own daughter behind bars, like an animal.

“You are to speak of this to no one.” she commanded to the escorting guards. “No one, save for you women, and those I deem it necessary are to ever learn of what has transpired. Should I discover the slightest rumor floating about the palace of my daughter’s imprisonment, I will see to it that you occupy the cells next to hers. Is that understood?”

As one the guards snapped a well disciplined military salute, and nod of confirmation. Then Mistress Rhaolin reluctantly faced her daughter.

“I . . . will attempt to visit when my duties permit me the time.” she told her. “I wish this were different. Had you listened to me . . .” She looked away. “I am sorry, daughter.”

With that, her mother turned and strode from the dungeons, carrying Annallya’s friend to his death, along with her. As soon as the light faded from her view, the other prisoners returned to their sleep, leaving the Titan alone in the dark. Reaching into the folds of her shirt, just between the outside of the fabric and the inside of her armor, she drew out the objects that Gaelin had slipped inside when he had hugged her. In one hand she held a small bundle of papers, the ones he had been writing on. In the other hand, a small, cold, and sharp piece of metal: an arrow head. Likely pulled from one of the arrows from his quiver. It felt solid and strong. With a tool like this, it might be possible for her to pick the lock of the collar, maybe even the lock to the door of her cell.

But then what of the papers? It took a few minutes for Annallya’s vision to adjust to the dark well enough for her to make out the words written.

Step forward with your left leg, then right, sweeping . . . she read to herself.

Realization dawned on her, she recognized exactly what these were. But why give these items to her? What was the purpose? If Gaelin had demonstrated anything to her in the short period of time that she had known him, it was that he never did anything without reason. Every task and chore he made her perform had a purpose. What was it that he had in mind for her? Unless . . . her mind raced with possibilities, finally putting two and two together.

Emotions were flooding through Annallya’s in waves. Was this what he had meant for her? Did he truly make such a sacrifice all for her sake? Would a cold blooded killer do such a thing? Or was she only now beginning to realize that there was much more to Gaelin Val’ Saida than she had imagined? There was little time to ponder such thoughts, however. It was late, and she was very exhausted from the day’s excursions. Annallya laid down on the straw stuffed cot in her cell. When the morning sun bathed the dungeon in light, Annallya began to read.

And then she began to train.

*************************************************************************************

Gaelin had assumed that he would be taken to the dungeons with Annallya, at least for a little while. Instead, Mistress Rhaolin carried his cage up to what he could only assume was the highest room in the Thylaran palace. They climbed staircase after staircase, up and up, until at last the staircase they were on reached a dead end. Before them was only a wall of stone. Without warning, the cage was opened, and Gaelin was ensnared by Mistress Rhaolin’s hand, helpless as a baby mouse in her grip. She brought him to her face, where the rage within her eyes was on full display for the Guardian.

“You,” she spat. “You and your kind have corrupted my beloved daughter. Everything that has and will happen to her can be laid at your feet alone.”

Gaelin took in her unbridled fury, her malice, and her hate, and he faced it down with the resolve of a man with nothing to lose. A man who already knew that he was to die. He did not so much as flinch when he gazed back and her and said “I know.”

Mistress Rhaolin tightened her grip, flooding his body with pain, almost to the point where he could feel his bones about to give way before her might. It was barely a fraction of her true strength, and yet it was enough to force the air from his lungs, and prevent any more breath from being drawn. Nevertheless, he refused to give her the satisfaction of hearing him cry out in pain. So he bit down on his tongue, to prevent so much as a sound from escaping. After a mere few seconds, she relented, and he could breath again.

“You will die for what you have done to her.” she promised. “That will be assured, however many warriors it takes. Until that happens, however, you will serve us Titans.”

A small smile crept its way onto her face, enhancing her air of menace. “But not as the pets you have freed have served us. No, there was reward in their work, pleasure even. Your death will not be as such. You will serve us in entertainment. We will sit and watch the blood be drawn from you, bit by bit, day by day. We will watch the sweat coat your body, as the strength leaves your back, prostrating you to the ground in pain. Every night, you will wake up, thinking only of the next woman coming to claim you. Until the day comes when you are finally brought to your knees before the Queen and myself, and the order is given for your life to be claimed by a mere criminal. Not even an honorable death will be afforded for you.”

Mistress Rhaolin deposited Gaelin on the ground, where he noticed for the first time, a door. A human sized door. Large for its scale, but still definitely proportioned for humans

The Titans before him dwindled in size, until they had all reached their human heights. Despite the hopelessness of his situation, Gaelin could not help but find it amusing to see his captors stand smaller than himself. He could tell that the guards were not at all comfortable with it, a few even reached for their swords, but stopped at a reprimanding look from Mistress Rhaolin. They took control of themselves again, though it was obvious that they wished that they could at least grow until they were taller than him. Too late, however, as that would only give away how much they feared him. For the first time since coming to Thylara, Gaelin wanted to laugh.

Mistress Rhaolin approached the door and slammed the metal knocker against its surface as audiably as she could. A small slit was opened up, allowing a woman on the other side to observe who had arrived. She closed it after only a second, recognizing at once the advisor to the Queen, and the sound of many locks being moved could be heard. The door was opened by another guard, who immediately zeroed in on Gaelin. She saluted Mistress Rhaolin, who led them passed the guard, who never once took her eyes off of the man. They continued through two more check points, each of which were heavily guarded, until the hallway they had walked down ended in a giant cavern like room, circular in design, with levels and levels of cells extending upwards. Stairs on both sides of the room allowed access to the upper levels, with guards stationed at different intervals. Despite the late hour, some prisoners could be seen stirring or pacing in their cells.

“What kind of prisoners do you keep here?” Gaelin quietly asked.

“Enemy soldiers, war criminals, spies, traitors.” Mistress Rhaolin shrugged. “The ones who are useful in providing entertainment to us.”

Some of the prisoners who had been stirring approached the bars of their cell, hearing that a new inmate had been brought in. All eyes turned wide when they laid gaze on the tall human man standing at the bottom of the prison yard. Muttered speech could at once be heard emanating from the various levels. Loud clanging rose above the noise as a few prisoners began banging against their cell doors.

One of them cried out. “HUMAN!”

Suddenly other prisoners, having been roused from sleep, approached their doors, clearing their eyes. When they too saw Gaelin, they had to clear their eyes again, to make sure that they had seen correctly. It did not take long for every prisoner to rush to their doors and begin ranting and raving at the newest inmate. Every one of them was a woman, and every woman wore the same collar around her neck. Beyond that, every one of them had a wild look in her eye, akin to a starving wolf staring at a slab of meat. They were excited at his arrival, they knew something was going to happen. Something that he did not.

Mistress Rhaolin took in the scene with a satisfied smirk on her face. “Enjoy your new home, Gaelin Val’ Saida. These will be your executioners. I will see you tomorrow.”

The Titan Mistress left the room, leaving Gaelin to be escorted to his cell near the top by one of the remaining guards. He passed by numerous cells of women trying desperately to reach out and grab him. Each one had a jeer they hurled at him.

“At last the crown decides to throw us peasants a play thing!”

“I stake first claim on him!”

“I have not had such  a handsome pet since I was but a girl!”

“It is almost a shame that we must ruin such a handsome face! I would like it to remain unscarred!”

“Do you suppose this one is a fighter?”

“He is a human! None of the pitiful creatures are!”

“At least he can provide us with a warm bed before he dies!”

Gaelin walked passed all of the clawing hands and taunts without so much as a glance at any of them. He had long since resigned himself to his fate. The guard lead him to an empty cell, opening the door for him and locking it behind him. The jeers continued as the rest of the guards attempted to silence their howls. Gaelin paid them no mind. He had already accomplished all that he needed done in his life. He could only pray to the stars above that his last act would succeed, and that Annallya would be well off. With that though comforting him, Gaelin laid down on his straw stuffed cot, and proceeded to drift off into a dreamless sleep.