"We cannot allow everything to depend upon aid from Lord Adaniar," Silvryn repeated evenly. "An official alliance has not yet even been forged. Furthermore, the elves have a war to fight as well and may not be able to arrive in time. We must make our plans as though there will not be any outside assistance, and then be pleasantly surprised if there is."

"Firstly, I do agree with milady," Kjan said at length, somewhat reluctantly. "After all, we've managed just fine without elven intevention for over half a decade. And as helpful as they can be as allies, we can't count on their aid alone, nor is the Regent likely to be persuaded by such an alliance without significant proof that we cannot presently provide." Before Eledhe could argue, he moved on to his next point, barely stifling a yawn. "Secondly, I'd like to point out that we've all spent the past three weeks sleeping on the ground in the middle of the wilderness with no promise of surviving the night. Understandably, everyone's a bit tired. So I think the very least we can do is get a decent night's sleep before deciding the fate of the rebellion. Agreed?"

Time, which had gone so slowly traveling on the road, now flew by in what seemed like seconds. Traveling through the Keep, Jate had a strange sense of security and...well, home. The feeling shocked him a bit, as the only home he's truly known was the estate. He gave the boy guarding the door a small smile as they passed by, but the smile melted as the group continued down the corridor. Men too old, boys too young, and all of them too inexperienced to fight off a herd of sheep, much less a trained army or elves.

The conversation with Varitan was over before it had begun, and before Jate had a chance to collect himself they were all settled in the Phantom's room. "Minorly significant," he muttered in response to an earlier comment. "Thanks. Remind me of that the next time someone tries to kill you." Turning is attention to the others' words, he stifled a yawn. "I agree with Kjan. We won't get captured tonight, at any rate, and we will all be thinking clearer in the morning."

_________________
going on a journey through my old claims

The Phantom could almost laugh. Sleep? Why? He'd never been more awake, never had every sense tingling with more urgency than this. Half a shake of his head followed. Then he looked at them all. Really looked.

Kjan was the only one not bothering to conceal exhaustion. Even Eledhe, as lithely graceful and quick as always, had dark circles under her eyes that were barely concealed by the dangerous glint they held. And Silvryn...

Silvryn did it. On the point of ridiculing sleep as extraneous, the Phantom sat back with an exhale of breath that deflated his zeal slightly. Was he tired? Thoughtfully, he eyed the bed in the corner nearly buried in debris, and tried to remember if he'd ever actually used it. Realizing they were waiting, he conceded with a nod. "Aye. Sleep." A crooked smile. "Don't know if I'll quite manage it, myself. If I have any brilliant plans to further prove the brilliance of Phantom Grey, do I have permission to wake you?"

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"Of course, given that said brilliance chooses to manifest itself at a reasonable hour of the morning," Kjan replied brightly, already out of his chair and halfway to the door. As an afterthought, he added, "And is the product of at least a few hours of rest. The last brilliant idea you had on this little sleep resulted in two angry ferrets and painful memories that I've not yet managed to fully suppress." Grimacing slightly even as he said this, Kjan bowed graciously in the direction of Silvryn, then made his hasty exit before anyone else could speak.

In the following few moments, the remaining others took their leave as well, until it was only Silvryn, Eledhe, and the Phantom occupying the Phantom's quarters. Silvryn pointedly waited for the mercenary to leave, and the mercenary pointedly lingered. Technically, what Silvryn had to say was not anything of particular secrecy, nor was it something that even really needed to be said. And she could have simply ignored Eledhe's presence, had she wished. But for whatever reason, the tense silence still persisted for at least another minute, until at last the mercenary slowly sauntered out of the room, casually spinning a throwing star all the way.

Only when they were finally alone did Silvryn turn around, suddenly aware of the fact that the Phantom was waiting. She hesitated only slightly before abruptly stating, "I want you to know that my earlier suggestion had absolutely nothing to do with lack of faith in your ability as a leader. If it comes to battle - and I suspect it will - there is no one whom I would rather have in command."

That said, she merely inclined her head with a brief, slightly tired smile and made to leave for her own quarters.

The Phantom stared after her, blinking. Disjointed thoughts spun. Battle? Aye, I suppose - leading battle - and the notion alarmed him slightly. Rebellion was an endeavor by itself, but it required very little actually leading into battle. Frowning, he wondered briefly if this meant intrepid leadership and devil-may-care courage. Wasn't that what brawny heroes were for?

The empty room announced its silence emphatically, and with a start he rose to his feet and edged out from behind the desk. Her footsteps were just echoing in the dark corridor, whose gloom the Phantom could make out by way of his door, which was ajar.

Snuffing several candles on his way, with a sudden and haphazard thought toward conserving their resources, the Phantom poked his head out the door to be faced with her retreating back. He chewed his lip momentarily. There is no one whom I would rather have in command...

"Si - ah -" he caught himself as the instinct to use the deferential 'milady' made itself known, and subsequently discarded the thought. "Silvryn?"

A quick jog up the corridor brought him level with her. The Phantom coughed. "Leading into battle," he began. "Yeah. Haven't...done that much."

Had there been any words floating through his mind? If so, they were gone entirely. He shoved his hands in his pockets, scuffing up ancient dust from the floor of the hallway. Levity was his modus operandi in situations such as this, generally, but in the silence and darkness of the Keep, it was difficult to keep from letting your thoughts turn to more serious matters. The Phantom felt his expression twist in a brief grimace.

"If we...don't make it," he said quietly, now walking beside her, "you know you can't stay, if it's dangerous."

_________________

A short, incredulous laugh escaped Silvryn's lips. "Where would you have me go?" she asked, looking up at the Phantom. "The Keep is surrounded. Even the escape tunnels are likely to be blocked soon enough, and it is hardly safe to be out in the open anyway, with Raen's elves on the move. This may well be the safest location in Kytana, at the present."

She sighed softly, glancing around to ascertain that they were alone in the corridor before continuing. "This may no longer be my kingdom, but these are still my people," she added quietly. "You can no more easily convince me to abandon them than I could persuade you to surrender without a fight. Regardless of what happens, I intend to remain where I am needed."

"I don't intend to answer to Adaniar if the sole heir to the elven kingdom is endangered under my watch," returned the Phantom, a wry twist of his lips betraying the levity underlying the words. It lasted bare moments, and then he took his hands out of his pockets to gesticulate for emphasis, half-grin vanishing. "If it's dangerous enough, we have ways to get you out," he began, eyes fixed on her face. "They would want you to leave."

The tunnel dipped momentarily and the Phantom had to duck, straightening so quickly to continue making his point that he narrowly missed cracking his head. Oblivious, he continued, occasionally bringing his fist into his palm on certain words and wildly gesticulating on others. It would have been amusing to watch, had he not been so utterly serious. "They're my people - but they'll always be my people, because the elves don't need a Phantom Grey. If - if some soldier manages to -" he broke off with a vague gesture, unwilling to say it "- you know, loose an arrow that manages to stick in an inconvenient spot, like - um - my eye - then the rebellion will go on. It's come this far. But if something happens to you..."

He trailed off, and there was complete and awkward silence. Clearing his throat, the Phantom shoved his hands in his pockets once more. "People need you. The elves need you."

_________________

"I have no intention of throwing myself recklessly into harm's way," Silvryn replied dryly, arching an eyebrow. She was fully aware of her responsibility as a leader to stay alive at all costs. The leader was a symbol, a common banner under which the people could fight. When that symbol was lost, chaos erupted. The leader had to survive, for the sake of the people. "Though I know some who make a career of it." Her gaze remained pointedly on the Phantom for a few seconds before returning to the tunnel ahead.

"You are not exactly expendable yourself," she continued, subconsciously slowing her pace a little as they talked. "Kjan is very good at what he does, but he is no leader. And though you may fight for Kytana, the people fight for you. It would not be anywhere near the same if you...." If he what? Died? They had all begun this with the full knowledge that many could die, and they as leaders were certainly no exception. That they had not yet lost anyone of especially high standing was remarkable, but it remained a possibility. But knowing something and being willing to verbally acknowledge it were two different things entirely.

At length, Silvryn looked back up at the Phantom. "I propose a pact," she stated plainly, though a ghost of a smirk played at her features. "I will agree to leave if the situation becomes too dangerous, but only provided that you agree to refrain from doing anything exceedingly stupid. Is this acceptable?"

The Phantom had his mouth open to reply in the relieved affirmative, grin once more settling into place, when an uncomfortable expression crossed his features. He appraised her uneasily. "By 'exceedingly stupid'," he began, the act of thinking making him appear rather pained, "what exactly do you mean?"

As this seemed oddly self-evident, neither 'exceedingly' nor 'stupid' being words that the Phantom had never encountered in his thirty-three years, he hastened to clarify. "As in, life-threatening? I can't really promise not to do anything life-threatening, because battles...and, er, inconvenient arrows...are rather...along that line...and it's hard to know..."

He trailed off, watching her face and looking increasingly glum by the second. "Could I promise not to do anything that endangers me personally without significant and ample reason?" he offered hopefully.

_________________

The eyebrow arched even higher. Silvryn knew from personal experience that the Phantom's definition of 'significant and ample reason' tended to differ quite a bit from that of most rational adults. Which was not to say that he was ever careless, of course - he had consistently proven that he knew exactly what he was doing and what personal risks were involved. It was only on the subject of whether or not said risks were acceptable that the differences became cause for concern.

"If you have to pause and wonder whether or not I would approve," she said at length, her tone neither discernibly serious nor teasing, "then assume it is exceedingly stupid."

The Phantom thought of the Heartshard. He thought of various escapes, various rescues, various blood-chilling climbs over a courtyard holding nothing but a thin rope, with only the encouragement of a hissing Eledhe at the other end. He thought of all the things he'd managed, in his comparatively short life, that Silvryn would violently disapprove of.

He sneaked a glance at her. Curse it. Her and Eledhe both, as emotional as rocks.

"I don't think I can promise that," he said, shoulders drooping ever so slightly. Was there no other method of keeping her out of harm's way?

They were approaching her quarters, two small rooms in the inner circle of the Keep's spiral-like layout. The Phantom stopped, hands still shoved in his pockets, and looked down at her. The torchlight, dim as always, still somehow managed to highlight the deep violet of her eyes. He couldn't shove his hands any deeper, and he had a feeling that if they came out he might momentarily lose his mind and do something wildly impulsive.

The Phantom coughed. "Can we have a different pact?" he queried. Her eyes were really very purple. "I promise not to do anything that endangers me personally without...you know...and you..."

He'd had words. He just didn't know where they'd gone. His hands were not coming out of his pockets. His voice seemed to have stopped working. "You promise...when this is over..."

He was never sure, afterward, how the passage had gotten quite so small, or her eyes had gotten quite so big. And it was beyond him to tell how his hands did make it out of his pockets, though he'd certainly been right to anticipate that they would not obey him in the least.

He forgot what she was supposed to promise. "Silvryn," he said, all thoughts of 'milady' forgotten. He hadn't realized just how close she was, but by the time he leaned forward to kiss her it was a little too late for realizations.

_________________

Silvryn Seilhera did not like surprises. She made plans, and she followed those plans. She always tried to anticipate every possible outcome of any situation and knew precisely how to respond to each. And while last-minute changes were always a possibility, they were to be avoided at all costs.

This evening's plans had not included the Phantom's lips abruptly coming into contact with her own.

She knew that she was supposed to object. She was supposed to pull away, act scandalized, scold him for his audacity. She was supposed to inform him of precisely why it would never work, disappear into her quarters before he could object, and never speak of it again. Unfortunately, 'supposed to' had never seemed less appealing in her life. Silvryn found herself returning - even enjoying - the kiss for one, two, three seconds. One rebellious hand had escaped from her side and entwined her fingers with his. She started to linger and prolong it even further...and abruptly broke it off.

She stared up at him, slightly breathless. This was the part where someone was supposed to say something. Silvryn bit her lower lip uncertainly, words having long ago abandoned her to her fate. The silence stretched on, until at length she merely evinced a faint smile and took a small step back, toward the door to her quarters.

"Goodnight," she said softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. And then she was gone.


And only once she was in the safety of her own room, leaning against the heavy wooden door, did she dare admit to herself that maybe, just maybe, not all surprises were bad.

Perfectly balanced between horror and euphoria, the Phantom stood outside her door as if hypnotized for an immeasurable period of time. Eventually, he had the presence of mind to slowly backtrack through the last few minutes. He found no affronted princess hidden in the recesses of his memory, no expression of horror. A tiny, rebellious voice in the corner of his mind piped up with the suggestion that she had enjoyed it...

Because he had enjoyed it, hadn't he? Oh yes. Yes, he had definitely enjoyed it.

The Phantom brushed the back of his hand across his lips and hurried down the passage, trying desperately to smother that small persistent voice. No, he could not be thinking like this. She was the princess, by the seven levels of the underworld! The elven princess! What was he thinking? What was he doing?

He was beginning to panic in earnest when an impact jolted his thoughts off that dangerous track. Inspection revealed the source to be Kjan, and furthermore, a Kjan who had seemingly been unprepared for collision, because he was sprawled on the floor.

"Sorry," managed the Phantom guiltily, offering him a hand. Dark gods, he really had done it. He really had kissed her. And, as it seemed, his body was determined to disregard him tonight.

"I kissed her, Kjan," he said feverishly, quite before he gave his lips permission. "I kissed her! I don't know what happened!"

_________________

"You just told me what happened. Twice," Kjan replied, wincing as the Phantom pulled him back up to his feet. 'Her' was a rather vague term, but the only three females that they had encountered thus far that evening were Silvryn, Eledhe, and Cerys. Cerys, he knew, had already retired for the evening, as she was sharing his quarters. And given this specific situation, the fact that the Phantom was still among the living told him that it wasn't Eledhe. Which left Silvryn.

Shaking his head slightly in an attempt to clear his vision, Kjan made a show of examining the Phantom closely. "No black eye...nose isn't broken and no teeth are missing...lip's not bleeding...you aren't limping on injured toes...and not even a painful red mark on the face indicative of being slapped." His eyebrows shot up in surprise before he cracked a grin. "All in all, I'd call it a success."

He reached up and gingerly rubbed the back of his aching head before continuing. "You haven't seen an out of place dagger anywhere in your quarters, have you? I seem to have misplaced it, and I know I had it before our little conference."

"Dagger? No - wasn't looking - she's a bloody princess, Kjan! What possessed me?" The looming enormity of the situation was growing larger by the minute. The Phantom groaned.

However, in the intervening moments while he mentally called himself every name he could think of, Kjan's words began to hopefully assert themselves. She hadn't slapped him, hadn't even looked appalled, come to think of it. How long had that kiss been? He eyed Kjan, who looked too tired to pay much attention. She'd even - had she really? - she'd even said goodnight! "Do you think so?" he said, vaguely suspicious. "A success?"

She'd smiled! She had! The Phantom was beginning to feel astonishingly good about himself.

_________________

"Sure," Kjan replied vaguely. Between his ever-increasing exhaustion and the fact that this bit of news really was not all that unexpected - even less after the conversation that he'd overheard several nights before - he was having trouble conjuring an appropriate level of excitement. "I'm going to go look for that dagger."

He started to walk past, only to pause after a few steps and slowly turn back around. "You know," he commented casually, his otherwise neutral expression belied by the mischievous glint in his eyes, "Phaerin once promised me that I would get to marry the princess at the end, as long as he got to fight the villain. Figure he's still interested in following through on that proposal?"