bakerstreet | You have my sword...

Edited 2018-02-07 15:25 (UTC)

(Willing and able to AU.)

[ sir francis castle had been called down from the citadel when an attempt on heiress lioriley's life had been made. she's been under lock & key since then and so he spares no haste in traveling to the castle complex. though they say he is the best, he will not work under any master, nor have any subjects or soliders under his stead. and so it's late evening on an insequential day in the middle of the week that he makes his arrival, heralded by a french horn as the gates open for a man who might seem unassuming if not for the hand-casted skull on his breastplate and helmet, a long broadsword strapped to one hip and a short dagger on the other. the same could not be said for his impressive steed, who gives a loud snort at being made to wait for their greeting party.

another reason frank never works for the palace is all of this pomp and circumstance, rituals that mean less than anything to him; but today he endures. they know he's the only one who can accomplish this task, their unknown enemy has plucked off each one of lioriley's guards, even whole teams of men at once. no one knows how they keep getting the drop on the royal detail, but he's here to put a stop to it.

some are still skeptical that one man could drop dozens without a single accomplice, but his record speaks for itself. he dismounts his horse and hands his reins to the stablehand waiting for them, pressing them into the young man's hand with a grunt, narrowing his eyes. the horse handler runs off and more people appear to usher him into the compound at large. his boots drum out against the stone floor, spurs clicking with every heavy step as he follows his escort deep into the palace.

instead of going up into the chambers, they descend down a long spiral staircase. he says nothing of it, even as the palace dungeon greets him after an arduous, dizzying walk. objectively, he supposes, this would be the most secure place; though hardly appropriate for a princess. her cell is unlatched, and some unlucky servant had carried a large four poster bed down all of those stairs for her. frank doesn't hesitate to stroll right inside like he owns the place, all of her staff leaving them to get acquainted save for her omnipresent handmaiden and the dungeon master. one gloved hand rests on the hilt of his sword, the other hooking into his belt as he steadily meets her eyes. ] I like what you've done with the place. [ said with not even the slightest twinge in his gaze or twitch of his lips. this guy, huh? ]

[ Lioriley does not hate so much the extra security, nor the current accommodations, as much as she hates the fact that so many have died trying to protect her. Brave and strong soldiers fell to assassins — not so easily as one might assume, given the stories — each time she dared to venture even a few feet from the safety of the palace; and each time she grieved them. How many tears had she cried since this hell had begun? Too many, she thinks, and she cannot stand to shed anymore now.

When word of Frank's arrival comes, Lioriley does not know what to think. Stories have told of his deeds, how talented a man he truly is on the field, and how, even working alone, he has taken down those that should have easily bested him. A light of hope in these dark times, perhaps, but a feeling in her gut has her worried that even he will not be able to best these assassins. A part of her thinks he should not bother — let her die, and let this be done. There are others, cousins, uncles, someone else who could take the throne besides her. Just let it end.

It won't, however. She knows that. These people will happily die to keep her alive. Hopefully, he won't have to do the same. ]

A jest, I assume. [ She mutters, her back to him as he enters the room. She sounds tired, like she hasn't slept in days, and it takes all of her will to keep her voice from cracking. After a moment she turns to face him, eyes bloodshot and leylines dim. She meets his gaze.]

I thank you for coming, Sir. We - I am in desperate need of assistance in these trying times, and I would like to see this finished once and for all.

[ is he ever really joking? he certainly never gives himself away in either direction. he listens to her patiently, noting the fear and sadness weighing down her slight frame. they should have called him in much sooner, but his relationship with the palace is strained at best. still, he'll do everything within his power to finally bring these assassins to justice, and most importantly their master.

he nods briefly, ducking his head and placing a fist across his heart in respect, though he does not kneel before her. frank castle doesn't kneel before anyone, not even a woman he hopes one day to call his queen. ] Leave it to me. [ he sounds cautiously confident, he had never failed. at least, not since losing his family to a similar such band of evildoers. ]

[ Her handmaiden looks mortified at the obvious display of disrespect in not bowing to the Princess. Lioriley, however, either does not notice or does not care. He has vowed either way to rid the kingdom of these assassins once and for all — if he does not care to bow, then she will not demand it. She is not the demanding sort.

She stands, though, and it is such an unimpressive thing. She is small in every aspect, but she holds herself as high as she can with her shoulders back and her chin up. Being strong hurts. ]

Will you kill them? [ It is not secret that the princess is a pacifist, often times asking for less severe punishments for small time criminals. Granted, assassins after her head are nothing so small - but she still wants to know. ]

[ sir castle pays no mind to the handmaiden. in fact, he doesn't actually notice that she's miffed. all of his attention is on lioriley now, his gaze heavy and dark as he slowly nods, removing his helmet so she can see his face in its entirety. aging bruises mottle his cheeks and the wells beneath his eyes, but his eyes are soft and sincere. ] Yes, your highness. I'll not rest until I do.

[ She is not certain she likes that answer, but she fully expects it regardless. She cants her head to the side, watching him for a moment as if to gauge the sincerity in his gaze; trying to match it to the tone of his voice. All the stories she's heard of him are true, she tells herself; she can trust him. ]

Of course. [ She finally says, quietly, barely above a whisper. ] Do you require anything for this endeavor?

[ it doesn't really factor in for him that she may want these assailants alive. to call in the punisher means no man left standing -- that's non-negotiable. ]

All I require from you and the palace is total autonomy, Princess. [ unsurprisingly, he doesn't take orders well, not anymore. not after being betrayed by the very people he'd sworn to protect. he won't make the same mistakes again. ]

[ A price she will have to be willing to pay, as her advisers had told her the moment the name Sir Francis Castle had been spoken. He is a last resort — and though she does not think any less of him for his methods, that does not mean she wholly approves of them. ]

You will have it. [ Can she really say no? technically, yes. but that might also leave the door open for him to simply walk out, reject this contract, and let everything fall as it may. She folds her arms over her chest, takes a deep breath. ] Our soldiers, the royal counsel, all are at your disposal should you happen to need it. Though from the sound of it — you likely will not.

Edited 2018-02-08 19:03 (UTC)

( down to write starters just pm me! )

Arya was lost. Very very lost. In the commotion of the kings guard attacking her caravan, she had lost track of everyone else. Hopefully they were okay, but for now she could only worry about herself. She had to figure out where she was. Perhaps should could find her own way to Winterfell without the others? She would have to because she couldn't exactly just stay here and live in the woods, now could she?

Stumbling through the trees and into a clearing, she blinked as her eyes fought to adjust to the bright son now baring down on her. She looked more a boy at the moment than a young lady. But that's the point. The roads were safer for boys. Her hair was cut short and she looked like a street urchin with a particular penchant for rolling in the dirt.

There was a stream in the clearing! She ran toward it without thinking, intent on getting some water to drink. She was so thirsty that she doesn't even notice she had company along the water. A knight on the other side of the stream making camp.

The sudden appearance of what seems to be a young boy is alarming, but he doesn't let him hang him up for long. He has arduous work to do before sunset. Frank watches the boy drink out of the corner of his eye and wonders how long he'd been running. If he indeed had anywhere to go. Sometimes he knows his heart is too big; that he feels too much for strangers, and children especially. When on assignment he had to shove those more human parts of himself down, but he can't be any older than his own son back in his village. Francis makes his decision then and there.

"Oy, you there, lad! If you gather kindling for my fire, I'll feed you tonight."

Arya nearly jumped through her skin at the voice, splashing the water she'd been drinking all over her face as she stumbled back reached for the pommel of the sword tucked in her belt.

It's a small sword, perhaps it would look more like a dagger on anyone larger. But it was clearly too expensive a sword for a poor young child barely older than eleven years to have gotten legitimately.

Her hand stayed there, not yet pulling the sword out but the threat there. What she hoped to do to the man nearly four times her size was unclear. But she'd always had more bravery than sense.

He doesn't look like a Lannister. He's not wearing their colors. Nor did he look like a kingsguard. "I can find my own food." she declared, defiant, daring him to argue. Trust wasn't in high supply these days. Apologies Francis.

It was worth a shot, but he's quick to come up with an alternative, regarding the boy from across the stream. Changing tactics easily, he calls out again without ever moving forward -- not wanting to startle him as if he were shy wildlife of some kind.

"I'm running out of daylight, young sir. Is there nothing I could do to implore you to help an old man out?" Frank appeals to the boy's good nature, if indeed it hasn't been scared or starved out of him like so many other children he'd seen. Still, it's in his nature not to give up, even if the face of rejection.

She was wild, just like her direwolf Nymeria. Not the Nymeria was hers any longer. Who knew where the wolf was now after Arya had been forced to let her go to keep the Lannisters from killing her.

Arya looked back to the woods she'd stumbled from, clearly considering the merits of a retreat. But what if the man was truthful? What if he did need help? She turned back to look at him, head down but eyes on him beneath the bangs of her short shoddily cut hair. "What do you need help with? You seem alright to me..."

[ his service record spoke for itself: lieutenant francis castle of the queen's army had received every high honor afforded to those who risked life and limb in enemy territory. not only had he carried out every plan of the palace without hestitation or misstep, but most of his team had even made it home, the survivors virtually unscathed. it's only in returning to his house in the citadel to reunite with his wife, his daughter and son, that frank finally allows himself to get some sleep.

the morning is an unwelcome intrusion on his well-earned rest, but finally in the early afternoon he awakes to take his family on picnic in the countryside. it's been so long since they were all together. bards and heralds and everyone else across the land would tell the story of what happened next for years to come: a tragically senseless slaying of the whole brood that left francis himself incapacitated for many weeks.

after months and a brief stay of incarceration in the king's dungeon, frank is back out on the street, but no closer to unraveling the mystery of his family's murder. he's heard of a woman, a mercenary, stronger than ten men. even if he had taken everyone out on his prison blockade, he had scarcely made it out alive. next time he won't be so lucky and he wants his enemies to suffer, even if he doesn't know who to focus his anger on yet. he stalks into the bar where he was told she frequented, noting the criminal element within with detached interest. the hood of his cloak is drawn tight around his face, the last thing he needs tonight is to be identified by his other name. the punisher, the very same big bad who had taken out so many of these scumbag's buddies. all it takes is one pair of wandering eyes.

but that's when he spots her, rail thin with four empty glasses set out before her as she takes yet another shot of grain alcohol with a sort of violence before tapping it down on the bartop upside down to join the others. it doesn't seem possible, but she matches the description he'd been given; and is the only woman in the bar who isn't working nightly if you're picking up what i'm putting down. without a word, he slips onto the empty stool to her left and duplicates her order. one for each of them. he looks her way, narrowing his eyes in an attempt to catch hers from beneath his hood. ] Are you for hire? [ he asks in deep, gravelly tenor, not even realizing how the question could be misinterpreted given the nature of the establishment. ]

[ francis had never taken on a neophyte, not since his son had been slain in the line of duty and his daughter had fallen to typhoid fever. many in the village talk about him, he knows. they see a man beholden to tragedy, a man who will never be the same after losing his family. objectively, he knows he should move on. leave this town and never look back. but he feels tethered to this place, even if most of its residents are afraid of him. they call him the gimp, apropos of the halting gait with which he walks, favoring his left foot. some too think he's been driven out of his mind by grief, since he's never heard or seen speaking to anyone, only patronizing the shops and returning home day in and day out.

when he goes to the bakery one morning to buy his weekly bread, there's a young girl there, it's hard to place her age. she seems malnourished and has dirt smeared on her face. no one else is paying her any mind, but frank strolls right up to her and gives her his bread. she needs it more than he does. ] What's your name? [ he asks in a gruff voice, ignoring the gasping and chittering of gossip behind his back. if there's something he can't ignore it's the welfare of a child. she looks like she's been through an ordeal, and he won't rest until she's safe and her abusers punished. ]

[She eyes the bread like it might be poisoned. Why is this man helping her? No one does. She's used to having to beg, steal, or fight for any scraps of food she can get. An entire portion of bread feels like too much. Like maybe he expects something out of her. So she tries to quickly hand the bread back to him, shaking her head.]

Why do you want to know?

[It's asked warily, like she's about to throw the bread at him and run. She's skittish, like a cornered animal.]

And why would you help me? I'm nobody to you.

[ he frowns, but takes the bread back, placing it in his satchel so he can regard her more seriously. everyone's watching them but he supposes that can't be helped since if he were her he wouldn't follow him anywhere either. he's silently proud of her paranoia. ]

Nobody is anything to me. [ he lost everyone. she might just fit the same bill if his hunches are good. ] Let me cook you a meal, you can get cleaned up. Then I'll take you wherever you want to go, I have a wagon.

[It's a strange thing traveling through the Maguuma Jungle in these times, even here along its relative outskirts, nearer to the human lands of Kryta. They say that lately something new has awoken in the jungle--a new race, if one believes the rumors. They call themselves sylvari. Sentient humanoid plants.

Granted few have ever been seen, at least until very recently. They were a rumor, but now the rumor has been spreading, particularly among the more entrenched inhabitants of this verdant land--the little imp-like asura, a race really more suited to caves than to trees and open air--and from them whispers delivered to others, to the humans, the norn, even the charr.

This part of the world is called the "wildlands" because it's lawless and remote. Those humans one sees here are mostly bandits, operating in camps and outposts, hatching all manner of plots far from the watchful eyes of the Queen's city of Divinity's Reach. And the asura are mostly Inquest who have set up their labs and technomagical research facilities beyond the meddlesome regulations of the Rata Sum authorities who tend to frown on practices like vivisection and theft. But the combination of Inquest and bandits is volatile, especially when the two start working together.

For Aurus, all of this isn't the reason he's come here. He's after something else. But it's also not something he can turn a blind eye to once he sees it. Once he sees, for example, the slave caravan of human captives being marched along by a group of bandit guards heading south towards a known Inquest base.

There are perhaps a dozen hostages--children of varying ages, one or two who seem nearly adults--and half as many armed captors. Aurus has spotted them from a spot on a high craggy rise as they pass through a grassy ravine below. He knows that they don't know he's there, and he knows he's got to do something...but he's not sure how or what. He's armed with a sword and axe and knows how to use them, but taking out six well-armed bandits on his own might still be borderline suicidal. And certainly he's not expecting to find any help.

So he's more than a little shocked when a slight movement in the cover of bushes to his right reveals that he's not the only one watching this group of kidnappers and their captives. He moves back from his vantage point fast, thinking that the man in the bushes might be a bandit as well--a scout of theirs, perhaps--and he's got his hands on his weapons ready to draw them and defend himself in case he's been seen.

Frankly though, he's sure he's been seen. Not by the slave caravan below, probably, but by the man in the bushes for certain. He expects it means a fight, but maybe, just maybe, he hopes that it might mean something else. Perhaps even an ally.]

Francis had heard a rumor of a woman outside of the village. A mysterious figure who keeps to herself, but isn't unfriendly. A woman they say isn't human, she possesses great power. And she can bestow her power on another for a short time -- for a price. It's how he ends up with a bag packed and ready to slip away in the dead of night. There are guards watching his house, the house where his children used to sleep peacefully. He plans his attack, carrying it out with silent efficiency without his neighbors ever being the wiser. Four men, bleeding out at once without so much as a chance to cry out and give away his position.

He takes to the path out of the village before just as quickly diverting from it, forging a winding path into the forest that no one will be able to follow. The trek is three days up into the mountains, but it's nothing for a man like him. Rain and even snow as he ascends further do not deter him. He arrives at her door with blood caked in his hair and on his pelt, dirt smeared down his face. He lifts the heavy door-knocker and drops it once, twice. And then he skitters back, his hand resting on the hilt of the dagger hidden around his waist. He's heard that she's peaceful and that she lives alone, but he isn't taking any chances.

"I need your power, witch. I'll pay the price." His eyes are wild and dangerous when she spots him, but there's something soft about his gaze too, even with his chin set in a firm line. He will do what's necessary to avenge his family, but he isn't expecting this to go entirely smoothly, as evidenced by his anxious demeanor.

Since her earth family had died and her sister had escaped to parts unknown to avoid marrying a man, Kara has lived alone, a refugee on Earth with powers granted to her by the yellow sun that tended to cause a lot of strange rumors about her.

She's properly horrified when the man appears at her door, blood-soaked and snowed on and looking gruff and worse for wear. She watches him from her window, just barely creaking the shutters open. He's got a dagger.

"Well, I'm not letting you inside with a weapon," she says from the window, ignoring his demands for her powers. He's not the first, and won't be the last, who thinks her powers are transferable. The most she could do is take him on a fun flight, but she doubts that's what he's seeking.

Clara's greatest fear is being lost. She was lost once as a child, separated from her mother at the shore. She had been so terrified someone might come take her or the water might swallow her whole. But her mother had found her and promised her she'd always be found when she was lost and alone. When her mother passed away a few years later, Clara was left worried that something might happen and she'd have no one to find her. Of course, given that she was the King's niece, it was likely that she'd never end up with something actually happening to her. After her mother's death, she was taken in to live in her uncle's kingdom.

It was there that she met Francis. He was a handful of years older than she was, but definitely beneath her own station. Being as headstrong as she was, she didn't particularly care one way or another. After he helped her escape from the castle walls in order to venture out into the woods nearby in order to try and find a fae that might bring her mother back to her, they were fast friends. It required her having to sneak around in order to see him, but it was worth it to have a friend that valued her for more than the family she was born into. He taught her how to fight, and in exchange she taught him how to read and the names of every constellation in the sky.

As they grew older though, her uncle caught on to their friendship and put a quick end to it. It all came to an end one day when they were outside the castle walls in the forest and a group of rogue bandits nearly ended up taking her. Francis had fought valiantly, but there was only so much a single young man could do against a group of armed men. If it wasn't for one the King's men coming to their aid, he likely would've died and she would've ended up taken. After that, he was forbidden to see her under punishment of death. Clara was put under a much more watchful eye, and as the years went on she grew into a woman that was restless and hungry for adventure. Being stuck in a castle while the world outside passed her by was far from satisfying. It was torture. And as the years passed, her uncle became more and more of a tyrant. He was consumed by a darkness to conquer and rule whatever land he could touch, and Clara's heart was consumed by fear as she realized her future would be tied to a man with a dark heart. He was a demon King now, driven by greed and ruthlessness, and she knew he'd only allow her to be wed to a man exactly like him. She tried running from her fate and hiding several times, but never made it far.

And if her uncle's men didn't keep her locked away and safe, it was one of her potential suiters that kept a close eye on her. Clara kept them at arm's length at all times under a mask of virtue and shyness, and instead chose to spend her days studying and mapping the stars. It was when her uncle had tried forcing her to marry that Clara took matters into her own hands. She gathered her belongings and ran away, ready to find adventure. She was able to follow the stars and the sun in the sky to find her way, and ended up traveling through several villages. In each one she visited, she heard stories of a mysterious man who would steal from the King and his men in order to make sure the people in the villages was cared for. He was a hero to these people, and became a figure for Clara to fantasize over. Instead of simply traveling, she made her adventure attempting to find this mysterious hero.

Of course, being on her own and dressed like nobility has some disadvantages. And after traveling alone for a month or so she learns exactly what kind of disadvantage she's at. She likes thinking she's clever enough to outtalk and outsmart anyone, but not even her fast talking and attempt to manipulate can keep her from ending up captured and being taken captive. She's brought on horseback with a sack over her head to the woods, deeper and deeper until she isn't sure where they could possibly be going.

By the time they stop, Clara's angry. She's shouting and struggling, and even manages to kick one of the men hard enough that she's let go and she starts to run away. With her arms tied behind her back and a sack over her head, however, she doesn't get far before she's grabbed and drug kicking and screaming. When the sack is pulled off her head and she's left to see the leader of these men, the look on her face is completely shocked.

"You?"

It's Francis, she recognizes him still.

"You had me brought here? Why?"

The odds are likely that he doesn't even know who she is, or that he doesn't know why his men have brought her here to him. She's likely just a target they found by herself, easy to grab and try to hold ransom or get riches off of. Which makes her mind start to quickly think, and she wonders if Francis is the mysterious hero she's heard so much about. Just the thought makes the anger on her face quickly fizzle out to a smile.

Modern version who stumbled into a fantasy past AKA a business magnate who finds himself at the past and in the body of (might not) fantasy character. Searching for a native of the said fantasy past, canon or not. Or perhaps a fellow dimensional/time traveler from another canon universe.

cloud/zack

(she is game for all types of adventure)

[Magical princess, magical princess.... also would love a defender of justice on a quest to save everyone.]

[It's late, but the time doesn't matter; while there are few who would dare disturb the princess at such an hour, her (former-and-sometimes-current) bodyguard has always been the exception to the rule. That he's also her chief spy and informant helps. Of course, he'd been her friend way before taking on his current role(s), and he'll be her friend no matter what.

It's what has him strolling through the palace hallways now, slipping past sentries when he doesn't want to be seen and knocking softly at her door.]

Your highness. [He'll greet her with his customary lopsided smile, eyes bright with excitement — not just on seeing her, but on the news he brings.] I've got something.

[That's all he'll reveal in the hallway. Even though the palace is secure, Zack believes in being extra cautious.]

[Kamala looks excited to see him. That's no surprise. She's always happy to see Zack even back before they were ever working together or he was her protector. The fact he's got news only makes her more chipper.] Is it cookies from that baker in town? I love those cookies.

[She knows this is all cloak and dagger, but she kind of wishes he did.]

It's not cookies. [He looks crestfallen for just a moment; she'll surely know that it's an act.] But it's almost as good.

[He lowers his voice, leaning close to keep the next words private to the two of them.] It's about your father, and the Curse.

[His eyes are bright with excitement, knowing that the news that there might be a way to break it is going to excite her to no end.]

[Kamala looks truly shocked for a moment before hugging him hard. There could be nothing she wants more than get to the bottom of that. She loves her family more than anything. If she can save him it'll be worth all the suffering that came before this.] Okay tell me everything now!

[Hugs like this are the best thing ever and Zack clearly soaks up the affection. He feels just as much as strongly as Kamala does about the curse on the King, and he's been tirelessly pursuing any lead, no matter how small.

They've all come to dead ends until now. He steps back form the hug a little, hands still on Kamala's shoulders.] It's going to be difficult, I think. But I've heard of an oracle who lives over the mountains, tied to the island in the middle of a lake. My source indicated that if the curse is to be broken, it would be she who had the skill.

[His voice drops a little lower.] Such assistance wouldn't come at no cost, but I couldn't find out anything about what such a cost would be.

[Kamala doesn't look the least bit worried. This is all fine as far as she's concerned. She can do whatever it takes, follow whatever lead is tossed her way. She never considers what could happen if the cost is too high. That's what she has Zack and the others for.] I can pay the cost. I'd do anything for, Abu. You know that.

[She loves her father and more importantly, everyone needs him. She has to get him back.]

We'll pay it together, 'cause I'm not letting you go off on a super adventure without me. [It's practical because he is her bodyguard as well as her friend, even though she can take care of herself. But it gets lonely being on the road by yourself all the time!]

I figured we could make some preparations tonight and leave first thing in the morning. We'll get him back, I promise.

[She didn't expect any less from Zack, but it's still nice to be supported. Kamala smiles at him. She really is lucky he's got her back. Most potential future rulers aren't as lucky.] I know we will. Thanks, Zack. I can always count on you.

[Though how much she'll really let him pay is debatable. She's a friend too.]

Frank had been roughing it now for some time, deep in the woods with the wolves where no one would dare look after him. The townspeople assume the man of legend is dead anyway, and he's quite content to let it remain that way. He needs for nothing, living off the land in perfect harmony with the animals surround. He's made great efforts to stay out of the comings and goings of new rule in the land, politics could hardly be of concern to a man on the lam.

And so when he witnesses a scuffle through the trees, coming up from his home underground to observe, he assumes the young girl fighting off two would-be thieves is merely a villageperson. She isn't dressed in any spectacular way and she has no escort, but when her attackers come closer he knows in his guts that he has to act. Pulling the dagger from around his waist, he stalks into the clearing on silent feet glad in boots made of hide, a big bear fur coat shrouding his face from view.

As ever, he doesn't waste time, not wanting the men to see him coming. He's on the farther back, his bow drawn to strike, tackling him to the ground and slicing his throat in one quick motion. As the man bleeds out, Frank casts his bow and arrows aside and looks up with blood on his face. What he doesn't expect to see is the girl holding her own against the man with the sword, her entire person glowing with golden light as she deals him a blow that knocks him off his feet and onto his backside. Confusion mingles with interest as he remains stock still, allowing her to deal with the man as she sees fit. She knocks him out, but doesn't kill him. Frank can't find it in himself to be disappointed when he's so impressed otherwise.

"Guess you didn't need me," he points out gruffly, already replacing his knife and beginning to shrink back into the forest from whence he came.

She isn't supposed to be here much less doing this. That's more or less the story of Kamala's life. She should have never gone to that gathering with the other teenagers that left her changed forever. She probably shouldn't have run around the village using her powers to help others as a masked hero. She definitely shouldn't have spoken with a grieving woman who would turn out to be the new queen of this newly conquered land. She did the first one because she wanted to fit in and after her change because she felt what she was doing was right. Who would she be if she didn't use her powers to help the unfortunate? Or comfort a woman who lost her husband and son?

All these choices led her here. Kamala isn't always sure it's right, but this is her life now. She can only keep doing what she thinks is right. It isn't easy though when you've been pulled from the only home and family you've ever known. She tries even if it isn't fair. There is really nothing to be done. The conquering queen, Medusa, is powerful and fierce. When she decided to replace the child she lost with the only daughter of the Khans, who could stop her really? She was their new queen after conquering the area following the literal fall of her kingdom from the sky to the Earth below. It was Attilan's fall that revealed who in this area should have been her subject to begin with. Even if Kamala had been the only one who had manifested abilities, they were all like her; her rightful subjects known as Inhumans to those outside the kingdom. She had every right to tell the Khan family that their child would be better off in her court and call it a blessing. After all, who wouldn't want to be a princess?

The fact that Kamala is here instead of safe within the castle more or less answers that question. Kamala could never stop helping other people even if she could be coerced into leaving her family behind. When she hears men from another kingdom run by a cruel warlord have been sending men over to slaughter anyone they considered undesirable to test the new queen's power, she knows she has to act. It isn't smart to lure them into unfamiliar territory, but it guarantees everyone is safe with the exception of her.

As always, it doesn't go according to plan. She was supposed to knock these guys out and inform the royal guard what happened here. No one was supposed to die. It chills her to her core. Kamala visible pales, but can't criticize his actions. He had no way of knowing she could fight back much less win. These men could easily killed her before her change. She breaks out of her head long enough to realize he's retreating and holds her hand up. "Wait!" It might seem crazy to engage to someone else, but he tried to save a girl lost in the woods. He's like her even if he took things too far. "I don't actually know the way back. Can you help me?"

[ISO Aragorn]

You have my sword...

Matthias | Spellforce

Leifr Birgersson | D&D 3.5 Pathfinder OC

Eran of Whitefield | D&D 3.5 Pathfinder OC

U'rajul Tia | FFXIV OC | OTA, m/m for shipping

Liling 'Lily' Yang | Mage: the Ascension | ota, M/F for shipping

Eren Jaeger | Shingeki no Kyojin | M/M

vax'ildan | critical role.

lioriley | original | ota

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frank castle | mcu

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4 jessica messica

for rey

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jk BEARDY pete castiglione life

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for kara

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I am so sorry this is so long please don't hate me

Thranduil | Hobbits (OTA)

cloud strife: ff7

Gabrielle | Xena Warrior Princess | ota

Thor Odinson | MCU | m/m

elektra natchios | mcu

kamala khan | marvel 616

how about magical princess who is also a defender of justice?

yes pls

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Tauriel | Tolkien

Legolas / Lord of the Rings