As the morning twisted into night Lillian lay in the cool grass. The burnt orange horizon ran into the afternoon sky and brushes of pink flowed through the clouds. The night lingered half-awake, its wind coolly shifting the trees above.

The dark beech tree ahead rustled and two crows lifted into the sky-a black line of arches, shrinking against pelican clouds.

"What will happen now?" Merle breathed. Across the tender-green trees the monks had carried her loosely wrapped form. Ever so slowly they had walked and the glistening leaves had bowed across Lillian's cloaked body.

"My god" she croaked when they unwrapped the white cotton. Blue-white Lillian lay in a pale summer dress, her golden hair sticking matt and oily to her neck and shoulders. The orange candle in Merle's hand trembled and Penelope steadied it with her warm fingers.

"Be brave" she whispered. Merle nodded. She could see Van and Dryden holding Allen up by his elbows. Merle looked at the ground. Her silk slippers were wet and green with strings of grass; and the earth smelled damp and peppery.

She could not have been more pleased with Van when Penelope told her, he had promoted a woman. When she and Allen met the general next to a pottery stand at the Saturday Market, Merle could not have been more surprised either. Tall and thin in her crisp, linear uniform and loose, blue trousers, Lillian would have looked far more natural as a Lady at Van's court.

She taught young women and men, many older than her, at the Royal Knight's Academy. Clever and strong, Lillian quickly rose in Van's esteem: He invited her to join his council.

She had worn a dress that day. Allen stared at her for far too long. Everyone had noticed and Merle had grinned.

"By the gods, Allen" Penelope had teased him "I think somebody is falling very hard." And as the three of them strode down the bright, open hallway, Merle allowed herself a curious glance at Allen's profile-how his blond hair shone like a halo amidst the white morning sun and the obvious way he desperately tried to flatten a smile- and she could not find any reason to disagree.

Three months later, summer had been ending. It had rained and the wind was cool but the sky blue and the sun hot. Behind the castle, Van had abandoned the upward-sloping olive orchards. Now, islands of lavender grew amidst the sweet-heady chamomile blossoms; and the purple–brown twigs snapped and crackled beneath Merle's sandals.

"Come on Lillian; whack his golden head!" Merle had laughed as she arrived to Lillian and Allen blocking each other's blades. Though, she soon realized that this was not a duel but a game-a game of respect and want and something else.

Something deeper and darker, Merle thought as she sat on a withered bark and nervously dragged earth-patterns with her sandals.

When Lillian's thin blade finally pricked Allen's sweaty throat, Merle doubted that Allen could have been any more pleased.

For a very log time Dryden and Milerna simply stared across the yellow-linen tea-table when, a few months later, Allen quite leisurely asked both of them to relive him from his duties.

"You cannot be serious Allen" Millerna breathed "You want to retire?"

And so Allen and Lillian bought a cottage together. The house was beautiful, delicate even, with wide, free windows, flanked by two tall pear trees; its front façade lined with plump hydrangea bushes and heavy, cream blossoms

"I'm so glad you are here" Lillian grinned, the very first time Merle arrived at their garden gate. With her wavy hair loosely blowing against green summer dress, Lillian looked so very different from the tight, severe general Merle was used to.

Lillian deftly locked the bronze gate and pulled Merle down the cobble-stone path. Inside she grabbed Merle's hand and giggling like two school girls, she spent her afternoon pulling Merle through the light, airy rooms.

Two months later Lillian was shot.

When the young messenger interrupted Van's dinner to report the troop casualties, she had been already dead for three days.

The monks chant chimed against tall barks and suddenly the clearing was bright and hot with Lillian's burning body. Quicker than Merle had expected the heavy smoke reached the crowd. She could smell Lillian's charring flesh and hair.

"Let me go" Allen hissed at Dryden and Van.

He stumbled towards the wave of hot wind and pressed his yellow-white lips to two golden bands. "Forgive me my love" he trembled and threw the rings into the rising fire.

Van had never allowed her to attend the mass cremations after the war. Now, she understood why. The way the fire ran up and down Lillian's body and burned it black and red, was worse than anything she could have feared. Merle shut her eyes.

"You shouldn't have come" Van suddenly whispered next to her "I'm so sorry, Merle."

For the first time in many years he looked like boy again in his black trousers and blue-red royal coat. Merle tried to smile. She hiccupped instead.

"Shhh" Van hushed Merle gently and pushed the tousled pink tendrils back into her bun.

Later when Dryden's coach came to drive her back through the blue-black beech trees, Merle watched Van pull Penelope into his arms.

"Good God" he breathed with closed eyes. Penelope brushed her thumb over his black brows and chapped mouth.

"The fault is not yours" she breathed. Van smiled and leaned his cold forehead into her soft hair.

He brushed his cold lips over her loose hair, her eyes, her warm neck and said "Maybe."

Thank you Inda, frubaforever, Syolen, EsCaFReaK101, serenityrain2233, jossi-31, ..., sqeekers and Chocolate Shoppe Junkie for taking the time to review!