Hey everyone! This is my second fanfic, an idea I've been playing around with for some time. I've always loved the whole medieval fantasy world, and what better way for me to use my imagination than place my favourite characters in a world of their own? I really hope you enjoy this; it's something I've been wanting to do for a while. Before we begin however, I would like to state that the characters in this story are owned by Richelle Mead- it is only the storyline and setting that comes from my head .

CHAPTER 1

Smoke.

That was the first thing I noticed. Warmth was running down my face as I coughed, the smell clogging my throat.

Screams.

That was the second thing I noticed. Everywhere was screams, screams filling my ears, making me writhe in agony trying to escape them.

Soldiers.

They were everywhere, wearing the black of the Imperial army, merciless and cold in their actions and mannerisms.

Survivor.

That is what I was, a survivor of the massacre that had destroyed my entire world and would soon claim me.

Scramble.

That is what I did; leaping to my feet and running like a madwoman away, away from the pain and suffering.

Struggle.

That's what came next, when they grabbed me and tore at me, their bloodied hands grasping my hair, my body, tearing and ripping.

Suffocate.

That came after, the choking panic that seized me and would not release.

Succumb.

I awoke hours later, sore and bloodied. I was disoriented, light headed and woozy- my entire body felt like it had been pummelled. I tried to raise my head but fell back with a gasp; the intense pain shocked me, despite the fact I had grown up with it. I tried to move my hands to feel for the wound I knew was there, but my hands were tied. I'd always known my life was worthless, but even I had hoped for a better ending than this.

From my limited vantage point, I tried to study my surroundings. I was in the back of a cart or something; the movement beneath me alerted me to this. The surface I was lying on was hard and rough, scratching me with every move. The roof of the cart was little more than cloth, and for the first time I realised I was cold- very cold. Before I could gain any more information however, I heard voices and quickly closed my eyes.

"But the king," a man with a deep voice was arguing.

"The King isn't here," a gruff voice replied. "You listen to your prince."

"But the Prince is but a boy!"

"But a boy with more wit on him than ten men combined," the gruff male replied.

I listened intensely. A street rat, I had grown up relying on blackmail to survive. Anything I could hear now might serve me well in the future.

"Hmph," the deep voice scoffed. "We will see… for now."

Beneath me, the world stopped moving. I was instantly nauseous and rolled onto my side to avoid vomiting. That, of course, happened to be the exact moment the cloth covering of my prison was pulled back to reveal two soldiers clad all in black.

"Ah, she's awake!" The male with the gruff voice was older than the other soldier, with hair greying at the temples and piercing blue eyes. "Didn't think you'd make it after the blow young Lloyd landed on you lass."

"Stop treating it like its civilised," the younger male said with scorn. "It's little more than an animal."

I bared my teeth at the soldier, hissing. Better to be an animal than the spawn of Satan that he was.

"Wench!" The man screamed, darting forward to kick me in the ribs. I took the beating gratefully. Beating I could handle; uncertainty about my own fate I could not.

"Lloyd!" The older man cried, grabbing him by the scruff of his shirt and slamming him into the rickety walls. "What did the Prince say about harming his girls?"

"She's no girl," the boy snarled maliciously. I grinned at him again, looking deranged as blood flooded into my mouth. He yelled again, but was promptly thrown from the cart by the other soldier.

"Be gone," he said wearily, resolutely closing the flap and leaving us alone.

"Don't mind Lloyd," the soldier said after a few minutes of silence. I kept my mouth shut- I wasn't going to justify his words with a response.

"He doesn't realise that the world as he knows it isn't the way things are meant to be," the man continued, sitting down next to me and leaning his head against the wall. Fighting through the screaming agony in my head, I raised myself up by my elbows, watching him like a hawk. I didn't trust him; I didn't trust any of the Imperials. In fact, I didn't trust anybody.

"That must hurt," the warrior acknowledged, turning his head to gaze at me inquisitively. "Wouldn't have thought such a pretty girl like you would be able to withstand the pain."

I snorted at that, scoffing at his inability to understand. As an orphan, it was my looks that caused me pain. I had learnt from a very young age how to defend myself from the boys and men who thought that because I was a female they were entitled to my body. Many of the scars I bore came from those very fights, fights that had left me with pain that I had learnt to function through.

"You're a brave one," he said, still speaking. "Need to be in this world though I'd wager. From Andeep? One of the most primitive areas around. Although," he paused, looking at me. "I bet you don't see that we razed your village because it was primitive as a good thing, do you?"

I stared at the man, hoping my eyes conveyed all of the hatred I held for him. If I had my way, I would cut each and every one of the Imperials down before me, one by one, until I reached the wretched Belikov's, rulers of the Imperials. It was the Belikov's that had left me with nothing, the Belikov's that had taken the one true thing I had ever loved from me, and for that I vowed to make them pay with the very blood that had caused so many lives to be lost.

"Ah lass," the man finally sighed. "I understand how you feel. You're going to be a good one I think; one of the ones that finally puts up a fight. To tell you the truth, I think it's a damn shame women can't fight; I bet you'd match any man that came for you." I remained silent, staring the soldier down.

"I'm Russ, by the way," he informed me. "Russell is my full name, but none round these parts use it. Getting real sick of the fighting, I am. Bout time something changed."

So, the man was beginning to lose faith in the cause. I could use that to my advantage; use that to win him over in the future. I filed that piece of information away.

"See, it all started with the King," Russ continued. Damn, the man liked to talk. "King Lucius. Fitting name for a serpent like him. Had to stick his nose where it wasn't wanted, he did. But his son, now I have hopes for him. His son is the one you will shortly meet," he told me. I narrowed my eyes. It would take all of my willpower not to gouge the man's eyes out.

"Not that you can speak anyway," he snorted. He thought I was a mute. "But you might just be able to show him a thing or two."

Russ lifted himself off the floor and brushed himself off. He then extended a hand to me, which I blatantly ignored, not only because I was still tied but because I didn't want his aid.

"Come lass," he told me. "You're going to need as many friends as you can get in this place, now you've taken the Prince's eye."

I thought back to before the blackness and was able to remember a man shouting, amongst the ripping and tearing, for the soldiers to stop. Tall, muscular with brown hair and brown eyes, I presumed I had been saved by the Prince of this godforsaken army. I felt ill; I wanted to owe the monster nothing.

Ignoring the older soldier, I slowly and painfully lifted myself from the ground. It was difficult without hands, and I clenched my teeth as the world spun sickeningly, refusing to allow myself to pass out. Russ was watching me carefully with something like approval. When I finally could stand steady on my feet, he nodded his head once.

"Yes, I think you'll do just fine," he muttered. I glared at him coldly as he reached out to take my elbow, and jerked it back sharply.

"None of that now," he said. "Wouldn't want to stumble in front of the soldiers out there."

I very nearly opened my mouth to ask where we were going, but caught myself quickly. It might be advantageous if people thought I was mute; people were much more likely to spill their secrets in front of me. I decided for now to play along with the ruse and see where it carried me. Angling my head sharply in the other direction, I allowed Russ' rough hand to support my elbow, and carry me from my prison.

I had been right about the cart; attached to the back of two weary looking mules, it was small and rickety, looking as uncomfortable as it had felt. As Russ guided me through the camp, I took in my surroundings. We were in the Imperial camp; that much was certain. Smoke filled my nostrils and I flinched, the memories from earlier in the day returning. Dusk was falling as men in black hurried around, the cries of the wounded masked by the sounds of raucous laughter. Campfires and tents dotted the landscape, with weapons thrown askew, blood still coating them. The blood of my people.

I was immediately furious. My village, Andeep, was one of the few remaining in Ilore that had not been overrun by the forces of Thraln. Ilore and Thraln were neighbours, existing in peace for centuries. But recently, King Sergei Belikov of Thraln had grown bold. He had sent his armies, led by his son, Dimitri, into our nation, destroying and razing everything in their path. After the death of my mother when I was only fourteen summers, I had always known life would be hard. But nothing could have prepared me for the day that the forces of Thraln- the Imperials as they had become known- would have invaded my small, worthless world.

"Come, lass," Russ murmured through the red haze of my rage. "The time for revenge is not now. Come, the Prince awaits." Men were leering at me as Russ propelled me forward, and suddenly everything made sense. The only reason I was alive, the only reason I was here, was to pleasure the Prince. It must be hard, after all, for a man spending years on the battlefield to find company, and finally I guess he had seen something he liked in me.

Well, I'd be damned if I let that happen. As I stumbled through the jeers and ignored the hands reaching for me, I set my teeth. I'd be damned if I ever let myself become a plaything for a man whom had destroyed my world. The only important thing in my life, my Adrian, with his shining halo of hair and dreamy green eyes had left me to fight in this war; a war he had never returned from. The memory of his smile left a dull ache in my heart, renewing my hatred for the Prince. I would rather die than let him touch me.

It was obvious when we reached the tent of the royal. It was more ornate than the rest, with two guards clad entirely in black armour standing on watch, emotionless, in front of the only entrance flat. I hissed under my breath, ignoring the sharp glance of Russ. I was going to kill the man whom would one day be monarch.

"I have her," Russ said gruffly to one of the men. Gone was his soft tone now, replaced by coldness. This side of him I could understand; it was the side he had to present to the world to ensure his own survival. The man nodded under his helm, and grabbed me roughly from Russ.

"I've got her from here," he spat. Russ only nodded his head, placing his fingers against his right temple in a mock salute. As he was doing it however, his eyes flicked to mine, almost willing me forward as I was dragged, heels digging into the ground, into the tent.

My first impression was that it wasn't what I had expected. Far from the dull, lifeless living space I had expected, the Prince's living arrangements were actually luxurious. Soft furs lined the hard floor, with several plush bed rolls covering the central space. Candles lit the space with a gentle light, and against the western side a small desk was covered in maps and plans.

It was the man sitting behind the desk that both took my breath away and instilled in me a murderous rage, however. Still wearing his black armour from the day spent destroying my home, his broad shoulders strained underneath the weight of it. His shaggy dark brown hair was marred with dried blood, and his skin was lined with scars. I couldn't see his eyes, but already I knew that this man not only excited me, but terrified me.

My guard cleared his throat discretely. "My lord, the girl you requested," he said.

The prince was still for several moments, before he rose to his feet. He towered over me- I barely came to his shoulder- and I knew killing him would be harder than I had first thought. Everything about him was hard; his body, his expression, everything except his brown eyes, which reflected both curiosity and lust.

"Leave us," he commanded in a thick accent, and the guard immediately let go of my arm and turned to leave the tent.

Caught off guard without support, my wooziness finally got the better of me. I stumbled forward and would have fallen if not for the solid steel that pressed itself against me. I froze, a deer in a hunters trap.

"Damn," he cursed from above me. "You took a decent knock, didn't you?" Of course, I didn't reply, and he didn't seem to expect me to. The tension pulling my arms together disappeared, and I realised he had untied my wrists. I wanted to sigh and rub them, bringing the circulation back but I didn't. I couldn't afford to show any signs of weakness.

"A tough one too," he said. His voice was deep and gravelly, and I felt weak at the knees. I hated the man, but I couldn't deny he was attractive.

His finger was under my chin then, forcefully tilting my head up. I sharply turned my head to the left, but my head was immediately yanked back. I almost yelped.

"You will look at your Prince," he commanded me.

Prince my ass. I spat on the floor at his feet, closing my eyes. I knew what the action would cause, and so when the blow landed across my right cheek I was expecting it. My head, already injured from the blow Lloyd had landed on me couldn't take the hit, and the last thing I remembered was hands reaching for me before, once again, I was knocked out cold.

I wanted to scream at the pain throbbing through my head when I woke up, but my senses kept me from doing it. It was later- much later- and I felt like I had been thrown under a horse and trampled.

"Easy," a soothing voice said. I flinched away from the contact as cool fingers brushed my hair away from my eyes, knowing exactly who they belonged to.

"I'm sorry," Belikov said. Yeah, right. "It's been a trying day. I wouldn't usually hit a woman, and would never whilst she was injured as you are. You have my apology."

Childishly, I turned my eyes away from the Prince. I didn't want his pity- I wanted to hate him.

"From the look of you though, you've had a rough life. More scars than most of my men; on a woman it would surely be unattractive, but it suits you, my little warrior maiden." I hissed at him, rolling away from him. He reached out with one arm however, and gently lifted my head into his lap. For the first time, I noticed his armour was gone.

"I don't expect you to like me," Belikov told me. "I've taken you from your home and destroyed it. But I promise I won't harm you. I have a fondness for bravery, even if it is idiotic bravery like you demonstrated, trying to run from my men." He paused, not pushing me. I didn't move.

"But you, my dear, are exquisite. That beautiful long hair, those brown eyes, well, they drive a man wild. Do you have a name?" He asked me. When I didn't reply, he gently shook my head. "I said, do you have a name." His voice had lost its warmth.

I was faced with a choice. I could either deny the man what he wanted and potentially cause my own death, or I could play along and seize a chance later on. I decided that my death now would accomplish nothing. I nodded slowly, wincing at the throbbing pain.

"Are you literate?" he asked. Once again, I nodded.

The man reached across to the furs we were lying on, and pulled several layers back to reveal the dirt of the ground. "Write your name," he demanded.

My hands were shaking from the pain and adrenaline, but I managed to form the four letters. When it was done I collapsed, completely exhausted.

"Rose," he whispered. "It suits you."

Too tired to fight him anymore, I allowed my eyelids to flutter close. He seemed content enough to talk for the moment, so I relaxed just a little, not so worried about the idea of being forced to sleep with him.

"Rose," he tried again. "An exotic name for my land. Well my Rose, I will make it my mission to see that eventually you open the petals of your personality to me. You will come to like me, Rose, and when you come to like me we will do wonderful things together."

I snorted at that, already falling asleep. I couldn't help it- the events of the day were overbearing, and the furs were luxury compared to the hard ground I had become accustomed to. A small trickle of liquid rolled down my cheek as I remembered the ones I had lost; remembered Adrian. Not all of them had been good, but they were all I had. I could have sworn a calloused finger wiped the tear away from my eye, but as I drifted off I couldn't be entirely sure.

Hmm.. I enjoyed that, did you? Please, read and review; I would really love to hear your thoughts on this as for a long time it was a plotline I considered for my own story. Please let me know what you think!