( A/N: Ahaha... this chapter took me way too long to write. Um... I hope it's okay and that it's at least somewhat worth the wait. I'm so tired, but I was hellbent on getting this up before I went to sleep, so here we are! Chapter two!

Anyway, thank you so much for your reviews/follows/favorites! You guys make me feel so loved! This is definitely not going to be a one shot, so please stay tuned for the rest! )

2. Lunchtime in Prison

The heavy prison door swung shut. The lock clicked. They were trapped.

Lumin slammed her fists against the door, gnashing her teeth together in frustration and loathing herself for her utter carelessness. The door didn't budge—her small hands and soft, leather gloves only managed to make a meager thump against the thick wood.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

She would never get used to the stiff feel of her new gloves. Addled by fear since that near-death skirmish two weeks back, she had worn them every time she left her tent. She figured there was nothing more nightmarish than the Shepherds discovering that beneath her skin slept scales as black as midnight. They would throw her out without question if they knew there was something dangerous, something monstrous hidden inside her. Even with the gloves, though, she continued to dream about scales growing on her skin, figuring that it was only a matter of time before everyone found out.

...Before the sweet cavalier boy, who stopped by her tent every day as she pried herself from the verge of death, whose presence somehow managed to breathe life into her battered, wounded body, would become aware of the scales. The dreams had spoken about him too. It would be so easy to kill, a voice had whispered to her last night. It was strikingly familiar, a tone that reminded her a bit of poisoned honey—sweet and smooth, but uninhibited. Deadly. The boy by your side wouldn't resist if you just reached up and snapped his neck.

"Are you hurt, Lumin?" Stahl asked, his voice prying the tactician away from the dreams that haunted her mind. They had gotten to know each other over the last couple of weeks, but the sound of her name leaving his tongue remained foreign... it always left her constricted. Air-locked.

Completely breathless.

The light from the full moon chiseled a worried look in his eyes. He wore a simple, black tunic and white trousers instead of his usual armor today, which showed the defined outlines of his lean, battle-toughened figure... and showed how utterly unprepared they were for a fight when the Grimleal ambushed them. The only equipment they brought along were a couple of swords, which were taken away from them before they were locked up in the fortress. The guard had told them that they would escort them to King Gangrel in Plegia Castle at dawn, so there wasn't much of a window for escape. One night, that was all.

"I'm fine," said Lumin. After recognizing that the door was indeed unbudgeable, she huddled against the wall beside her companion. She pressed her knees against her chest and sighed. "You know, when we decided to go gift shopping, getting thrown in an enemy prison doesn't really seem like the obvious outcome."

"Not really."

"Gods, this is probably the worst birthday present." She stuffed her head against her knees with a bitter grimace. "'Happy birthday, Chrom. Please break us out of prison.'"

"I guess." Stahl let out a melodic chuckle. "And they took that dragonfly root concoction we made for him too." He tilted his head. Lumin tensed her shoulders in response; she could just feel those green eyes delving curiously into her soul even without looking up. She wouldn't dare look him in the eye, not without being reminded of scale-lined hands grasping his neck. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," came the reply.

"It's not nothing." A pause passed between them. "Hey," the knight tried again. "Don't beat yourself up about this. You couldn't have possibly known that this would happen."

"That's the thing," said Lumin. Her lip quivered. " I should have known. Walking into a town in enemy territory with just some flimsy swords and no cover is just asking for trouble."

"It's not your fault." He gave her hair a gentle ruffle. She flinched at the contact and huddled deeper into her ball-like stance.

"Of course it's my fault. I'm the army tactician. I'm supposed to know better than this. I could have asked more people to come along, but I just thought..." She trailed off.

I just thought it would be nice to spend time with you.

"It's all right," said Stahl. His hand wandered to her shoulder. She felt herself being pulled leftward, closer and closer to the knight until her arm brushed against his side. She let out a little squeak. "Hey, look at me."

She didn't move.

"Look at me, Lumin." Her eyes widened. Lumin looked up, thankful that the darkness of the cell hid the rosy glow of her cheeks. Her eyes fluttered over to the knight, savoring his sympathetic smile for one fleeting moment before looking away.

"We're going to be okay," he assured her. She glanced at him, glanced at the subtle lines of worry on his brow. "Everything will work out just fine."

"Y-Yeah."

Lying, Lumin figured, really isn't your strong point. The tactician bit her lip and turned away. And yet, Stahl felt the need to be strong for her... for a girl so rife with blunder that she needed reassurance. For a girl in umber scales whom had nightmares of snapping his neck.

So she had to be strong for him too. She had to do something, anything, to break them out of the cell.

Silence encompassed the cold, jagged walls as she jotted the surroundings down into her mind. The third floor cell, the woods outside, their camp due north, about three miles away. If they could break free while the guards were escorting them to the palace... but how would they shake off the guards in the first place? Maybe lighting a fire underneath their feet—she didn't have a tome with her, but even a little fire she remembered from the incantation should be enough to set the ranks into confusion. Fire would be the most jarring of the elements, since it could spread and bring more and more people to its attention...

Oh, gods, he's so close.

No, Lumin, focus.

"We'll escape in the morning," Lumin said as she glanced back at Stahl, shifting herself bashfully away from him. "As soon as they take us out of the palace. I'll start a fire."

"Okay," he responded half-heartedly, his mind elsewhere. His eyelids fluttered sleepily over his far-gazing eyes, as if he were deep in thought. The tactician tilted her head in confusion. "You know, if only one of us makes it out of here, it has to be you. You're the army strategist; you're more important than any soldier." Lumin's brow furrowed, and her lips parted in protest.

But why? A sinking feeling lodged inside her chest. His words rang far too true in her mind—the tactician called all the shots in an army, sometimes singlehandedly deciding the difference between victory and defeat, while a soldier merely followed orders... but no victory would be true if anyone died on her.

"I can't promise," Stahl continued, "that I'll be strong enough to protect you, but I'll do my best to make sure you get out of here alive, with or without me."

Lumin shook her head. "Don't say things like that," she said. "If you die, then where does that leave me? Where does that leave the strategist who's responsible for your life?"

"It's not your responsibility entirely. If I make a mistake, or if I'm not strong enough, it's on me."

"But do you really want me to live every waking moment of my life wondering what I could have done to keep you alive?" Her lips pursed in a pout. "That's a bit selfish if you ask me."

"A knight would gladly die in service to his country," said Stahl. Lumin's brow tensed. What did this man have to gain for being so chivalrous? So recklessly noble? She admired him for that, at least, though she would never admit it. The tactician shifted her eyes back over to her companion. Hesitation lurked in his gaze as he stared aimlessly across the room.

She wasn't the only one here who refused to admit something.

Lumin sighed. "You're insufferable, you know that?"

"Sorry." Stahl gave a light chuckle.

The chords of his baritone voice plucked and pulled at Lumin's heart, forcing her mind to wander, to yearn. The tactician leaned her head back against her knees, focusing her eyes on everything but the knight beside her. Silence eclipsed the cell and uncertainty seeped into the tactician's mind. Uncertainty, and the terrifying thought of the man beside her, sprawled against the ground, his arms cold as ice.

The voice in her dream surfaced in her mind. The boy by your side wouldn't resist if you just reached up and snapped his neck.

She missed the warmth of his arm around her already.

Seconds of silence passed, then turned to minutes and hours. It was hard to tell how much time had passed, especially after the moon rose past their view of the prison window. Lumin figured she should get some sleep, but she didn't dare risk dreaming those awful dreams again. Beside her, perpetually messy tufts of hair fell like a veil over Stahl's closed eyes. His breath deepened in a rhythmic slumber. He had propped himself against her, burying his cheek against her hair, dangerously close.

Russet eyes took ritual peeks towards his sleeping face before looking away again.

Footsteps approached in rhythmic taps, cutting through the silence and jolting the knight awake. The door clicked and swung open, and the flickering torches of the corridor seeped into the cell, silhouetting a small figure in a black hood. Lumin squinted at the figure, hoping an ally would be hiding beneath the hood, but the cloth obscured its wearer completely. From what she could see—a female about her height, with a pale chin and strands of long, dark hair tucked behind the hood—no allies came to mind. Without a word, the stranger laid a folded fleece blanket in front of her and disappeared back into the corridor, closing the door behind her.

"That was awfully nice," said Stahl. "...and strange. Really strange."

"Yeah." Lumin pulled the blanket closer. She furrowed her brow in suspicion, wondering what kind of jail guard would go into their cell in the middle of the night just to give them a blanket.

"Did you want the blanket? I can manage without it."

She let out a bitter chuckle. "Always the gentleman, aren't you?"

"N-No, I didn't mean it like that," said Stahl. He cleared his throat while Lumin's attention wandered back to the blanket. She began unraveling the layers of fleece. "They're taking us to Plegia Castle tomorrow, huh?" he mused. She nodded. As the blanket unfolded, she noticed a slight bump inside. Glass? "I guess we'll be there by noon. Wonder what lunchtime in prison is going to be like."

"Don't get your hopes up," said Lumin. "I'm guessing we'll get a bit of gruel and maybe some bread if we're lucky." Her eyes widened as a little flask rolled out of the unfolded blanket. She squinted through the darkness and snatched it up.

It was the dragonfly root concoction, still in its glass vial. The crimson potion glimmered flawlessly, as if they had never had it taken away from them. If they were careful on their way out, they could still give Chrom his birthday present.

Stahl sighed. "I don't think I'll last a day there."

"Probably not." A grin formed on the tactician's face. "But don't worry. I don't think we'll be here that long." She waved the flask in front of him.

"Is that...?"

"The concoction we made? Yeah," she replied. "Hang on..." The tactician scrambled to her feet and stepped soundlessly towards the door. She gripped the iron knob and turned it, half-expecting it to clench and hold them inside.

But it opened. A narrow slit of orange light seeped through the darkened cell. Lumin peered out the little crack, then back at Stahl, whom had gotten up to join her. "Do you think this could be a trap? I don't think they'll just let us out of here so easily."

"I don't think so..." Lumin flinched as he leaned over her to look out the crack in the door. His palm reached over to the wall beside her, almost as if to capture her in his warmth. She could feel his gentle breaths over her head, his closeness throwing her off her train of thought, forcing her to stumble over her words. "I, um... I don't think there's any reason for a trap. I-I mean, they already got us in the cell. All they need to do is keep us here 'til morning."

"True," said Stahl. "Here, stay close to me, okay?"

Lumin nodded as he slipped by her and out the door. She followed suit, clutching the dragonfly root flask in shaking fingers. The crackling torches illuminated an empty corridor. Almost too empty, the tactician thought. Even though it was the middle of the night, she figured at least a few guards would be patrolling the halls. The faint smell of metal peppered the air. Blood. A chill trickled down her spine.

They turned a corner. Russet eyes widened in shock. The polished floor led to a trio of armored men, limp and mangled in pools of blood. Lumin clenched her fists. Her eyes darted frantically from body to body—they had each been sliced with a single, clean cut of a blade. Someone knew what they were doing. From the looks of the nearly identical cuts on the bodies, she figured they were killed by the same person.

The small-framed helper in the black robe came to mind.

"What happened here?" Stahl asked.

"I-I don't know... wait." She stopped in her tracks. The stench of metallic blood was overtaken by a thicker scent. Smoke. As they reached the winding stairway, heavy smoke drifted in from the floor above. The crackling of menacing fire reached her ears. "We need to get out of here, now. The floor above is on fire."

Fire. Her own plan from earlier came to this was no time to dwell on coincidences.

They ran, keeping their eyes peeled through the billowing smoke for any adversaries. None approached—there was no one but the corpses that speckled their path. As the pair made their way down the winding corridors and steps of the fortress, all that lingered in the tactician's mind was getting them both out alive before they got caught in the fire.

The air thickened rapidly. Glistening ashes shot out at the pair. Don't look back. Just go. Finally, as they reached the bottom of the stairs, the haze wandered through the gargantuan double doors of the north entrance and out into the wide-open night, almost as if it was guiding them towards freedom.

But something stirred within the smoke as they dashed through the opened doors. Someone alive.

"You," Lumin called out. The hooded woman from before loomed over a heap of cloth—no, that was a dead body. Another dead body. Upon hearing the tactician's call, she retracted her blade from the corpse's body, glistening and dripping in noxious, metallic blood. Lumin clutched the vial even tighter as russet eyes squinted through the smoke.

Without a word, the stranger pointed towards the northern path.

"Who the hell are you?" Lumin tried again. "And what do you want with us?"

"Now's not really the time to be asking questions..." Stahl cut in. His teeth gnashed together with a hurried tension. He pressed a hand on Lumin's shoulder, attempting to guide her down the path. She didn't budge."Come on, we can't stay here."

"I know, but..."

"Take care," the figure muttered. Her voice hit a certain series of poisoned-honey chords that seemed far too familiar.

"W-Who are you?" said Lumin. She glared at the shadowy figure. Black robes billowed in the rippling wind. The stranger lifted her chin and turned to face the pair, a menacing, almost feral grin appearing on her ruby red lips.

"I'm sure you'll look beautiful in those lovely scales."

Russet eyes widened in a wild stare. She wanted, no, she needed to pull that hood off the stranger, but fear held her back. Fear of the unknown, fear that this person knew something about her that she never wanted to find out... and in that moment of hesitation, she felt herself being pulled away from the fortress by warm, protective arms. As they neared their army's camp, the woman's words resonated so distinctly in Lumin's head. She knew exactly why—

It was her own voice.