It was nearing midnight and Lance was anticipating the moment the clock struck twelve. One would have thought that between being a prince and the son of such ruthless tyrants, Prince Keith would have a far more interesting life. But no, the prince was an enigma to even the castle's inhabitants. He was an introvert, rarely seen. He never talked much or fought for attention. In fact, he seemed content to just exist, staying out of everybody's way.

Lance's night shift duty was proving to be uneventful and quite frankly, boring. At least, the majority of it was, Lance wasn't expecting much of the last few minutes until an unfamiliar face came up the stairs and rounded the corner.

"What the heck do you think you're doing?" The words came out of Lance's mouth before he could stop them and berated himself immediately. He should've let them get closer so they didn't have a chance of fleeing! However, they stood rooted to the spot, like a deer caught in headlights.

So Lance leaped forwards, hoping to knock the red-clad figure out before they could get away. They snapped out of it, twisting away quickly to avoid the hit. as Lance drew his sword from his scabbard, he noticed the figure flicking hair out of their eyes.

A weakness.

The figure, whom Lance assumed was female due to their long hair, lithe figure and - soon to be proven - their agility. Not to mention the pretty eyes flashing underneath their hair.

She had pulled a dagger from her boot upon seeing Lance's sword. Scoffing internally, Lance faced her. Though he doubted their ability, he wasn't about to underestimate her - not that walking right up to him was the wisest of options.

He waited, drawing in his breath, lean body tense with anticipation.

Have patience.

If you can have patience, the battle is already half won. Finally, she moved. She goes low, aiming for his knees. A move made to incapacitate. But she was too obvious and Lance saw it coming from a mile away. He grinned, dodging easily to the left. She was quick to catch on, spinning upright and around to meet his attack, metal clanging against metal. Lance grinned again. She had more strength in her than he first thought.

His next few swings were light, an easy counter. He was testing her, measuring the waters. This was what he was made for. The thrill of the battle was ingrained in his veins. Lance was raised to be this way, trained since he was young to fight. To fight for his kingdom, even if those who ruled it could do with an ass-kicking to bring them down a few - or a dozen - notches. Loyalty made him stay. And maybe a hint of his personality was showing when he next spoke.

"So what brings a pretty lady such as yourself to the prince's chambers?" His lips curl into a trademark smirk as she frowns. Lance stands, blade limp at his side, but ready to flick back up to defend himself at an instant.

Why not have a little fun?

She only stands silently in the brief breather Lance allowed her, so he continues the battle, swinging his sword in practiced arks, few of which she only narrowly avoids. But Lance had to admit, she had a few tricks of her own that kept him on his toes.

The minutes ticked down, closer and closer to the moment another guard would walk around that corner to relieve of his duty. This battle would be over by then. Feeling a little defensive, Lance was determined to assure this battle was his and his only.

So he picked up the pace, overhead ark, low swing, push back, step in. His breath sped up ever so slightly, adrenaline roaring through his veins. Lance thrusted his sword forwards, jabbing at her stomach. She jumps back with a small yelp, the first real noise he's heard from her. It's deeper than he was expecting, throwing him off. She took advantage of the moment and charged at him, getting close up to him and right up into his space, breaking his stance and carefully built focus. She only needed to lightly push on his chest and he fell back with a yelp, unable to keep his balance. She leaped over him, on a warpath for the door to the prince's room.

Lance's eyes widen as he scrambles back to his feet, sword long forgotten. But she was a fast runner, and the door slams shut long before he gets there.

Panic ran amok in his system, causing his limbs to shake and he cursed it. He had a job to do, he was trained to avoid this for god's sake!

The prince!

Regret overtakes him, clouds his vision. He should've taken her more seriously to start with. He shouldn't have let her slip. Now what would happen?

He could die. Slaughtered by who was probably a rebel. And it would be all Lance's fault.

Lance threw the door open, breathing heavily. His eyes were full blown with panic. It took him a moment to focus and register his surroundings.

The room is on the second floor and rather dark, illuminated only by the moon that gleamed through the hastily shoved aside sliding door that exited to the balcony. Upright in bed was an alarmed-looking prince. Lance releases a heavy breath of relief as he noticed Prince Keith as unharmed.

"What's going on?" The prince demanded, wrapping the bed covers tighter around his body. Only his head could be seen.

Lance laughs uneasily and waved a shaking hand. "Absolutely nothing, Your Highness. Everything is completely under control. No intruders at all, just a drill. Apologies for waking you."

The prince merely grunted and lies back down, sheets firmly wrapped around him calling a muffled "Goodnight then."

Lance quietly closes the door.

Maybe if he was less shaken about the whole ordeal he would've noticed that the prince's voice sounded breathless and shook ever so slightly, tinged with nervousness. or even that the hands holding the bedsheets up were still gloved, not unlike the woman's - whom by Lance's assumption was a rebel.

A smile curved into his lips, his eyes glinted dangerously. Lance recalled the red scarf wrapped around the lower half of her face, obscuring her features. Instantly he had a name for her, forming in the back of his mind.

The Scarlet Rebel huh?

I'll get you next time.

Lance woke up the next morning with an ear-popping yawn as he stretched stiff muscles. Despite his great dislike of early mornings - or mornings in general really. He was not a morning person - Lance found himself scrambling out of bed and down the halls, racing for the breakfast hall. He burst in, breath labored. Lance leaned on his knees as he scanned the room for one face in particular.

There he sat, at the head of the table chewing on a slice of toast. Prince Keith's eyebrows raised as he looked up at Lance's sudden intrusion.

The prince was okay then. Nothing more had happened that night. Unless this was some clone, but Lance didn't think that was the case.

A hand rose from his knees in a brief wave. "Morning." He grinned, slightly breathless from his unplanned run. The prince ignored him, returning to his breakfast. Lance did receive a wave from a few of the guards, including Shiro, who sat diagonally from the prince.

Shiro was the head of the Royal Guard, and ultimately Lance's boss, after the King and Queen of course. Shiro was the one to oversee all of the ranks from knights all the way down to the lower ranked foot soldiers. Lance's rank was a Castle Guard, one of six roles. It was his job to guard the castle walls, oversee entering vehicles and civilians and to turn away stragglers. It was also a requirement was to capture or kill those with seemingly ill intent and turn them in to the Crown. The idea caused guilt to bubble up inside him. That rebel got away, and though he'd been consoled that it was fine, the rebel didn't do anything when they had the chance and nobody was harmed, Lance couldn't shake the feeling of incompetence. The odd dirty look he'd received did nothing to boost his spirits either.

Because he'd made a mistake. He'd screwed up and there was no changing that. He could only accept it, move on, and try harder next time. All the things that could've gone wrong last night occurred to him only this morning when the heat of everything was over and his mind had calmed. Maybe he shouldn't have taunted her. Maybe he should have gotten over and done with the fight sooner. Maybe he shouldn't have been wishing for a good fight. What if she took the prince hostage? What if she kidnapped him? What if she killed him?

Maybe, maybe, maybe. What if, what if, what if. But it was useless to think of such things now. It would do nothing, change nothing. All Lance could do now is go on with his day.

And thus he did.

After breakfast, he decided to complete some of the old morning training regimen.

Though his surroundings were different, Lance still had a brief running course in mind as the night before all of the guards accompanying Prince Keith were sent to get the lay of the land. He didn't have to be on shift at the moment, Lady Heinford's own guards taking on the task.

Lance set off at a steady pace, as not to exhaust himself too quickly, instead preserving his energy for later and the quick sprint he'd do near the end.

Running was a great way to clear his head and keep his fitness up. Staying planted in one place, still, unmoving wasn't him. It helped Lance none at all. Running meant he was active, constantly doing something. Though there was little other noise aside from his breathing, the sounds of the early morning nature and his light footsteps against the ground, it was still better than the silence. Better than the silence that left him to his own thoughts.

Left, right, left, right. His footsteps pounded.

His childhood was better than that of many, but it wasn't the best out there either. Lance's own father had been a guard, he'd died as a bodyguard protecting a former noble. Lance never knew him that well. Of course, there was also his mother, and she lived a lot longer, raising Lance and his four older siblings.

Left, right, left, right. One foot in front of the other.

That's right.

His siblings.

Each met a different fate. One had passed, one of his older sisters, Veronica. The rest were alive. As far as he knew anyway. The other three, two brothers and one more sister, Marcus, Luis and Rachel, were all grown adults in their own right. Lance wouldn't say mature or healthy describes one of his siblings in particular but that wasn't something he was going to think about. Not right now. It wasn't something he could bring himself to do. It would spoil the image of the royal family that Lance was so desperately trying to cling to. Because he didn't think he could continue to fight for the Crown knowing what they'd done if he thought on it too much.

By the time Lance snapped out of his thoughts, miraculously managing to not run into any trees in the process, he was surprised to discover it was raining. How did he not notice?

That wasn't what was important right now.

However, the faint sound of thunder rumbling in the distance accompanied by the giant swarming, rolling clouds that were a dark and heavy grey - borderline black - seemed far more pressing. Lance would have to go back and warn Shiro that as a result of the storm crawling their way, they may end up landing themselves stuck here another day.

If that turned out to be the case, Lance was going to be keeping an eye out for that 'Scarlet Rebel' as he'd dubbed her.

She would not escape him again.

~~~~

Hello, hello! It was my turn to write this chapter, as I write Lance and Lucidame writes Keith. This is the one story that's still being updated this couple of weeks - the others on hold just for a wee bit - due to exams. Thankfully, our last exam was today, so things should get back on track everywhere once more!

I am so incredibly over studying.

Anyway, happy reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Peace,

BTSWD
Borntosingwithdrama