We shall learn that those who appear to be our greatest enemies are perhaps only themselves pawns.

Gwendylyn Sevarna year 5405

As Cassandra awoke, the cascading rhythms of waves crashed around the hull of the ship. A mechanical din, courtesy of Cabbat's fuel burning monstrosity in the engine room, rippled through every board and plank, supplementing the ambient sounds of the sea. Sunlight beamed in through a hinged slab of wood held open by a single strut. What passed for a window in her cabin, it allowed her to smell the sweet salt air and see hints of the bright blue sky. She blinked, the suddenness of the light hurt as she took it in.

Rolling over in her bed, seeking Deran's touch, she did not find it. Where he should have been there was only an emptiness.

Cassandra bolted up, pulling the covers tight about her unclothed body. "Deran?" Her eyes fell on him as he finished latching up his belt about his waist and checked the secureness of his commodore's sword. "What are you doing up so early?"

Deran tucked his shirt in his pants with a bit more force than warranted, not answering her question.

Cassandra patted the mattress. "Come back to bed. It's still too soon to be up."

"I've been thinking, Cassandra. Perhaps this isn't such a good idea."

"What?" She pushed pieces of her red hair from her face. "We've been over this. An attack by dragons can't be defended by-"

"Not that," he corrected. "I mean you and me."

A pain tied Cassandra's stomach up into a tangle. "I... I don't understand."

"Everyone thinks I got this command because of you. And you know what? They're right. But I never wanted this. I wanted you, but not this. Not the ridicule. Not the sailors questioning if I know my ass from a knot in a board."

Cassandra blushed. "Forget about what other people believe."

He sighed. "I think... I think it might be a bad idea to have the two most senior officers on this mission sleeping with each other."

"Deran?"

Now fully dressed, he prepared to leave, lingering in the open doorway. "I need some time to think about this, Cassandra."

As he walked out, the closing of the door ran back and forth between Cassandra's ears as if it were a slam a hundred times louder than it was. Suddenly the salt air did not smell quite so sweet or the sky seem so bright...

... Cassandra picked her head up from the papers in front of her at the sound of her name, struggling to bring her thoughts into focus. Across the table from her in the dimly lit tent, sat her superior officer.

"Excuse me, I... I'm sorry. Sub-General Dremn? I was concentrating on these requisition requests you tasked me to finish reviewing." It was cold for a spring night, but the standard issue cloak she wore helped chase away the chill in the air. Recently assigned to this post, she was still trying to get used to the way they did things in the military.

"I asked," he repeated. "How old you were?"

Cassandra didn't know how to take the question, or what its purpose was. She had been sent to help with logistics and perform what amounted to exercises in paperwork after she once again expressed an interest in joining the Imperial military following several recent rebel attacks. It had taken her a long time to convince Lady Noranda to allow her into the military. Especially since Cassandra could never quite seem to obtain any level of proficiency with a sword, despite a year of training and private instruction.

But one thing Cassandra demonstrated was a remarkable ability for tactics. Even if she couldn't implement such things on the scale of personal combat, she understood them with profound intimacy on a battlefield level. So, Lady Noranda convinced Lord Hedric to assign her to an obscure outpost. And into Sub-General Dremn's troops, just to see what she was capable of. But there were explicit orders for her not to see any combat.

Not that such was even remotely possible out here. They were about as far from any active rebel cells as one could get. An attack from dwarfs over, or under, the mountains was more probable. And considering the dwarfs had no interest in the wars between the humans and other humans and elves, that wasn't saying much.

Cassandra always thought Lady Noranda's care she showed for her bordered annoyingly on parental. The mysterious woman in red always seemed to encourage her hatred of the Rebellion. But whenever Cassandra expressed an interest in doing something more than just stoking the embers of that anger, it was always, 'You're not old enough, yet.' Cassandra did not see what her age had to do with anything. All she wanted to do was kill rebels.

And she honestly didn't want another mother. She'd had one. Once. And that was all she required.

"Almost seventeen, sir." She responded and returned to the papers before her. Adjusting a pair of thin framed glasses she wore to correct a minor problem with her sight, a 'gift' from Lady Noranda, the young woman continued to read.

The legs of Sub-General Dremn's chair generated a wood on wood squeak as it move back from the table on the floor. He stood, the tent's lamplight glinting off the golden hilts of the twin sabers draped on each of his hips. He disappeared out of her peripheral view for a moment and as she continued to concentrate on her work. Some of these troop positions didn't make the slightest sense to her. If only these were located here, and this other contingent were reassigned to-

"Seventeen." He returned her words back to her as a whisper from behind. Cassandra flinched as Sub-General Dremn peeled away her hair and his breath kissed her skin when his lips drew close to her ear. "Having been locked in the palace all those years? I'll bet you've never been with a man before. He pecked her on the neck with a soft caress.

Cassandra's blood just froze. Her body tensed as she arched her shoulder trying to shrug him away. "Sir please," she cried. "Lord Hedric wants these arrangements made by-' His grip tightened, holding her in the chair, anticipating her very real thoughts of escape.

"They can wait." Pulling back her cloak, he gripped her arm tight to keep her put.

"Sir, I have a duty to perform," she pleaded as the grasp he maintained pained her. His hand moved to fondle her and a lump formed in Cassandra's throat.

"And you'll perform quite well, I Imagine," he mocked as she bit her lip in fear. "Did you really think I would let a simple girl into my camp? Lady Noranda worked hard to sell me on your ability as a tactical officer, but I want you here for more than that."

Sub-General Dremn hauled her out of the chair. She started to scream, but he clamped his hand over her mouth and whirled her to face him. As her body relax a bit, entirely from shock and in no way from capitulation, only then did he remove the muzzle he had placed over her. Then he kissed her on the lips and proceeded down her neck.

With a tremble inside her, Cassandra just wanted to get away. But she didn't know how. "Please, sir." All of a sudden fear paralyzed her, and she was unable to move and Sub-General Dremn began undoing her blouse. "I only want to be a soldier."

"You're no soldier, girl." He pulled back, looking square into her frightened green eyes. "You're just a child. Don't fight me and I'll see that you're rewarded beyond your wildest dreams. I've always wondered what it would be like to make love to the daughter of the demon queen, Lady Noranda."

Lady Noranda's daughter. That was the rumor that had taken hold when she was first noticed in the palace. Lady Noranda had taken her in and had seen to her formal education and protected her like a mother. Everyone only naturally assumed that she was the daughter of her and Lord Hedric. It was, after all, only logical. At least to those who didn't understand the true nature of the relationship between the man who ruled the Empire and the woman who served alongside him.

There was, however, nothing the slightest bit romantic about their relations. It was about power and convenience. Nothing more.

Helpless, Cassandra felt as though there was nothing she could do, a tear coming to her eye. She cautiously put her arms about Sub-General Dremn's manly chest as he continued to persuade her into doing exactly as he wished. And precisely as she feared she would have to.

"That's a good girl," he goaded. "This will be a very pleasurable experience for you, I promise."

She swallowed, allowing his advances to continue, his touch caressing her body and pealing off her blouse. Her hand dropped down, touching something metal and cold; the hilt of one of the sub-general's twin sabers. About her neck, the medallion given her by her father pulsed and warmed. But she didn't need it to tell her there was a danger. She was living through it.

Sub-General Dremn saw the trinket glowing and snatched for it. The chain broke as his fingers caged it, and that was when it erupted with molten white heat. The sub-general dropped it, his hand burned so red the skin blistered and bubbled. He screamed.

Cassandra's mind went into a blur as she watched the final gift of her father fall to the floor of the sub-general's tent, catching the lamplight just enough to glitter. "Father!" she cried out, her hand reaching for it.

"Witch!" Sub-General Dremn had regained enough of his wits. His choice of words spoke to how he believed the attack had been due to some spell Lady Noranda had taught her.

He lashed out at her for the pain caused by the medallion as it tried to protect her. His backhand, however, was wild, and Cassandra ducked it. As he stumbled following his failed attempt to take his rage out on her, Cassandra's hand clasped over the hilt of one the sub-general's swords. Her hold on it firm, she pushed away with a kick and the Gray Steel blade rang out of the scabbard.

Sub-General Dremn, surprised, glowered at Cassandra, standing before him with the weapon drawn and ready. Both her hands held an awkward grip on the hilt meant for one. He composed himself, but he could not contain a laugh.

"So, the little girl has spunk after all," he said with a smile. "I enjoy that." The sub-general's face quickly turned to a frown when he tried to approach her and Cassandra swung in a reckless arc for his head. "Enough games!"

He took another step forward, and she waved the weapon again. "Stand back!"

"Or what?" There was annoyance growing in his voice as he realized Cassandra was at least somewhat serious. He drew his other sword to his still useable hand. "You're no match for me in a fight. Even one handed!"

He slapped his own across the blade Cassandra brandished. Her wrists twisted. And if not for both hands on the weapon it would have pried itself from her grasp.

"Put down the sword, girl. Perhaps I'll let you live."

Cassandra closed her eyes, trying to remember what the swordmaster at the palace had tried to teach her, but she could not grasp. She was too frightened. "Please - Father - help me."

Sub-General Dremn took yet another step closer.

At that moment, a burst of light from the medallion on the floor engulfed everything surrounding them. Cassandra was able to shield her own eyes from it, but her opponent was blinded and received the full brunt of the blinding brightness. She saw the sub-general stumble and drop his remaining sword as he needed to catch himself on the side of the table. That was when the first lesson she had been taught when trying to learn how to fight with a sword came back to her mind. When you see an opening, exploit the opening.

Lunging at her staggering foe, Cassandra's saber lanced out. Both hands pressing it forward, the Grey Steel bit into Sub-General Dremn's chest. She felt as bone impeded it at first, but pushed harder as blood raced down the blade until the tip erupted out of his back. His eyes were a sign of disbelief as he fell over. Cassandra released the weapon and backed away.

She did not know for how long she stared at the body of the man who had tried to rape her. But when she was through being in awe at what she had done, Cassandra bent down and picked up the medallion and the broken chain on the floor. She held it close to her bare chest and knew that even now someone was watching over her and keeping her safe.

"Father. Mother. I swear I will avenge you."

In the haze of her memories, Cassandra sat in her bed. Sweat dripped from her brow and hair. Her heart raced in a panic.

That night in Sub-General Dremn's tent changed her. She swore, then and there, no one would ever take advantage of her. She had a purpose, and no one would come between her and that goal. Now, she had failed in that pledge.

Deran had used her.

Her eyes focused on the pair of sabers hanging at the foot of the bed, then shifted to the cabin door, and back once more to the weapons. Her breathing grew heavy and rapid as a rush of confusion and terror wrapped its arms around her, and she remained for long moments while anger raw and pure swelled inside her.

Outside, on the flat, open deck of the Dragon Ship, two dragons snarled and snapped at anyone who got too close, and wasn't either their rider or bearing food. As best as any of the sailors could tell, neither was happy to be upon the sea and the ship as it rose and sank through the waves. Chained down, they could move about in their general vicinity, however neither had enough slack in their bonds to have anything resembling any sense of freedom.

One, a charcoal-colored monster, was extremely ill-tempered. His rider had been very clear from the moment it had been brought on board; approach at your own risk.

Now, the creature had taken to snarling back and forth with the rust-scaled beast on the opposite side of the deck. A sort of dominance based behavior that could very well have escalated if not for their restraints.

This posturing all ended as a blood-curdling shriek raced through the air from somewhere within the ship. Both dragons ceased their quarrel and looked at each other, as though trying to discern the source. Then each lowered their heads and fell quiet.

"So?" The squat man with outwardly poor hygiene leaned across his plate of food towards Commodore Herstone. "Tell us how it was? Been a long time since the two of you knocked boots, huh?"

Deran was busy trying to enjoy his meal of salted meat and dried fruit in the crowded mess in peace. Something that he determined would not happen as he noticed two other crud covered sailors at the table listening to the conversation, sporting smiles with rotten and missing teeth.. "Mind your manners, Captain Werre," he scolded the ship's commander. "It's none of your business."

"Aw, you can tell us." Captain Werre disrespectfully slapped his commanding officer on the shoulder and then sat back down on the bench. "Besides, the men are all wondering what a night with Noranda's daughter is like. Sounds like she's a wild one though. C'mon, Commodore."

They way Captain Werre drew out the syllables of Deran's title added an unmistakable punctuation to how little recognition and respect he was giving his superior. If Deran would have been more like Cassandra, he'd have run the man through the first time disrespect had been shown. He just wasn't like that. Although, he was sorely tempted.

But Deran finally had enough, slamming the prongs of his fork into the table so that the utensil stuck. "I said it was none of your business, Captain!"

"Well." The veteran sailor crossed his arms about his chest. "Guess we know who gets to be on top."

The other soldiers laughed.

"That's not funny," Deran grumbled as he left his utensil where it was and pushed his plate away. Any appetite he had was now gone.

"Ah - hem," Cassandra's throat being cleared interrupted the conversation. Captain Werre averted his eyes, uncertain how much of the comments she had heard. The other two sailors listening in returned like beaten dogs to their meals. "Commodore Herstone? May I have a word with you?"

There was a certain tone in her voice that Deran did not particularly care for. "General Nightwing," he responded, prying his fork from the table. "I would like to enjoy my meal. Can this not wait?"

Cassandra flipped back a lock of frazzled, uncombed hair. She cast the disrespectful captain a glance and noticed he was watching her cautiously out of the corner of his eye. "No, I don't think it can."

Sighing, Deran pushed himself out of the chair. "If it's that important-" The was a pang of guilt inside him for the way he had left her this morning. It wasn't right how he'd taken his frustrations at being disrespected by men who were little more than animals out on her. Maybe he could smooth things over.

The only response however was Cassandra's overly strong grip on his arm as she dragged him stumbling from the mess. At their exit, the mutters of sailors were unmistakable behind them. Deran, trying to find what words he would use to apologize to her, allowed Cassandra to lead him, even as continued attempts to wrench himself free met with amazing and fierce resistance. Deran grumbled about her hurting him on more than one occasion, but she ignored his complaints.

She stopped before her cabin and kicked open the door, shattering the lock.

All thoughts of apologizing left Deran's mind as she tossed him inside with force unbecoming her stature. "What's wrong with you?" Deran stayed on his feet, but it took a bit of luck for that to happen.

He stared Cassandra down as she entered and slammed shut the broken door, which failed to close all the way and hung slightly ajar. The fire in her eyes filled Deran with unease as she marched up to him with rhythmic steps that portended an anger he did not want to be on the receiving end of. Without a word, her arms shot out and into his chest, sending him flying onto the unmade bed.

She straddled herself overtop of him, staring him face to face. "To think, I actually believed you when you said you loved me."

"Cassandra, stop!" Deran tried to wriggle free, but her anger had manifested itself into unholy strength as she pinned him down. "Let me go!"

"Well, do you love me?" Cassandra pressed for the answer she sought, ignoring his complaints. The nails on her fingers dug into Deran's arm, breaking skin. She leaned in and kissed his neck, but he was cold and stiff to her touch.

"You know I do, Cassandra." Relaxing his muscles, he hoped to lull Cassandra's anger. Deran forced a surge of strength through his body, nearly enough to throw the general from her perch.

But Cassandra was not taken totally by surprise, and her swords jumped into her hands from their scabbards before Deran could do any more. She crossed the blades just under his chin and over his neck so that the slightest movement would cause the steel to break the skin. "Somehow," she spoke watching his face become drenched with his sweat, "I don't believe you, Deran."

"Cassandra, what do you want? This is insane!"

"Insane?" She pushed her weapons ever closer, expressing a thirst for his blood and forcing Deran to crane his neck back to avoid the Gray Steel blades. "You want to know what's insane? You using me. And you think you can just discard me like... like some cheap whore? And you think I'm the one who's insane? I've killed men for less. A lot less. Now, one last time, do you love me?"

As Deran fixed himself into her green eyes, he saw in them the woman whose anger matched all the stories he'd heard. This was the woman that had killed Sub-General's Dremn and Gath, countless Hitithe rebels, General Kayzar and so many others. It was not the same woman who he had admired and grown to love. No, she was exactly as most who had served with her had claimed. And possibly worse.

"I do." He spoke, now just seeking a way out of this. Although he also meant those words on some level. He did love the Cassandra he thought he knew. Although maybe not as much as he did earlier this day, but he still meant them.

Cassandra smiled, her swords inched away from his throat, but only by the slightest of bits. "Oh Deran," she turned her head to hide a tear.

He reached for her, his hand brushing her cheek, then down to her shoulder. But as his hand moved further and gripped her arm, Cassandra could perceive the thudding, pulsing of apprehension in his veins and the fear in his body. She knew those words he spoke had ulterior motives. In an instant, her swords returned to their deadly position and she flashed a sinister look that froze Deran's soul. "Do you take me for a fool?"

With a flick of her wrists, the blades tore into Deran's throat and blood gushed across the sheets and onto the walls. Deran tried to pull free the onslaught with his dying breaths, but Cassandra force the swords to cut into him harder and deeper, severing blood vessels and ensuring he'd never hurt her again.

Deran's struggles ceased, falling limp and away from her. But Cassandra continued to rip at his throat with the release of pent up fury. The hatred within her was long in leaving, but it did leave. Every time she removed the cause, the rage left. She became entranced as the blood on her hands and swords dripped and coated whatever it touched, feeling some on her face too.

Grabbing the cuff of Deran's shirt, Cassandra hauled his still warm corpse out of the bed and dragging it along behind her in the corridor that led to the ship's main deck. In her wake, she left a trail of blood and several sailors with horrified expressions. Anyone who encountered her said nothing and gave her a wide berth.

On deck, she stalked towards the dragon closest to her, one colored black like charcoal. Sailors all stopped their work to watch in stunned silence. She looked at not a one of them.

With a heave, she tossed Deran's still bleeding body at the beast. It seemed to regard her for an instant before pouncing on the feast she had given it and tearing the body limb from limb with a bloody grin.

She then turned to the ship's crew and issued them a stern warning. "Anyone else want to fuck with me today? I'm not in a very good mood!" Storming off, the general disappeared back into the bowels of the ship.