Jack the Giant Slayer 1. Prologue: Innocence

**Title:** Seed of Darkness

**Summary:** A new threat descends upon Cloister and Jack must use the Crown of Erik to call on some unlikely allies. Fallon/Isabelle, Fumm/OC

**Rating: **T

**Disclaimer:** I do not own or make any money off these characters or storylines. I'm writing this cause it's a fun world to play in, not because it'll bring me zillions of dollars. There you go. Don't sue me, guys.

**Author's Note:** So after I saw JTGS I came to this archive and found a shocking lack of Fallon/Isabelle stories. Well, I guess it's not so shocking, since this pairing is about as unlikely as it would be for Godzilla to conscientously avoid stepping on people but, damnit, I REALLY want it! So, off I went to write my own. This takes place a few months after the movie. Obviously, I had to change the ending slightly so Fallon doesn't die, but he still gets hurt pretty bad anyway. With that said, I'll step aside and let you guys read...

**Prologue: Innocence**

_Fee, Fye, Foe, Fumm, ask not whence the thunder comes. Ask not where the herds have gone, or why the birds have ceased their song. When coming home, don't take too long, for monsters roam in Albion._

Nights are always a wonder in Gantua. Starlight plays games flitting among shadow within its huge forests of pine and juniper. Wraiths of blue mist flow over the ground like hunting serpents, moistening every stone with a cold sheen. The air - especially in autumn - has a bite hard enough to frost any exposed skin it touches. Most of Gantua's citizens preferred the comfort of a dry, warm cave after dark, unless they were hardened to the cold. Or simply did not care.

On a rugged cliff overlooking an impossibly vast height stood a lone figure. He was large for one of Gantua's people, battle-scarred with ropy muscle sliding beneath his skin at each movement. Spiked bone armor covered one broad shoulder, gauntlets of iron covered his forearms, and a battered helm was on his head. Both of them.

For this Gantuan had been born with a strange companion: a second head. A smaller, misshapen head that could barely speak and was more annoying than useful most of the time. Still, the small head possessed enough insight to know when his brother was unhappy and was even now trying - but failing miserably - to communicate with his companion.

"Squeeaaaggh?"

The first head remained silent, lost in contemplation of the thick mists swirling at the edge of the cliff.

"Gluggg?" Though barely a phlegmatic gargle, the noise still managed to convey inquisitive worry.

"Shut up." A low growl edged the words with a hint of barely contained anger, and the second head wisely did as it was told.

Fallon - for that was the Gantuan's name - gazed down upon the edge of his world, tried to see past the blue-tinted mists that hung like a curtain on the air. Even if he could see through the soupy stuff, his eyes - all four of them - were not sharp enough to pick out the shape of the human world below. But when the wind shifted just right, he thought he could smell it. The stuffy reek of draft horses pulling carts, the burnt-iron tang of metal being worked into swords, the disgusting stench of sweat, offal, and dead bodies in their crowded human villages; it all made him wonder how they could stand living so close to each other. Humans smelled like rot unless they were properly cooked and seasoned.

Well, he amended, except for the Princess.

She had smelled wonderful. Like apples and sugar. He licked his lips at the thought of it. She was down there now, far beyond his reach. Down there with that boy she liked so well.

Damn that boy. He had come so close to winning. The princess was in his grasp, terrified and helpless. Fumm - even as a rat-faced traitor he was still useful - had broken through the city gates and was about to make short work of whatever pitiful fools remained of the King's Guardians. Cloister was all but conquered.

Damn you, Jack.

Fallon shivered as the memory of the bean dropped down his throat awakened remembered pain of internal wounds; torn, ripped, and gouged organ meat that was mostly healed now but embedded in each hidden scar lurked a different flavor of agony. When that leafy-green monster sprouted in his belly, all thought of the princess, Jack, and the war fled clean away from his mind, to be replaced with a single imperative that beat like a thunder drum in his brain: _get it out! get it out! get it OUT!_

And he _had_ gotten it out. He'd yanked the slimy, still-growing stalk out by the roots, tearing chunks of his own vitals out with it, and crawled on his hands and knees toward Jack, who'd been holding the princess in his scrawny arms. He'd snarled and cursed at the boy, trying to reach him, kill him, but his hand had fallen limp a foot away from Jack's boots as he'd collapsed in a spreading pool of his own blood.

That was the last he remembered of the battle. When he next opened his eyes, he'd been back at the Citadel, with Fee gripping his right arm and Fye holding onto the left while Foe poured healing water down his throat. He supposed he should thank his three brothers for his continued existence, but he hated owing a debt to anyone.

_And why should life bring me joy when a chance for vengeance against King Erik's people was laid before me, and it withered in my grasp? _His lip curled up in a snarl as he glared down through the mist, through the fathoms of cloud and air that separated him from the human world. From _her_.The second head tried to mimic his fierce expression, but ended up looking like a deformed ogre who'd eaten too many pigs. Above him, the stars journeyed through the heavens, mocking him with their freedom.

_What freedom is there for us now? The humans have the crown. Our will is enslaved to theirs_. The thought made his scarred entrails quiver with revulsion.

A footfall sounded from behind him just as an all-too-familiar scent reached his flared nostrils.

"Going to shove me over the edge, Fumm?" He acknowledged the dark-haired giant without turning around, with the corners of his mouth turning down as though he tasted something foul. Fumm merely shrugged as he came to stand beside him, his small weasel eyes traveling to the same faraway place his former king was contemplating. "It's tempting," Fumm growled, "but your body might land upon some innocent girl and kill her. I would not condemn any female to such a fate."

Fallon felt the jab cut like a flaming sword in his heart. His fingers flexed, aching to grip the beautiful iron chain of his flail and smash its spiky ball into something, preferably something in the approximate shape of Fumm's skull. Around them, night animals hunted; he could hear the near-silent swoop of owl's wings as they fell upon unwary mice and carried them off to be devoured, along with the rasping scales of snakes coiling around fledgling birds tumbled from their trees.

He heard Fumm sigh beside him.

"We were closer once. Weren't we, brother?" Fumm's hissing voice sounded, of all things, sad. Brother? He hadn't spoken that word to any of them since they'd all played together in the safety of the nest-cave. Those times felt ancient as buried clay, when they'd been nothing more than five carefree young lads wrestling, laughing, and waiting for their turn to win glory and make their Father proud. Then the Sister's Three brought them out into the world and gave them their Names: Fee, Fye, Foe, Fumm, and Fallon.

Feigeor, Fyelar, Fohane, Fumersu, and Fallanor.

Madness, Grief, War, Pain, and Loss.

Fallon gritted his teeth, exposing sharp white incisors the size of a man's fist.

"Yes, brother. We were." And before Fumm saw him moving Fallon struck, whirling around with teeth bared and landing a solid blow to the other giant's face. Blood sprayed from Fumm's shattered nose as he reeled backwards, stumbling and cursing. Then Fallon was falling on him, taking him down hard enough to leave a spiderweb of cracks in the stony ground. They became a roaring tangle of arms, legs, and clawed fingers scuffling dangerously close to the cliff's edge as Fumm tried to throw the larger giant off while his assailment mercilessly smashed closed fists into his face and chest with enough force to pound granite into powder. Warm blood splashed into Fallon's face, a few smaller drops spattered across the gaping-idiot mouth of his second head, and he became dimly aware that if he didn't get control of himself fast, he would have one less brother in the world.

Breathing hard, with spit dribbling from the corners of his mouth, Fallon let his fists drop to his sides. keeping one knee firmly planted on Fumm's chest while the other pressed down hard on his right arm, preventing him from reaching the stone-slinger fastened to his belt. Purplish bruises were already darkening his face and one eye was swollen shut. Still, Fumm managed a weak, gap-toothed smile, as though he'd expected all along to end up beaten and bloody

When he spoke, Fallon barely recognized himself, his voice twisted into the guttural barking of a wolf pack fighting over a carcass. "I'll let you live because you carried on the fight after I fell into that thrice-damned hell of a fire-lake. But don't expect me to forgive you for leaving me to burn!" Rage transformed his face, his eyebrows drawing together while the angles of his cheekbones sharpened into knives. "And especially not for trying to save the princess from me!"

"She was helpless and a prisoner! You had no right to-"

The knee digging into Fumm's chest bore down harder. "What was I supposed to do with her, Fumm? She's the spawn of that bastard Erik!"

Fumm managed to croak out through swollen, bleeding lips. Defiance thrummed through him like lightning. "King Erik was a monster," he said, "but you are far worse."

Fallon roared, a terrible sound like the rumbling descent of an avalanche. The smaller head chimed in; his roar less impressive but just as angry. The two-headed monster leapt off his fallen enemy in one quick motion, needing to get away from that ruined, mashed-in face or he knew he wouldn't be able to stop himself from tearing his little brother's throat out.

_You are far worse. _

Birds rose into panicked flight as Fallon stalked away, pushing trees in his path aside like sticks. It wasn't true. Just a soft bite from an upstart weakling. Not even worth considering. The ground trembled as each of his heavy footsteps startled forest animals into taking flight. A herd of deer caught in the middle of grazing sprang away from him, their liquid-brown eyes bulging with fright as their long, tawny legs propelled them gracefully through the air in quick leaps.

He stooped down to snatch up a fawn that had the misfortune of being just a tiny bit slower than the rest. It squirmed in his fingers, forelegs sticking out like twigs while its hind legs kicked madly. His thumb encircled its haunches. completely trapping it. Its chest was against his palm, the frightened beat of its heart insignificant next to his own thundering pulse.

It wasn't true.

Still...

As he lay beaten and half-dead on the floor of the human's castle, there was a moment before his sight failed him where he'd seen into the eyes of the Princess and thought he'd read something, a soft, sad light that spoke of...kindness? Mercy?

He would've granted her neither.

Warm guts squirted out between his fingers as the fawn's body was crushed to pulp in his grip. Sniffed the wet blood smearing his hand. It smelled sweet. Clean.

Innocent.

He wiped the blood away and stalked off into the night.

{O}

Isabelle's heart was pounding in her chest as she forced herself to run, run, and keep running. She could hear the two-headed beast cursing behind her, feel his thundering footsteps echo through the barren stone of the catacombs. She'd loved exploring the old tunnels beneath the castle when she'd been a little girl. The long deserted rooms once called to her, whispering of heroic tales, legendary kings, and of forgotten history filled with wonder and magic. Now they felt more like what they truly were - a vast, mazelike tomb a single thought burned the surface of her mind like the flames on the oil-slicked moat outside: I_ don't want to die here!_

Jack! Where was Jack? He'd been running with her, but his hand slipped free of her own when the giant's spiked flail had sheared the air directly over their heads. The gust of wind generated by the flight of the deadly iron ball had nearly sent her flying face-first into the dusty floor. Jack was nowhere to be seen now. Was he dead?

"You smell of horses, mixed with sugar." The monster's voice floated like poisonous mist throughout the tunnels, smooth and taunting. She heard a birdlike squawk, which must've come from the misshapen second head. Her legs trembled, almost spilling her to her hands and knees, but she forced them to keep running, spurred on by sheer desperation.

Her breath was coming in ragged pants by the time she heard stone smash behind her as the giant swung his mace again. Dust clouds and debris peppered the air all around her, stinging her arms and face, nearly blinding her. Her gold dress was a mess of torn and fluttering silk. A coppery taste filled her mouth, and Isabelle realized with horror that sometime during the chase she'd bitten her lower lip; now blood was flowing freely. _Dear God, the blood-scent! Fallon can track it!_ Without thinking, she ran down a narrow hallway overlooking a balcony.

The sound of the wooden balustrade cracking was the only warning she had before Fallon's hand reached through and his thick, calloused fingers wrapped around her. Her whole body strained to yank itself out of his grip, one hand making a futile grab for the ruined balustrade, then she was face to face with the ugly creature. His flabby lips pulled up in a cruel sneer, and the second head let its tongue dangle from its mouth, panting like a dog expecting a juicy bone from its master.

"It's the end of the line, Princess."

She leaned back, trying to pry the enormous fingers off her as Fallon lifted her to his mouth. J_ack! JACK, HELP ME! _But Jack was far away, too far to reach her in time. Through the burning haze of pain and fear, she thought she could hear him screaming her name. His voice was tinny, distorted, as though it were being shouted through mud.

_Isabelle! Isabelle!_

Some evil magic prevented her from closing her eyes. She saw everything as she slipped, legs kicking, past Fallon's teeth and into warm, wet darkness. He'd swallowed her whole. Everything became a blur of red as she dropped headfirst down his throat, arms flailing, hands looking for purchase but finding only smooth fleshy tissue, and then a sphincter opened and she plunged into viscous green digestive juices...

The scream flew out of her like an arrow shaft as she followed it, sitting bolt-upright in bed with her right hand clutching her racing heart and her left gripping the wool coverlet as though trying to anchor her to something real. She gulped in air, taking huge, shaky breaths like a frightened fox being run to ground by a hunter.

"My lady?" A timid voice piped up. "Are you well?"

Isabelle glanced over at the girl in the bed next to hers. She was propped up on an elbow, her long strawberry-blond hair falling over her shoulders, and her sea-green eyes were wide with concern. The room was dark except for a few sputtering candles; the smell of beeswax and freshly cleaned linen hung in the air like a balm. Safe smells.

"I'm fine, Anastasa." Isabelle brought a hand up to massage the ache between her eyes. 'just another nightmare."

"Of the giant?" Rustling of sheets and coverlets, then Isabelle's new lady-in-waiting sat on the edge of her bed, dangling cream-smooth legs over the side. Her naked pink toes swept the wooden floor anxiously. "What was his name again?"

'Fallon." Isabelle sighed. She wanted it to be Jack with her in the dark, holding her while he chased her nightmare away with a silly story or, even better, passionate kissing. But Father insisted they sleep in separate rooms until the night of their wedding, which wouldn't arrive until next spring. He'd also decided it would benefit Isabelle to have girls her own age around the castle. And so he'd gotten Anastasa, orphaned daughter of a jewelry-maker who'd inherited her father's quick fingers and so could string together necklaces like spiders wove webs. Ana was sweet and kind and Isabelle was genuinely fond of her, but she'd been sheltered for most of her life, spoon fed with fairy tales of girls falling in love with and being loved by monsters, and so Isabelle had a difficult time impressing upon her how terrifying it had been to actually be hunted by one.

"Was he really that awful?" Ana was hesitant, not wanting to upset her further but curiosity was an itch that had to be scratched.

She thought of poor Crawe, ripped into chunks of meat and eaten right in front of her. 'Yes."

"Why was he chasing you?"

"He wanted to eat me, Ana. Because I'm the last of King Erik's kin." Isabelle flopped back onto the bed, stared up at the oaken ceiling beams. _Oh Jack, I wish you were with me now._

"Maybe not. Maybe he would've kept you in his castle."

Isabelle shuddered. "That would've been even worse." The polished wood of the ceiling beams crossed each other, and she tried not to think of how much they resembled the bars of a cage. A cage she once cringed inside of, trying to make herself as small as possible, while a smooth, sharp-edged voice asked her questions she couldn't answer.

_How did you get here?_

_I came alone._

_Your blood betrays you, Your Highness._

She pushed the memory away. It wouldn't go easily. "Go back to sleep, Ana. I think I'll be staying up for a while. Alone." She continued to lay on her back, knotting her fingers together, and thought of Fallon the last time she'd seen him. Torn up and bleeding, inside and out, with the remnants of the half-sprouted beanstalk laying like a tangle of blood-smeared kelp beside him. He'd been groaning in pain, defeated, helpless. She'd even felt a twinge of pity for him, but far greater was her joy at still being alive. His grip on her had been so tight.

The giants took him back to Gantua. Maybe he'd died there.

But she doubted it.

**Author's Note:** If you read the first part and are thinking "What?" I'll explain the deal between Fumm and Fallon in later chapters.. Isabelle gets a lady-in-waiting because I was a little annoyed she was the only woman in the entire movie and, no, her name isn't meant to be reference to Princess Ana from Frozen. I just saw Frozen a few days ago whereas I wrote this last month. Loved Princess Ana, but this Ana wasn't intended to be a rip-off of that Ana. Though they do have some similarities, now that I think of it. Oh well. I have a bunch of chaps already written and they just need a little polishing up before I send them out into the world so if anyone cares I could post an update in another week or so.


	2. Chapter 1: Promises

**Title:** Seed of Darkness

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** A new threat descends upon Cloister and Jack must use the Crown of Erik to call on some unlikely allies. Fallon/Isabelle, Fumm/OC

**Disclaimer:** Do not own, though I still have hopes someday Santa will bring me my very own giant.

**Chapter One: Promises**

Jack had never once dreamed he'd be where he was now. The throne room of King Brahmwell was every bit as magnificent as he'd always imagined it. Thick red carpets inlaid with threads of shining gold covered the floors. Any place not covered by carpet was polished oak wood, reflecting the flickering lights of hundreds of beeswax candles placed in carefully-hidden sconces, their sweet aroma spread thick upon the air. His left knee felt as though it was about to give out from kneeling, but he didn't care. For being in this place, at this time, seemed so unreal that he feared the tiniest movement might wake him up and he'd be back in his crumbling old hut with his constantly-disapproving Uncle yelling at him to: "Get your fool head out of the clouds and get to work!"

"Arise, Jack, before you hurt yourself." King Brahmwell's eyes crinkled with amusement as Jack got to his feet. "As my future son-in-law you need not be overly concerned with formalities." Jack hurriedly unbent himself and stood up, still keeping his chin lowered slightly out of respect. The king was actually a little shorter than the farmboy,, a fact that made Jack feel as though he'd unintentionally committed a crime. Swathed in the traditional gold and white robes of royalty, his red cape trailing behind him, King Brahmwell carried himself with dignity despite his plump belly and age-lines creasing his face like layers of slate in a quarry.

Stern, but with a kind heart, Jack thought. Exactly like my Dad used to be.

"How goes life about the town?" Brahmwell started to walk toward an oaken door leading to an adjoining hallway. A pair of liveried guards opened the door to let him pass as Jack walked beside him, making sure to always stay one or two paces behind, "Are my people well?"

Jack plucked at a loose thread on his tunic. "Well enough, I suppose. Many homes were destroyed when the giants attacked. Their hard lives just turned harder. And then we've got wives who lost husbands and children who lost fathers." He sighed. Seeing orphans in the streets begging for scraps always tugged at the old ache in his heart where he kept golden memories of a father and childhood long past.

_Tell the story again, Dad. The one about the giants._

"And your Uncle?" Brahmwell asked.

"He still hasn't forgiven me."

Brahmwell stopped mid-stride and turned to face him, one eyebrow raised. "Even though you bought him a new house and land?"

Jack's reply was a tired smile expressing both amusement and weariness. "Even so. He's not the forgiving type. Says he won't take me back and risk any more of my stupid mistakes."

"Your 'stupid mistakes' saved my kingdom as well as my daughter's life. Whatever wrongs you've committed in the past, Jack, I wholehearted absolve you." Brahmwell turned away, and so missed seeing the wide grin that spread like sunrise over the boy's face, lighting him up and making him look younger, gawkier, and handsomer than ever.

Brahmwell continued walking, taking a long, circuitous route that managed to avoid passages and chambers which had sustained minor damage during the giants' siege. Most of the castle had come through relatively intact, with the outer keep taking the brunt of the onslaught. The catacombs had fared the worst. White stone pillars lay strewn about like broken teeth and several places in the walls and ceiling were gouged by boulder-sized impact craters. The marble floor once decorated with the seal of Cloister's kings now yawned like a gateway to the abyss - the result of Fallon breaking into the castle - and so Brahmwell had declared the tunnels forever unsafe and ordered them sealed permanently.

_Just as well_, Jack thought somberly. _I doubt Isabelle will ever want to venture down there again._

Tiny pinpricks of cold fire lifted the hair on the nape of his neck when he thought of how close it'd been. _If I hadn't saved that last bean, she and I would both be dead._

He was so preoccupied with this dark thought that he almost thumped into the king's back, for the older man had finally stopped. Looking up, he saw they were in a long hallway carpeted in lush red ermine. On the walls, marching in a straight line broken only by wrought-iron brackets bearing lit torches, hung portraits of men and women held in quiet dignity behind ornate frames of gold and silver. Wide-eyed, Jack's gaze roamed hungrily among the different faces. One gray-haired man appeared to be in his late fifties when his portrait was made and Jack got the impression from his hawknose and thin-lipped, straight mouth that this was a man who'd never smiled in his entire life. A woman with her delicate-fingered hand cupping her chin seemed to wink at him, her dark hair fanning out around her shoulders in tantalizing curls while her full lips curved in a smile. Jack noticed King Brahmwell's eyes were also latched onto the woman's portrait, and realized with an audible gasp that the lovely woman in the fetching pose looked just like Isabelle.

"Isabelle's mother." Brahmwell nodded at the painting. "Gwendolyn was the light of my life, and her soul lives still in her daughter." He stared at the portrait for a long time. Jack shuffled beside him, uncertain of what to say. The heat from the torches raised a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. He was about to wipe it off on the back of one sleeve, but caught himself. Y_ou're in the presence of royalty!_ The thought hit him like a whip, and sounded unpleasantly like his Uncle. _Show a little class for once! _

Finally, the king turned to face Jack, found the boy's downcast eyes, and locked them in a steady, unblinking gaze. Jack's stomach knotted. It was like the king was searching his soul, weighing his heart, and testing his courage all with a single piercing look. "Jack, do you know why I ordered the beanstalk cut down?"

Jack's spine straightened. He'd never raised this subject with the king and Brahmwell had never volunteered any information; they'd left it alone, in a sealed iron casket full of Things-Best-Not-Talked-About. Until now.

"I-I imagine you did it to protect the kingdom, Your Highness. To keep the giants from coming down and all."

Brahmwell nodded. Age showed in the worry lines around his eyes, in the sprinkling of gray among his dark curls. "I did. Because a king is not only a father to his children, Jack, but to every man, woman, and babe who dwell within his land.. He must be prepared to risk anything, sacrifice anything to keep them safe. I love Isabelle beyond words, but I couldn't risk dooming us all. Not even for her."

"You will inherit the kingdom when I am gone. Swear to me that whatever Fate hands you, you will always protect my people. No matter the cost to yourself."

Jack dropped to his knees without being asked. He felt there was no other way to deliver such a vow.

"I swear, Your Majesty. On my soul, life, and honor, I swear."

"Your Majesty!" A crisply accented voice cut through the solemnity of the moment. Sound of approaching bootheels, and Jack saw from his vantage point near the floor the tall, razor-straight visage of his friend Elmont. The knight was clad in the standard Guardians' uniform of studded leather armor, matching black leather breeches, and a wickedly sharp rapier was secured in a sheath at his belt. He executed a precision-perfect bow to the king, then, upon straightening, nodded his head at Jack. "Hello down there, Jack. I see your knees are working properly. Well done."

"Elmont." The king quickly took in the scowl on his Captain's face. "I know that look. What has happened?"

"We have a problem." Elmont drew something from a pouch on his belt, and Jack smelled rich soil mixed with healthy green leaves. "It seems, before we cut them down, those overgrown weeds managed to spread themselves around a bit."

Jack had to crane his neck to see, as he hadn't yet received permission to rise from his kneeling position, but he still managed to get a look at the thing in Elmont's hand, and groaned.

A green, curling vine bearing ripe seed pods, one of which was cracked open, revealing six wrinkled, glossy black beans.

Brahmwell's eyes flashed from the beans to Elmont. Their gazes locked.

"Is that what I suspect it is, Elmont?" Brahmwell asked.

Elmont nodded, clenching his jaw in a grim line. "We found this little fellow growing on the edge of the Greenwood. Showed it to the monks and they confirmed it's the same type of plant Roderick filched from King Erik's tomb. The beans it produces are active with dark magic."

"They're growing wild now?"

"Apparently so."

"They'll have to be destroyed." The king sounded weary, and Jack didn't blame him. Those blasted beans nearly destroyed the kingdom, and if they were growing unchecked out in the forests now...Not good.

Apparently, Brahmwell was thinking the same thing. "If anyone finds the beans..."

Elmont sighed, letting his shoulders droop slightly. "Yes, if it were possible to search under every stone, root, and leaf in every forest throughout all of Albion." He stuffed the plant back in its pouch, reattached it to his belt with a few quick movements. "I suppose if any of the beans sprout, we'll know about it."

"So will the giants!" said Jack, all thoughts of propriety momentarily forgotten, along with his stiff back and aching knees.

'They can't cause trouble so long as we have the Crown." Elmont's right hand grasped the hilt of his rapier, stroked the leather gently.

Brahmwell glanced down at Jack, frowning. "Jack, I think it's past time for you to get up. Your oath is accepted." The farmboy obeyed, sending a sheepish smile in Elmont's direction while brushing dust off his breeches.

"Where is Isabelle? We shall discuss this matter over dinner." The king noted Elmont's blank look and sighed. "God save us if she's run off again."

"I think I can guess where she is," said Jack.

"Then go fetch her. I feel I'm in need of a nice mug of ale." The king rubbed at his temples. "Strong ale."

Jack darted down the hallway, retracing the way they'd come. He went gratefully, for the weight of the promise he'd made was starting to sink in, sending his stomach into queasy little flips. And though his quick strides and straight spine said otherwise , he couldn't shrug off the uneasy prickly feeling that the knowing eyes of Isabelle's mother's portrait tracked his every move until he turned down a narrow side passage, a pretty, painted memory of a dead woman on display.

{O}

Isabelle sank down into the goose-feather soft cushions of her favorite chair and opened the thick book upon her lap, turned the brittle, ink-stained pages carefully. Ever since the chaos of last spring when old legends became real and her life changed forever, the castle library went from being an old tower filled with curious tomes and relics to her only true sanctuary. Especially in the evening, when waning autumn sunlight fell in mellow god stripes through the library's high, arched windows. Soon it would be too cold to spend much time here without lighting a fire, and that would be too much to risk among the shelves and stacks of crinkling paper. But for now, the library was a refuge when she needed peace from the endless troop of flowery courtiers, smiling dignitaries, and gossiping servants that bounded throughout the castle like extravagant circus performers getting ready for a show.

The picture, traced in berry-red ink within the pages of the book she held, was of a creature too grotesque for words. A skinless thing with the body of a horse rearing on its hind legs, with a man's torso growing seamlessly from its back, his misshapen head bobbing on its too-thin neck like wheat on a stalk. The artist had used subtle shades of red in defining the creature's exposed muscles, making them appear to pulsate wetly. A stream flowed in front of it, blocking it from reaching the disheveled farmer standing on the other side, his fist raised in defiance.

She read the description of the beast, its name, strengths and weaknesses, and tried to commit as much of it as she could to memory. Folklore and legends, which had fascinated her for most of her life, were becoming an obsession to her now. She absorbed every bit of information she could glean about the fairy realm, the unproven existence of unicorns, even the explicit account of a woman who claimed to have been overly-familiar with a visiting nocturnal demon. She'd put that particular book away unfinished, else Father might mistake the constant blush in her cheeks for fever spots.

Jack had only asked her about this new passion of hers one time, and she'd explained it to him as clearly as she could.

_I want to be ready when the next legend turns out to be real. _

She was about to put the book down when she heard a familiar light step behind her, then a pair of calloused farmboy hands descended upon her shoulders and began massaging them gently.

'And what is this new monstrosity you've discovered?"

Smiling, she leaned back into her chair and gazed up into the eyes of her fiance, catching the playful gleam in them and sending it back through her own mischievous smile. Indeed, those soulful eyes were one of the first qualities that had drawn her to him.

"It's called a knoggelvi."

"A what?!"

She laughed. "It's one of the fairy spirits, and a hideous one at that."

"I'll say." Jack came around to face her, and she felt her stomach give a pleasant little flutter. He stood with his hands clasped before him, his tunic, coat, and breeches so drab and unpretentious he stood out like a plain mouse among Father's court of gaily dressed squirrels. Father had even offered to dress him in the latest royal fashion - consisting of ridiculous looking wigs, boots big enough for draft horses to comfortably slip into, and belts buckled tight enough to sever a man's torso - but he'd politely refused, feeling more at ease in his peasant clothes. It only made her love him more.

He leaned over to get a closer look at the drawing. Isabelle could feel his breath tickling her forehead. "And how do you kill one?"

"You can't kill it. You have to ford a stream or creek. Get running water between you and it, and it can't cross after you." She shut the book gently, laid it on the stack next to her, which teetered precariously. "I hope knoggelvi don't turn out to be real, too. Imagine facing one of them!'

"If all you have to do to escape it is cross running water, I'd take it over a rampaging giant any day."

Laughing, she glided up out of the chair and threw her arms around him. Her dress rustled slightly as he returned the favor, closing her in his strong embrace. His shoulder made a comfortable resting place for her head as she breathed him in, smelling fresh hay, woodsmoke, and falling autumn leaves.

" I had another nightmare last night," she whispered into the rough fabric of his coat.

"About that two-headed freak?" Gentle touch of his fingers in her hair. Without leaving the safety of his shoulder, her answer came out muffled, "Yes."

"He can't come back."

"But what if he does?" Her face felt hot from shame, for she sounded like a five-year old girl jumping at shadows. But this five-year old just found out that those shadows have teeth...and they really do want to eat the last of Erik's kin.

"If he comes back, we'll deal with him." Jack's lips pressed against her forehead, and she exhaled in a long, deep sigh against him. He felt so solid, so reliable. Around them, thin spears of diminishing sunlight played among the shelves, sparking off bits of dust swirling through the air like glitter from a pixie's wings. "I won't let him hurt you." He gently removed her left hand from his shoulder, brought it to his lips, and kissed the sparkling engagement ring on her second finger. A blue sapphire nestled inside a cluster of diamonds. Not as beautiful as the one who wore it, in his opinion, but close. "I promise."

A throat cleared behind them.

"I'm afraid you'll have to cut your little tryst short." Both of them jumped, disengaging from each others arms to find Elmont standing with his arms folded across his chest, his lips pressed together so tightly they almost disappeared. His brown hair looked ruffled, which meant he'd come to them in a blazing hurry. "Something's come up."

It never failed to amaze Isabelle how the Captain of the King's Guardians could move about so silently. She hadn't even heard the telltale click of bootheels on stone. Then again, she had been a bit preoccupied with other things at the time. 'What's happened?"

"Jack's Uncle is here," Elmont said, frowning. "And he claims to have a story to tell."


	3. Chpter 2: Threats

**Title:** Seed of Darkness

**Rating**: T

**Summary:** A new threat descends upon Cloister and Jack must use the Crown of Erik to call on some unlikely allies.

**Disclaimer: **No one's paying me for this. I don't own the characters. Please don't sue me. I'm broke so you wouldn't get much.

**chapter 3: Threats**

_This can't be good news. _

That thought was foremost in Jack's mind as he followed his friend's stiff backside down the labyrinth of corridors that led to the Knight's Hall. He shuffled a few steps behind Elmont, and though he knew it was cowardly of him, he hoped that the seasoned Guard Captain would provide temporary cover from the brunt of whatever attack that was going to be launched at him once he stepped past those doors. They were thick doors, too. Solid oak wood, with the filigreed crest of the Guardians carved into the polished grain, but they weren't preventing the raised voices inside from being unheard. One voice in particular made him cringe. He'd endured that voice flinging raspy yells and curses in his general direction since he was six years old, and judging by the earbleedingly-high pitch it was currently raised to, his Uncle was in a flaming hot, crankiness-fueled rage.

"Bit temperamental is he, your Uncle?" Elmont asked mildly.

Jack nodded. A few strands of messy brown hair fell into his face and he brushed them aside, wished fervently that he'd had time to comb through the unruly mop. "Has all the charm and tact of an angry giant."

Elmont's lips curved up in a tight smile. "Well, you know how to handle giants, my friend." He stepped aside, sweeping an arm toward the door gaily. "In you go."

He would've objected, using the admittedly flimsy excuse about protocol dictating that the highest-ranking individual always enters first, if the double-doors hadn't been flung open at that precise moment and a skinny, red-faced farmer hadn't staggered out. His curly white hair floated like pale vapor around his head, framing his hawk-nosed, craggy face. One gnarled hand was clenched into a fist while the other pulled at the collar of his rumpled white shirt. Steel-gray eyes blinked for about half-a-second before latching onto Jack like a fishing spear.

"JACK! CURSE YOU, BOY! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE NOW!"

Even Elmont winced. A passing maid nearly dropped the chamberpot she was carrying. Jack took a deep breath as he cautiously approached the old man, holding his arms out in front of himself in an effort to look as innocent as possible. "Calm down, Uncle! What's happened?"

"THIS!" The farmer turned his head slightly, and Jack sucked in a breath of smoke-laden air as he got a look at the right side of his Uncle's face. The wrinkled skin was black with soot and red blisters were swelling up like fat grapes. Patches of cloud-fluffy hair looked singed, some had even been burned away, revealing tender, inflamed skin underneath. A few tiny wisps were all that remained of one eyebrow. Sliding back a few steps to take it all in, Jack noticed many fraying holes and tears on his Uncle's workclothes, a few of which still smoked slightly.

Jack found his tongue didn't want to work properly and so was grateful when Elmont spoke for him. 'Good Lord, man, what happened to you? And how is it Jack's fault?"

The old man stabbed one crooked, bony finger in his nephew's face, so close that if Jack were standing a step closer, he'd been poked in the eye. "Wasn't it bad enough when your foolishness destroyed my house and brought the giants down on us.? Now you have to bring DRAGONS into it, too?"

'Dragons?" Jack's brain did a mental double-take as the word sank in.

"Dragons." His Uncle nodded. "Destroyed my farm and probably made off with all my livestock, too."

"Dragons aren't real," said Elmont. He was giving the angry peasant the same sort of appraising look he might give an agitated, mentally-unsound beggar in the marketplace.

"Then can you please name any other sort of nasty-tempered, fire-breathin' beast that would swoop down upon a man's livelihood and burn it to cinders?" Elmont's stare took on the tight-jawed, cold-eyed sharpness of a trained warrior, and Uncle visibly wilted, his shoulders slumping and head ducking meekly. "Tis true, I swear."

A sound of approaching footsteps, then King Brahmwell stood silhouetted within the entrance to the Knight's Hall, the heavy doors held open for him by two Guardsmen."Then tell us everything." His tone was mild and kind as he laid a hand on Uncle's shoulder, but Jack read thrumming tension in the stiff way he carried himself. _He hides it well_, _though._ _Uncle's lucky he hasn't gotten himself thrown out by now._

"Your Highness, I-" The old man's voice had finally dropped to a saner volume as he faced the King, to everyone's relief.

"Come inside and sit down, Tiberius." Still keeping one hand firmly on the old man's shoulder, Brahmwell steered him toward the open doors and the Round Table within. "Whatever this is, it is not Jack's fault. He has been within my palace all afternoon, so if he were up to some mischief involving dragons I surely would've known about it." Once the king finished ushering his unruly subject inside, Jack and Elmont followed, Jack looking considerably less dejected from having received Brahmwell's vote of confidence. Elmont spared a glance at his friend, quirking an eyebrow as if to say _Dragons? Really?_

The Knight's Hall was an oval room with high windows, letting in weak evening light and cool air. There was no elegant carpeting to hide the naked, rough-hewn stone, which was constantly swept clean of muddy bootprints, leaves, and any other grime that men who spent their days riding on horseback or practicing their swordplay might track in. As much as he tried to hide it, Jack always took a few seconds to gawk at the vast assortment of weapons mounted on the gray stone walls like solemn decorations, some still tarnished along their cutting edges with rusty-red stains. Swords, spears, axes, shields, every single piece of shining steel once having belonged to a knight whose deeds had long since drifted into the twisted shadowland between fact and legend. The center of the room was taken up by the Round Table, a single piece of pure black stone carved with spiraling symbols that were said to have been made by the Good Neighbors, the secret people of the Greenwood who were supposed to have hunted and sang and fought in Albion long before the first of Brahmwell's kin touched its soil.

Such things made Jack nervous.

"Sit. All of you." Brahmwell's robes swished as he took his seat, a blend of gold and white finery that contrasted with the two lean, sculpted silver lions adorning the back of his chair, facing each other with their glinting teeth bared and manes whipped up like liquid metal froth. Jack took his place next to Elmont, keeping his hands well away from the looping scrawl of eldritch writing on the Table's edge. Through the windows, the last rays of the sun were vanishing behind thick clouds, their ragged edges outlined in blazing scarlet.

"Speak your piece, Tiberius," said the king, steepling his hands as he regarded Uncle levelly.

"I was out tending to my cattle." The old man met the king's eyes briefly, then glanced at Jack. "I'd just finished feeding and watering them. I started heading back to my house, and then this green, scaly_ thing_ drops out of the sky and lands on the roof." The muscles in his throat worked as he swallowed nervously. "I just stared at it like a fool. It sniffed at the air like a giant dog. Then it opened its mouth and this great blast of flame came straight at me. I threw myself to one side just in time to escape the worst of it. Most of my poor cows didn't." He paused for a moment to touch one of the blisters on his cheek, then jerked his hand away, grimacing. "Weren't nothing I could do except run. I looked back once to see my home burnin' merrily to the ground and the monster crawlin' like a lizard on all fours, hunting. Wasn't after me, Thank God, else I doubt I'd be among the living now."

"No one else has come to us complaining of dragon attacks," Elmont grumbled.

"Maybe because they're all dead!" Uncle shouted, his voice taking on its normal grouchy-old-guy tone, which told Jack the old codger was brewing himself up a fresh cup of steaming fury.

"Enough." King Brahmwell's unblinking gaze fastened on Uncle, who ducked his head. Seconds ticked by in which the king regarded everyone at the Table, and Jack's entire body felt frozen to his seat. The look the king directed at him was grave, unsmiling, and silently communicated _We may be in for it again, lad. Be ready._ "Elmont, at dawn tomorrow take some men with you and go investigate this man's claims. I presume you'll want to go too, Jack, since this involves your Uncle?"

"Of course, Your Highness!"

"Then, until dawn, gentlemen." The king stood, prompting everyone else to rise with him. A curt nod and they were dismissed, all except for Uncle, who stood with his head bowed and hands in his pockets, for all the kingdom like a boy caught trying to pickpocket a monk's almsbowl. Now that he'd used up all his energy to scream and rant he ceased to be a gaunt, yelling, white-haired recluse and melted down into just a tired, beaten down farmer who'd just lost his home for the second time. Jack wanted to go to him, but feared offering sympathy would be tantamont to throwing himself into a hungry giant's hand. _He looks like a blacksmith attacked by his own forge._

Evidently, Brahmwell thought so too, as he laid a hand on Uncle's shoulder. "Tiberius, we will find a place for you to stay for the night. And for God's sake, ask one of the healers to treat your wounds. They look painful. And, with all due respect, I sincerely do hope you are either deranged or a liar. Fighting off giants was hard enough. Heaven help us if dragons are next!"

{O}

Dawn dragged itself like a pale curtain over the forests and fields of Albion. Billowy white and gray cumulus clouds piled on top of each other, their dense masses drifting through blue space like chunks of slate. Almost as soon as the first speck of light touched the horizon, Elmont collected a yawning, crusty- eyed Jack from his room at the palace, along with a small army of twenty armed Guardians from the barracks - who took to their predawn quest with plenty of muttered cursing - and mounted them all on horseback. An early-morning breeze, still carrying a hint of the previous night's frost, buffeted Jack's hair and face as he rode alongside Elmont, whipping through his coat so that it flapped around him like a thrush's wings. Birds twittered among the swaying branches of pine, spruce, and poplar trees growing in clumps at the edges of the Greenwood, their natural, friendly little chirps helping to calm the nagging worry buzzing through Jack's brain like a persistent little fly.

He stared intently over the ivory mane of his horse, contemplating the rolling green field spread out like a hunter's cloak before him. The last time he'd been out this way, he'd been galloping like a fiend from hell, trying to stay ahead of an army of marauding giants while warning as many people as he could about the danger. It was hard for him to keep from glancing over his shoulder every few minutes.

"So, what do you think, Jack? Is your Uncle completely starkers?" Jack was so lost in painfully-vivid memories he hadn't even noticed Elmont rein his black charger alongside his flank, bringing them almost shoulder-to-shoulder. "Personally, I think the man's one herring shy of a full net."

Jack's horse nickered softly, tossing its shaggy head. The farmboy sighed. "He's not the type to make up stories. 'That's my job,' he'd always say."

"And if by some astounding chance he's telling the truth, are you prepared to fight?"

"I'm one of you, aren't I? Of course I'll fight." _But I don't know how I can win. _Everything Jack had ever read about dragons said they were nearly indestructible, with hard scales impenetrable to arrows, teeth as sharp as swords, and an ability to scorch everything around them with flame. His stomach felt heavier the closer they got to Uncle's farm, as though he'd eaten iron balls instead of bread for breakfast.

Jack's spirits lifted slightly at seeing the old windmill again. Some repairs had been made since the giants nearly destroyed it. The blades were up and spinning again, operating the machinery that ground the latest batch of harvested wheat into flour. Gusts today would likely be strong enough to power it for hours. In the distance, the jagged points of the Giant's Teeth loomed; mist-shrouded, gray mountains glowered down upon the land like disapproving ancestors. Jack nape tingled at the sight. The irony of their name was not lost on him.

"Easy now, lads. The old man's farm is right over the next hill. We may be entering hostile territory." Elmont's command snapped Jack back into the present, and he gripped the reins of his horse tighter. He peered straight ahead as they crested the hill, tall grass rising up to meet them, then falling away to reveal the scene below. Jack gaped.

Trails of black smoke still rose from what was left of the thatched roof, most of it having collapsed into rugged piles. The acrid smell of burnt wood stung his nose even as his irritated eyes began to tear up. Jack kept his horse alongside Elmont as they approached. Small fires still clung to bits and pieces of shattered timber, forcing the horses to carefully choose their steps as they drew closer. Jack's horse snorted and whinnied softly, its ears pricked forward and nostrils flared as though it smelled something bad. He stroked its mane, rubbed the velvet tuft of one ear, and spared a glance up at the sky.

Slices of clear blue opening for short seconds between amorphous swells of chalky white, shifting and reforming like cracked glaze. Putting a hand up to shield his eyes, Jack held his breath, scanning.

"Jack! Come here!" Elmont's shout, tight and controlled. Jack tugged at the reins, urging his reluctant mount toward where Elmont sat astride his horse, beckoning, a cluster of Guardians already gathering around him. They seemed to be staring at a patch of ground, and when Jack got closer he could see why. Pools of blood saturated the churned-up earth, hunks of grass, soil, and animal dung all mixed into a damp, reddish-brown quagmire. Twin trails of spilled red ran in drips nd smears back to the splintered remains of a white picket fence; formerly an animal pen, now charred-black in places. The smell of smoke and burned meat was thick in the air, and Jack had to croon reassurances into his horse's twitching ear in an attempt to settle its nervous prancing. The other Guardians were having similar trouble with their own mounts, and Elmont looked stone-faced and grim.

"Well, there it is," the knight said. He scanned the assembled crowd, eyes lingering for a moment on Jack, then flicking away. "Something happened here, but no evidence to prove the culprits were anything other than simple raiders."

A Guardian with shoulder-length brown hair shook his head. "Raiders wouldn't slaughter the animals like this."

Elmont snapped, "Maybe they caught them on a bad day. Who knows?"

They lapsed into a heated debate about the habits of raiders and how they acquired their ill-gotten goods and what they did with them afterwards and how this whole expedition had nothing to go on but the word of a cranky old man who, a few argued, most likely got drunk and torched the place himself. Others insisted it had to be some kind of animal attack, maybe wolves or bears, but such creatures wouldn't have been capable of burning everything to the ground so that led them right back to the same explanation, which was no explanation at all. The wash of raised male voices quickly turned into a buzz in Jack's ears and he sidled his horse away from the stamping and arguing, feeling uneasy and restless. He rolled his shoulders, once, twice, trying to ease out some of the tension. Stretching his neck, he let his head tip backwards, casting his eyes to the mixture of blue sky and clouds above.

Just in time to mark its path as a dark shape flicked through a gap of blue between two dove-gray clouds.

'Um, Elmont?" Jack's heart began beating like a frightened sparrow in his chest. "I think..."

A large, misshapen mass of red and white splatted to the ground just a few feet away from the farmboy. The impact was hard enough to send wet little droplets flying in all directions, landing on the faces and uniforms of the circle of Guardians. All argument cut off mid-sentence as though a whip had been cracked across their noses and they turned as one to stare at the sad, mutilated thing that had once been a cow. The horns were still there, which made it recognizably bovine in nature, but the rest of it was chewed-up and glistening wet, with huge chunks of it missing and the muscles exposed. the bones looked thin and melted away, as if they'd been steeping in acid.

From somewhere in the stunned crowd a tremulous voice said,"Ewww."

And then all hell broke loose.

**Author's Note:** While writing this, I got tired of referring to Jack's Uncle as just "Uncle" or "old man." So I decided to give the guy a name. "Tiberius" sounds kind of grouchy but with some of its dignity left, so I thought it suited him. I wanted him to come off just as much of a jerk as he did in the movie, but with his second home newly obliterated he kind of has a reason to be that way.

I don't beg for reviews but it would be nice to get some feedback. I'll keep going regardless. This story is my obsession.


	4. Chapter 3: Lizards

**Title:** Seed of Darkness

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** A new threat descends upon Cloister and Jack must use the Crown of Erik to summon some unlikely allies.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor make any profit from, the characters in this story.

**Snicket Warning Label**: This chapter contains violence, blood, and the death of a major character. If such things are upsetting to you, then, boy, are you reading the wrong fanfiction!

**Chapter 3: Lizards**

It fell out of the sky like a hammer, landing with a solid, ground-shaking thump that sent up a murky tornado of dirt, grass, and bits of stony debris. Smells of loam and blood burst into the air as damp chunks of displaced earth settled all around them. Shouts went up, accompanied by the muffled beats of stamping horses. Jack wiped at his eyes with the back of one shaking, grime-streaked hand and was almost thrown from his mount as it reared up, tossing its sleek head and neighing frantically along with a confused mess of panicked animals and cursing Guardians. When the dust cleared, every man grew silent, staring in slack-jawed amazement.

A winged lizard, easily as long as ten men from snout to tail-tip, crouched over the pile of wet meat that used to be a cow. It uncoiled itself slowly as Jack's stunned brain picked out details. It's toothy snout tapered down into a wicked curved beak, and a memory streaked across his consciousness of the first time he'd been introduced to the king's hunting falcons. Cruel, nasty things made for killing, he'd thought. But this creature put those little birds to shame. Its hide was the dark, mottled-green of old pine forests, covered in scaly armor that glinted like enamel. A fringe of gleaming-black spikes curved backwards along it's jowls, and the top of its triangle-shaped head was crowned by two sharp, obsidian horns. Below the surface oiled muscles rippled and bulged smoothly when it moved. It lifted up one foreleg and laid a pebble-rough foot on the haunch of the dead cow, thin skeins of webbing stretched between the toes as it splayed out four lacquered black claws, then buried them into the meat with a sound like a butcher's blade sinking into a side of beef. There was a flash of bright red tongue as its mouth opened, the head twisted as it tore off a slice of ragged, blood-wet cowflesh that was swiftly gulped down.

"Easy, men." Elmont's hoarse whisper carried well in the near total silence. The only sounds were the stamping of snorting, frightened horses, bridles jangling, and the heavy breathing of terrified men. The knight caught Jack's eye, nodded as if to say _Be ready_. A cold finger slid down Jack's spine when he noticed even the birds had stopped singing. _That's never a good sign_. "Hold your fire! We don't want to provoke it!" Elmont snapped. "Fall back to-"

A bow twanged. An arrow zipped past Jack's ear with only inches to spare, struck the dragon right on the bony ridges covering its forehead and bounced off. harmless as a mayfly.

"Didn't I just say don't shoot?" Elmont yelled, and Jack had a half-second in which to mentally curse himself for not thinking to grab a fireproof shield from the armory before setting out this morning.

The dragon's head came up, gore dripping from its jaws. Oval-shaped yellow eyes regarded them with a slow, reptilian blink. Black pupils thinned down to slits as the mouth opened, and leathery folds of skin on its neck expanded as air was sucked down in one huge gulp.

"RUN!" Jack was already wheeling his horse out of the way when the blast hit. A cloud of red-orange flame erupted behind him as heated wind gusted around him, ripping at the sleeves of his coat and crisping few strands of loose hair. The world became a blur of shouts, screams, and galloping horses. Jack glanced over his shoulder to see a horse and rider, both of them engulfed in flames, running madly alongside him. The poor horse missed a step and toppled over, flames eating away its flesh, turning the bones to black , brittle cinders. Sparks rained down around him, setting small patches of grass ablaze. He held on grimly as his poor horse plowed through smoking brushfires, its terror so great that any thoughts of slowing down or stopping never crossed its mind. Jack whispered a silent prayer of relief when he broke through a wall of smoke to see Elmont ahead of him, galloping on his black charger and shouting orders.

"Fall back! Get out of range!"

_You don't need to tell me, friend._ Smoke mixed with the sick-sweet stench of roasting human meat almost made him gag as he kicked his horse's sides, heading for the knot of Guardians forming a disciplined line around the Captain. The archers had their bows drawn and, as soon as he barreled in among them, let the first volley fly. His horse stamped and neighed as he made it turn to face the dragon, whose green snout was half-buried in the charred remains of one of the fallen soldiers, the pits of its nostrils flared wide. The arrows struck its chest, legs, and head only to bounce off like acorns, their shafts bent and points broken.

"This is not good," Elmont said.

Breathing hard, hearing his own blood pounding in his ears, Jack watched the dragon shudder like a dog shaking off water. It spread its wings - ribbed, translucent-green membranes wide enough to fill the entirety of the king's throne room - whipped back its head and screeched a single, piercing note like a hawk's cry dragged out and amplified tenfold. A few breathless seconds ticked by. The dragon became utterly still, folded its wings close to its sides, and glared at them with snake-slit, golden yellow eyes.

"It's just sitting there." Jack drew up alongside Elmont, who held the reins of his charger in a white- knuckled grip. Smoldering bits of leaves along with drifts of white powder crumbled from his armor when he moved. Jack tasted bile in his mouth when he realized the white stuff was human ash.

"I've got a bad feeling about this." Weary resignation colored every word as the Guard Captain met his eyes.

Cold wind buffeted Jack's face, reddening his cheeks and icing the sweat on his brow as the morning chill deepened. The light around them dimmed as though an enormous hand was blocking out the sun. Everyone looked up.

Dragons dropping out of the sky like rain, their wings folded close in a huge, synchronized dive.

Jack's horse reacted faster than he did. It bolted, hooves tearing furrows in the soft dirt, and there was nothing for him to do except hold on with a deathgrip as wind whipped his hair back and scoured his face. Around him the Guardians were doing the same, the rolling field offering very little cover and no defensible positions. Jack watched, helpless, as dragons swooped out of the sky with an eerie grace, their hind legs extending and claws flexing. Men were plucked from their saddles and carried screaming up into the clouds. Amid the cacophony of rushing wind, screams, and galloping hooves Jack could barely hear Elmont shouting. Or maybe it was _him_; his throat felt as raw as if he'd swallowed sand. The air trembled as a shadow fell across him and his numb fingers yanked hard on the reins, his horse just barely cantering to the left in time to avoid the curved claws. They snapped shut on the air he'd previously occupied with a loud click. Whoever was behind him wasn't so lucky. Jack heard the dry-paper rustle of enormous wings, then a scream that dwindled away as the winged lizard carried its victim off.

"They're heading for Cloister!" Elmont's shout. Coming from right net to him. And Jack - forcing himself to slow down and think through the haze of fear and gut-churning nausea clouding his mind - realized he was right. Nothing was coming out of the sky now except body parts - arms and legs and an occasional torso, all chewed-up and plopping to the ground with moist little smacks.

The dragons were flying in loose formation ahead of them, angling slightly to the east, having caught the tantalizing scent of large quantities of human flesh.

Jack's hands shook as he jerked the reins, bringing his exhausted mount to a halt long enough to take stock. Of the twenty men who'd rode out this morning, only eight were left. Eight haggard men, all streaked in black soot, sweat, and blood. Soon Elmont was beside him, white-faced and clutching his right shoulder - the armor there was marred by a very jagged, deep claw mark - and together they watched, horrified, as the plague of dragons arced through the clouds, becoming dark, dangerous specks in the sky above their home.

"This is definitely not good." Elmont said, and Jack wholeheartedly agreed.

{O}

Isabelle had to escape again.

It wasn't that she didn't enjoy the company of Anastasa and the other maids. It wasn't that she was trying to spite her father with yet another show of disobedience. It wasn't even that she'd stopped by the palace kitchen for a loaf of bread and stumbled upon the skinny senior cook whistling tunelessly while chopping vegetables. He'd wished her good morning, to which she'd stammered a hasty reply, then made a quick exit. _The poor man doesn't even know why I avoid him now_, she thought, giving the inside of her cheek a good nip as penance, _but I was in a kitchen like his once before, and not as a guest either. _

She'd been on the menu.

But it wasn't any of those things. It was simply that the stone walls were once again turning as stifling as mud clogging her throat, so dense that just sipping air took an act of will. Even the library, her place of refuge, was becoming too small a space. She needed to feel blue sky above her and the bustling of common folk around her, every shoddy-shoed, hard-knuckled one of them weighted with their own individual burden, dealing with it in their own unique way that still left room for dignity and hopefulness. She needed to understand them. To know them.

She needed to see the world.

So she'd waited until the stable boys had finished feeding and watering the animals before insisting that Anastasa take time to finish her latest creation of pearls, topaz, and rose quartz strung together on silver thread. Her lady-in-waiting was being kept so busy between palace chores and following Isabelle around like a faithful lapdog that she was more than happy to have an hour to just sit and make jewelry. _It reminds me of my father,_ she would say. _Sometimes I think I feel his hands guiding me._ With Ana happily occupied with several lengths of thread plus an assorted pile of sparkling polished gems, Isabelle declared that she was going out for some air and left the jewelry-maker to her beads.

It was warm in the stable, the exhaled breath, body heat and musk of horses in close proximity was like a familiar blanket thrown over her shoulders after sneaking past sleepy palace guards out into brittle morning air, being careful to keep a simple peasants cloak pulled over her face and her head down. She doubted the guards would've tried to stop her from leaving, but they would've certainly informed her father. And he would worry about her as only a man whose daughter came a hairsbreadth away from ugly death several times over knows how. She hated to make things hard for him, but hopefully she would be gone and back again without anyone ever knowing. Shaking out her long hair from beneath the cloak, she strode past rows of stalls to the shelves at the east end, where the horse tack was stored. A few horses nudged their muzzles over the wooden planks as she passed, chewing meditatively while following her with soft, liquid brown eyes.

Weak morning sun began filtering through gaps in the wooden walls by the time she finished brushing the last tangle out of Victoria's mane. The mare tossed her head and nickered in pleasure as Isabelle stroked its clean, white softness. "Ready to ride, my darling?" Isabelle asked while stowing the brushes away and fetching the saddle. Made of strong, oiled leather, her fingers slid over its surface as she buckled it on. Victoria stamped and tossed her head again.

She mounted up and had just pulled her left leg into the stirrup when she heard his voice.

"Isabelle?"

_Oh no_. A mad urge to throw the cloak over her shoulders and huddle inside its hood jolted through her, but she knew it was already too late. He couldn't possibly mistake her, clad in gray riding boots, white trousers and matching tunic, sitting astride a horse for good measure. Instead she ducked her head, letting long strands of chestnut hair cover her face, feeling as if she were a rambunctious nine-year old princess caught playing with straw dolls in the hayloft all over again.

King Brahmwell stood with the sun at his back, his arms crossed, blocking the dusty path leading through the wide-open stable doors like a mountain blocking the sea. Her fingers uncurled from Victoria's reins and busied themselves with picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of her tunic. "Father," she muttered. "I-"

"Isabelle. Look at me."

She did, and saw he too was dressed for riding, wearing stiff, rugged brown trousers and a heavy green and brown patterned cloak that fastened at his throat, hanging on him almost like a monk's robe.

"I saw your eyes at breakfast and they told me you'd find your way out here soon enough." A small smile crinkled the corners of his mouth. From her horseback viewpoint, she could see the streaks of gray in his dark hair. A few had turned stark white since last spring, around the time a beanstalk sprouted and she'd gone missing. Hot shame boiled up inside her, leaving a sour trace in the back of her throat.

"Father, I'm sorry."

"I won't forbid you to leave the palace, child." He approached the stalls. his booted heels scuffling through thick layers of dust and bits of grain. "If you're encounter with the Gantuans didn't scare the wanderlust out of you, I fear there's nothing an old man like myself can do to keep you in one place."

A small laugh escaped her, bursting out like a soapbubble. She swayed in the saddle as Victoria stamped restlessly beneath her. Leaning forward, she whispered in the mare's ears. "Be still." The horse whinnied and would've trotted forward if Isabelle hadn't jerked on the reins. Her father watched their little display, raising his bushy eyebrows in amusement. "Now you know how I feel."

"She's high-spirited, that's for sure." Isabelle could feel her face growing hot and spent a moment in intense contemplation of a robin's nest attached to a crossbeam above them. When she looked back her father was throwing a saddle over the back of a large bay. Possibly the most beautiful animal in the stable aside from her own sweet Victoria, Thunder was a sleek, living sculpture of well-defined muscle stretched beneath a smooth reddish-brown coat. The horse flicked its glossy black tail as the last strap was fastened. King Brahmwell mounted up in one quick, efficient motion that a man half his age would've envied. Isabelle felt water sting her eyes and a swift, sweet ache in the core of her heart as her father turned in the saddle and gazed at her without a trace of anger or resentment.

"May I accompany you on this morning's adventure?" he asked.

"Of course," she answered, speaking around the rock in her throat.

They took a meandering path down into the village, passing a group of palace guards who obediently raised the wrought-iron gate that would admit them into the village square. The guards raised their fingers in quick salutes as they passed, ice-bright morning sun streaming over dull, steel-gray armor as they moved, their red capes flapping and rustling in the wind like blood-coated wings. The sounds and smells of town life closed around them, horses trotting on cobblestone streets, merchants bellowing about the quality of their goods, using truth, half-truth, and baldfaced lies to entice buyers. Isabelle could hear the hammer of a blacksmith striking steel somewhere. Upon turning a corner, Victoria nearly trod over an old, gray-robed woman squatting down at the very edge of the street. An herbalist's three-leaf charm was knotted around the crone's throat with brown thread and rows of potted plants were arranged around her like soldiers. Isabelle smelled sage, lemonbalm, and basil. _Quite a combination_, she thought wryly, shaking her head to clear the fog of cloying scent. _I should've brought some money. The cook could probably use some of those plants. Maybe I'd even give them to him myself, if I could stand to be in the kitchen that long._

The princess jumped in the saddle as a heavy gong clanged, the sound carrying from several streets away. It rang seven more times, sharp, clear peals that drowned out the squabble of street noise around them.

"The monks certainly do like their bells," her father remarked, cupping a hand to his right ear and grimacing. No one had singled out his presence yet, as his face was well-hidden underneath his cloak. And even if some sharp-eyed person recognized him Isabelle doubted anyone would be fool enough to attack the king while surrounded by his subjects in broad daylight. All of Cloister loved him.

"Indeed they do," she nodded. The abbey bells tolled every hour to mark the time, and occasionally for no reason at all other than to remind people to think holy thoughts. Not many bothered to pay attention before giants started falling out of the sky, then the brotherhood became all the rage as peasants flocked to be anointed and children were sent off in droves to receive a religious education. Through a haze of dust, Isabelle could just barely see the roof of the abbey's steeple rising above the bakery and sweetshop like a red-rimmed tooth, the thick coat of clay steaming under the sun's touch.

"I hope they're keeping their holy relics under closer supervision these days,' she muttered, then had to pull up sharp on the reins as a pair of fat chickens fluttered across her path, their flaming rooster tails held high, flapping wings strewing drifts of white feathers in their wake. Up ahead, a farmer in a faded straw hat cursed furiously at the skinny, dark-haired boy who'd apparently bumped his cart, tipping it just enough to give his clucking merchandise a chance to escape.

Thunder's mane rippled like fresh oil as her father brought him to a halt beside her. "I don't blame the monks for what happened. I blame men like Roderick who think they can control forces best left alone." King Brahmwell sighed. A crease appeared between his eyebrows as his jaw clenched. "I still can't believe he betrayed us. And he would've let the Gantuans eat you..?"

"It's over, Father. He's dead."They rode together side by side, neither one speaking for several minutes. It made Isabelle's stomach hurt to see how deeply Roderick's selfishness had wounded her father. He'd taken everything else - the beanstalk, the Gantuans, even the invasion in stride, but the revelation that the friend he'd confided to and been counseled by for years would've let them all die just so he could sit on the throne and play at being king had cut him, and cut him deep.

Up ahead, a crowd of people gathered round a squat little building draped in orange and gold banners. Isabelle knew it immediately.

"Father, here's the theater where I met Jack!"

"Ah." Her father's mood brightened considerably at the mention of her fiance. They steered their horses closer to the theater. Sounds of laughter and applause drifted out from behind the fluttering banners that served as a door. The place was decorated for a special performance. Freshly harvested pumpkins had been arranged in haphazard little patches around the entrance, and scents of spiced candy, roasted meat, and fermentation clung to the thin wooden walls. A performer dressed in only a loincloth made of woven sticks and a beret of deer's antlers spiraling in skeletal corkscrews from the top of his head emerged, shoving aside the autumnal banners with a knobby fist. He staggered toward them, muttering to himself and reeking of apple mead, when he glanced at Isabelle, did a double take, and dropped to his knees with all the grace of an arthritic cow.

"Your Highness!" he slurred. "You grace my humble theater with your presence again!"

"Oh, get up, Merek!" she snapped, waving a hand at him. "Don't draw attention to us!"

"Yes, Your Highness!" His bony knees creaked audibly in his haste to rise from his miserably-executed prostration. He lifted up a slim-fingered hand, intending to tug at his untamed mop of wild brown hair, only to jab his forefinger on the sharp end of an antler. She could see him bite back a curse, and the corner of her moth twitched from trying to hide her smile._ If only Father knew how many improper words I've learned from this man._ "You are most welcome to come in and watch the show! It will begin again in one hour!'

"We're just passing by, Merek, but thank you." Isabelle stifled a groan. _Merek, you should know by now that you don't have to treat me as anything other than your friend. _

"We?" The player peered at her father, whose face was partially hidden beneath the hood of his cloak. Then Merek's bloodshot eyes widened, his flabby cheeks blanched, and he moved as if to bow again until Isabelle frowned while making a slashing gesture with her free hand. Taking the hint, the player simply nodded politely and let his storklike legs carry him off, presumably in the direction of the nearest tavern, the bracken loincloth creaking and popping as he walked.

"They know you well here, I take it?" Her father kept his vice level, but there was a quizzical tilt to his head and both eyebrows were raised as high as his forehead permitted. She sighed. Her legs were beginning to ache in the stirrups and the cold wind beating against her clothes wasn't helping. _We should go back_, she thought, feeling goosebumps creep over her skin like frozen bees, stinging as they went so that she had to unhook her fingers from the reins and rub warmth back into her wrists. From the corner of her eye she saw that the dark-haired boy who'd bumped the farmer's cart earlier was now standing by a fruit seller's tent watching them, his scrawny arms folded across his chest as he shivered. _At least I'm not the only one who's uncomfortable. _"I come here often. Whenever I can, anyway."

"Isabelle...' His voice trailed off, and she braced herself for another lecture on the many dangers of the world and why she should stay safe in the palace and avoid eccentrics like Merek and...

"Your mother would be proud of you."

Her whole body jerked, as if an invisible finger had just plucked every sensitive nerve ending in her abdomen and left them vibrating. She looked over at his old, wrinkled, beloved face, saw the sincerity in his eyes, and turned quickly away. It was only the second time this morning she'd felt like crying.

"Do you think so?" she asked. They were riding casually, letting the horses do most of the navigation themselves. Some of the merchant crowd had dispersed with the day's produce sold, the lucky ones going home with a few coppers in their pockets, but there was still plenty of foot traffic in the narrow streets. She inhaled deeply of the mixture of foul and sweet aromas that made up life in Cloister, and listened to her father.

"You faced creatures out of legend and survived. You haven't let your status as a princess stop you from having adventures, despite my best efforts," he said, a wry smile crinkling his face. "And I know once you become Queen, you'll make the world a better place."

"Oh yes, she would be so very proud of you."

Isabelle could feel her face getting hot. Her father reached over and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"As am I," he said

It was difficult speaking around the lump in her throat. "Father, I-"

Whatever she'd been about to say was cut off by a high, shrill scream. Isabelle whipped her head around, scanning the crowds around them. Every peasant in the street stood frozen, whatever games they'd been playing or goods they'd been trading or arguments they'd been having forgotten. All wore expressions of slack-jawed amazement mixed with fear. Following their eyes, Isabelle realized they were staring in the direction of the abbey. And then she saw why.

A huge creature resembling a green, serpentine gargoyle perched on the abbey roof. Its clawed forelegs dug into the soft clay, cracking it like dry bread. Sunlight reflected off curved teeth poking out of the sides of its crooked mouth, gleaming stark-white against lizard scales, and even with several streets between her and the monster Isabelle could hear the wet, snuffling sounds of its breathing.

Sniffing.

Her mouth turned as dry as preserved bones in a tomb. Victoria snorted, flanks heaving as she backed up a step, then two.

"Father," she said softly. "I think we should..."

"Run!" Metallic scrape of steel being drawn, and from beneath his cloak her father produced a sword she hadn't even known he'd been carrying. "Get back to the palace! RUN!"

No sooner had he given the order than the creature leapt from the abbey roof onto the street below. It landed on all fours, cracking the stones beneath it. Sound of panic-filled screaming as it made a lunge like a snapping terrier and caught a young woman around the waist, locking her body like a landed trout in its jaws. Blood sprayed from the sides of its mouth as the beast bit down, the woman's thrashing legs beat the air, and dark splotches oozed like thick syrup over the hem of her lavender dress.

Huge shadows flowed like cold seawater over the cobblestones as monsters filled the sky overhead. Isabelle's own shouts of warning were swallowed up by a stream of frightened, screaming people. Victoria bucked, straining to move within the crush of people shoving them forward, and something tugged violently at Isabelle's right leg, nearly yanking her out of the saddle until Victoria lashed out with both front hooves. There was a crunch, a yelp of pain, and Isabelle had just enough time to catch a glimpse of her would-be horse thief - a slim, wiry young man in a brown tunic, now bleeding, dazed, and crumpled on his back like an injured spider - before he disappeared beneath a living carpet of trampling feet.

"Father!" Isabelle jerked the reins hard. The horse's flanks shivered as it swung itself around, squared its shoulders, and fought step by step to move against the tide of people. Dragons were landing all around the square like hideous sparrows, devouring anyone within range of their jaws, while still more dove out of the sky to snatch up a wriggling peasant or two, then arrowed back up into the shelter of the clouds.

_Where is Father? _Her eyes darted through the blur of faces, trying to catch sight of a familiar cloak. She could see the theater, or the parts of it that still remained standing. Half of it was now a pile of wood chips and collapsed support beams, its red and orange banners lay strewn across the demolished foundation like spilled fruit. A dragon crouched near the ruin with the head and legs of a man dangling from the sides of its mouth, and as Isabelle drew closer she nearly vomited when she saw the ring of branches clasped around his waist as well as a single antler stump twisted in his hair. Merek was mercifully quiet as the dragon gnawed on his body.

There was no time to feel grief, rage, or even sad acceptance. Because from somewhere in the crowd she heard fresh screams.

High-pitched, terrified children's screams.

Isabelle kicked Victoria's flanks. the horse leaped forward, her hooves striking sparks as they hit stone, forcing the trickle of panicked survivors left in the street to dive out of her way like quicksilver. There was no time to be gentle. _How many made it to the city gates? _she wondered, and then there was no time to think at all because she heard her father's voice raised in a defiant challenge, followed by the clear high note of a sword striking something hard.

"FATHER!" Her scream was swallowed up by an angry screech. More sword strikes, then the heartbreaking screams of a dying horse. Isabelle's hair fanned out in an auburn curtain as Victoria leapt over a shattered cart, zigzagged through a narrow, trash-strewn alley, burst out into a patch of struggling sunlight on the street facing the abbey. The buildings on either side of the temple had been pulverized into steaming lumps of granite. Streamers of white dust floated in braids and coils through the air as she focused all her attention on the bubbling sound of a child sobbing nearby. Spotted the peasant boy a second later huddled on the cold flagstones, his thin frame drawn up into a tight ball. Wrenching her legs free of the stirrups, she leapt off the saddle, nearly spraining her left ankle as she landed in a crouch next to the boy. Felt jarring recognition flash through her mind as she marked him as the dark-haired boy she'd spied watching her earlier.

Then she looked up, and felt everything in her turn to ice.

Before the wide steps leading up to the abbey doors Thunder lay quivering and squealing, both his front legs reduced to stumps sheared off to the knees, his beautiful tawny coat spattered with blood that trickled down in streams to form a pool around him. Her father lay sprawled on the steps beside him, one leg twisted at a horribly wrong angle, the gray length of his sword several feet away from his hand. She could see with startling clarity twin trails of blood dripping from a gash on his forehead, branching around the planes of his nose, and watched him lift a shaking hand to wipe it away.

Just as the dark shape of the dragon materialized out of a veil of cloudlike dust before him, its toothy predator mouth opening up wide.

"NO!" Time slowed down. She was up and running, but her body felt heavy and each step was too slow, too slow, and by the time she was seven feet away the monster's mouth was already clamping around her father's head, and the crunch of his skull being bitten off his shoulders was lost beneath her wild screaming. When she was five feet away, the beast was tossing its head back and the underside of its throat rippled as it swallowed, and as she closed the final three feet she realized her father's sword was now in her hands while her voice threw itself at the monster in an unearthly howl of rage and grief.

It uncoiled like a viper as it came for her, its jaws flung open wide, the canines dripping foamy, blood-tinged saliva. Fetid breath moistened her face with damp heat as it hissed, slimed the backs of her hands and the sword hilt as she drove the blade forward. Her arms slipped up to the elbows between its teeth, skimmed the wet red meat of its tongue, and her whole body shook from the force of the impact as the blade buried itself in soft, vulnerable tissue.

A stream of noxious fluid gushed out, purplish ichor that ran like berryjuice over the length of the sword, spattering hot droplets into her face. The creature whipped its head back while she doggedly hung on, her gore-soaked hands wrapped in a deathgrip around the hilt as her father's blade tore free of the meat, widening the hole at the back of the beast's throat. The force of its screech blew her hair back and she had bare seconds to scramble away before its body spasmed, wings flapping and legs writhing in convulsive little jerks. Isabelle was on her feet stumbling away when instinct told her to drop to the ground just as a barbed tail sliced the air over her head. The dragon's screams reached a painful crescendo, faded into a gentle, rasping hiss, and Isabelle felt the stones tremble as dead reptilian flesh thumped against them.

She was shaking, her blood thundering in her temples. Over her shoulder. she caught a glimpse of the dragon crumpled in on itself with that strange purple blood dribbling in little pools from its half-open mouth, wings limp as dried leather stretched over a rack. She felt filthy, a mixture of saliva and blood coated her arms all the way up to the elbows. Smoke and the ripe scent of spoiled meat clung to her, making her gag. Then her foot caught on something, she looked down to see her father's headless corpse, and the world pitched sideways as she fell to her hands and knees beside him, the meager breakfast she'd eaten coming up in one long, caustic stream.

Ringing in her ears. And voices, close by but sounding oh so very far.

"Isabelle!"

"Dear God, the king...!"

"Isabelle, are you all right?"

_Jack! _Felt his arms around her. Would have cried out, if only her mouth would work properly. _Jack! Jack!_

"Take the boy! Get them to the palace NOW!"

Isabelle was lifted up, her body so much deadweight in Jack's arms, and she slipped with a grateful sigh into gentle, forgiving darkness.

**Author's Notes:** I wrangled with this chapter for almost three weeks before I called it done and I'm still not sure I got it right. Isabelle may seem a bit OOC near the end but bear in mind what she just witnessed. Seeing her father die like that just might be enough to push her over the edge long enough to do something completely irrational (and badass!). I promise she's not going to turn into some monster-slaying Terminator (especially not once she's brought face to faces with a certain giant), but I want to give her chances to actually do cool stuff instead of always being the damsel in distress. And I do feel really bad about killing off Brahmwell. He was a better fictional king than most of the real kings throughout human history, but for the sake of the plot he had to go. Le roi est mort! Vive le roi!


	5. Chapter 4: Legends

**Title:** Seed of Darkness

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** A new threat descends upon Cloister and Jack must use the Crown of Erik to call on some unlikely allies. Isabelle/Fallon, Fumm/OC

**Disclaimer:** I'm not making a dime off this story. Poor me.

**Chapter Five: Legends**

The book's spine creaked as Isabelle slammed it shut, then tossed it aside. It skidded across a long tabletop to bump up against a pile of similarly discarded tomes with fantastical creatures on each cover, their warped, twisted bodies painstakingly outlined in silver and gold. Each volume was stuffed with brittle paper, making them as heavy as old mountain stones inscribed with long-forgotten knowledge. Knowledge that was, in the case at hand, absolutely useless.

Isabelle blew out a huff of frustrated anger, a long exhale that lifted a few lank strands of hair out of her dark-rimmed eyes. She glanced over at the arched window. The palace was far enough away from the marketsquare that no smoke could be seen, but she imagined she could smell a faint acrid sting riding on the breeze, flesh cooking and bones charring in an agony of unholy fire.

Her kingdom was burning.

She didn't remember Jack carrying her back to the palace after the massacre in the village. They said she'd slept through a whole day and half of the next. Long enough for things to go from dismal to absolutely terrifying. Elmont had brought as many people as he could into the palace for safekeeping. Guards were posted on the walls around Cloister, changing shifts at regular intervals, and the drawbridge was raised. _Not that it does much good_, she thought miserably. _The dragons just fly merrily right over it. _

Worst of all was knowing that there were still people out there in the streets. The palace wasn't large enough to hold everyone. Anyone left outside either learned very quickly how to survive or died. Elmont had been reluctant to tell her the details until she'd commanded him to do so. _People hurry about their business while constantly checking the skies,_ he'd said. _Most of them won't come out at all, but huddle in any buildings still standing. There's food shortages and disease, among other lovely things._

Every time the lizards swooped out of the sky to attack Cloister, her brave Guardians challenged them. And every time, the Guardians suffered casualties while inflicting none. Arrows were shrugged off like sticks. Swords couldn't cut through the tough hide. None of the kingdom's finest warriors could put so much as a scratch on them.

Except for her. And she was being kept within the safety of the palace. As usual.

She stood up, stalked over to a bookshelf, and pulled out another book. _They have to have weaknesses,_ she thought as she dropped the book on the desk. It fell open onto a beautiful full-page illustration of a silver gryphon in flight, which Isabelle barely glanced at before turning to another chapter. _Even the giants would go down if you shot enough arrows into them!_ Her eyes itched as her tired brain tried to decipher the tight, closely-packed writing. She blinked, and the letters swam as though they were beneath an inch of clear water. So many sleepless nights spent in the library was showing in bags under her eyes. Knots as thick as morning-glory vines were in her hair. And her mood, well, it was not at its best at the moment.

"Isabelle?" She jumped, so absorbed in research she didn't even hear him approach. For such a gangly young man, Jack was ever light on his feet. Took a moment to gather herself before turning to face him, certain that he would look just as bad or worse than she did.

She was right; he looked horrid. His cheeks were smudged with dirt and ash, while his cloak and breeches smelled as though they'd been left to dry in a fireplace. His cheekbones were more prominent than usual, the cherub-soft angles of his face having been pared down so that he appeared half-starved. He was carrying a wooden tray bearing a few pieces of bread, a hunk of cheese, and a few thin slivers of apple. A small knife was placed on the edge and looked perilously close to falling off.

"Anastasa said you chased her off when she tried to feed you," he said, then set the tray down next to the book she was currently studying. Isabelle gulped as her face grew warm. Ana had come by earlier with a pot of tea and biscuits, only to be told_ I'm too busy! Go away!_ She'd gone, of course, obedient servant that she was - but it still left a bitter taste in Isabelle's mouth for being so rude.

"I'm sorry," she said. A spot on her right forearm itched, and she scratched at it restlessly. Wherever the dragon blood had touched her skin was now red and puckered, tiny little blisters that seemed determined to drive her mad with their incessant tingling. _As if I needed anything more to rob me of sanity, _she thought. _I think the dragons murdering my people will accomplish that just fine._ "It's just that..."

"Isabelle." He reached out, gently slapped her fingers away from the blister before she removed another layer of skin with her persistent scratching. "Don't do this to yourself. It's not your fault."

"I know, Jack." She spun around to face the table, the tray of food on one end and the book on the other. Felt Jack's hands on her shoulders, his strong farmboy fingers digging into the tense muscles, gently kneading and releasing. Her whole body sagged as she leaned back into his reassuring solidness, felt his chest rise and fall through the thin material of her dress. "It's just that we haven't...there hasn't even been a formal burial yet. My father's been dead for almost a week and there hasn't been a ceremony. And..."

_And his head's still in the belly of that dragon._ Bile wanted to crawl up her throat and escape at the thought. _Nothing can cut through their hide. We'll never get it out. _

The hair was lifted off the nape of her neck as he sighed, each breath a cool touch on her fevered skin. "I'm sorry I didn't get there in time. You shouldn't have had to face that alone." He shifted, wanting to pull her closer but she stepped away. The hem of her cream-colored dress swirled as she spun to face him, its pattern of embroidered leaves stitched with green and gold thread appearing to flutter around her ankles. Her eyes were hard and unblinking when she spoke.

"I killed it, Jack."

"You practically threw yourself in its mouth!" he said, taking a tentative step toward her. "Elmont was furious! Still is!"

"I'm well aware of that! But I killed it!" She turned her back on him to face the table again, eyeing the books piled on it as though they were conspirators plotting a very nasty joke at her expense. "We can kill them! They're just...it's just...almost impossible.

She let her head hang down, let loose tendrils of hair curtain her face, and watched them rise and fall in time with her breath. Her nails were biting into the edge of the table hard enough to leave marks in the wood. _If we don't think of something fast there won't be a kingdom left to save._ What are we going to do? She wanted to hear her father's kind voice, feel his reassuring arms steady her while he guided them all through this nightmare the way he always had. _It's just like losing Mama, only worse. Because now they're both gone._

Sounds of something heavy being scraped over the floor behind her. A glance over her shoulder confirmed it was Jack, pushing chairs around.

"How's this for a bargain?" he asked, collapsing into one overstuffed chair and gesturing for her to take the other one. "You can tell me everything you've managed to find out about our scaly friends while we eat."

Placing the tray of food on her lap, she eyed the bread, fruit, and cheese dubiously, like there might be worms wiggling in them. "Are you sure? It's not good news."

"Didn't think it was." He reached over, picked up the knife, and began spreading cheese over a slice of bread. "But we need to know. And you need to eat."

"All right." She picked up an apple slice between her fingers. It was yellowed near the center and squishy in places but still edible. _A kingdom under siege can't afford to be picky, _she thought grimly.

"There isn't much that's known about dragons and what is known is mostly speculation. But I think I know why we're seeing so many of them all of a sudden." Her throat worked as she swallowed another bite of apple. "It's a breeding season."

"Breeding?" Jack was picking at a slice of bread, only making a pretense at eating. _Because he wants me to eat it all,_ Isabelle thought, and the realization made her feel an odd combination of love and guilt, so that she took a few seconds longer than necessary to select her own slice of bread and slather it with cheese. Stalling seemed a good idea, since she wished she didn't have to be the one telling him this.

"They breed only once every ten-thousand years or so." Jack quirked an eyebrow, and she shrugged. "The _Historia Regum_ Albion didn't give any precise dates, except to say that the last recorded breeding season was before King Erik's time. So its been a while."

"No doubt," he said dryly. "Go on."

"The little ones come up out of cracks in the Earth to feed on-"

A bite of breadcrust had apparently decided not to go down without a fight, as Jack began choking and pounding his chest. Isabelle put up her hands in a vain attempt to deflect the spray of wet crumbs flung in her general direction. When he finally got control of himself, he sent her a wan, shaky smile while brushing off his trouser legs."Little ones?" He sounded disbelieving, and she didn't blame him. "You mean the ones we've seen are just_ babies_?"

"I'm afraid so." She nodded. "I told you it was bad news." Her body suddenly felt heavy enough to sink into the feathery cushions of the chair and disappear. It was as though telling him these things had opened a valve in her cluttered mind and vital strength was leaking from every nerve, muscle, and bone she possessed, hollowing her out like a corn husk. _I need sleep. I can't tell if this is total despair or just plain exhaustion. _A glance out the window showed her a tranquil light blue sky, but a line of dark-bellied clouds could be seen marching on the horizon. Her shoulders slumped further into the chair. _It's probably both._

"All the great scholars suspect that in the olden days, there were things that could kill them. Natural predators." Pain flared in the space between her eyes, a sign of another brain-smashing headache coming on. She lifted a hand up, pressed her fingertips gently against the spot while she spoke. "But those creatures are all extinct now. There's nothing to keep them in check! They can go wherever they want, eat whatever they want without fall..."

"And let me guess," Jack sighed, "they like the taste of humans best of all?"

"Isn't that always how the story goes?" The tenderness between her eyes wasn't going away. Sighing, she let her hand drop back into her lap. Felt another blister on her forearm begin teasing the underside of her skin with soft little prickles of heat, resisted the urge to scratch with an effort. "They don't seem to have any weaknesses, Jack. None that are easy to exploit, anyway." She shuddered at the thought of how she'd killed the dragon on the steps of the abbey, at the memory of her hands slicked with plum-colored blood and the steel-scraping peal of its dying screeches in her ears. _I still can't believe I did that. I must've been mad._

_But perhaps a little madness is what we'll need to live through this._

That last thought stayed for just a few hot seconds in her head, then her fingers closed around the wooden handle of the cheeseknife, gripping it tight enough to feel each tiny splinter in the rough grain. She spent a moment contemplating the soft, white lump of cheese left on her tray, then lifted the knife and stabbed it clean through the center of the gooey mess as though it were a poisonous creature about to bite her. "This is useless, Jack. I'm not doing any good here!" She set the tray down, nearly spilling bits of uneaten food onto the unruly mountain of old grimoires, mystical texts, and treatises, then bolted up out of the chair and began to pace, her dress swishing in time with her quick strides.

Jack stiffened, his whole body brought from a relaxed slouch to alert wariness in seconds, helped along by Elmont's training and the scarily determined look on his fiance's face. "Elmont wants you to..."

"I know what Elmont wants!" Isabelle snapped. "He wants me to stay where it's safe!"

"So do I!"

"I know!" Her pacing slackened, eventually stopping altogether as she spun round to face him. Her eyes were bright, watery, and full of desperation. "I know you don't want anything to happen to me! But I need to be doing something that matters, Jack! I need to be out there with my people! How am I supposed to make the world a better place if I can't even save my own kingdom?" Tremors like tiny explosions inched their way up her calves, set her knees to quivering, and spread in merciless little jitters up to her shoulders. She hugged herself, trying to squeeze some order back into her chaos-wracked body.

Suddenly Jack's hands were gripping her elbows, and she let herself fall into his arms. Breathed him in, like a drowning woman struggling for a final gulp of air.

"I have an idea," she heard him say through the wool in her ears. His shirt would make a nice bed, if she could find a chance to sleep.

"What?" Even her voice sounded wrapped in layers of cloth.

"We'll go to the abbey. The monks know more about these things than anyone else."

_I thought of that too, Jack. And I didn't want to ask for their help unless it was absolutely necessary. _His fingers were twining through her hair, pulling gently at the tangles, The pain in her forehead receded just a bit, like thunderous breakers ebbing away from warm sand. Thoughts were coming clearer as the tender touch of Jack's fingers sent pleasant little jolts of electricity fizzing over her sensitized skin. Minutes passed and she was finally able to get control of her shaking body as the love of her Prince filled her with fresh determination.

Jack was about to say something else when her kiss stopped him. It lasted for one long, glorious moment before they broke apart.

"All right," she said, her eyes meeting his. "We'll go at once."

If Jack was startled by her sudden agreement, it was well-hidden by his blushing cheeks. she gently disentangled herself from his arms."Elmont should go too. He needs to hear whatever they have to say." She could go to the abbey, though she shuddered at the thought of climbing up the abbey steps. _They've washed the stones clean of blood by now, surely! Even if they haven't, we should go there. We need a solution for this, and the sooner the better!_

"It's settled, then." Jack nodded. "We'll go to the abbey. I'm sure the monks will know what to do."

{O}

"There's nothing we can do."

The abbot stood with his back to them, staring out the single small window of his cell. Isabelle fought down an impatient urge to stomp on his toes and make him face her.

She hadn't expected a monk's cell to be anything fancy, and so wasn't surprised by the bare stone floor and almost non-existent furnishings. Though it seemed that the monastery leader did have a bit more space to himself. A prayer rug lay at the foot of a small, rickety cot - or something that could vaguely be called a cot since it was basically two wooden boards with a threadbare blanket thrown over them. The squashed goosefeather pillow seemed almost an afterthought. One wall of the rectangular room was taken up by a writing desk - complete with inkpot and brushes - that looked as though it were hand-carved, while a small bookshelf crammed with volumes of what Isabelle assumed to be holy texts leaned uncertainly beside it, resembling a beacon tower overlooking a placid, wooden sea.

"What!?" Elmont had joined them, and he looked about as happy as a stallion whose master had decreed it time to become a gelding. Jack stood next to Isabelle, and she let her hand drift over to his so their fingers touched. _This is our last hope!_ "Surely you know some spell or-"

Turning away from the window, the abbot fixed Elmont with a hard stare. "We abandoned the dark magics long ago. Dabbling in them brought the wrath of Heaven down on us."

Sarcasm laced every word of the knight's reply with a venomous bite. "You mean the wrath of hundreds of hell-ugly giants?"

"Just so. They were God's Messengers."

Elmont's fists clenched, and though Isabelle knew his sense of honor wouldn't permit him to attack a holy man, it was clear the Guard Captain would've liked to let himself go a bit. "Man, we are dying here! There must be something...!"

She took a deep breath. _Time to try out a gentler touch. _"Father, please." Isabelle kept her voice soft and pleading as she addressed the abbot. With his back to the window, a few thin rays of the setting sun fell like a halo over his shoulders. He was surprisingly tall, clad in brown robes that dragged over the floor when he walked. Two tufts of reddish-brown hair stuck up like duck feathers at the sides of his otherwise shaven head, and his face was plump and boyish. _So young,_ Isabelle thought. _Why, he would even be handsome if he smiled more. _He wasn't smiling now. Far from it. Keeping her fingers twined with Jack's, she tried one more time. "Is there nothing you have that might save us? Anything at all? My father died on the steps of this abbey!" She hadn't planned to say it, the words just tumbled out before she could catch them. They broke through the stone wall of the abbot's expression, though. He looked away briefly, and when his blue eyes found hers again she inhaled sharply to see tears welling up in them. He lifted a hand, combed it through the sad remnants of his hair, and the loose sleeve of his robe flapped on his skinny arm, When he spoke, his somber voice broke a little. "I know, Princess."

The abbot's left hand dug around in a deep pocket of his robe, fished out a silver crucifix on a chain, and clutched it to his chest as he wiped at his eyes. Through the window, the sunlight finally died as the last golden ray was snuffed out behind a thick mass of purple and orange-streaked clouds. "You know I have seen the destruction those demons have wrought. Two of my brother monks were whisked away to their deaths just yesterday, and even more are missing, lost while trying to save innocents. It is horrible, princess! And yet..." He paused, choked off whatever he'd been about to say.

Isabelle took a step towards him. Jack followed her, looking worried as he laid a hand on her shoulder. "And yet what?"

Spots of tinkling silver light flashed on the dusty walls as the crucifix dangled in his fist. He swallowed a few times as his aloof facade crumpled and he became what he really was: a terribly frightened young man far, far out of his depth and sinking fast. "And yet I fear this horror may be preferable than calling upon their enemies to aid us!"

Elmont stepped up, the sword buckled at his hip jangling loudly. "What enemies?"

The abbot's breath left him in a long sigh. Brown cloth rippled like cognac as he slipped the crucifix back in his pocket, extinguishing its pearl-white sparkle. Then he flowed across the room to the bookshelf. "You have already met them." His brows furrowed as he scanned the small selection of ancient texts, thin lips moving as if in whispered prayer, then he reached in and withdrew a small book that looked old enough to crumble apart at the slightest touch. Isabelle felt her heart run a few beats faster as what he said began to sink in. _You've already met them? Does that mean what I think it means?_

He crossed the room to her, offered the book with both hands. She took it gingerly. then almost dropped it when she realized it was bound in dried animal skin. "This book is the last relic that was saved from King Erik's reign. We have...kept it in secret. To study."

"Meaning you were supposed to have destroyed it," Jack said, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning. "What is it? A spellbook?"

"No. A journal."

"A journal?" Isabelle's fingertips wanted to skitter away from the organic feel of the book's cover, a soft, squishy texture like dead ratskin but thicker. She laid it down on the polished wood surface of the writing desk and opened it to a random page. The book exhaled powdery dust right in Isabelle's face, making her raise a hand up to stifle a cough. When the coughing subsided, she studied the yellowing pages with narrowed eyes, while Jack and Elmont peered over her shoulders like curious schoolboys. Rows of strange, angular writing scrawled over the parchment like needlework in a delicate hand. Some symbols vaguely resembled animals, while others were simply lines intersecting at odd points like tree branches snuggling together. Isabelle's eyes watered trying to decipher it.

"I can't read it."

"No, you can't." The abbot came up to stand beside her, placing his palms flat upon the desk. "No one on Earth can read this. It's written in Gantish, the alphabet of the Fierce Ones."

"You mean the giants?" Elmont sounded incredulous. "Those brutes have their own language?"

Isabelle turned another page, the old parchment crinkling like moth wings. "Who wrote it? This couldn't have been made by a giant!"

"It wasn't. This was the journal of a human woman who walked among the giants for many years. She lived in their houses, learned their speech, even ate their food."

Isabelle shivered at the idea of a human eating what passed for food among Gantua's citizens. Judging by the sudden pallor of his skin, Elmont felt likewise. "How did she manage that? They're about as welcoming and friendly as an arrow in your throat!"

The abbot shrugged. "Their chieftain at that time granted her protection." Then his posture straightened as he fell back into the regal manner of a mystic about to give a stubborn pupil a lecture. "Do not judge them too harshly, Princess. They act according to their nature. As do we all." Isabelle caught a glimpse of Jack, who she could've sworn rolled his eyes in a most adorable _You've got to be joking me_ look.

_I completely agree, darling,_ she thought, pursing her lips into a thin line. She straightened up, turning to skewer the abbot with a most unladylike glare. Impatience edged her voice when she spoke, making it a brittle shard of jagged glass. "They can act according to their nature all they like, as long as they don't threaten my family or my kingdom." _This doesn't even sound like me,_ she thought, as the abbot responded to her piercing stare with a slight, almost imperceptible flinch. Who am I turning into? "Your relic is very fascinating, but how will this book help us, sir?"

"Here." The abbot's hands trembled as he carefully turned several brittle pages, then stopped. Jack groaned. Elmont very discreetly muffled a curse with his hand, while Isabelle simply stared at the exquisitely detailed illustration in the book, trying to piece it together.

It looked as though the artist had relied on plant dyes instead of simple ink. The vividness of the colors was impressive, especially considering the book's antiquity. There was no mistaking the green, black, twisted figure of the young dragon emerging from its egg, the long, slender upper torso decanting itself from the broken shell as the reptile's head swayed on its S-shaped neck. For an instant, the sensation of little hairy feet running beneath the blistered skin of her forearms was overwhelming, then she tore her eyes away from the caricature of the dragon, fastening them instead on the beings depicted attacking it.

Giants. Armored and snarling, carrying axes, swords, and other less recognizable implements of carnage. They seemed to be attacking the newborn dragon with savage joy. The abbot turned the page to another drawing, this one of a much bigger dragon with its ribbed wings spread. A stream of marigold-orange flame lashed out of its toothy mouth at the giants surrounding it, hacking at its legs and flailing barbed tail. Spots of purplish dye roughly the shade of dragon's blood dotted the image, a single long spray of it issued at the point where a giant's axe made contact with the dragon's throat.

"Well, what does this mean?" said Elmont. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Are we supposed to assume that giants and dragons are mortal enemies just from some fancy drawings in an old journal?"

"It's all we have." Isabelle stared intently as she traced the outlines of the giants with her eyes. A few of them looked familiar, and she could swear that one had a blob of dark color on its shoulder that resembled a second head. Her hands gripped the edge of the table like a weapon. Loose strands of hair fell into her eyes as she asked the abbot without looking up, "You say this woman lived with the giants? Was she an ally of theirs?"

"She was a noblewoman in the court of King Erik. That's all we know."

Isabelle let her eyes close. From somewhere in the monastery she could hear monks chanting, their monotonous voices rose and fell in eerie waves. A breath of smoky incense drifted from somewhere. She inhaled deeply, hoping to absorb whatever prayers were mixed in with the scent. "We can't," she finally said. "We can't bring them here. Even if they can kill dragons, we don't have any of the magic beans." She stopped, noticing the twin looks of guilt on the faces of Jack and Elmont. "Do we?"

'We...ah...stumbled over some pods growing wild in the forest several days ago." The knight stared down at his shoes, and Isabelle felt as though the world she knew had just shattered and left her staring into broken, twisted reflections of the people she knew. Because she was used to that look of utter repentance on her own face, not his_._ "We would've told you but...given current events..."

"It's fine, Elmont." She waved a hand at him dismissively. _And you wouldn't have told me a thing. You would've told my father. _"If we plant one, will it sprout?"

"Yes, but..."

"Do it."

Elmont looked as though a battering ram just thumped his guts, while Jack seemed unfazed, but grim. Isabelle held her head high, her shoulders straight. A breeze from the open window teased her hair like a lover, picking up long strands and dropping them. The incense smell had faded, washed out by the nose-tingling green scent of approaching rain. An unintelligible mumbling started as the abbot's lips moved in prayer, and suddenly Isabelle knew what this change in her meant, understood what she was becoming.

"What?" Elmont sounded hoarse. "With all due respect, Princess, are you mad?"

"Plant the beanstalk!" she snapped. "We have King Erik's Crown. If we command them to fight for us, they can't refuse. And if they've fought with dragons before, it's all the better!" She faced Jack, her fiance, and felt a tiny seam split in her heart at the resigned look on his face. He knew what she was about to ask, so she was grateful when he spared her from doing so.

"I'll wear it," he said. "I'm the King."

This by no means comforted the abbot, who eyed the prayer rug like he thought he might need it soon. "The Crown is only as strong as the Will of whoever wears it. If your Will falters, even for a moment..."

"I can do it," he said, "But Isabelle, what if..?"

"If our two-headed friend shows up, I'll deal with him," she said, and mentally congratulated herself for sounding braver than she felt. _A good leader never lets their fear prevent them from doing what has to be done. _Her father taught her that. And she would need every one of his lessons now.

_Because, God help me, I'm becoming a Queen._

"I've got a bad feeling about this," muttered Elmont, and everyone - even Isabelle - agreed with him.

{O}

Thunderheads churned like sour milk over their heads as the approaching storm gathered strength in the evening gloom. They'd ridden out as far from Cloister as they dared, stopping near the splintered ruin that used to be the home of Jack's Uncle. Getting across the burned field surrounding it was harrowing business, every other moment their nervous eyes would dart skyward hoping not to see shadowy wings sloughing through the murk above them. Isabelle wore her golden plate armor, along with her father's sword neatly fastened at her waist. Her hair was loose, with nothing preventing sharp gusts of wind from playing through it as they rode, blowing it out behind her like an almond stream.

Elmont was quiet the whole way, and Jack didn't blame him. _Could've lived my whole life without ever seeing another giant again_. _But they may be our only hope of saving the kingdom. _

"I think this is far enough," said Isabelle, as she brought her white mare to a halt. Tall grass waved around its hooves as she dismounted. Patches of blackened earth still marred the beauty of the countryside, giving it the appearance of a black and green quilt pieced together with torches.

"Here, my lady. Let me help." Anastasa sprang off the back of her spotted pony with surprising nimbleness and rushed over to take the arm of her mistress. The corner of Jack's mouth twitched at the look of resigned acquiescence on his fiancee's face. He'd heard only part of the blazing argument between the two about Ana's right to come along; he'd been preoccupied at the time with struggling into his riding boots, donning the Crown of Erik, and trying to make himself as King-like as possible. The lady in waiting absolutely refused to be separated from Isabelle again, going so far as to declare she would follow them from a distance if she wasn't allowed to ride with them. The argument had ended with Isabelle throwing her hands in the air and muttering something like "It's your funeral, Ana," though Jack wasn't sure of her exact words, what with Elmont barking instructions at him. "Tuck in your shirt, Jack! Keep your sleeves rolled up! Stand tall as you can and don't flinch, no matter what happens. Remember, they're giants! Notoriously hard to impress, that lot!"

As if he didn't know that.

'Here." Elmont unclipped a leather drawstring pouch from his belt and handed it over. "Best get this done before full dark." The bag weighed next to nothing in Jack's palm, yet what was inside was about to change their world, for good or ill. His fingers worked at the strings, pulling them apart until the pouch opened wide enough to allow the thing within to drop into his open hand.

Reflex almost made Jack toss it away. The tiny black seed quivered in his palm like an excited bee, sending forth waves of malignant anticipation as he knelt down to scoop up a handful of damp earth. He hesitated, stealing a glance up into the grim face of Elmont who crouched tensely beside him. After this, there was no going back, and they both knew it. _What choice do we have?_ Jack's eyes must've communicated something of his thoughts to his friend, because the knight simply shrugged his leatherclad shoulders and nodded. Wind blew spatters of rain against his cheeks as the young King dropped the little seed of darkness into the shallow hole. "Right, then. Now I suggest we RUN, JACK!"

They'd barely sprinted more than ten feet before the stalk erupted out of the ground behind them. An onslaught of rushing air almost threw them to the ground as leaves the size of wagon wheels unfurled, their delicate veins throbbing as the enchanted beanstalk sucked up water and other, less definable energies to fuel its unnatural growth. A hand clamped down on Jack's arm, dragging him to his feet just as a snarl of new vines threaded through each other and soon a thick tangle of leaves and fleshy green tendrils was spiraling up, up, up into the sky, finally disappearing into the soupy thick mass of darkening clouds.

"What do we do now?" Ana whispered. She sounded breathless, and her green eyes were round as saucers.

I promised Brahmwell I would protect this kingdom. No matter what, Jack thought. He watched the beanstalk continue to unfold. Sensed Isabelle beside him, and despite the brave front she showed the world, it only took a glance at her pale face to know she was as afraid as he was of what they'd just done.

"We wait," said Elmont

{O}

Fallon couldn't believe it.

Either he was seeing things, or a beanstalk had just risen up through the thousand layers of clouds and made itself nice and comfortable at the edge of the cliff he currently stood upon, as merrily as you please.

"You see it too, don't you?" he asked his second head. The little creature spluttered as his mouth stretched, excitedly trying to form words while bobbing on his shoulder like an ugly flower.

"Yea! Yea! Yea! YEA!"

"Hmm." Maybe they were both hallucinating. After all, they'd only come to this exact same cliff to brood every single day since their defeat. But his nostrils flared when the tangy scent of rich green foliage reached him, exploding in a rush onto the air as the last leaf buds swelled and broke into vibrant, emerald life. Mist drifted in lazy circles around the vines, fluffy and serene as smoke rings from a pipe.

Smells never lied.

The tension in the air was thickening, growing damp with the promise of rain as clouds piled on top of each other. Rising wind buffeted the freshly sprouted stalk, making it sway so that its green tendrils seemed to writhe with a mind of their own. At this height, the wind could very quickly turn into a maelstrom, a force devastating to humans but a mere nuisance to someone his size. He would sometimes stand in the center of them and hurl rocks into the air, hoping they'd crash back down onto some unsuspecting human village.

Below him, a jagged bolt of lightning streaked from one cloud to the belly of another, staining the twilight sky vivid white for a split second before disappearing.

Perfect.

He roared.

"FEE! FYE! FOE! FUMM!"

His roar echoed throughout Gantua, bouncing off mountains and bending young trees to the ground. Birds rose up in clouds of chatter and frantic wingbeats. Herds of deer and sheep bounded for cover beneath shaking old oaks. Even bears nestled snug in their dens sniffed the air with apprehension. Humans believed the names of his brothers was a chant of some kind, and in a way they were right. Because every bird or beast living in Gantua knew hearing those names shouted into the wind meant battle and strife would soon follow.

They came. One by one each of his brothers stepped through the mist curtain to stand beside him at the cliff's edge. Fee, with his lanky dark hair obscuring half of his wrinkled face. Fye, stony-faced and massive as a mountain on two legs. Foe, covering a yawn with one hand while gripping a sword in the other. Even Fumm, his halo of black curly hair framing his surly expression, his upper lip curled with just the barest hint of teeth showing. They all came, stopping at the cliff's edge to stare in wonder and excitement.

"Blimey!"

"Where'd that come from?"

Fallon grunted as he tested the heft of his flail. He flicked it once, nodded in satisfaction as the iron ball tore through misty air in a beautiful arc of destruction. Wind shrieked around them as he felt a tug at his mind. He growled, recognizing the soulless voice of the Crown of Erik in his head, whispering to him, taunting him.

Compelling him.

Fee eyed the swaying beanstalk dubiously. "What do we do?"

"Onwards and downwards, brothers." Fallon grinned, a toothy predator's smile. His small head licked its lips. Huge leaves crumpled under his touch as he scrambled onto the stalk, leapt down, and neatly caught hold of a trembling vine. "Let's go see what the little people want."

**Author's Note: **HERE COMES THE THUNDER!


	6. Chapter 5: Down

**Title: **Seed of Darkness

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** A new threat descends upon Cloister and Jack is forced to use the Crown of Erik to call upon some unlikely allies.

**Disclaimer:** Do not own. Please don't sue.

**Chapter Five: Down**

They didn't have to wait long.

The first sign that something was happening was when the beanstalk started shaking. There was the papery rustle of giant leaves as stone-sized bits of plantflesh shook free of the main stalk, tumbling down and smacking into the earth like green hail, then Isabelle cried out as a whole leaf fluttered down. Its round edges curled as the wind caught it before it hit the ground, carrying it away like a jade-colored cloud..

"Be ready!" Elmont had to shout to be heard above the windroar. More leaves shook loose and were swirled about like tea in a cup across the field. "They're coming down!"

Isabelle nearly fell backwards from craning her neck to see. The top of the stalk disappeared above a nexus of swollen gray clouds that were spinning in a tight funnel, like moldy cream stirred by a god's spoon. Lightning flickered in sharp little bursts of arctic white. Her uneasy stomach turned over on itself as she remembered what it had been like to be carried up there, trapped and all alone. She wasn't sure what her face looked like at the moment, but it felt as though every drop of blood in her cheeks was being sucked away by hungry leeches,

leaving her cold as an iced marble sculpture. Then Jack was behind her, gripping her shoulders tightly without taking his eyes off the quivering beanstalk. Swallowing, she raised an unsteady hand, pushing strands of windblown hair out of her face while glancing up once more at the twisted growth forming a bridge between Earth and Sky.

Her heart picked up its already frantic beat when she saw a flash of bright steel armor, then heard a flurry of snapping, bending, and tearing as long, slim arms darted among the foliage like wriggling spider legs. For creatures so big, they were incredibly quick climbers; finding handholds and footholds that supported their weight long enough for then to spring off onto the vines below, moving steadily closer to the ground. Her vision was partially blocked by the snakehair tangle of leafy creepers, but she could've sworn one giant actually _let go _of the stalk, allowing his huge bulk to plummet in freefall for a few breathless seconds before catching onto a fresh stem.

The wry thought came to her on a wave of semi-hysteria: _Show off._

She twisted her head around, trying to catch sight of Anastasa. Found her clinging to Elmont's arm, her mouth opening in a half-scream as she pointed up at the descending giants. Her rose-colored dress rippled on her body like spilled wine as the wind teased it. Isabelle felt a nasty certainty that any giant looking at her would see a tasty little snack. _Well, you wanted to come, Ana, _she thought. _If we all die, at least you'll leave the world with your curiosity satisfied. _

Jack was stiff and still as he released her shoulders. He moved to stand beside her, not speaking but Isabelle read grim resolve in his tightly clenched jaw and rigid spine. The Crown was becoming a glowing ribbon of fire on his head, its power increasing as the sorcery-forged metal woke to fulfill its intended purpose. A gust of wind blew droplets of cold rain in their faces, the grass around them flattened under the storm.

Her fingers brushed Jack's, and they only had a single brief moment to clasp hands before the giant's let go of the beanstalk to drop the rest of the way. The impact of their giant feet shook the ground like earthbound thunder. Then there came a sudden calm as the shrieking wind dwindled, settling itself into a tame breeze that gently lifted strands of her rain-damp hair. Overhead, clouds began to separate and drift apart, letting down a weak, filtered light that shone off her plate armor like subdued amber.

As one, the giants straightened from their crouches. She counted five of them.

_Fee, Fye, Foe, Fum, and..._

Her heart sank like gold bricks in water. _Oh no._

With deliberate slowness, Fallon lifted his enormous bulk off the ground, straightening his knees until he towered over them all. He looked just like Isabelle remembered him, encased in gray armor that hung down in pleats around his legs. Spikes of bone adorned his left shoulder, gleaming ivory-white as a skull stripped of flesh, while the smaller head grew from its stumpy neck out of his right side. He looked healed from the wounds he'd suffered when the beanstalk had nearly burst out of him, and Isabelle noticed with dismay that his flail was coiled in a loop buckled to his waist. The other giants were similarly armored, and all of them bore the look of bottled destruction just waiting to be set loose.

Isabelle made a small movement when Fallon stepped forward, then mentally slapped herself. _Show no fear, you fool! He'll walk all over you if you do!_ To her left, Jack had made himself as tall as possible, the Crown settled on his windblown hair helped add a little authority to his otherwise-harmless demeanor.

She fervently hoped they hadn't just literally made the biggest mistake of their lives.

Fallon stopped several feet away from them and Isabelle suppressed a shudder as his narrowed eyes latched firmly on her. When he spoke, his voice was full of false cheer, his accent thick and melodious."Your Highness, it's soooo good to see you again!" Isabelle felt like a mouse as she craned her neck to see him, and grimaced in disgust as a strand of spittle leaked from one corner of the small head's mouth. Fallon - or the head she thought of as Fallon - inhaled deeply and grinned. "You smell wonderful, as always."

_I suppose that's meant to be a compliment, _she thought. A little of her courage was returning. Enough for her to shout up to him."Fallon!" She placed a hand on the hilt of the sword strapped to her waist for effect. "What are you doing here?"

He regarded her stonily, his eyes narrowing to dark slits while his second head burbled a small, confused noise. "You invited us here."

"I didn't!" _At least I didn't expect to see you restored to your old, ferocious self so quickly,_ she silently amended.

"Then I suppose the beanstalk planted itself, then?" Now he sounded irritated, and Isabelle's heart leapt like a panicked rabbit when he moved a step closer. But instead of approaching them directly, he veered off to one side. Then he moved behind them, and it took every ounce of courage she had left to resist turning like a top to keep him in view. He continued to prowl, circling them like a hungry wolf while the other giants simply watched. It was the same tactic he'd used to interrogate her when she'd been his prisoner in the cage. It was meant to unnerve her, and, damn him, it was working. Sweat began to appear in wet little drops at her hairline, and it was a physical effort to keep from drawing her sword.

She jumped when Jack's hand closed tightly around her upper arm, then shoved her behind him. He shielded her with his body as he addressed the giant. Fallon stopped circling them to glare down at Jack. The upper row of his teeth showed in a fierce snarl.

"As your new King, my first command is for you to leave the princess alone, you freak!"

Isabelle couldn't help clapping her hands over her ears when Fallon roared. "YOU ARE NO KING, BOY!" His foot stomped the ground hard enough to raise a geyser of mud while their horses, which they'd tethered to a stand of nearby oaks, bucked and shrieked in terror. Jack didn't fall, but Isabelle could tell from his razor-straight spine and high chin that he was engaged in an epic internal battle. The Crown flared into incandescent golden life.

Isabelle held her breath, every muscle in her tense and quivering. _Fallon's strong-willed enough to fight it. Even Roderick had trouble breaking him. If we don't get him under control fast, there'll be hell to pay._

"You will not harm the princess, or anyone else." Jack's voice was slow, yet filled with solemn power. "You were called here to help us."

"Help you?" Fallon snorted. "Show me a true King first, then we'll talk!" Isabelle felt clammy-cold as those piercing black eyes sought her out again. Knowing it was useless to hide, she stepped out from behind Jack. Fallon bent down, stretched a clawed hand out toward her, his fingers grasping at air like a man trying to snatch up a misbehaving puppy, but he snarled viciously when something held him back. She snapped a glance over at Jack, who looked pale and strained.

Fallon scowled down at them as he straightened up.

"Take off the Crown, Jack, then show me how sharp your teeth are."

"That's not an option, I'm afraid." Elmont's clear voice rang like steel across the field. Isabelle heaved a relieved sigh as he came trudging up, towing a wide-eyed, trembling Anastasa by one hand. The pretty rose dress Ana wore was now covered in mud and grass stains. _The poor girl probably collapsed during Fallon's outburst, _Isabelle thought, _and I don't blame her one bit._ Yet Elmont appeared unruffled as his eyes flicked from Fallon, to the four other giants assembled behind him, then back to Fallon, whose small head returned his cool stare with a small burp. "We brought you all here because we have some dragons that need slaying and, believe me, we don't like having to ask for your help any more than you seem to want to give it!"

"Dragons?" For the first time, Fallon sounded interested. The eyes of his small head grew round as it gave a little yip of excitement. Closing his eyes, the giant inhaled deeply, every part of him still, concentrating. "Yesssss," he drawled, sounding like a wolf dreaming of the chase, followed by the inevitable kill. "I can smell them, beyond the stink of your human kingdom. They seek to hide their vile scent, the crafty little snakes." His four companions also grew restless, wrinkling their noses in quick little sniffs. Isabelle noticed Fumm watching her, and tried unsuccessfully to read any hint of emotion on the black-haired giant's face.

Then Fallon seemed to remember them. "I should let the snakes have their way with you little grasshoppers."

"You won't." Willing her knees not to betray her, Isabelle stepped forward. She reached into a leather pouch clipped to her waist and withdrew the book they'd retrieved from the monastery, flipping it open. She held it up, letting him see the illustrations of giants and dragons in pitched battles. "You can't. We know you've fought them before."

Upon seeing the book, he actually hissed. One hand dropped to the coiled flail at his hip, and Isabelle backed rapidly away with her pounding heart lodged firmly in her throat. His fingers jerked in tiny, arthritic little spasms but as much as he tried, he couldn't make them close around his weapon. His expression went slack, and his heavy breathing seemed to fill the world. When he spoke again, the words came out as strangled growls. "Where did you maggots get that wretched thing?"

Isabelle's thoughts whirled like snowflakes in her head as she retreated. _Well,_ _we know for certain the book came from Gantua now._ She couldn't help feeling a pinch of smug satisfaction that she'd managed to rattle Fallon's nerves for once. _That's for locking me in that cage, you monster._ She slipped the book back into its pouch, felt its weight sway against her hip. The beanstalk whispered to itself as it settled, green things scraping lightly against each other.

"Enough!" Once again, Jack placed himself in front of her - a symbolic gesture more than anything, since it did nothing to hide her from the giants who looked down on them all. "You will help us," he said. It wasn't a request. It was a Command, and its power became manifest when Fye, then Fee, then Foe, and finally Fumm all dropped to their knees. "You will protect us."

"No." Fallon's voice was a weak whisper now. His whole body trembled, ropy muscles in his arms and legs straining against the compulsion to kneel. To _obey._ "No."

"Please." Isabelle hadn't meant to say it. Had said it so softly she wasn't sure Fallon had even heard. There was just something about the sight of the proud giant warrior being made into a slave that unsettled her stomach and made her heart squirm beneath a layer of heavy guilt. She'd felt nothing but relief when Roderick showed up with the Crown and put the monster in his place - Fallon had just threatened to eat her, after all, and she'd had no idea Roderick was going to turn around and betray them only a few short seconds later. So she hadn't expected to feel anything other than comforted to see it happening again, allowed to breathe easier once the soulless beast was rendered incapable of ripping them to pieces. _This is ridiculous,_ she thought as she watched a tremor shake his massive body. _I shouldn't feel bad about humbling him a little. _

But she did.

'Please," she whispered again. Her skin was damp with sweat beneath the plate armor, and the nasty thought that maybe Fallon could smell it didn't help. A quick shift of her attention showed her the giants behind him with their bellies pressed to the ground, completely submissive. Fumm's eyes were still latched firmly onto them and a chill stroked light, icy claws down Isabelle's spine when she realized he wasn't staring at her, but at Ana, who cowered beside Elmont. At least the knight seemed more or less composed, watching the mental struggle between boy and giant with alert interest.

Her eyes flicked back to Fallon. The small head seemed limp and unresponsive as a broken flagpole, but his other half was still fighting. Deep furrows made dark lines in his brow, while his black eyes squeezed themselves tightly shut. She shifted from foot to foot, unsure if her discomfort was from the tight armor rubbing against her shoulders or from the terror of what might happen if Fallon wouldn't submit._ Please don't make us fight you. _

With a great sigh, the two-headed leader of the giant race crumpled like a broken marionette, going down to both knees with a thump that shook the ground. All the metal on him clanked as he dropped to all fours. His palms pressed flat into the earth, his forearms quivered from the effort it took to hold himself up. Isabelle held her breath as she glanced at Jack, who stared unblinkingly at the monster. A gust of wind mouthed at the loose sleeves of his jacket, pushing them back far enough that Isabelle noticed his fists were clenched so hard the tendons on the pale underside of his wrists stood out like harp strings. From its seat on Jack's head, the Crown gave forth another bright gold pulse of liquid light, and Fallon leveled a burning, hateful glare at the boy-king that filled Isabelle's blood with ice, baring every one of his sharp, bloodstained teeth in a defiant snarl. "I'll suck the marrow from your bones for this, you little whelp!" Then he lowered himself, flattening his whole body into the muddy field.

Jack slumped forward. Isabelle grabbed his sagging shoulders. Elmont and Ana rushed to help, and all of them shared identical expressions of relief, wonder, and disbelief.

They'd just tamed a giant.

{O}

The ride back to Cloister was almost unbearable. The five giants trudged at a respectful distance behind them, and Jack had to fight down the temptation to glance over his shoulder after every heavy footfall. He knew it must've been even worse for Isabelle, considering the two-headed freak was back and tormenting her already. Every time he glanced in his fiance's direction her wide, luminous eyes remained fixed at some distant point on the horizon while she gripped Victoria's reins like a shipwrecked sailor holding onto a drifting plank. Jack himself was so tired he could've fallen asleep in the bottom-bouncing saddle of his own horse, if it weren't for the breakneck pace the white stallion was going at. All the horses, even Elmont's disciplined charger, were unhappy with the latest developments. Their breath steamed in the cold air as the terrified animals strained muscle and sinew to the breaking point, eating up the distance between beanstalk and Cloister with no encouragement needed.

There's nothing like a troop of giants behind you for an incentive to run.

Daylight had long since faded, leaving them racing through a darkened countryside. They formed a tight line, with him and Elmont automatically taking flanking positions around Isabelle in case the need arose to defend her. The clouds thinned out enough to let a few ghost-pale needles of moonlight through, shafts of light that were gone almost as soon as they appeared. The giants seemed to have no trouble finding their way in the semi-darkness, whereas Jack had to squint before he could make out the moon-silvered outlines of trees and rocks in their path. And once or twice he thought his ears caught the whoosh of great leathery wings flapping in the night.

_Giants behind us and dragons above us. Wonderful._

"Ho, Jack! We're almost there!" called out Elmont, who had Isabelle's lady-in-waiting on his black horse. Ana's pony had broken loose from the tree it'd been tied to, and was probably halfway to the mountains by now. The poor maid herself sagged against the knight's chest, while his left arm encircled her waist to keep her from sliding off the saddle. Tendrils of her long, red-gold hair were brushing close to Elmont's nose. Jack could see Ana's lips moving, but her soft voice didn't carry over the night wind so he could only guess at what sort of state she was in; if seeing giants for the first time had left her sensible or an incoherent wreck. From the exasperated frown on Elmont's face, he was betting on the latter. If the gallant knight's hands were free, Jack was certain they'd be slapped over his ears.

_I'm not doing so wild either at the moment. That little game with Fallon took everything I had, and I'm still not sure he's completely on our side._ _Who am I kidding?_ _Of course he's not! _He could feel the weight of the Crown on his head, a warm circlet of gold, rubies. and esoteric symbols bound by dark magic to the wild heart of a giant. He'd always thought wearing a magic crown would make you feel special. Empowered.

Instead, it felt painful. Like rows of curved teeth gnawing at his skull, waiting for the perfect moment to bite down into his brain. _How could anything so pure and good hurt so much?_

_It was forged with dark sorcery,_ a tiny, cringing voice whispered from a shadowy corner in his mind. _Maybe it isn't good._

Jack shoved that less-than-comforting thought aside as he saw the gates of Cloister approaching. Stripes of moonlight shone in phosphorescent waves on the rippling surface of the moat while the dark path of the drawbridge hung suspended over it. Only at night did the moat regain some of its former beauty. By day it was a murky, poisoned brew of dead fish and rotting vegetation; the result of being filled with oil and set alight in a desperate gamble to keep Fallon's army from swimming across. Jack wrinkled his nose as a draught of its wet garbage stink reached him, and it wasn't long before he heard growled complaints among their troop of tame giants. _Hey, it was pretty decent here before you guys showed up, _he thought. Burning the moat had been a necessary move - and a successful one, Jack grinned, thinking of a certain two-headed bully who'd tried chasing him across only to end up getting dunked headfirst into a flaming bath - but they all regretted having to ruin such a beautiful piece of nature to save themselves.

_We do what we have to do_. The words of King Brahmwell cut through his recriminations like a knife sliding through a chink in plate armor. _To keep our people safe._ Hearing Brahmwell in his mind comforted him, yet left him sad and cold thinking he would never hear the kind old king's voice anywhere else ever again.

A pair of armored guards in red capes leaned upon iron lances at the mouth of the drawbridge. They crossed their lances as the riders approached, the clash of metal upon metal echoed in the quiet night.

"Halt! Who goes th-?"

Jack, Isabelle, and Elmont reined in their struggling, panting horses a split second before the first giant foot stepped into clear view beneath the moon, hairy toes wiggling. Fee lumbered as close as he could get without stepping on anyone, making Jack curse soundly under his breath when the ground tremors from the giant's massive footsteps nearly spooked his horse into panicked flight again. The sight of the armored, hulking Gantuan caused both guards faces to go pale as cream cheese. Their crossed lances rattled like broken weathervanes in their shaking hands. With one hand rubbing his stomach, Fee grinned broadly down at them, moonlight glinting off the sharp edges of his chipped teeth.

"Hello, juicy little men. I'm Fee. What're your names?'

A lance clattered to the ground as the first guard's eyes rolled back in his head and he fainted dead away. The second man barely managed to hold onto his weapon as he pointed a trembling finger upwards, stammering.

"G-G-G-G-G"

"Giants. Yes, we know," said Elmont. The knight began to dismount, his leather armor creaking as he swung down from the saddle. His quick strides carried him to the stricken man in moments. He reached out, patting the guard's shoulder reassuringly. "They're with us."

"With...us?" The words came freighted with dumbfounded, uncomprehending surprise. The shaking guard looked from Elmont, to the giants, then back to Elmont, staring at the Captain as if he had millipedes coming out of his eye sockets.

"Yes. With us." A trace of irritation colored the knight's voice. Studded leather made a small sound as he laid a hand upon his swordbelt. He jerked his head down at the fainted man, who lay curled up underneath his red cape like a doomed lobster about to be boiled. "Why don't you wake him up, then the both of you escort the Princess and her maid back to the palace? Then inform the other Guardians that our new allies have arrived. I'd like to avoid a mass panic before it starts." The knight stepped back, sending a pointed look at Jack clearly saying:_ I told you this was a bad idea!_ Hefting his lance in one steel-gauntleted hand, the wide-eyed guard managed a tight nod and, reaching down, pulled back the shifting red fabric to reveal the shaking, blubbering form beneath. One moment and a few muttered curses later the fallen man was back on his feet, clutching his own lance in both sweating hands, and trying to recover a little dignity by staunchly ignoring the giants while helping Ana onto Isabelle's horse, seating her behind the princess. Jack began to tap a finger against the saddle's leather surface, casting anxious sidelong glances up at Fallon, who seemed to be paying far too much attention to the graceful, delicate movements of his fiancee as she guided her white horse over the drawbridge. The guards flanking her didn't look back, their identically-bruised egos demanding one final display of courage in front of their commanding officer before finding time to steady their nerves with a healthy drink.

Once they were all safely across Jack heaved a great, bone-deep sigh of relief.

"Well," said Elmont, who sidled up close to him, "now what?"

Jack felt awkward, as he was still seated upon his horse and had to look down on the man he considered his mentor. "I don't like letting them into Cloister," he said, looking askance at the giants looming in a tight row at the edge of the moat. They shuffled their big feet unhappily

"Agreed." Elmont nodded. "Perhaps they should stay outside."

A low growl drifted down to them as Fallon shifted his weight a fraction of an inch forward. Jack tensed, his horse snorted and tried to canter away, and the Crown flashed gold as it responded to the angry giant. "How are we supposed to protect your city if we're kept out of it, boy?" The small head made an indignant squawk, its eyes bulging like a frogs, the puckered line of its mouth set in a petulant frown.

Elmont sighed. "As much as I hate to say it, they have a point." He paused, looking out toward the slumbering village. Jack followed his gaze. A few undamaged houses sat like hermits among the burned-out husks of less fortunate buildings. Their windows were either shuttered or boarded up, and nothing - not even a solitary purse snatcher - moved in the streets. Eerie silence hung over everything like a winding sheet over a corpse. The Guard Captain ran a hand through his spiky brown hair. "Won't do us much good if the dragons start carrying people off while our backup's locked outside." He sounded disappointed.

"All right, then" Squaring his shoulders, Jack glared up at Fallon, who glared right back with equal amounts of hostility and resentment. The space between them sizzled. _I can't believe I'm saying this,_ Jack thought. And then he said the five little words that would change his life forever. "You all can come in."

If Jack could've laughed at that moment, he might've laughed at the look on the giant's faces. Fee actually giggled. Foe grinned and pumped a fist in the air. Fye's stiff eyebrows climbed almost to the top of his ridged forehead. Fumm's upper lip curled in what could've been a snarl or a smirk.

And Fallon spread his arms wide in a magnanimous gesture, his white teeth showing in a broad, delighted smile. His dark eyes were alight with cruel glee as his small head let out a happy little squeal. "We accept your invitation, mighty king!" Scorn dripped off the last word like blood from a murderer's knife, and Jack felt like falling off his horse as a ball of molten-hot nausea started rocking and rolling inside him. _What have I done?_

Jack looked over at his friend and mentor. For a few seconds, Elmont looked exactly like Jack felt: sick and uncertain. Then he seemed to gather himself, straightening his back and holding his chin up high, his eyes burning blue and clear. Resolved. "Are you all able to cross the drawbridge?" he asked.

"We can," Fallon said.

"Then come across," said Elmont, and Jack would almost swear he heard the man's teeth grind together. _This must be torture for him. Knowing what happened to Crawe, and having no choice but to let those monsters into the kingdom._ He wanted to say something, make some speech of consolation and support, but knew deep down there was nothing he could say to make this better. So he simply sat on his white stallion and watched Elmont march back to his own sweating, irritated horse, swing his legs into the stirrups, seize the reins, and take charge of his mount with the same skill and finesse he used to lead an army. Strands from the horse's wild black mane blew about like inky ribbons in the pre-dawn wind, tickling Elmont's face. _He looks more like a hero than ever,_ Jack thought, and then grimaced as the terrible knife-sharp teeth of the Crown dug painfully into his mind again. He brought a hand to his aching forehead, almost touched the deceptively soft edge of the golden band, then stopped, somehow certain that Fallon was eyeing him with a calculating, predatory stare, searching for signs of weakness. _Keep it together, Jack. _He mentally kicked himself. Hard. _Everyone's counting on you._

He breathed deep, then issued a command meant to remind them all who was in charge. "Watch your step. If I hear of any people being flattened by..."

"Oh, we'll be careful," Fee snickered, then jabbed an elbow into Fye's ribs. "Especially this light-footed lunk here."

"Least I wasn't cursed with such dainty little toes." Fye returned the jab by shoving his comrade's shoulder. "Every tree stump in the forest ends up as a splinter in those hairy nubs of yours." Fee rubbed the spot where he'd been hit, muttering, and the other giants laughed. Their good humor increased as Fee muscled his way up to the drawbridge and stuck a foot carefully out onto the human-made structure. Elmont and Jack simply sat on their horses and watched in a sort of fascinated dread, wondering if the stone would support his weight or break apart to drop him like a boulder into the moat. Jack was reminded of going to the circus with Dad once as a birthday outing and being mesmerized by an acrobat walking over a tightrope. Fee moved exactly the same way, with cautious little steps that prompted much jeering and mockery from the line of waiting giants behind him. A collective sigh of relief came from the two humans when he made it over, then was followed by Fye, Foe, and Fumm in quick succession. Fallon came last, grudgingly. No one dared taunt him except Fumm, who called out, "Don't fall in again, brother." The growl he received in answer would've rattled snowdrifts off the mountainsides. Jack grinned, hiding it in his sleeve.

When they were all across, the giants waited obediently for Jack and Elmont to join them. Elmont stopped his horse directly in front of them, speaking as he would to new recruits in the royal guard. "Well, you lot are all Guardians now. Let's assign you to your posts for remainder of the night."

"Fee. Fye. Your post will be the abbey."

"Right." Fee grinned, then wrinkled his brow in confusion. "Um, what's an abbey?"

"It's a big building with a belltower and a lot of little men in brown robes running about."

"Oh." Fee said with a quizzical tilt to his head. "Can we eat them?"

"No!" Elmont looked like he wanted to rub at his temples but was holding back. Barely. "Guard it. Protect the people there."

Fee shrugged, then lifted up his foot, and Jack had to fight against every screaming instinct he possessed yammering at him to run like hell as the two giants stepped over their human masters with feet big enough to squash houses. Then they were gone, and Jack needed a few extra moments to will himself out of frozen immobility. His horse remained still, its head drooping, apparently having resigned itself to an inevitable, messy death.

If Elmont were shaken at all, he did a spectacular job hiding it. His orders rang out clear and crisp. "Fumm, you stand watch at the palace. I assume you remember where it is?"

"Of course." Fumm nodded. Jack noted the black-haired giant seemed bored. Or distracted.

"Then off you go."

He went, and Elmont turned to face Fallon. Jack found himself holding his breath.

"Fallon, you and Foe stay here. Guard the main gate. Is that clear?"

The small head spat out a stream of incomprehensible noises that sounded vaguely like words, only hacked to pieces and put together again in the wrong order.

Elmont frowned. 'What did he say?"

A tooth poked through Fallon's lower lip as he grumbled. "He said you can kiss our giant, hairy a-"

_Uh-oh. Time to act kingly. _Jack was careful not to flinch, but maintained steady eye contact with the big monster as he shouted. "Enough! Fallon, do as your told!"

Fallon sniffed. "As long as that crown stays on your head, I will." He sniffed again, and Jack tried not to think about what the giant might be smelling. Fallon's eyes narrowed, pinning Jack with malevolent heat. His right hand dropped down to caress the wooden handle of his flail. The coiled links of the iron chain clinked together at his touch. "A giant's heart can't be tamed for long," he said, voice soft and deadly serious. Jack sensed Elmont as a still, tense presence beside him, but he didn't dare take his eyes off the giants. A few more seconds stretched by before Fallon's hand moved away from the flail. He grunted something unintelligible, and Foe snapped to attention. Elmont and Jack began urging their horses slowly away, backing up step by step until they were far enough that they felt it was safe to turn and put their backs to the main gate and its menacing sentries.

"Well," Elmont said, "I know a veiled threat when I hear one. Our two-headed friend is going to be trouble." He sounded exhausted.

Jack nodded. "I know, but we need them." _Believe me, I wish we didn't. _His whole body hurt from spending to long on horseback and his head felt ready to crack like an egg. Aside from that, he counted them all unbelievably lucky. "It went a lot better than I expected really. No one got hurt."

"Speak for yourself," Elmont grumbled, rubbing at his shoulder. "Feels like my neck broke from staring up for so long.

Jack let his mind wander, listening to his horse's hooves clicking on cobblestones as he and Elmont rode side by side to the palace. A stripe of pale pink light glowed on the horizon. Cloister would be waking up soon, which meant they needed to prepare for another day of potential mayhem. They'd spotted no dragons in the skies so far, but Jack had the sense that they were simply biding their time, resting in their hidden nests until hunger drove them out to hunt once more.

_And all I really want to do is find Isabelle, hold her and tell her how sorry I am that this happened. _Thinking of her reminded him of another girl, and he called over his shoulder to Elmont.

"You rode with Ana on the way back. Is she all right?"

The knight scowled. "I'm not sure about the rest of her, but her mouth works perfectly. Silly girl was asking questions about giants all the bloody way home. 'How can they live up in the sky? Why are they so big? How did that big mean one end up with two heads?' Would've driven me mad if I hadn't been halfway there already, worrying about whether those bastards were going to turn on us."

Jack laughed, then grew thoughtful. He remembered the landscape of Gantua, with its lush green forests and flowing streams. He remembered feeling like a grasshopper, jumping from one huge, unsteady wooden plank to another as he crossed the hanging bridge leading to the stronghold where Isabelle was being held prisoner. He remembered how wonderful and terrifying it all had been, and how the giants themselves, in spite of their horribleness, still felt like something out of the pages of a fairytale. "It wouldn't hurt to find out," he said, musing. "We don't know much about them, really."

Jack didn't turn to look, but the boy swore he could hear Elmont's eyes roll as the knight replied, "Something tells me that's exactly how it should be."

{O}

Jack squirmed, helpless in the giant's grasp. His little human ribs compressed as he was squeezed tighter and tighter, his pain-wracked body convulsing as it struggled to breathe. Fallon relaxed his grip just enough for the human to scream.

"No! No!" Jack's legs thrashed as he was lifted up. There was no magic bean to save him this time. All his friends were either dead or fleeing for their lives. Fallon grinned, hissing in the boy's ear, "Oh yessss," then opened his mouth wide.

His teeth bit through the first vertebrae of Jack's neck with a satisfying crunch. The rich taste of human blood spurted onto his tongue - a little too sour for his liking but made palatable by the sweetness of revenge. His jaws worked as he chewed the pulpy head slowly, drawing out the moment before he swallowed. Then he let the headless body drop to the floor of the palace. It fell like a broken doll, landed on the bare wood floor with a wet slap, blood exploding from the point of impact like juice from a popped grape.

Licking his red-smeared lips, he turned his attention to the golden princess in his other hand. Her tear-stained eyes met his, her soft, pretty face contorted with fear and grief.

"Now, Princess," he rumbled, "you're mine."

That was the fantasy that played out in glorious, vivid detail through Fallon's mind as the two-headed giant stood at his post before the main gates of Cloister. His fellow watchman, Foe, was asleep on his feet, bony knees locked tight while his head hung limply forward, chin touching chest. A thin thread of drool hung from his half-open mouth, fluttering whenever he snored. Were Fallon the one giving orders, he would've pounded the smaller giant's nose through the back of his head for sleeping on guard duty, but, under these circumstances, he let it go unpunished. In fact, falling asleep seemed rather tempting at the moment.

Jack and the Guard Captain had left them standing here all night. Now it was mid-afternoon, and here they still were, forced to stay in one place like bloody fools, while little humans with dirty faces and tattered clothes scurried through their cobbled-stone streets like rats in a warren. None of the peasants dared get too close to him, but he'd caught groups of them huddled together at a respectful distance, gawking and pointing fingers. Some of the young males even called out taunts and insults, and yet he was bound by Jack's will from eating any of the little upstarts! All he could do was stand there, snarl at everything, and contemplate the stupidity of existence.

At least it wasn't raining. He loved thunder, but he hated getting wet.

_Jack._ Just thinking of the boy made him want to kill something. But there was something about the farmboy that actually made him cautious for once. It wasn't just the fact that Jack had almost killed him; Fallon wanted more than anything to return the favor. It was that, through his entire adventure, Jack had been so damn _lucky_. Lucky to have not been taken prisoner, lucky to have found the princess, lucky to have escaped with her, and _insanely_ lucky to have still had a bean with him when he'd needed a weapon powerful enough to hurt a giant. The boy was favored by Fate...and one who was Favored could make a very dangerous enemy indeed.

_But Fate is fickle_, he reminded himself. _Good fortune doesn't last forever. And it takes a strong will to master the Crown._

Fallon inhaled, taking down a deep, shuddering lungfull of air that did nothing to ease the half-smothered feeling in his chest. He wondered how mankind could stand it in their world full of rank scents and unwholesome air when he could barely breathe.

Earth hadn't felt like this last time he was here. Of course, he'd been having good fun then with stomping and crushing human soldiers.

His small head began blowing bubbles as a way to entertain itself. Yet another avalanche-inducing snore issued from Foe. Fallon sighed, and his thoughts strayed, as they always did, to the Princess. She was in a class all her own; an irritating reminder of past failures and blood descendant of a hated king. Yet, when she'd been caged and at his mercy she'd shown more courage than any other human prisoner he'd interrogated. Her refusal to answer his questions was infuriating, but such bravery raised her slightly above the level of general contempt with which he regarded the rest of her kin. for such a weak little creature, she had a feisty spirit.

And worse, she smelled so damn _good. Just like the girl Thunderdel had loved. _

Every now and then the wind would change, bringing him good, homey scents from the mountains. Of moss-covered stones, clear running streams, and hard-packed snow. They were the same sort of smells he'd grown up with in the mountain caves of Gantua, and he ached to abandon this miserable human nest and go to them. It was maddening, being stuck to one spot, unable to leave.

Could he leave?

_Only one way to find out._

He took a hesitant step forward. Nothing stopped him. No invisible barrier sprang up to stop him. No thunderbolt from the sky. So he took another step. And another. He could've laughed at what should've been so obvious. Jack hadn't been the one to give them their orders. The Guard Captain had. And if Jack wasn't close enough for the Crown to restrain some slight disobedience, then perhaps he could bend the rules a bit. Just a bit.

Foe continued to snore like a choking bear at his post. Fallon let him. Humans were pointing and screaming at him now. It was a much more agreeable sound than their laughter. Maybe he could even eat a few of them, and damn the consequences.

Then the wind changed, carrying on its back a sharp tang of green apple juice mixed with...

...with a sugary scent so familiar to him he could track it in his sleep, or even half-dead. It was close, tantalizingly close. His mouth filled with saliva as he imagined its taste. Even his small head, dullard that it was, voiced its excitement in happy little gurgles, thick-lipped mouth stretched wide in a broad grin. _Yes,_ he thought as he stepped over groups of frightened peasants and carefully picked his way among fragile human buildings. _Good fortune comes to us all, sooner or later._

With both heads wearing almost identical expressions of delight, Fallon followed his nose to the princess.

{O}

"How is Daniel?" Ana asked before biting into a green apple.

They'd found a shaded spot on a wooden bench beneath some apple trees. Isabelle picked a few bits of crumbled leaves out of her hair as she settled against the rough backrest, trying to make herself as comfortable as it was possible to get while wearing plate armor. A sword lay across her knees; not her father's massive greatsword, -it had proved to cumbersome for her to wield properly and she'd forced herself to leave it on a dais within the palace treasury, resting on a green and silver altar cloth among candles and incense until the day it could be sealed along with her father in a stone sarcophagus. The sword she had now was bound in a golden scabbard, with a topaz sparkling on its pommel. A bit too showy for her taste but Elmont had chosen it for her, and the curved, shining steel gave her a small measure of comfort, which she sorely needed.

Flowerbeds artistically arranged to soothe the eyes and mind surrounded them, displaying bunches of orange, purple, and white blossoms. It being late September most of the prettiest flowers no longer bloomed, so it was really the herbs that held sway in the garden now. Carpets of mint, angelica, and belladonna exhaled their spicy-sweet breath among the apple trees. It was rumored that the groundskeeper used hedgemagic to make her herbs grow year-round. Isabelle wasn't sure she believed it, but the garden always seemed to be full of beautiful plants, even after winter's first snowfall.

"He's hungry. The boy eats anything the cook gives him." Isabelle fixed her eyes straight ahead, watching a pair of doves splash about in a water-filled basin mounted on a silver pedestal. An angel carved in white marble spread its feathery wings in the exact center of the basin, it's serene face upturned to heaven, the stone eyes full of childlike wonder.

_Mama used to love angels. _The thought felt like a cold sewing needle stinging her heart.

"It's really good of you and Jack to take care of him. He told me he's an orphan." Ana finished off the apple, tossed the core into a pile of newly fallen leaves. Sunlight slanted through the trees behind them, moving in time with the wind as it shook the branches. The wide, gold-embroidered sleeve of Ana's emerald gown fell down to expose her slim wrist as she adjusted her sheaf of ribbon-bound red hair, draping it over her left shoulder. Glancing at the girl, Isabelle felt a flash of envy that her lady-in-waiting felt safe enough to stroll about in pretty dresses and jewels whereas she felt naked without her gold plate armor and weapons. _Dealing with giants would make anyone a bit edgy after awhile, I suppose._

_"An orphan. There seems to be a lot of them these days," Isabelle said sadly. _She stroked the ornate scabbard of her sword, the tip of one nail tracing lazy spirals over its shining surface. "My Father gave his life to save that boy. It's the least we can do." _Except the poor child still wakes in the night crying from nightmares of what he saw on the abbey steps. Just like me. _A breeze feathered her cheek as she sighed.

_I'm so tired._

Ana nudged her shoulder, the contact making a muffled clang as her elbow bumped Isabelle's plate armor. "Look," she whispered, pointing. Isabelle followed the girl's finger and saw a fluffy gray squirrel on the ground where Ana had thrown her apple core. Its tail bobbed as it crouched on all fours, wet black nose sniffing delicately at the piece of fruit. Isabelle watched it take a quick bite of its prize, then looked away.

Ana smiled as she continued to watch the squirrel, but her happiness melted away when she noticed her friend's shadowed eyes still staring down at the blade laying across her knees. "My lady, should we go back to the palace? You seem anxious." Ana asked, studying Isabelle closely.

"I can't stay in the palace forever." Isabelle sighed. _I shouldn't even be out here,_ she thought. _Not with the giants roaming around. But there isn't anywhere to get a moment's peace in the castle these days._

"We're safe here, right?" Ana asked. "It feels safe."

"Safe enough." One had to look past the rows of carefully tended trees to see the garden wall; thick, gray, crenellated stone that was meant to offer visitors privacy as well as protection. She could just make out the chiseled top of it whenever the wind blew the tangle of branches aside. It might not stop a giant, but it would certainly make it harder for one to get to them. She hoped.

They lapsed into thoughtful silence. Shadows shifted as the sun sank lower in the sky, heading inexorably westward. The doves still flapped and cooed in the water-basin at the feet of the white angel. Their playfulness managed to catch Isabelle's attention. She watched them. while still resting her hands on the scabbarded sword. Unhappy thoughts were swirling through her mind. She'd seen too much these last few days. Too much death. And having the giants returned to Earth terrified her, even if they weren't at open war with humanity. And her people were suffering every day and...

"I don't know if I can do this."

The words were out before she was aware of saying them, and Isabelle sighed miserably when Ana glanced up so quickly the braid resting on her shoulder slid off.

"What?"Ana asked, then remembered propriety. "I mean, 'What, my lady?'"

"Don't call me that!" Isabelle wanted to meld her body to the wooden bench and disappear. Her voice was rough from holding back the tears that threatened to spill out. "I didn't want it to be like this, Ana. Father's gone and the kingdom's in ruins and the giants are back and I don't know what to do!" A breeze touched her damp cheeks, cooling the heated skin. She could almost feel the touch of Ana's hand on her shoulder through the layer of golden armor, and allowed herself to lean against her friend, sniffling and wiping at her nose. "I'm not ready to be Queen!"

Ana shifted slightly, then Isabelle felt the girl's fingers in her hair, stroking gently. "You'll do fine, Princess . None of this is your fault."

'Isn't it? Everything was normal before I got myself taken up to Gantua and captured by giants!"

"That wasn't your fault either." Ana's voice was soft and kind. _Like Mama's._ 'And who knows! Maybe the giants will save us!"

A tear left a trail of salt down Isabelle's cheek. She scrubbed it away. "Ana, the giants aren't..."

A bird shrieked. Isabelle's eyes snapped up to see the doves abandon the water-basin in panicked flight. Around them, squirrels were shooting up into their trees, not bothering to carry any snacks back with them as their tails disappeared into hidey-holes in the bark with frightened little chirps.

And then every hair on Isabelle's nape stood on end as she heard the thump of a giant's footstep.

The princess leapt to her feet, dragged a startled Ana off the bench with her by one hand while gripping her sword in the other. In a hot heartbeat, she'd released Ana's hand and drawn the sword from its scabbard. The cool, bright length of metal glinted in the waning light. Her narrowed eyes roved, scanning the horizon intently.

Beside her, Ana stood wide-eyed, confused. "Princess?"

_They shouldn't be here_. Her heart beat strong and fast in her ears. _They shouldn't be anywhere near the garden_. She held her sword up in the guard position. The blade would be absolutely useless against a giant, but having it made her feel a little less vulnerable.

"Ana," Isabelle's voice was tight from holding down the knot of screaming panic inside her. "Run!"

The trees blocking her view of the garden wall began to shake. She caught a quick flash of a pair of all-too-familiar bald heads, and felt as though her entire body had been dipped in chilled wax.

As if it posed no obstacle in the slightest, Fallon stepped _over_ the garden wall.

"Ana! RUN! NOW!" All thought of fighting dissipated like smoke in a strong wind as Isabelle roughly shoved the girl ahead of her. They both ran for the stone staircase that would take them out of the garden and back to the safety of the palace. There were awful sounds of things snapping and shattering behind them, and Isabelle risked a glance over her shoulder to see the white angel statue knocked off its base by a quick swipe of Fallon's claws. She could hear his footsteps bearing down on her, and had time enough to hope Ana would have the sense to keep running, get back to the palace, and find help.

And then clawed, crooked fingers wrapped around her waist. Air moved around her, crushing her shoulders down as she left the ground, her stomach rolling from dizziness mixed with the horrible feeling of being trapped in a nightmare. She was still lightheaded and gasping for breath when all movement stopped with her feet dangling over empty air and staring into the two faces of Fallon, and would've screamed if she hadn't been struggling to breathe.

"And what sweet fruit is this?" he growled. Isabelle saw that he was free of the patches of blackened skin he'd had the last time she'd seen him. That had been horrible enough at the time. But now his eyebrows were drawn close together, and the bladed edges of his cheekbones gave him a sinister look, Especially when he was leering at her the way he was now. The sort of look that told Isabelle she was in deep, deep trouble.

She wriggled in his grasp. His thumb was pressing indecently against her breasts while her left arm was trapped behind her back. Her sword hand was still free, though, and she frantically tried to hack at his fingers.

His response was a low, throaty chuckle. "None of that," he said, and his left hand darted up, thumb and forefinger wrenching the sword out of her hand as easily as picking a cherry. "I'm beginnin' to think you aren't as pleased to see me as I am to see you, Your Highness."

In spite of the terror filling her head, one small spark of defiance was just too stubborn to go out. "I wasn't expecting to meet a giant traipsing through the garden." She pushed at his fingers, squirmed against the rough calluses of his palm in an attempt to wrench her left arm free. "Put me down!"

"No," he said, and his small head squawked in assent. Breathing hard, Isabelle stopped struggling for a moment and simply looked at him. This close, she could see that his eyes weren't entirely black, as she'd thought, but storm-gray, and they were studying her face with an intensity that made her want to shrink away. "You will answer our questions."

_Dear God, not again. _Isabelle shuddered, and nearly dislocated her shoulder in another vain attempt to free her left arm. Her heart leapt when the tip of her index finger brushed against a hilt, and she remembered the small dagger she'd been carrying in a concealed sheath at her back. It might not do any good, but then again it might. If she could get it out...

Fallon's voice dropped to a low purr, becoming the smooth voice of an interrogator. "Where is the book?"

Isabelle squirmed, was able to get three more fingers around the hilt, but couldn't pull it out. Fallon's grip around her tightened, making her gasp."I won't tell you!" she shouted, her fear momentarily eclipsed by frustration.

"Fine, then." For once, the giant didn't sound angry. Just amused, as though that was the answer he'd been expecting and was ready for it. Isabelle felt a chill. "I suppose I'll have to persuade you, princess."

He lifted her to his mouth.

Her throat went bone-dry as her struggling, which had momentarily ceased, now renewed with a vengeance. She was so close to his face now that if she'd wanted to, she could've reached out and touched his lips. Leaning away only squeezed her trapped arm even harder, sending tingling jolts of cold numbness up her shoulder. She raised her right hand, palm out, in a futile attempt at warding off his stormy eyes and the row of white, even teeth she remembered all too clearly."You can't," she tried to twist in his grasp, but failed, "eat me!"

"Perhaps not," he hissed, bringing her even closer so that her face brushed his nose. "But I can think of more interestin' things to do with yeh than eat yeh, Your _Highness_." His accent was thickening, Isabelle guessed from excitement, at which possibility she finally gave in to instinct and froze, every part of her bracing for something nasty.

"What are you going to-"

The question died halfway as Fallon inhaled. hot air brushed her face, lifting up strands of her hair as the giant sniffed. He pulled on her scent, sucked it down greedily as his nose nuzzled against the curve of her throat. _It almost feels like a horse's muzzle, only bigger._ Oddly enough, the absurd thought comforted her, allowing her to slip into a kind of daze while staying completely still, fascinated yet fearful.

'Your scent is a rainbow of sweetness, king's daughter." His voice sounded like velvet dragged against her skin, and she ducked her head when she felt her cheeks growing warm. _What in all of Albion is he doing?_ Shivering, she made a half-hearted shove at his nose, the pudgy tip of which rested upon her shoulder, continuing to snuffle and sniff at her hair. "And your taste..."

Whatever trance she'd been lulled into broke when he shoved her against his lips. The idea that Fallon was_ kissing _her had barely taken shape in her numbed brain before the twin surfaces parted slightly and his tongue snaked out.

Alarm flared inside her when she realized what he was about to do. _No!_

It was the most disgusting indignity she'd ever had the misfortune to experience. His tongue was thick, dripping with frothy spit, and reeked of old blood and decaying meat. It slipped over her shoulder, trailed a damp line up the right side of her face, and for one mercifully brief moment covered her nose and mouth as it rested on her head. She held her breath, remained rigidly still until the pulsing warmth left her face to continue down her aching left shoulder in one languid, slimy slurp.

"...is even better." The tongue withdrew back into his mouth as he smacked his lips loudly.

"Aaaaggh!' Isabelle wiped at the trickles of yellowish spit sliding down her face. Her hair hung in sodden clumps, loose strands in front of her eyes dripped slime as though she'd been rained on. When she'd cleared the filth from her eyes, she saw the giant watching her, one corner of his mouth upturned and his eyes gleaming devilishly. _He enjoyed that! _

And something in her snapped.

Fear evaporated, was replaced by white-hot outrage, and despite every rational thought in Isabelle's mind screaming _this is a really bad idea! _she railed at Fallon with all the hell-hath-no-fury a righteously indignant princess can muster. "You...you...how dare you!" His toothy smile only got bigger. Without thinking, she balled up a fist. "You...BEAST!"

The fist flew, and made contact with the end of Fallon's hooked nose with a satisfying smack.

The giant grunted and brought a hand up to feel the bridge of his nose. Isabelle, having used the chance to vent her rage, now felt properly horrified. _Crawe was butchered for less than what I just did! _Fresh panic seized her,and with a titanic effort that sent ice-bolts of pain all the way up to her collarbone, wriggled her trapped left arm. The dagger was _so close_. She gritted her teeth, felt polished wood as her wrist touched the knifehilt, then felt her thumb and fingers close tightly around it...

She risked a furtive glance at Fallon beneath the dripping tendrils of her hair, and saw movement from his small head. The weird creature seemed to be holding back a laugh while it shot a sidelong glance at its master; a crafty, knowing smirk that reminded her for all the world of the way Wicke would look at Roderick after the countless times she'd admonished the counselor for making too free with her person.

She hated that look.

Fallon's eyes opened wide enough for all the whites to show. Mockery was heavy in the giant's voice when he spoke. "You really didn't expect that lovetap to hurt me, did you?" He brought her to his mouth again, licked his lips in anticipation of another "kiss."

With a falcon's cry of effort, Isabelle tore the knife free of its sheath and buried the blade deep as she could in the soft skin at the center of Fallon's palm.

What followed was a blur of confused impressions. Roaring, then a sense of cold air rushing in as the huge fingers released her. She fell, didn't even have time to worry about what would happen when she hit the ground before her back connected with something solid. The air rushed out of her in a huff, and she lay sprawled out, stunned and covered in flower petals. A multitude of candy-sweet scents rose around her as she tried to sit up, and some hazy part of her brain realized she'd landed in a flowerbed.

_Wonderful._

Then something large moved in front of her. Her vision came back into sharp focus, revealing brown, hairy toes, and Isabelle began a mad scramble backwards to get away from those enormous feet that were far too close for her liking. Her heart felt as though it would shake her chest to pieces. Sticks and broken pieces of masonry dug painfully into her sweating palms as she dragged herself away, until her back fetched up against the base of an old, gnarled tree.

Her sword was gone, she'd played the only card she had left, and, worst of all, one look at Fallon told her he truly _was_ angry this time.

She heard thumping footsteps, then a dark shadow fell over her. Isabelle closed her eyes as the snarling monster stooped to pick her up.

"Leave her alone!"

The voice was rough, accented, and distinctly not human. Trembling, she opened her eyes, and felt her battered mind nearly fly into pieces from the latest surprise in what was fast becoming a day of shocks. The hand that had been reaching out to snatch her was being held back by none other than Fumm. He stood beside his leader, gripping the other giant's meaty forearm so hard his knuckles appeared bruised. A low growl was coming from Fallon that sounded so angry Isabelle thought she'd never heard a sound that so perfectly matched the color of blood. _They're going to fight!_ _I have to get out of here!_She tried to will her body into movement, but each of her muscles felt as tight as bowstrings about to snap. Wide-eyed, she huddled against the tree, gaping in fascinated wonder as the two giants stared hard at each other, challenging each other through their fierce eyes. Then both of Fallon's heads simultaneously bared all their teeth, made rough, strangled sounds of fury, and tore their arm free. Fumm had just a bare second to take a step back before Fallon struck him, backhanding him across the face hard enough to whip his head to one side. Fumm stumbled back, and Isabelle screamed when he started to fall.

Two benches, a marble sculpture of a lion, and a wiry birch sapling were crushed under the giant when his heavy body hit the ground. Isabelle silently thanked God that the giant hadn't fallen forward. A cloud of powdery white dust hung in the air, and through it she could see Fallon's broad back as he stalked away. Marked him as he came to the garden wall, and, instead of stepping over, simply kicked a hole right through it. For a moment, Isabelle's ears roared with the rumble of stone being smashed, then the whole garden became blessedly still and silent.

Fallon was gone.

Isabelle was vaguely aware of her whole body shaking as she lay against the tree, panting in short, shallow gasps and clutching at her chest. Her skin, still damp with Fallon's spittle, bloomed with cold whenever the wind touched it. Years seemed to have passed since the two-headed nightmare had found her, though the sun had barely moved in the sky. Isabelle flinched when a rustle from the fallen giant reminded her she wasn't alone.

Fumm lay on one side, his face already swelling into a nasty purple bruise. He grunted as she sat up, and Isabelle saw multi-colored piles of rubble beneath him, and some dazed corner of her mind noted that the groundskeeper would be in an absolute frenzy. _Giants trampled the garden today._ The thought made her into a short, semi-hysteria cal giggle.

"Hmm, I almost thought he was truly going to kill me that time." Fumm's tone was mild. He reached up with one hand, brushed white dust out of his hair, which frosted the black mane like sugar. His attention turned to her. "Your Highness, are you well?"

"I'm f-fine." Her voice was a tremulous croak. She studied the fallen giant like a rabbit peering out of its hole to watch a circling hawk. The last time she'd seen the black-haired warrior, he'd been fighting with Fallon over which of them had the right to eat her. It was not an encouraging thought.

There was the sound of feet running over stone, and a high, clear voice. "Princess!"

Isabelle groaned. _Ana! No! Go back! it's not safe here! _But the girl arrived too soon for her to shout the warning. Her green dress was torn in several places, but aside from that Isabelle was relieved to see she was unhurt. Crying, the lady-in-waiting threw her arms around her princess's shoulders. "What...what happened, Princess? Are you all right? Is-"

Isabelle hissed a warning when Fumm stretched out his long, dirty fingers, reaching for them. Ana froze, and the two girl's huddled together like frightened children beneath the swaying tree branches. Fumm pulled his hand back, and glared at the two of them with baleful eyes.

"I thought," he rumbled, "that it was customary for humans to thank those who try to help them." Isabelle studied him carefully. His mouth was turned down at the corners, his eyes were narrowed into catlike slits. He was still dangerous as a thief in a merchant's house, but there was something about him that seemed forlorn, almost resentful. "I have only helped you twice so far. Or tried to."

Isabelle blinked, feeling uncertain and more than a little confused. "You...helped me?" She scrubbed at her spit-slimed face, nervousness demanding she do something with her hands. "I...I don't..."

She was grateful when Fumm finished for her. "You do not understand, do you?"

"I'm afraid not." From beyond the garden wall, Isabelle heard the shouts of angry soldiers, She fervently hoped that Jack would be able to put a stop to Fallon before he got up to any more mischief.

Fumm inched a little closer to them. "When you were before the Gathering," he said while holding out a hand, fingers curled, "I thought if I could claim the right to eat you, I could take you away and spare you further suffering. It was the only excuse that blood-crazed rabble would've accepted. I was trying to save you the only way I could, Princess." He sighed. "And paid well for it."

She nodded, remembered the meaty _thwack!_ when the business end of Fallon's flail connected with his face, and the snarling argument that followed. At the time, she'd been horrified by the brutality with which the giants treated even their own kind, and having spent so much effort running, hiding, or saving her kingdom from them it never occurred to her that they might know anything about kindness. "Why would you do that?"

He growled , a short, sharp noise of disapproval that was quickly cut off. "Not all of us are as stone-hearted as my elder brother, Princess," he said. There was the sound of more stone cracking as he shifted his weight slightly. "I hold no love for your kings, but neither do I care for the mistreatment of females, less so when they are helpless and unarmed."

"So, are you going to thank me?"

"Th-thank you." It sounded so inadequate that Isabelle ducked her head, unable to meet his glaring eyes. Then Ana untangled herself from around Isabelle, and, before the princess even realized what she was about to do, stood up and approached the giant. She held out a hand, and Fumm uncurled a finger to touch its very tip against her palm.

"Thank you for all you did for us."

Fumm's eyes widened. He looked as surprised as Isabelle felt.

"You're welcome."

(O)

**Author's Notes:** And I have FINALLY wrapped up another head-bangingly long chapter. I hope I didn't make too many mistakes. I'll confess I'm going on my own imagination for the layout of Cloister so if something seems a little off it's entirely my fault. And I found out while I was writing this that Fallon's eyes are mottled gray, not black, so gone are the days where I refer to his "glittering black eyes." And I always wondered why exactly my two favorite giants were fighting over Isabelle. Fumm struck me as, if not less vicious, then at least a little more reasonable than Fallon. So he seems to be the most likely one to have Standards that he tries, with mixed success, to uphold. if this sounds weird, it probably is. I'm just trying to give the big guys some character development.

To spice things up, I thought it would be interesting to add in some actual consequences for traveling up and down the beanstalk. There's a reason behind Fallon grumbling that he can't breathe. The larger an organism is, the more oxygen it requires. Someone Fallon's size would need an insane amount of oxygen to feel comfortable, doubly so because he has two heads. I'm assuming the oxygen level on Gantua is at least twice what it is on Earth. Actually, it should be frozen and nearly airless up there, but since this a fairytale universe we can throw logic in the dumpster and slam the lid on it. Yay!

And I've been planning for Fallon to give Isabelle a Jabba the Hutt style kiss ever since I started writing this monster. Poor girl.


	7. Chapter 6: Plan

**Title: **Seed of Darkness

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** A new threat descends upon Cloister and Jack must use the Crown of Erik to call on some unlikely allies. Fallon/Isabelle, Fumm/OC

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**Warnings:** Some mild swearing in this chapter and one precision F-bomb strike near the end. I tried to write a shorter chapter and failed miserably, but there was a lot to get in and it's all leading up to bigger things to come.

**Chapter 6: Plan**

"Surely you could do this by yourself?"

Ana felt like a mouse being cajoled into the paw of a supposedly friendly cat. She kept her eyes fixed on the impossibly huge creature in front of her as she concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, willing herself toward the outstretched hand; a strong-fingered trap that could easily snap shut and crush her. True, this giant seemed calmer than the others - he was certainly less frightening than the wild two-headed one - but the countless warnings Princess Isabelle had given her not to trust them weren't easy to ignore.

"I could," he said, tilting his head slightly, "except I was hoping to see you again, and hoping you would take care of it for me." The enormous hand was placed palm-up on the ground before her, fingers bending inward. Each finger was tipped with a hard nail the color of old bronze, and their ragged, overgrown edges made them look bestial, clawlike.

Still, she'd been touched by one of those claws before and come away alive. And she'd seen him save the princess.

The giant Fumm crouched on the grass of the palace lawns. The fact that he was able to get this close to the home of the Princess was testament that both the Guard Captain and the new King trusted him a thimbleful more than the others, and a great deal more than the two-headed one. Tongues wagging in the palace corridors claimed that particular giant was being punished for his attack on the Princess, but how said punishment was being carried out was a mystery to her. _What can we possibly do to them to qualify as punishment? We can't just spank them like children._

Ana took a deep breath, pushing away all concerns except for the task laid before her. She'd finally reached the proffered hand, just as the index finger uncurled to lay before her, nearly as long as her whole arm. A warm breeze caressed her face, blowing strands of red-golden hair into her eyes as she stole a tentative glance up at the giant. He studied her in kind, solemn and intense as a dark god. A thrill burned its way down her spine, and her breath caught at the sight of his silver armor gleaming in the noonday sun. She could see countless dents and scratches in the plating, making her wonder exactly how many battles he'd fought in. Lifting up a hand, she touched the tip of his finger, heart pounding as her own small human fingers explored around the rough edge of his nail to the leathery pad of flesh at the base.

She couldn't stop herself from flinching when he made a small movement. Dark eyes narrowed, and his mouth became a thin line. When he spoke, his voice was rough as unpolished granite.

"Have some faith in me, little one. I'm not going to eat you." His voice was tinged with resentment, bitter-sharp and hurtful. Shamed, Ana swallowed, and tried to change the subject.

"Doesn't that hurt?" she asked, pointing at his face. Where his leader had struck him, a large, dark-purple bruise swelled. Ana could almost swear there were knuckle-prints left by the other giant's hand.

"It's painful, but that is not what needs tending to." He twisted up the corners of his mouth in a manner Ana supposed was meant to convey a reassuring smile, but finished its brief existence as more of a toothy grimace. The giant's dark and brooding demeanor told her he probably had little experience with smiles. "Go ahead. Your small hands will do the trick nicely."

_Surely he's joking?_ Ana frowned, not sure if her hands would do the trick at all. But he'd asked for her help, and she truly did want to help him.

Taking hold of the wooden shaft embedded in his fingertip with both of her small human hands, Ana gritted her teeth and _pulled_.

She blew out a frustrated breath. The piece of wood hadn't budged. "It's not...I can't get it!"

She wasn't sure, but she thought she heard a stifled chuckle in Fumm's gruff voice. "Pull harder. You're not going to hurt me."

_If you say so,_ she thought wryly. The wooden spike was about as long as a short spear, and she imagined the point was just as sharp. If it had been in her body, she would've been screaming.

Bracing herself, she tried again. Her grip was steadier this time, one hand above the other as though she were swinging a forester's axe. A few more seconds of tugging passed before she felt the spike shift. The point was tearing free of the giant's tough flesh.

Fumm kept absolutely still while she worked, though blood was oozing up from the inflamed area of skin around the puncture, making Ana cast another wary glance up at him. The uneasy squirming in the pit of her stomach faded when she saw how serene he looked. The rugged lines of his face had softened and his eyes were closed, like a nobleman savoring a glass of rare and expensive wine.

Either he sensed her watching him or smelled her curiosity, but his eyes didn't open as he spoke. "It is nice to be touched by a female again. Even one as small as you." One eye cracked open, and Ana was so mesmerized by the strange beauty of his face that she didn't flinch away again when he shifted his body closer to hers. There was a whispery sound as grass was crushed flat beneath him. His brow furrowed. "What is the human word?" A pause, then both eyes opened and the creases disappeared from his brow as it came to him. "A woman." His accent rolled the word off his tongue slowly, like an unfamiliar taste.

Ana could feel her cheeks flaring up like sunspots. She was so preoccupied with trying to hide her face behind her hands that she forgot she was supposed to be pulling a splinter out of his finger - until the sight of more blood pooling out of said finger reminded her. It was an effort to peel her hands away from her face and make them lay hold of the wooden spike again. Her tingling cheeks felt naked as she stammered. "But...but surely...I mean, you must have giant women back in Gantua?" The words left her in a babbled rush. so that she felt ten times more foolish.

His sigh was the sound of wind gliding through the branches of an old, dead tree. "No, we don't. All the women of our kind died. Killed centuries ago in a war."

"Oh." Ana swallowed, unsure of what to say. Her hands felt clumsy as they worked the massive spike out of his finger. She'd listened raptly to everything the Princess had said about her time in Gantua. Not once had she mentioned seeing any female giants, and the one time Ana had grown bold enough to point it out Isabelle had simply shrugged. _I was too busy trying to stay alive to wonder where all the giantesses were, Ana._

Ana bit her lip. _Say something!_ "It must be terribly lonely without them."

"We have long since hardened our hearts to it." His somber tone grew even softer. "Most of us, anyway."

Ana's own heart was pounding inside her chest like a hammer. Once again the splinter shifted in her hands. There was resistance, like pulling a stick out of thick mud, then even that was gone and the thing came out so fast she nearly fell backwards. Catching her balance in time, she managed to turn the stumble into a victory pose, raising the spear-splinter above her head triumphantly.

"Well done." Fumm took his hand back, examined it. Sniffed the blood at the end of his finger, then wiped it off in the grass. Ana eyed him, uncertain of what to do now that her task was accomplished and she was left standing dangerously close to a being several times her size. "I...I guess I'll get rid of this," she said, glancing down at the piece of wood in her hands. The ragged point was still warm and wet with Fumm's blood.

"Give it to me," he ordered. She held it out to him, cradling it like a fighting staff in both hands. He reached down and, with exquisite care, pinched it out of her hands with his thumb and forefinger. Spent a few seconds glaring at it with such hard-faced venom that Ana took a shaky step back, then there was a sharp crack as he snapped it in two.

Ana stared, wide-eyed. He looked so satisfied at its destruction. "You claimed it wasn't hurting you," she said, then bit her lip. _Did I just call him a liar? He'll tear me limb from limb! He'll-_

"I imagined it to be my elder brother's spine," he said. Like it was obvious.

She blinked, unsure if he was being serious or not. But she couldn't stop the nervous little laugh from bursting out of her like a hiccup. Fumm heard it, and it seemed to please him. He leaned even closer, covering her in his shadow, and gently cupped a hand around her back. She could feel pads of thick, battle-roughened skin through the material of her dress, and without thinking leaned into it.

Then he stiffened, nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air like a hound. She couldn't stifle the frightened little sound she made when his eyes filled with rage, and he snarled.

"Get down," he said, adding emphasis by actually laying two fingers on her back and pushing her to the ground. Then he whirled around, took up a kneeling position with one knee planted solidly on the ground, angling his upper body to get a better view of the sky. Ana lay facedown in the grass, too frightened to look up and see what had gotten his attention and not needing to, because an instinctive part of her brain already knew what it was.

A predator. A big one.

"Dragon." Fumm growled the word with an odd mixture of reverence and loathing. Ana felt cold air wash over her body as a winged shadow passed overhead. Her nape tingled, the hairs standing on end. It wasn't long before the skincrawling sensation of being watched by something alien and hungry became too much. Feeling like a rabbit peeking out of its hole, she raised her eyes skyward while staying as flat as possible.

It was circling them like a carrion bird, streamlined and deadly. Backlit by the sun's rays, it appeared mostly black, with occasional darts of green light glinting off barbed scales. Her eyes flicked to Fumm, still crouched like a cat about to spring, and she saw he was holding what appeared to be a forked tree branch, thrusting it like a shield between him and his enemy. Then the flying monster veered sharply to the left, causing Fumm to turn slightly to keep it in sight. His shadow fell across her, and she was finally able to get a good look at the thing in his hands.

A slingshot, of the sort some hunters used to kill deer, only crafted to fit his huge hands. A small stone - small by his standards - was placed in a metal cup attached by bands of stretched rawhide to the crux of the sling. And she couldn't hold back the gasp when she saw the small skull fixed at the juncture of twin pieces of gnarled, ancient material, and realized Fumm was holding a weapon fashioned from mummified human bones.

Nausea threatened to creep back into her, but she didn't dare move away from the giant, who continued to track the dragon while shielding her with his body. One hand drew back the rawhide bands, and Fumm squinted. Ana held her breath, waiting for the snap and crack of the stone being released.

A screech like the sound of metal being twisted and bent lashed her ears. Crying out, she covered her head and squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see the imminent carnage. Wind ruffled her hair and threw leaves and twigs in her face as the creature brought down its wings in a single powerful flap, then the screeching faded, was drawn away like a burning thread of sound until it disappeared completely. Silence covered everything, unsettling in its sharpness. Pulling her shaking hands away from her ears, Ana opened her eyes.

Fumm was still scanning the skies, but his posture was no longer rigid and he'd lost the look of a wary hunter. Ana let out the breath she'd been holding, tried to get the tremors in her arms and legs under control as she tipped her head back, seeing nothing overhead but blue, clear sky. She raised herself to her knees, wanting to stand but unsure if her legs would support her. One hand crept to her chest, covering her frantic heartbeat like a shield while her eyes stayed fixed on Fumm. He was lowering the sling, easing it down bit by bit until it dangled in his left hand. The boulder still remained in the metal cup, unfired. His massive chest rose and fell as he sighed.

"It is gone." His voice was a low, throaty growl. "How disappointing." His upper lip curled in a frustrated snarl that vanished when his eyes met hers. _The Princess says _they can smell fear. It wasn't a comforting thought, considering her whole body was sweat-streaked and trembling. His eyes never left hers as his nimble fingers removed the boulder-sized stone from the sling and dropped it into a pouch at his hip.

"Are you hurt?" His voice was mellow, hiding any trace of the animalistic rage he'd shown earlier.

"I-I'm fine." It was true enough. She wasn't bleeding, cut open, or missing any limbs. Inside, however, every muscle was taut and quivering, torn between wanting to bolt or remaining perfectly still. Fumm studied her, his round face expressionless as a stone. Then, with calculated slowness, he moved toward her.

Her muscles locked down, smothering the flinch before it became too obvious. But one sniff seemed to tell the giant everything he needed to know about her emotional state.

A cold, deadly-honest voice floated up from inside her. _You can't deny you're afraid of him._

Glancing down at the sling, his eyes widened as comprehension struck him. He quickly reattached the weapon to the loop at his belt, but not before the ornamental skull melded to the slingshot seemed to wink at her.

A cold, clear, rational voice whispered to her. _He's a monster._

Another voice, small and hesitant, fought back. _But he just saved me! _

"What the bloody hell is going on?" The bold shout sliced through the tension in the air along with the confusion inside her own head. Ana breathed a relieved sigh to see the Guard Captain striding toward them, accompanied by several armed Guardians.

Her relief quickly turned to worry when she saw the stormy look on his face.

"Ana, girl, what are you doing out here? I told you to stay with the princess!"

"She is blameless." A low note of warning thrummed beneath Fumm's words. Several of the Guardians shuffled their feet nervously, not going for their weapons but clearly wanting to. Fumm's shadow covered them all, and Ana felt a guilty sort of relief that the black-haired behemoth had just vouched for her. The nervous tic below the Captain's right eye coupled with his uncombed, spiked-up hair gave him the harried look of a man who was having an exceptionally bad day and wanted to spread the misery around. A _lot. _

Leaning back, he shouted up to the giant. "Did you see?"

"Yes," Fumm said, understanding instantly what the knight was referring to. "Just one."

"He brought a few friends, then," Elmont shouted back. The strain in his voice was evident. "We have bloody dragons popping up in the skies all over Cloister!"

Fumm nodded. "Where is the King?"

"Babysitting." There was an instant where Ana saw Fumm take on the same look of befuddled confusion that must've been on her own face, but it quickly smoothed away into his usual stony mask. Then Elmont grinned, and made a sweeping gesture for the Guardians and giant to follow him. "Let's go relieve him of his grim duty, shall we?"

{O}

Jack had known some very unpleasant people in his life. His Uncle, while the dear old man did have his moments of kindness and general humanity, was as prickly as a porcupine wearing steel-tipped quills most of the time. He'd given Wicke a wide berth, avoiding contact with the strange little man as much as possible while clambering up the beanstalk. Some internal light in his shifty eyes had warned of pure, undiluted craziness within, a suspicion that had grown steadily once loyal men climbing up with them had started disappearing. And Roderick, well, Jack hadn't been at all surprised after they'd escaped the Cook and Elmont told him the story of the counselor's betrayal.

No, Jack was no stranger to unpleasant people. However, the giant he was currently given the unfortunate task of watching outshone them all with his affinity for being rude, insensitive, and just plain mean.

"Would you foul-smelling, maggot-sucking little piece of sheep shit _LEAVE US ALONE!" _Fallon's irate shout sent yet another multicolored cloud of birds fluttering out of their trees into the sky, squawking and screeching. It was only the sixth time today. Jack massaged his throbbing temples, wondering if there'd ever been a day in his long life when the two-headed monster hadn't seemed completely insane. The small head hissed, baring its teeth while Fallon finished his rant. "Toothless coward! Do you have another bean for us to swallow, or simply plan to torture us to death with your annoying presence?"

Jack had to steady himself against the stone rampart as he fought down another wave of gut-twisting vertigo. Standing on top of the city wall gave him the advantage of being almost at eye-level with the giant. It also meant that all of Cloister lay spread out like a tablecloth beneath him, giving him a sweeping view that, while breathtaking, was not agreeable to his feet. "You expect me to let you out of my sight after that stunt you pulled with Isabelle?" Placing both hands on the rampart, Jack let his hatred of the giant fuel his courage. He didn't dare show any weakness in front of Fallon, even if his dizzy head felt like it was about to topple off his shoulders. "And you dare speak to your King this way?"

"I can speak to you anyway I like." The giant crossed both arms over his wide chest. His cheekbones stood out sharply while three horizontal creases appeared in his forehead. _He looked the same way when he killed Crawe. _Jack threw that less-than-pleasant thought from his mind quickly, feeling as though he'd just found a frog in his bowl of breakfast porridge after he'd already eaten a spoonful. "The Crown doesn't own my soul," Fallon said, giving Jack a scalding glare before starting to pace like a caged lion.

Jack shot back. "Really? I didn't think you had one."

"You know nothing, you insignificant pest. You-" Fallon's latest insult was cut off mid-snarl by the pitiful, high-pitched squeals of animals in pain. Jack groaned. glancing over to see Foe trudging up, clutching a fistful of pink, plump-bellied pigs. Terrified, the poor things were a writhing mass of hooves, snouts, and tails in the giant's grasp. Guilt tore at him and Jack had to look away when Foe brought his free hand up, selected a pig, and popped the whole animal into his mouth like a sugarcube. Its curly tail gave one last wiggle before it was sucked between the giant's teeth.

Jack sighed. _We have to feed them something._

It was small consolation that Jack's tender head was granted a momentary respite as Foe became the target for Fallon's yells. The larger giant stopped pacing long enough to round on his brother. "Silence those things before I do it for you!" Fallon said, glaring at the pigs. The small head stuck out its tongue and mewled like a wounded dog. Jack and Elmont had debated, and decided part of Fallon's punishment would be a decrease in his share of livestock to munch on. There was no doubt hunger played a role in the beast's foul mood, though Jack suspected he'd be just as cranky on a full stomach.

With a disgusted grunt, Fallon turned his attention back to Jack, who steeled himself for yet more abuse. "Now then, little whelp. What were you sayin' about my soul?"

"Only a soulless monster would try to kill the Princess of Cloister. She'd never done anything to you in her life." Jack said, meaning every word. _You don't treat a lady like that, you freak!_

Fallon snorted. "She did _this_ to me not three days ago," he said, opening his right hand. In the center of his meaty palm was a dark scab, a blood-crusted reminder of where Isabelle's knife had struck home. Jack felt a flash of intense pride in his fiancee. "And her ancestor hunted my kind, cut out our hearts, and made a magic crown to enslave us." The corner of Fallon's mouth twisted up in an ugly grimace. A tense silence fell between them, broken only by small bones being crunched as Foe finished off his lunch of live pork.

Jack wasn't sure if it was courage or his stubborn determination to defend the princess that made him blurt out, "You used that selfsame Crown on your own people."

The giant actually looked shocked. He gaped for an entire second before snapping back. "That was different!"

"Was it?"

There was a second of ringing silence in which Jack wondered IF he'd gone too far. Fallon's fists clenched tightly enough to crush diamonds, and his face grew so red Jack was almost certain the hulking monster was about to lose it and attack him. Even the small head looked worried; its mouth formed a perfect O while its droopy eyes bulged so wide they appeared ready to fly out of their sockets. Then the thick tension in the air was torn by a low, jagged growl that steadily increased in volume, until Jack found himself blasted with a rapid-fire string of weird, consonant-heavy words that he assumed to be Gantish curses. The farmboy listened, fascinated despite himself. The deluge of indecipherable profanity lasted for a full five minutes, hitting a crescendo when Foe nearly choked on his last pig and Jack had to dive for cover behind a pillar of stone. Mounted on the wall to provide shields for archers, the thick merlons now served to deflect flying spittle from one seriously brassed-off giant. Jack huddled, pressed his back against the cold stone, and waited for Fallon to calm down.

He expected to be in for a long wait. And probably would've been, if a winged shadow hadn't chosen that moment to blot out the sun. Wind teased and tore at Jack's brown coat, gusted up his sleeves to raise goosebumps along his arms, and a chill tickled cold fingers down his spine when he realized that being on top of the wall put him within easy reach of a dragon's claws.

It was a small blessing when the cursing stopped. "FINALLY!" Fallon roared, and Jack had to slap his hands over his ears. _Maybe I'm hearing things, but he actually sounds happy for once. _He'd scarcely finished the thought before the dragon swooped down out of the clouds, coming so low that Jack could see the light green scales of its underbelly. Its forelegs were curled close to its sides, while its whip of a tail slashed the air as it angled to pass right over them.

Jack peered out from behind the stone to see Fallon crouched, a ferocious grin on one face and a silly, babyish smile on the other. Foe stood beside him, hefting a sword in both giant hands. The bright steel of their armor darkened as the dragon passed above them, silent as a cloud. Then Fallon moved, and Jack had barely enough time to bite off a curse of his own before throwing himself behind the pillar again, miserably certain of what the crazy freak was about to do.

Wind whistled as the flail's gargoyle face cleaved a path through the air. The dragon screeched, a terrible, high-pitched keening as of iron-dipped teeth grinding together. Covering his ears, Jack craned his neck to see the dragon shoot into the sky above them. It climbed higher and higher, becoming a speck of darkness before disappearing within a mass of innocently white clouds.

"AAAAARRRRR!" Fallon's frustrated roar caused little bits of stone around Jack's feet to jump and rattle like knucklebones. Jack's eardrums rang. _How can giants stand each others shouting? _His hands shook as he slowly uncovered his ears. A muddle of warped sound greeted him. Thumps of very large things moving. Metal crashing against metal. He sat perfectly still, listening, then heaved the biggest sigh of relief human lungs could manage when the distortion cleared enough for him to make out a jumble of familiar and welcome sounds: human voices.

One voice in particular shouted above the rest, carrying an undercurrent of tightly controlled anger. Jack winced. Elmont never spoke that way except in the direst of circumstances, usually when someone was about to die. "Fallon, put that damn thing away before you hurt someone!"

"I WANT to hurt someone, you fool!"

Sighing, Jack stood up and glared at Fallon. The giant stood with his legs spread apart, gripping the wooden shaft of his flail in both hands. The metal ball dangled quiescent at the end of its chain, the iron links jangling from unspent tension. Dust swirled in the air up to the giant's knees, and Jack decided he didn't want to know how many buildings had been smashed while his back was turned.

"Calm down, Fallon." _If you can_, he silently added. "Elmont, what's going on?"

"The wyrms have returned," Fumm rasped as he emerged from a dust cloud. He eyed Fallon, clearly wary of the big giant's temper. Fallon turned, locked eyes with his brother. The two exchanged a long, meaningful look, and Jack got the impression that some sort of truce was agreed upon between them, however temporary and fragile.

"Why don't they attack," Elmont asked, letting his hand drop to the reassuring hilt of the sword at his waist, "instead of circling over our heads like buzzards?"

"Because we're here, little man." Fallon didn't bother to hide his sneer. He'd relaxed from his fighting stance and was glaring down upon the knight, seeming to have forgotten Jack. Or was intentionally ignoring him. "They know better than to attack five armed Gantuans while they're still young little snakes."

Elmont fumed. "So, they'll just wait till you lot are gone, then come back and kill us all?"

"Yes."

"We need to get them on the ground," Fumm said, quickly cutting through the flammable atmosphere between Elmont and Fallon. A bit of tact for which Jack found himself grateful. "They're easiest killed when they're on the ground."

"I know how to lure them down." It was then that Fallon turned his full attention on Jack, and his thin-lipped smile chilled the farmboy all the way to his toes. The small head winked and made a noise like a demonic little giggle.

"We use bait."

[O}

Isabelle found herself drawn to the book again.

The walls of her bedchamber felt deceptively safe. Sequestered high up in one of the palace's many towers, she was almost as far removed from Earth as she'd been wandering wide-eyed through the forests of Gantua. Wool blankets spread across her bed provided warmth and softness. On exceptionally cold nights, a small fireplace could be lighted for extra comfort. Most useful of all, she would be able to look out her wide window and see any advancing armies, be they giant, dragon, or worst of all, human.

_Feeling safe and being safe are two very different things._ The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth as she traced the book's strange cover with one fingertip. _I'm not safe at all._

She'd learned that lesson in a garden, laying in a crushed flowerbed with an angry giant towering over her. Once she'd made it back to the palace, Jack and Elmont caught up with her and demanded to know what had happened. With the gardens in shambles she'd had no choice but to confess the entire incident, and the reactions of her two champions went exactly as she'd predicted. Elmont had been livid. Jack had been guilt-ridden. And she'd been confined to the palace again, with Elmont threatening - only half-jokingly, she was sure - to lock her in the dungeon if she went out again without an armed escort.

So here she was, sent to her room like a misbehaving child, with only the secret words in a dead woman's journal for company.

Sighing, she settled herself into the goosefeather-cushioned chair she'd dragged before the window and opened the small book to a random page. The runic alphabet looked almost wholly alien, but dotted with enough curves, angles, and shapes that felt so almost-familiar they manifested as an itch in the back of her brain. The pain blossoming behind her eyes told her dwelling on the undecipherable words for much longer might drive her mad. _Can't have that_, she thought wearily. But her curiosity about the book wouldn't let her put it away.

_The woman who wrote this had been a giant's prisoner. Or perhaps more than a prisoner._ Isabelle swallowed around the stone lodged in her throat, fighting down black, hellish memories of cages and carving knives. The idea of a human woman surviving among a throng of fleshhungry giants seemed ludicrous after what she herself had been through. _They're the cruelest monsters imaginable. And aren't their hearts supposed to be cut from stone?_

Weak sunlight fell upon the armrests of the chair as she turned more pages, stopping when she came to a drawing she hadn't seen before. So crude it looked like it had been done in great haste, it was still possible to pick out details, and Isabelle's eyes widened at the image of the three giants. Swathed in fraying, tattered black robes and clutching staves of gleaming bone, the giant trio appeared stooped and bowlegged as though they were sickened or very old. Silvery hair shading to black near the roots billowed around their gaunt shoulders, and the twin swellings on their chests marked these giants as possible females._ Though they certainly wouldn't win any prizes, _Isabelle thought wryly. _Hags of the first order, Elmont would call them. _Of their faces not much could be seen, save the jewel-like, glaring eye set deep into the middle of each monster's forehead.

_One-eyed giants._ Isabelle let her breath out in a long slow exhale. _Why am I not surprised? _

She flipped to the last page. Nothing there but more cryptic writing, which was smeared and blotted by yellowing water stains, possibly raindrops.

_Or tears_, supplied an uneasy little voice in her mind.

A knock on the door made her jump. Silk rustled around her knees as she hastily smoothed her dress down. "Come in."

The ornate wood door was cautiously pushed open. Anastasa stood on the threshold with both hands clasped over her belly , and Isabelle did a double take when she saw what a state the girl was in. The blue satin dress Isabelle had given her was torn and caked with mud. Tangled and filthy, her hair lay plastered to the left side of her face, the bright flame of its color muted to a dirty brown. The girl bowed her head, her cheeks growing crimson while her green eyes peered at Isabelle beneath lowered lashes.

Isabelle laid the book aside and was on her feet at once. "Ana, what happened to you?"

Her voice was quiet, unassuming. "The Guard Captain and The King wish to speak with you, milady." Dropped her eyes to stare down at the floor. "It's urgent."

_Indeed, it must be._ "Well, let them in, then!"

Ana stepped to one side. Taking their cue, Jack and Elmont crowded into the room. Both of them were as disheveled and dirty as poor Ana.

Isabelle was starting to get a very bad feeling about this.

"We have...a situation," Elmont began. He stood ramrod straight, his ice-blue eyes scanning the room for danger. A trained habit.

"What's the latest terrible thing that's happened?" She couldn't hide the trace of weary defeat in her voice. A slice of evening sunlight filtered through the window to touch her shoulders and back with warmth. She barely noticed.

"The dragons are back," Elmont said. "But we can't do anything about it."

_"What?" _A fierce itch made its way like slow-burning fire up her arms. Scar tissue from where the dragon's blood marked her was waking up, responding to her fear. "Aren't the giants helping? I know bringing them here was a fool's gamble, but-"

Elmont raised a hand, cutting her off. "Oh, they're helping," he said. "They're helping so well the dragons don't want to fight."

"Well, that's good, isn't it?"

"No, it's not." He sighed. Beside him, Jack fidgeted, occasionally scuffing a boot toe over the polished wooden floor. It was a sign he was exceptionally nervous. Elmont laid a hand on the boy's shoulder to steady him. "Dragons are patient creatures. They'll simply wait until the giants are gone before coming back to feed again. Or they may start attacking other kingdoms."

Isabelle shuddered. _Other kingdoms? More innocent people suffering? _"What can we do, then?" she asked, laying a hand over her dry throat.

Elmont opened his mouth, then closed it. He did this several times, until Isabelle couldn't take it anymore. "Just say what you mean to say, Elmont!"

It was Jack who spoke up. "Fallon has an idea. Of a sort." The farmboy's shoulders sagged, his head drooped, and he looked so profoundly unhappy Isabelle was tempted to hug him in front of everyone.

"He suggested we use bait," Elmont said, sounding as though he loathed every word.

Dark suspicion crept through her mind like glacial ice, silent and unshakable. "He means me, doesn't he?"

"No dragon can resist a princess once she's trussed up and ready to be sacrificed." Elmont clenched his fists for just the barest moment. "Those were his exact words. More or less."

Isabelle nodded. She could just imagine the malicious gleam in both sets of Fallon's cloudy-gray eyes. No doubt the giant was still angry with her for stabbing him in the hand and wanted to settle the score between them. Silence filled the room as Isabelle hid her face in her hands. Outside the window, a bird twittered as strong winds carried it past her tower.

_It must be wonderful to have wings._ The cheerless thought made her shiver.

Behind her closed eyelids, her father's face took shape. Kind, old, and completely undeserving of the gruesome fate that had come to him, along with every other man, woman, and child who had ended their lives as a dragon's dinner. She remembered the absolute terror she'd felt when Fallon had tried to eat her. Now, that same terror was laid upon Cloister tenfold. Her kingdom, her people, needed her to stand and fight.

And she would _not_ fail them.

Isabelle let out the breath she'd been holding as she slowly lowered her hands. "All right. I'll do it, then."

In the space of five seconds, Elmont seemed to age ten years. "I was afraid you'd say that." His mouth set in a grim line. "Your father entrusted me with your care."

"And me!" Jack shouted, and Isabelle's heart nearly broke to see anguish and fear stamped on his face as clearly as a royal seal. _Oh, my prince. I'm so sorry._

"I want to do this! If we can kill at least one dragon, then it's worth the risk. For the last time, _I'm not some fragile, helpless creature!" _Her frustrated shout surprised everyone, including herself. She ducked her head, ashamed. They were good men, both of them. She shouldn't be shouting at them. But the urgency she felt just wouldn't go away.

"I never said you were," Elmont sighed. He ran a hand through his spiky hair. "Best do it sooner rather than later then. Give me less time to drive myself into the madhouse worrying." He executed a military-precise turn, then looked over his shoulder. "Jack?"

Jack stayed where he was. He fixed his liquid brown eyes on her own, held them. Stepping forward, he cupped her chin in his hand. "Even as King, I suppose I can't order you not to do this?" His voice was rough, like his throat was sanded raw.

She sent every ounce of determination she felt through her eyes. "I will be Queen, if we survive long enough to get married. So, no." She gave him a sad, rueful little smile. "I'll be fine."

"You had better be." He gently released her chin, taking time to trail a few fingertips over the vulnerable softness of her throat. He strode back to Elmont, stopping only once to call over his shoulder without looking back. "Ana will have to get you ready. Fallon said you needed to look your best." Bitterness etched every word with hard, jagged edges, and Isabelle felt a flash of worry that Jack would do something rash and incur even more bad blood between him and the leader of the giant race. _If such a thing were possible,_ she thought, shaking her head. I_'ve seen cows and butchers who got along better than those two. _

He pulled the door shut behind him, and left a numb Isabelle standing in the middle of absolute silence. Her arms hung limply at her sides and the feeling of being utterly, utterly alone crept over her like thick molten iron. Lifting a hand, she rubbed at the tightness behind her eyes, flicked a few loose strands of hair out of her face. _I should probably tie it back,_ she thought, then burst out into a half-panicked little giggle. _Worrying about my appearance when I'm going off to be eaten by dragons? What a vain little princess I am! _

"Milady?"

Isabelle nearly jumped out of her skin at Ana's hesitant little voice. Her eyes darted around the room until she found the girl standing before the wide closet doors. Willow-thin and pale, her lady-in-waiting looked as frail as spider silk in her tattered blue dress. "I must get you ready."

"Let me see to you first," Isabelle said, taking one of Ana's dirt-caked hands in her own, "What happened to you? I thought you were still in the palace!"

"I was, princess, but..." Ana ducked her head, unable to meet Isabelle's searching eyes. "I was called out."

"By whom?"

Ana's chest heaved as she took a deep, shuddering breath. "By the giant, milady. Fumm."

_"Fumm?" _Isabelle shouted, then wished she hadn't. Ana flinched, and tried to pull her hand back as though she were afraid of losing it. Isabelle counted to five before speaking again. "Did he attack you? I told you they're dangerous!"

"No. No. He didn't hurt me at all." Ana actually sounded defensive now. She tugged her hand free of Isabelle's grasp. Surprised, the princess let it go. "He saved me from a dragon."

Isabelle blinked. "What?"

"He was nothing but kind to me, Isabelle." Ana lifted her head again. Met Isabelle's eyes, and the princess was shocked by how fierce they looked. In the time she'd known the jewelry-maker's daughter, there'd never been a moment where the shy girl had acted as though she might be up for a fight."Don't laugh butI think...I think he fancies me."

Isabelle said nothing. It was just like Ana to want to believe that the giants weren't truly evil. But in her time on Gantua, she hadn't me a single one of their large breed who'd treated her with any sort of compassion. _Do they even regard us as equals?_ The Cook certainly hadn't regarded her as anything other than an appetizer, whereas Fallon regarded her as...something. She wasn't sure what to make of the big brute's attention.

Still, Fumm had put himself between her and Fallon in the garden. And he'd tried to save her on Gantua, if she could believe his claims.

But he'd also led the attack on Cloister after their King had fallen. And his eyes had appeared totally empty when he'd brought her to Fallon for interrogations.

"I believe I'm a bit too biased to judge, Ana." Crossing her arms over her chest, Isabelle fixed her lady-in-waiting with a level stare. "The question is, what do you think of him?"

"I don't know, princess." Ana's voice quavered a little. Her green eyes were big, bright, and vulnerable. "I don't think he intends to frighten me but he does. Sometimes."

"Don't they all?" Isabelle sighed. She'd have to sort this mess out later. There was no time for it now. "Just be careful, Ana. Please."

It was almost a shock when Ana flung her arms around Isabelle's shoulders with such force that the princess nearly stumbled back. Isabelle returned the hug, not caring about the grime she got on her fingers. It would all be washed off soon enough."You too, Isabelle," Ana said, whispering against her friend's neck. "You're the best friend I ever had."

The princess smiled sadly. _Oh, Ana. You could do better._ "I'll do my best." She studied the open closet, with its row of spectacular dresses hanging like gaudy marching banners. "Fetch us a water basin, then. Let's make ourselves presentable."

{O}

It was early evening by the time everything was ready. Isabelle strolled through the tall grass flowing like emerald green waves over the hillside, her gold dress swishing around her ankles. She felt slightly ridiculous wearing a crown of rosebuds tied together with pearls and white lilies, but Ana had insisted that it would make her even more lovely and, besides, it was an accessory she'd been wanting to make for a long time now. So Isabelle had resolutely allowed herself to be clothed in golden silk and flowery, handcrafted jewelry, grimacing at every painful knot of the corset as Ana tied it around her waist. It all seemed to be beautiful enough, since Jack had gaped openly when she'd come down the stairs to meet him, whereas Elmont had stifled a cough behind his hand, then looked away.

The ride out to the foothills of the mountains had taken less time than she'd expected. It was all green hills sprinkled here and there by shrubbery, until the land steepened and transitioned into pine forest. Beyond that, the Giant's Teeth loomed like gray sentinels, their snow-crusted peaks reflecting wan evening light.

Four giants were milling around near the treeline. Fee, Fye, Foe, and Fumm, but no sign of Fallon. She suspected Jack had sent him off on some errand. She'd been uncomfortably aware of him trailing their small party as they rode out of Cloister. His arms had been full of heavy iron chains. It had been impossible to ignore all the jangling and clattering, combined with Fallon's grumbled curses whenever a swinging chain would hit him in the thigh. She'd had absolutely no contact with the two-headed monster since their little encounter in the garden, and wished it could remain so.

That wish, she was unpleasantly aware, wasn't about to come true.

There came the rustle of boots wading through the grass behind her, then a rough hand fell upon her shoulder. "Nervous?" Elmont asked.

"Terrified." A glance at the knight convinced Isabelle that the feeling was shared. The lines of Elmont's face were taut and set. His blue eyes were constantly roaming, noting positions, angles, possible dangers. But they fixed with greatest intensity upon her.

"You don't have to do this."

She raised a hand, stopping him. "Yes, I do. And you know it."

He nodded, letting out a long, weary sigh. "All right. When Fallon gets here, we can get you secured."

"Secured?" Isabelle asked, one eyebrow lifting. Then she remembered all the chains Fallon had been carrying, and a nasty suspicion began to grow as to what they were for.

Her mouth opened, but the question died on her lips when she heard a giant's heavy feet stomping her way, coupled by the frustrated shouts of a certain farmboy.

"Careful with that thing, you freak!"

"Be a thousand times grateful we don't drop it on your lackwitted head, boy!"

"Slow down! Some of us don't have legs as big as ox carts!"

"You think we care, you little gnat!"

The princess almost smiled. _They're at it again._

Isabelle and Elmont turned to face the direction from whence the thumping footsteps came, just as Fallon crested the summit of a nearby hill and started down its green slope toward them, his arms cradling something round and gray. He was walking slowly enough so that Jack could almost keep pace alongside him. Even so, the farmboy found himself having to run in short spurts to keep from falling behind the giant's long strides. Fallon seemed to grow larger as the distance shrank between them, and once again Isabelle had to fight down the temptation to run like mad. Elmont stood beside her, gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Fallon crossed a space in moments that would've taken a human much longer. Jack was still struggling to catch up when the giant stopped. Isabelle had to crane her neck to look up at him, and fancied that his swirly gray eyes met her own. Her heart began to twitch like a wounded spider in her chest.

"I bring you a gift, princess!" Fallon rumbled, sounding ever so pleased with himself. He stooped, and carefully laid the thing he'd been carrying on the ground before them.

It was a massive rock. Slate-gray and eroded to a near-perfect oval, it would've taken ten strong men to haul it down from the mountains. Isabelle's eyes darted from the rock back to Fallon, who'd crossed his arms and was staring down at her with a cruel little smile. The second head made a little garbled squeak as its wide eyes rolled in their sockets.

"What's it for?" Isabelle asked, though she was afraid she already knew.

"Simple," Fallon said happily. "We chain you to it and leave you for the _beasts_." The sarcasm infused into the last word convinced Isabelle that the giant hadn't forgotten or forgiven her insolent outburst after he'd given her that disgusting kiss in the garden. _You beast_! she'd screamed at him.

"It's the safest way, Isabelle." Elmont came around to face her, simultaneously placing himself between her and Fallon. "The stone's too big for any dragon to carry off. They'll have to land if they want to...get close to you." He swallowed hard, and Isabelle felt a surge of affection for him. _Oh Elmont. You couldn't bring yourself to say the words "eat you." _

From high above them came a derisive snort. "Oh, have no fear, princess! No dragon will get close enough to take a bite of you. _I'm _the only one who has that right!"

"Not while I'm around!" Jack shouted, finally catching up to them. He was panting and clutching at a stitch in his side. Even so, he still managed to wheeze out a Command. "Go get the chains, Fallon. Now."

Warm gold pulsed as the Crown of Erik enforced Jack's words. A low, angry growl drifted down to them, then Fallon stepped world seemed to grow lighter when they were no longer in his shadow. Isabelle glanced up, scanning the heavens anxiously. A line of clouds hung in the west, tinted orange-yellow by the sun's rays. More clouds were dispersed like cottonwood seeds, floating serenely through a deep-purple sky.

She turned back to Jack, who was still trying to catch his breath.

Elmont went over to offer him assistance. "Hullo there, Jack! Are you all right? Not so easy following in the footsteps of a giant, is it?"

Isabelle rolled her eyes at the horrid joke. Jack coughed and threw a mock punch at the knight's chest. And for a moment Isabelle felt as close to the two of them as she had been on Gantua, where they'd all barely known each other yet risked life and limb to pull each other out of danger. She'd trusted these men with her life, and was about to do so again.

_Mama always wanted me to have adventures. _The thought was sweet pain, like sugar poured into a rotting tooth.

_I think I'm about to go on another one._

{O}

"Are you comfortable?"

"That's an odd question to ask someone chained to a rock," Isabelle smiled at her fiance, a tight, nervous little twitch of her lips. "But, yes, I am."

It wasn't true, of course. Iron manacles were digging into her wrists, chains looped around her legs and waist like thick metal snakes, and her back was pressed tight against the boulder's unforgivably hard surface. Fallon had helped put the finishing touches on the knots, and she wondered if he'd tightened them on purpose. Her gold dress offered her skin little protection, and every time she moved it felt as though she was being scraped raw.

"We'll be watching everything," Jack said. His mop of brown hair fell into his face, shielding his eyes. Elmont was waiting with the giants near the treeline. The knight was motioning for him to come away, but Jack either didn't see or was ignoring him. "Everything will be all right, I promise." He leaned in close enough that she could feel his chest against hers, and then their lips met. It was a tender, almost chaste kiss that only took a moment, but it seemed to last far longer, and when they finally separated Isabelle caught a glimpse of Fallon from over Jack's shoulder. With his back to the forest, the giant wasn't close enough to loom over them, but she could still see his face. His scowling, snarling, at-the-end-of-his-patience face.

"Get over here, you fool," Fallon growled through clenched teeth, his lips barely moving. The small head let out a harsh, birdlike caw for emphasis.

Jack sighed, spared one final, apologetic look at Isabelle, then waded through the grass to where Elmont and the giants stood. Fallon glared icily down on him, until Jack raised his head and issued another Command.

"Go!"

As one, the giants began to slip amongst the huge trees, pushing smaller ones aside with loud crackling sounds. The forests here were old, fed by mountain streams and clear air, and the trees grew tall and thick enough for even a troop of giants to hide in. Isabelle could just make out the smudge of Jack's dirty brown coat before Elmont grabbed his forearm and hauled him under the leafy canopy. She thought he looked back once, but his face was hidden by leaf shadow.

Now they had to wait.

Isabelle wasn't sure how long she spent chained against the rock. Long enough to make her arms ache from being bound over her head and her nose start to run from the cold wind in her face. Aside from the wind's hollow voice, the entire land had fallen silent. Not a single bird chirped. The silence became so thick that Isabelle began to feel certain that she was alone on the hillside. That the giants had slipped their leashes and were already halfway back to Cloister, killing and pillaging as they went. Metal jangled as she began struggling against the chains binding her, the scent of fear staining the air around her.

Then she heard them. Wet, snuffling sounds. Coming from the sky.

Coming for her.

The dragon landed several paces away from her, gouging deep furrows into the ground wherever its claws touched soil. Isabelle froze, terror and helplessness combining to render everything crystal-clear in her mind. She noted with brittle detachment that this dragon was smaller and slimmer than the one she'd killed. Its wings opened as greenish fluid dripped from the ribbed membranes, then were pulled tight against the dragon's sides. The creature's reptilian snout swung toward her. Its nostrils flared wide, attracted to the salty-sweet reek of fear pouring out of her skin. Ropes of foamy saliva began to ooze between yellowish teeth jutting from its narrow jaws. Isabelle held her breath as it began to stalk toward her like a prowling lion, each slow step punctuated by a rustle of its wings, an eager, birdlike warble issuing from its throat.

Isabelle's heart beat hard and fast in her chest. The army of hidden giants remained still and silent. _What are they waiting for? Come on! Come on! COME ON!_

Roaring seemed to fill the world as the giants burst out of the forest, shoving anything in their path aside. The dragon's snout was only a foot from her head, and she could see its yellow eyes widen, the pupils dilating in surprise at the massive sound of the giant's charge. Fumm reached it first. His right hand closed on its tail, and its claws dug trenches in the ground as he dragged the monster back and away from her. The dragon whipped its head around and lunged, jaws wide-open and slavering, at Fumm's face. His free hand came up and caught the dragon's jaws, clamping them shut inches from his nose. Then Foe, Fye, Fee, and Fallon were there, and Isabelle lost track of what was happening as it all became a whirlwind of slashing claws, beating wings, and flailing giant fists.

The chains around Isabelle seemed to grow mercilessly tight. Every instinct she possessed screamed at her to run, yet she was unable to do anything but watch as vicious battle unfolded before her. Soon the dragon lay pinned on its back, with Fumm holding its smoking jaws shut while Foe and Fye each took a forepaw. Fee was wrestling with the beast's tail, and cursed when he lost his grip long enough for it to lash out and strike his helmet with the arrowpoint at the tail's tip.

Fumm shouted something in the giant's own language. There was an answering shout, and Fallon emerged from the dust cloud that had been stirred up by the struggling monsters. A sword was in his hands and if Isabelle had thought he looked terrifying before, those past encounters seemed warm and fuzzy compared to the way he looked now. The joy of battle was in his eyes, making them shine. Muscle rippled beneath his massive arms, and when the bloodcrazed snarl tore from his throat he became every bit the frightful monster old legends had made him out to be.

Even his small head looked scary.

He fell upon the dragon. Ignored its hind legs as they tried to kick at him. And with a roar buried his sword deep in the dragon's chest.

The reptile's back arched. A shrill whine could be heard issuing faintly between its clamped-shut teeth. All of the giants seemed to bear down, using all their might to hold the dragon as death spasms made its limbs want to jerk in a macabre dance. Fallon leapt off the dying body before its hind legs gave a final, powerful kick. Then its green-scaled belly heaved as the dragon drew its last breath, shuddered, and lay still.

Eyes wide, Isabelle finally remembered to breathe, drawing down air in deep, gasping pants. Dust hung in the air all around her, but she could still see the red-orange blaze of sunset through the layers of haze. The entire battle couldn't have lasted more than a few moments. Her body still wasn't convinced it was over. Every sizzling nerve was primed for either frantic escape or a desperate fight, and her gold dress was plastered to her skin with sweat.

"Is that all? Just one?" Foe growled. He'd released the dragon's limp forepaw and was helping Fee stand. A dented helmet lay on the ground by Fee's hairy toes, and he was rubbing at the lump forming on his forehead, grumbling. Fumm crouched in the scuffed grass next to the lizard's slack jaws. A shiver flowed like icy water down Isabelle's spine when she saw him reach inside the dead monster's mouth, break off the longest teeth, then drop them into a sack tied to his waist.

_Taking trophies,_ she thought, chilled.

A thump came from off to Isabelle's right. She whipped her head around and cringed to see Fye's huge bulk standing uncomfortably close. His unreadable face seemed to be cut from the same stone she was chained to. If there was ever a giant that could frighten her more than Fallon, it was this rock-hard behemoth. She hadn't the faintest glimmer of what he might be thinking, which terrified her more than if he'd been a screaming, stomping whirlwind.

"Fye?" she asked, her voice small and tentative. He said nothing.

Sounds of more giant feet scuffling around her. Bending down, Fallon grunted as he wrenched the sword free of the dragon's corpse. Purple blood swelled up from the ragged hole, spilling over the sides. "I don't smell any more," he said, hefting the sword. Thin trickles of purple slid down its cutting edge. The two-headed giant held the blade up, inspected it, then handed it off to Foe, growling: "It's over. Tell the little cowards they can come out now."

"Save your breath. They're already coming." Fumm said. Isabelle glanced around wildly, and nearly cried from relief to see Jack and Elmont sprinting toward her.

"Isabelle? Are you all right?" Their voices blended into a unintelligible outpouring of concern. Jack's arms were around her, hugging her in spite of all the jangling chains separating them. "Get these things off her!" he commanded.

Isabelle closed her eyes, slumped against the net of chains. Content to do nothing but allow Jack's arms and chains to hold her up as bone-deep weariness made itself comfortable under her skin. A fragrance of white lilies drifted from the flower crown bound to her head, thickly sweet and unbearable. The ground trembled as a giant approached her, and she was slightly surprised to hear Fallon's gruff voice.

"You did well, princess." Sharp, tinkling sounds of metal separating as Fallon's huge fingers began snapping the chains, breaking heavy links of wrought-iron like they were twigs. Circulation returned to her arms and legs in waves of needle pinpricks as cold metal slid off her, landing in chiming coils around her ankles. Fallon continued, his voice light and conversational. "Of course, this was just the beginning. You'll like as not have to serve for dragon bait again."

The space behind her closed eyelids turned hot and wet. It took an effort to hold back the tears as a vision of her father lying dead on the abbey steps swam up before her with soul-crushing intensity .

"And that dragon we saw today was young. Barely out of its egg. The older ones will be much harder to fool." Isabelle wondered if Fallon was even aware of the disheartening effect his words were having on her. When the last chain was broken, she practically fell into Jack's arms, laying her head snugly against his shoulder, not caring about the disapproving glares burning down from the twin sets of gray eyes above them. Fallon growled softly to himself as Jack stroked her hair, muttered soothing nonsense to her and, when she could stand again, turned her to face Elmont.

The knight immediately got down to business. "Are you injured?"

"I'm fine." _No cuts, scrapes, or bruises on the outside, but an absolute mess inside,_ she thought. _But I'm sure you can figure that out for yourself, my brave knight. _

He did. Worry turned his face into a bland mask. "Let's get you back to Cloister."

Taking her gently by the wrist, Elmont led her away from the rock. Her dress rippled like gold water poured over her skin, the silk rustling as the wind sharpened. She did her best not to stumble, for she could feel Fallon's eyes on her. _He looks at me like a hungry dog at a bone,_ she thought, shivering.

Darkness began to creep over the hillsides as the edge of the setting sun touched a bank of cumulus clouds, singing them with fiery light. Jack's hand gripped her right shoulder. She sighed when he trailed his fingers down her back, and let herself be led away from danger.

_Danger._ A feeling of wrongness rose up inside her, some primal, basic sense clawing just below her skin. Her hackles rose, the fine hairs at her nape standing straight as pins. "Jack?" she asked, hesitantly.

He stopped dead in his tracks. He felt it too.

Fighting against weariness, she forced herself to look back. None of the giants had moved. They stood, tense and wary, all seeming transfixed by the setting sun. Fallon was sniffing, while one hand gripped the shaft of his flail so tightly his knuckles bulged. As she watched, the last golden ray was snuffed out behind the clouds. Everything grew dark as the wind buffeted her face, throwing her hair back in thick tendrils.

Then panic seized her as something dark, winged, and powerful tore through the clouds and arced toward her with incredible speed.

"Damnit, Fallon! You said there weren't any more!" Elmont shouted. He slapped her hard in the back, shoving her forward. "Run!"

She tried, but the wind worked against her , gusting into her so hard she felt like she was trying to run through a wall made of air. The hill before her was steep, and one foot snagged on the hem of her dress. She fell to her knees.

And then a cage of cold, scaly fingers closed tight around her body, and the ground fell away from her as she was carried up into the sky.

Twisting in the monster's claws, Isabelle could do nothing but scream.

"JACK!"

{O}

"JACK!"

Isabelle's scream reached him over the howling wind, blotting out the sounds of chaos around him. Dragons were in the skies above them. Big ones. Snarls and growls from the giants, combined with their heavy stomping feet. Beside him, Elmont was shouting but the words sounded like gibberish to his panicked brain. Isabelle was lying crumpled in the field. His only thought was to get to her and protect her.

Then the green-scaled, spiky nightmare swooped out of the sky and Jack could only watch, horrified, as Isabelle was seized in its claws. Her scream trailed away as the creature soared into the sky with its prize.

"Help her!" he shouted, not really certain who or what he was shouting to. But his words were answered by a giant's enraged snarl, and the ground shook as something large bounded toward him. Glancing over his shoulder, Jack's heart nearly stopped to see Fallon charging straight toward him. He had little time to do more than cringe as the underside of Fallon's foot sailed overhead, covering him in its thick-toed shadow. Then the giant was past him and leaping at the escaping dragon. The flail appeared in his hand, and with a single flick Fallon sent the metal ball flying, its path of destruction taking it in a looping arc that wound around the reptilian's barbed tail. Metal jangled as the chain's coils cinched tight, and Jack was left gaping in astonishment to see the former King of the Giants precariously attached to a dragon's tail by his own weapon and being dragged up into the clouds, shouting vociferous Gantish curses that soon trailed away like smoke in the wind.

He was so dumbfounded he didn't even realize the field around him was covered by a winged shadow until Elmont's fearful shout jarred him into full-alertness.

"GET DOWN, JACK!"

He threw himself to the ground. Landed so hard his jaws clicked together, then quickly forgot the pain when he felt metal sliding through his hair. The Crown of Erik was shifting, loosening.

It fell off.

Time seemed to slow down.

Jack watched, disbelieving, as the Crown rolled like a coin balanced on one side. Bounced over some small stones in its path, then toppled over. Lay in the grass like a gold ribbon, fiery light spilling from its red jewels, the heart-shaped band at its center gleaming impossibly bright.

_No!_ Desperately, he tried to crawl after it, just as something sped through the air above him.

Then the golden light of King Erik's Crown disappeared inside a dragon's huge paw. The creature's crooked mouth seemed to grin at him as it hovered, bat- wings flapping, over the spot where the Crown had been. Wind beat the empty grass beneath the monster, a vortex churned up by its own wings. Jack stretched out a hand in a futile grab, knowing it was already too late. With a triumphant screech, the dragon streaked back into the cloud-swollen sky, taking with it the only thing that could rule a giant's heart.

Almost as soon as the attack had begun, it was over. The wind died down from a roar to a shrill whine. Overhead, the skies were thick with rolling clouds. The evening seemed swathed in steely gray light that was fading fast. A cold raindrop landed on the back of Jack's limp right hand. Numb realization flashed across his mind like lightning, illuminating two pertinent and ugly facts.

Isabelle was gone, along with the Crown.

"Jack!" Elmont's shout. From somewhere nearby.

Dread spread like thick, crippling poison inside his veins. He clambered to his feet, wincing at the feeling of torn skin on his left knee. Clutching his coat tighter around himself, he ran the back of his free hand over his eyes, clearing them of grit. Blinked away tears to see a grim-faced Elmont moving carefully toward him. The knight took slow, deliberate steps, all the while keeping one eye trained on the huge shadows moving among the hills around them. Grass was being crushed and trampled beneath huge shuffling feet. Craning his neck, Jack spotted Fee, Fye, Foe, and Fumm closing in a circle around them. Soon Elmont and Jack were pressed back to back, surrounded by their former allies, none of whom looked happy. Vicious growls drifted down to him, and Jack gave voice to the only two words that could even begin to sum up the situation.

"Oh fuck."

{O}

_This is worse than the beanstalk._

That thought circled through Isabelle's mind like a panicked fish as she hung facedown from the dragon's claws. Below her, tree-covered hillsides and vast fields spread themselves like magical tapestries that were son snatched away at great speed. Wind nearly blinded her, forcing her to squint, and she was keenly aware that the scaly fingers wrapped around her belly were the only things keeping her from falling to her death. _At least while riding the beanstalk I'd been kept safe inside a house. Trapped and terrified, but safe. _Now, with no wooden walls shielding her and nothing to hold onto, her arms and legs felt almost frozen by the rushing cold. Her long hair blew in whip-snapping tendrils that landed like bee stings against her nose and forehead, and the only sound she could hear above the wind-scream was the hollow _whoosh!_ of flapping wings.

Cold certainty suffused her heart. _I'm going to die._

Then she heard another sound. The booming voice of a Gantuan in a flaming rage.

"YOU CRAVEN, THIEVING, POX-RIDDEN PIECE OF WORM DUNG! I'LL RIP YOUR FORKED TONGUE OUT FOR THIS!"

_It can't be. _Shock almost made her forget her own fear. With a little elbow-flailing and kicking against the cage of claws holding her, she was able to orient herself in the direction from whence the shouting came.

And stared openly at the sight of Fallon pulling himself up onto the thickest part of the dragon's tail with one gnarled hand, while the other gripped his flail, using it as an anchor. Once his grip on the lashing tail was secure, he let go of the flail. The ball and chain uncoiled and slid away, disappearing into the gathering mist below.

_I'm seeing things,_ Isabelle thought, then reconsidered when the giant let loose with a fresh tirade of both human and Gantish curses. _He certainly yells loud enough to be the real thing._

Her view from the dragon's claws was limited, but she caught impressions of Fallon climbing, hand- over-hand, from the tail onto the reptilian's back. Enraged, the dragon screeched and started to dive. Isabelle screamed, and pain flared through her ribs as she was knocked against ridges of tough, pebbled scales covering the dragon's paw. The ground was rushing toward her now, deep forests waiting below her like vast, dark, prickly oceans.

Isabelle heard more cursing, and she turned her head just in time to catch an impression of Fallon's clawed hand tearing at the dragon's right wing.

_I'm not sure that's a good idea._

She'd barely completed the thought before the dragon's claws spread apart and she was falling, her hands grasping at nothing, cold air ruffling through her golden dress so that she seemed to glimmer like a shooting star. By sheer luck, the fingers of her right hand closed around a tree branch, and she spent a frantic few seconds scrabbling against the rough, thick wood, hauling herself up. The tree was an old pine, and its needles stung her face as she crawled along the creaking branch, praying it would hold her weight, sighing gratefully when she was able to lean her back against its trunk. More trees were splintered into kindling when the dragon ploughed into the ground a few leagues ahead of her, far away but not nearly far enough, as its lashing tail-tip sliced the air within a foot of her tree.

Partially concealed among pine needles and twisting branches, she watched wide-eyed as Fallon leapt off the dragon's back. The serpentine creature swiveled its body to face him, and the two snarled and hissed at each other like angry cats. The dragon moved gingerly, as though it were wounded. One crumpled green wing hung at an unnatural angle, and the beast cowered as it backed away from the giant. Fallon seemed to grow larger as he snarled, showing all his teeth in defiance and clenching his fists. His smaller head spat out a frothy ball of yellowish spittle. Wood continued to crack and snap as the reptilian slunk away into the forest, until it disappeared with all the grace and silence of a fleeing snake.

Heart hammering in her ears, Isabelle flattened herself against the tree trunk. Remained completely motionless while trying to slow her frantic breathing. Fallon was close by, his muscular armored body visible as a titanic outline in the growing darkness. She could hear him breathing like a winded horse, and felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cold mist filling the night air. The dragon's flight had carried them far into the foothills of the mountains. Far from Cloister, and far from help.

She stayed utterly still, hoping the leafy branches would conceal her location. Chasing off the dragon may have saved her life, but she wasn't about to trust him enough to come down from her tree. Fallon could be many things, but he was always unpredictable, which made her want nothing more than to hide and hope he would go away.

"A fine ride, wasn't it, princess?" he drawled, amusement thick in his voice. He turned, and looked right at her.

_So much for hiding,_ she thought miserably.

"F-Fallon," she said, stammering. Her throat was tightening to a pinhole and she was afraid she was about to faint from fear and exhaustion. "Why did you do that?"

"I told you," he growled, "nothing and no one will eat you but me." He took a step toward he and she flinched. His huge strides could cover the distance between them in seconds, and the branch she crouched on wasn't out of his reach. The tree itself was only chest-high to him. His huge hands could reach down and pluck her off the branch easily, possibly without even breaking it.

He took another step toward her, crunching fallen trees beneath his heels.

She started to shake. "We...we have to go back!"

"No, we don't." His eyes narrowed as his face took on an angular, predatory cast. "We don't have to anything you say, princess. You're not wearing the Crown." Grinning, he continued advancing toward her, pushing small trees aside like sticks. The small head mimicked him with a lopsided grin of its own.

Fear blinded her, made her as immobile as a hare caught in a fox's jaws.

The giant's grin grew even broader. "And what's more, I don't feel your precious King holding me back any longer. I feel as though I can do as I please with you." He licked his lips. "And I am hungry."

She screamed when he reached for her, instinct and fear causing her to react without thinking as she threw herself backwards. Air whipped her hair back as she toppled out of the tree, once again falling but this time landing on something tough and leathery, and the last thing she felt before consciousness left her was the almost-familiar tightening of giant fingers around her.

{O}

**Author's Notes:** They've lost control of the giants at the worst possible time! Yay! Now we're getting to the stuff that's going to be really fun (and challenging) to write. And if Fumm seems a little weird at the beginning, let's just say I haven't got him figured out yet. Fallon is an open book compared to The Black Hair of Broodiness.


	8. Chapter 7: Stone

**Title: **Seed of Darkness

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** A new threat descends upon Cloister and Jack must use the Crown of Erik to call on some unlikely allies. Fallon/Isabelle, Fumm/OC

**Disclaimer: **I make no money whatsoever off this story or any of the characters.

**Chapter 7: Stone**

_My child, what are you so afraid of? Is there perchance a giant outside who wants to carry you away?_

_-_** The Frog King**

{O}

Darkness.

It was the only thing to greet her when she opened her eyes. Deep, velvety darkness that enveloped her like a shroud. She blinked, feeling itchy flakes of crust clinging to her eyelids. Awareness came back to her in stages as her mind tried to drag itself out of quicksand-thick unconsciousness. She lay curled on one side upon something hard and uneven. Against her skin she could feel cool silk and knew she must be wearing one of her more costly dresses, the kind specially reserved for balls or feast days. Was Father throwing a party?

_Where am I?_

She mulled the question over, still struggling on the borders between sleep and wakefulness. Closed her eyes, then opened them again. The darkness wasn't leaving like it should. And she thought she could hear sounds, strangely muffled but distinct. By straining her ears just right, she could barely pick them out. Water dripping, squeaks, and throaty growls from some large and dangerous animal. Who would let a monster into the palace?

_Monster in the palace._ That thought felt more like the fuzzy outline of a memory. A shiver washed over her, bathing her skin in cold, prickly ice. She curled her right hand into a fist as a tenuous defense against the knowledge taking shape inside her head. _I'm not safe._

_What happened to me?_

Her heart began to beat faster as the sense of wrongness grew. She inhaled deeply and immediately wished she hadn't. Around her was a musty smell. A smell like rot inside an old, abandoned graveyard. Her half-submerged consciousness shied away from the association, would've retreated back into sleep if not for the lingering feeling of immediate danger buzzing through her thoughts like a persistent gnat. Laying completely still, she shut her eyes and concentrated, descended into the oily mire that filled her skull and dredged out the last thing she could remember.

_A huge, two-headed man reaching for her. Screaming as she fell out of a tree, only to land on something tough and leathery. Losing consciousness as giant fingers tightened around her body..._

Isabelle jolted into full wakefulness with a small, panicked cry. Her clenched fist flew out in a mindless swipe at the air, and she had to stifle another cry of surprise when her knuckles contacted some sort of barrier. The material was tough, but gave slightly. Her fingers scrabbled against it, found it was all around her, sealing her in. For a few mad seconds she had to fight down the urge to scream wildly, convinced by the darkness and the invisible barrier that Fallon had finally swallowed her and she was trapped in his belly. Just like every nightmare she'd ever had of being eaten, only it was all too real.

_Think!_ a hard, defiant voice buried under the polished veneer of the proper lady she'd been taught to be scolded her. _You're still in one piece! You have your senses! Wherever you are, you're not dead. Not yet! _

Her chest heaved as she forced herself to calm down. Trembled as she sat in the darkness, her dress pooling around her legs. Little by little her eyes adjusted well enough to see the golden fabric clinging to her form, and she thanked God that - aside from a few rips and tears - the dress was intact enough to preserve her modesty. The thought of Fallon seeing her unclothed was almost enough incentive to remain hidden away in the dark.

It took another moment of gathering her nerve before she felt steady enough to extend a finger out to touch the barrier again. It sprang back with the same elasticity as before. By trailing her fingers over it she could tell it was greasy yet rough, with many fine wrinkles. She almost drew her fingers away when they encountered a row of sharp bristles embedded into the material, like stiff hairs.

Her empty stomach gave a nasty lurch that was half-hunger and half-revulsion. Whatever she was trapped in felt organic. like tanned deerskin or oiled leather.

_Or the cover from that strange journal._

She snatched her hand back as though she'd touched a live coal and scooted away from the barrier, trying to reach the center of her prison, only to cry out again when something cold brushed against her palm. Her eyes were almost accustomed to the dark, and so it was easy for her to make out the shape of the gleaming pale thing next to her hand. With trepidation, she picked it up, and her hands began to shake upon seeing the toothy, elongated jawbone and empty eye sockets outlined in stark white. Bile spattered the back of her throat as she stared at the last remnants of some poor creature that had been hunted, killed, and skinned by her captor.

Her grip loosened and the skull dropped, cracking loudly upon the uneven floor. Glancing around, she could see several more glimmers of sun-bleached bone around her, and a suspicion began to grow as to the nature of her surroundings. Tilting her head, she squinted her eyes until she could make out a subtle green glow at the apex of what passed for the ceiling. A picture entered her mind then of the hip pouches the giants carried for storing weapons or trophies, and she shuddered all over as the realization of where she was broke over her in a cold, cold sweat.

She was in a sack sewn together from animal skins. Fallon, with his typical goodwill, had stowed her inside a bag of bones.

_With the leftovers._ The thought crawled out at her like a spider from under a bed. It didn't take much imagination to envision the two-headed monster eating the flesh from captured animals, as well as humans, then saving the bones to gloat over later. Claustrophobia surged, threatening to close her airway to a pinhole. She had to get out of here.

Fighting back nausea, she began to search. It was easy to spot the larger chunks of bone. Femurs. Skulls. A pair of antlers twisted together. Smaller fragments crunched beneath her knees as she sorted among the piles of death, ignoring the gritty feeling, between her fingers as she held each piece up, examining them critically. Most of the bones were old. She had to turn her face away when a spinal cord crumbled to dust in her hands, sending up a vaporous cloud of white powder. Coughing, she waved a hand to clear the air, then continued digging, determined while still feeling like a vulture picking over a carcass.

Her breath left her in a relieved sigh when she found what she needed: a rib bone. Thick, curved, and - when she laid a fingertip against the pointed end - sharp enough for what she had in mind. Crawling backwards until she fetched up against the bag's side, she then turned and jabbed the knife-sharp bone into the sewn-up skins. The tip buried itself in the patchwork of dry flesh, and Isabelle spent a few fleeting seconds pondering what, if anything, she could do if she got out, for low, rumbling growls still thrummed through the confines of the bag. Fallon, or one of his companions, was definitely out there. _There's no help for it,_ she thought as she wiggled the point around, trying to make a hole. _I have to do something._

But it was proving harder to tear a hole in the bag than she'd thought. She gritted her teeth as she sawed frantically at it with the bone shard, but whatever creature had died to make a giant's purse had come with very thick skin. The hole she'd made was scarce big enough to put a finger through. Her hands began to sweat, making the bone slippery, and after what felt like an entire hour had gone by with only minor progress she threw the crude tool down in frustration.

She sat in the darkness breathing heavily. Folded her hands in her lap and considered her situation. Jack and Elmont were far away, with little chance of reaching her anytime soon. She was on her own, as surely as if she'd been carried back to Gantua. _For all I know, I may have been._ The possibility made her want to lie down and give in to despair. She bit her lip and hugged herself, trying not to think about what Fallon might be planning to do to her when he was hungry or just wanted someone to torture. Then an even more frightening possibility occurred to her, and she squeezed her eyes shut in a vain attempt to deny it. _Fallon said the Crown wasn't controlling him anymore. And if that's true, then something must've happened to Jack. _

She felt her heart give a painful squeeze as though a live snake made of shearing knives was writhing and coiling inside her chest, mercilessly shredding any hopes for the happy future she'd planned. If Jack were hurt or dead, then her kingdom was lost and monsters would roam Albion as they had in olden times. A tear wound its way down her cheek and fell, landing in a warm little droplet on the back of her left hand. The same hand that bore her engagement ring, its clustered diamond center sending out barely visible flashes of colored light in the darkness. Misery filled her like bitter wine as she stared at the beautiful golden band symbolizing her love. Without Jack, what would become of her?

_A giant's dinner, _her stubborn-self replied. _That's what you'll become if you don't try to get out of this mess! You're always saying you're not a fragile, helpless creature, now PROVE IT!_

She closed her eyes while taking a deep breath to steady herself. Then opened them and groped around until her fingers closed once more upon the bone-knife. Spent a moment feeling out its smooth curves and ridges. They felt solid, reassuring. Tilting her head back, she more closely examined the green glow above her. If she was correct in thinking it was the opening to an enormous bag, then she could possibly escape that way. If she could just get to it.

Using the bone-knife like a claw, she wedged it into a seam where two skins appeared to be sewn together. It was a rib bone, curved and strong, and would serve as an anchor. _Like the giants with their hooks,_ the giddy thought flashed through her mind as she attempted to pull herself up. Her arm muscles, already stiff from laying on a hard floor, now burned with the effort. Aside from the bone-knife, there was almost nothing to hold onto. A few times, she had to take fistfuls of the grisly skin in her free hand or risk falling, and for each inch of progress made there were several more inches lost from backsliding. Always present was the fear that the lumpy bag might crumple in on itself and smother her beneath folds of old wrinkly hide.

_Just a little further..._

After what felt like hours of struggle she felt a draught of fresh, cold air against her cheek. The green glow, which had seemed remote as the monastery belltower before, now filled the circular space above her. She saw, with some relief, that drawstrings thick as ropes were strung across the opening. They must've meant to keep the bag shut, but were loose and thick enough to serve her as handholds. Above her, she could make out indistinct shapes beyond the green light, and the rumbling growls were growing more intense, like an angry bear snarling in its sleep.

Isabelle dipped her head, took a moment to gather herself, then reached out a hand to grab at the closest drawstring. There was a frantic moment where her fingers grabbed at empty air and she felt herself falling, then - by sheer luck mixed with more than a little desperation - she caught hold of the fraying rope. The next few moments passed in a blur of panting struggle as she was forced to drop the bone-knife so she could take the rope in both of her sweaty hands, feeling like a spider scaling a dark, tangled web. She used the drawstrings like rope ladders, pulling herself up and over each one, then catching hold of the one above it. She'd almost reached the rim of the bag when her right foot became snagged, and she fell forward, the breath rushing out of her in a short, sharp cry as the bag tipped over and she was carried down with it.

Bones rattled and bounced around her as she was spilled out onto hard, cracked ground. She lay, her bruised chest heaving and her arms trembling from exhaustion. A white lily broke free from the scraps that remained of Ana's flower-crown to drift like pale gossamer before her eyes, circling slowly before disappearing in the dark. The skin of her palms felt rubbed raw and swollen, like they'd been thrust into bags of sand and left there for days. Yet despite her discomfort, a nervous, happy little laugh made its way up her throat. _I did it!_ Whip-thin tendrils of hair fell across her face as she allowed herself a brief smile. The cold stone beneath her provided some relief for the burning, and she pressed both palms gratefully against its surface, letting the coolness soak into them before pushing herself onto her knees to have a look at her surroundings.

It was a world of sculpted stone. Rock formations spiraled up from the ground like twisted teeth, along with other half-seen shapes outlined by flecks and daubs of fluorescent green. _Some kind of moss, _it was reasonable to assume, for the air seemed to exhale dampness and the salty reek of brine. Water dripped from a roof that was so high up it was nearly lost in shadow, showing only faint edges of glistening wet, moss-rimmed rock. Isabelle felt goosebumps raise along her arms and trail over the backs of her legs, as the sheer silk of her dress proved ineffectual against the seeping cold. The whole place resembled a dark, dripping mouth.

_A cave._ She amended herself as another loud rumble shivered the air. _No, a giant's den._ Panic welled up within her. Where was Fallon?

Her answer came in the form of a huge, lumpy shape slumped close beside her. A pair of bone shoulder spikes, their yellowed surfaces glowing an unnatural green in the half-light thrown off by the moss, gave away the presence of the giant just as another growl tore from his throat. _Snores,_ Isabelle realized as she backpedaled, seeking the darkness behind a stone column that was free of the glowing moss. _He's asleep...and snoring._ It was almost ludicrous enough to make her burst out into peals of manic laughter, if the sense of danger hadn't compressed her lungs like a stone around her neck Even unmoving and dead to the world, Fallon gave off a menacing power by grace of sheer size alone.

Isabelle huddled in shadow, watching the giant sleep. He could almost pass for a rock sculpture himself, with only his breathing giving away his true nature. Fluorescent green shone off him in patches, revealing little bits of steel armor, his huge hands folded together in his lap, the muscled contours of his legs thrust out like felled tree trunks in front of him. She imagined both of his heads drooping down to his chest as he leaned against the rock wall, though it was too dark in the cave to properly see them.

Something blue flashed in the corner of her eye, making her jump. Her eyes bore into the spot she thought it had originated. A second flash came, this one so bright it dazzled her dark-adapted eyes. Curious, she picked her way among the stones, placing each foot lightly, careful not to dislodge anything that might awaken her captor.

The flashes came from a crescent-shaped opening, a chink so narrow and precise it was as though an infinitely-sharp sword had cut a half-moon into the cave's stone flesh.

She edged toward it, winding her way through the stone pillars, slapping a hand over her mouth when something that felt like it was made of whiskers and wet fur skittered across her bare feet, squeaking. Another snore boomed, prompting her to cast nervous glances up at Fallon when she was forced to cross the uneven ground directly in front of his feet, his close-packed toes sticking up like blunted stalagmites. Wan, green-tinged light flickered, casting eerie shadows among the lumps of eroded stone.

Upon reaching the chink in the wall, she realized it was actually the cave mouth. Fallon had rolled a boulder before it, stoppering it up like a cork in a wine bottle. The boulder itself was massive, a rough, moon-shaped plug of gray-black stone that was impossible for her to even consider moving. Her desperation grew as she felt a tendril of cool open air sneak in through the chink between the boulder and the wall to brush lightly against her forehead, lifting up a few loose strands of damp hair. _If I'm careful, maybe I can slide through._ She felt around with her fingertips, gauged the size of the opening. Found it wide enough to slip an arm through. Forcing her way out could possibly be done, if she didn't get stuck.

She sucked in her breath, flattened her chest and stomach as much as she could, then wedged herself inside the gap. From outside the cave came another flash of sapphire-bright light, followed by a muffled rumble. Stone scraped her back as she worked her way further in, until she had her entire right arm and shoulder outside. Stinging rain pelted her open palm, forcing her to draw it back. Freedom, however, was no closer as she found it impossible to extricate herself any further, no matter how much she shifted or squirmed.

Her chest hurt. Her body felt too tight, too cramped. Claustrophobia threatened as her lungs screamed for release. And, through fear-induced awareness of her surroundings, she noticed something else. Something that turned her blood into clear, crystalline ice.

The snoring had stopped.

"Going somewhere, princess?"

His drawling voice echoed throughout the cave, bouncing off stone columns and other, less-definable shapes. Isabelle's pulse beat hard and fast in her ears as she heard a heavy body shifting itself, and saw, within a halo of green light, a dark, mountainous man-shape. Her breath came in shallow, rapid pants as she shrank deep into the unforgivingly small space between the boulder and the wall, trying to meld herself with shadows and solid rock.

"And we'd hoped you would like the little nest we'd prepared for you." His rumbling voice oozed thinly-veiled sarcasm. A tense silence descended. Then Isabelle flinched when, after a moment, the sound of something brittle being crunched split the air. It was too dark to see much but her imagination filled in quite nicely, and tears pricked the corners of her eyes as the horribly familiar feeling of being tiny and trapped washed over her.

_...looking out through the bars of a cage while some hideous thing_ _roamed outside..._

"You shouldn't go out there," he continued, his rough voice now more subdued. "A storm rages and the dragons that hunt the hillsides would soon devour a tasty little treat like you." There came a birdlike squawk as the second head chimed in but, as usual, she had no idea what it said.

Neither did it calm her disintegrating nerves to think that everything the intelligible part of Fallon had told her was probably true. _He's trying to lure me out_, a clear, rational voice in her mind struggled to shout above the din of terror-fueled hysteria. _Think! This cave is huge. There might be tunnels or side-passages I can hide in, if I can get past him..._

Her hands slapped over her mouth, turning her shout into a whimper, when a heavy thump came from somewhere disturbingly close by. Flashes of steel armor, a muscular torso, and a pair of round, mismatched heads appeared etched in strokes of sickly-green whenever the monster stepped near a moss-covered stone. "Hiding again, Your Highness?" The familiar sneer was back in his voice, soaking it with contempt. "You should know by now you cannot hide from us."

Every muscle in Isabelle's body was balled up tight, coiled like springs ready to snap.

"You are frightened, princess. The fear-scent clings to you like flies to a corpse." Another thump sounded, this one from right outside her hiding place. Isabelle's breath hitched. "I thought a descendant of King Erik would _have more guts than this!_" The giant's even tone turned black with sudden fury. A second later his fist slammed into the rock face just above where she had pocketed herself, sending dust and stone flakes pattering down like dirty rain.

The shock of his fist hitting the wall broke the last, fraying thread of Isabelle's resolve and she bolted out of the crevasse, her arms and legs pumping as she ran for the darkest corner she could reach, the hem of her dress ballooning out around her feet.

It wasn't long before she was being swept off her feet by long, thick fingers. Her heart felt as though it would burst from terror as she kicked and writhed in his grasp. Adrenaline and desperation made her fight harder than she ever had before, to the point where Fallon almost dropped her when she raked her nails over the web of skin between his thumb and forefinger. She was too preoccupied to catch the half-amused, half-annoyed expression on his face, but once she started attacking his thumb a rumbling growl drifted through the fog in her ears.

"Calm down, girl!"

His snarling words only increased her desire to fight, to run, to get as far away as she possibly could...

"ENOUGH!"

A roaring giant could never be ignored. Isabelle went absolutely still, making no sound except ragged gasps for air.

"Better," Fallon said, his voice once again smoothing into a calm, yet threatening, drawl. His fingers shifted so that her spine was kept straight and rigid, no matter how hard she tried to lean away. Lank strands of dust-streaked hair brushed her face as she was forced to look up at him. Tremors coursed beneath her skin upon seeing the harsh angles of his face illuminated in ghostly green. His gray eyes bore into her, making him seem, if anything, thoughtful. Like he was tallying her virtues and faults in one long, well-organized list.

It made her angry.

"If you're going to eat me, be quick about it," she growled, sounding much braver than she felt, then mentally kicked herself for being so stupid. _What if he decides to do just that?_

Fallon, apparently, could smell bluffs as keenly as he could smell blood. He chuckled, while his smaller companion made cawing, wheezy sounds. "You'd make a dainty mouthful, princess. Except we already feasted on the bears that until very recently called this cave their own." He paused, making wet, smacking sounds, and Isabelle knew without being able to see clearly that he was licking his lips. Her heart did a summersault inside her chest. "They were fat and juicy enough to last us for a while. So you will be our hostage, until we are hungry again."

"Like old times, isn't it, Your Highness?" The cave seemed to slid out from under her dangling feet as Fallon took a single step, putting himself closer to a patch of glowing moss. She could see him fully now: his hooked nose with the nostrils flared, his thick, black eyebrows, the dark folds of skin ringing his eyes and, most frightening of all, his sharp-edged teeth exposed in a big, gleeful grin. His free hand came up, a dark blur, and then she felt his forefinger pressing into the curve where her neck met her right shoulder, brushing aside her hair in a caress that was surprisingly gentle.

And yet she couldn't stop herself from pulling away.

He snarled, his teeth flashing in the moss-light like pieces of green glass. The angles of his face sharpened while his eyebrows drew together, and Isabelle let out a yelp of pain as he squeezed her. "I should rip you apart and end the line of Erik forever!" he shouted, and began to pace with her in his grasp. Stony clefts and spiky, half-seen rocks spun around her as the angry giant slashed his arms through the air, making her head whip painfully to one side. Any stalagmites in his path were kicked over like sand castles, and he paused for a moment by a sheer rock wall to lift up his free hand and dig furrows into it with his fingers, defacing solid stone as easily as a child playing in clay. The small head, whose fever-bright eyes were round and wide as a clown's, squawked and jabbered at him, but was staunchly ignored. Through gut-churning fear and dizziness, Isabelle spared a brief second to wonder if the little creature was scolding its counterpart.

Panic flooded her senses, making everything too bright, too clear. Fallon was in a mood to kill her. Her mind raced, snatched at the first thing she could think of that might buy her a little more time.

"B-but if you kill me," she said, sounding pitifully small and scared, "you w-won't find out what I know."

Bits of disturbed rock pattered down around them as Fallon stopped his pacing. The pressure around her ribs eased a little, allowing her to gulp down huge lungfuls of air. After a moment spent catching her breath, she looked up to see him glaring down at her, his gray eyes narrowed to slits. "And what do you know, princess?

She gulped, found her voice, and said, "I know about the woman you took in. The one who wrote the book-"

The rest of what she'd meant to say was silenced by his roar. "WHAT OF IT? She left us long ago and took our Father's heart and sanity with her!" Isabelle cried out as her captor hurled a fist at the cave wall again, crushing glowing, moss-coated stones so that a flare of green light burst throughout the cave. Everything was brought into sharp contrast: the fantastic, nightmarish shapes of mineral deposits on the cave floor, Fallon's huge, thickly-muscled arms, the gleam of light off his armor, his twisted, furious face, and Isabelle became so certain of her own imminent death she began to sob. She couldn't help it, despite all her pride and self-control. Pride wouldn't save her from those gnashing, terrible teeth.

Fallon paused, his chest heaving. Glared down at her while his smaller head rolled its eyes and bobbed on his shoulder like a drunkard, all the stomping and raging apparently having affected its equilibrium as much as hers. Underneath her own misery, Isabelle began to feel a small bit of empathy for the misshapen monster fused to Fallon's body, seeing in it a fellow prisoner unable to escape its fate.

Air pressed down on her shoulders as Fallon lifted his hand, bringing her up until they were almost at eye-level. Isabelle kept her face down, trying to hide her streaming eyes behind a curtain of hair. "There is something I wish to know, princess, and you _will_ answer," he said, lowering his voice until it once again assumed the ominous tone of an interrogator. Small things chittered in the dark corners and recesses that the moss-light couldn't penetrate, and now that the giant had regained some semblance of control Isabelle became conscious of the fact that she was shaking in his hand. "Why did you summon us back to Earth?"

Confused, she blinked up at him, her tear-blinded vision making his craggy features appear to waver. His grip was lax enough now that she was able to extricate an arm, then place her hand lightly upon the hard surface of his thumbnail. "T-to save my people and my kingdom from the dragons..."

"Really?" He smiled then, a knowing, oh-so-amused curve of the lips that showed a brief flash of teeth. "Is that all? Or did you seek a way to avenge yourself for the death of your Father?"

_What? _Isabelle felt as though a draft horse had kicked her in the stomach. "How did you know about th-?"

"Did you think I learned nothing while being ordered throughout your city by that insufferable boy?" His face twisted, going from casually amused to stormy in the blink of an eye. The small head squinted at her and let loose a sharp bark that almost sounded like _Gotcha!_ "I know things now you did not deem fit to tell me upon our first meeting, _Isabelle_." His accent took her name and softened the consonants, turning it into a half-whispered melody of vowels. Hearing the giant speak her name for the first time felt uncomfortably intimate, and she had to look away.

His toothy grin got even wider. "I will make you a bargain, Your Highness," he said, his voice dropping a register, becoming solemn and deadly serious. "I will help you rid your kingdom of the wyrms and avenge your Father. But when the last dragon is dead or fled, I will have my own revenge on the House of Erik."

_What?_ Isabelle stared at him. A maelstrom of emotions whirled inside her. Confusion. Fear. Hope. Despair. If he meant what he said, then she still had a chance of saving her people.

But at a price.

_The kingdom comes first. Always first._

She gulped, struggled to make her throat work. "If...if you have me, then will you leave the rest of Cloister in peace?"

The giant seemed to consider it. His second head watched everything from its place on his shoulder, looking vaguely surprised. The only sounds were her pounding heart, accompanied by dripping water and an occasional clap of thunder from outside.

"Agreed."

It was strange, feeling both relieved and horrified at once. Isabelle let her head droop, not wanting the giant to see her torment.

He must've sensed it anyway, for he started to pace, carrying her with him. Her eyes remained downcast, watching the crags and dips in the cave floor sweep past beneath her while she maintained a grip on the giant's thumb. Her teary vision made everything a blur of confused movement, until suddenly his fingers were replaced by cold air as he released her. She dropped, the breath rushing out of her when her back thudded against hard rock.

"Your King has no power over us now, princess," Fallon said, his voice laced with the barest hint of warning. She lay on her back staring up at him, cold and shivering and sick at heart. "Don't try runnin' off again."

Then he left her, his bulky body melding with the shadows at the very back of the cave, where the spectral glow of the moss didn't reach.

She sat up, taking in the view. He'd dropped her onto a ledge, a narrow shelf of rock overlooking a drop so sheer even the most daring climbers couldn't have scaled it, making escape a non-issue.

All she could do now was huddle in dapples of shadow and ghoulish light, terrified of the bargain she'd just made. _Bringing the giants back was my idea. This is all my fault._ She tried not to think about her father, how the spinal crunch of his head being bitten off still haunted her. Tried not to think how she'd just given Fallon permission to murder her in exactly the same way. _Not yet. He has work to do first. _That thought consoled her. A little.

She reminded herself of her people. How she was doing this for them_. Maybe the kingdom will be saved_, she tried to cheer herself. _Maybe Jack's still alive. _

Either way, she was doomed.

Curling up on the stone ledge, Isabelle let the tears make salty tracks down her cheeks, even as Fallon's rumbling snores resumed from somewhere in the darkness

_It's my fault._

{O}

Jack felt like his neck was about to snap from staring up at the behemoths surrounding them. Standing back to back with Elmont, he drew a sword that felt reassuring as a feather in his sweating hands. Fallon's skin had proven too tough to cut with a blade. If the four giants towering over them were anything like their leader, he doubted they'd even feel it if he tried to slice them.

"Um," Jack called over his shoulder to Elmont, hoping the knight would still be able to hear him above all the growling and snarling, "what's the proper course of action in a situation like this?"

"Die, most likely." Elmont managed to sound as calm as if they were having a training session, but Jack caught his underlying tone of weary resignation. Jack wasn't about to take his eyes off the giants long enough to glance at his friend, but he could imagine the knight's appearance right now: his mouth set in a grim line, taking a defensive stance while both hands gripped a sword's hilt hard enough to make the tendons stand out like wires in his wrists, and his sandy blonde hair damp from the cold mist in the air. "Unless you happen to have a spare Crown?"

"Sorry. They only made one."

A man-shaped shadow blotted out what little Jack could see of the sky. Foe's ugly snarl and narrowed eyes said all that was needed about the burly giant's intentions. Jack raised his sword as the monster bent down and one of its enormous, wrinkled hands reached for him...

"HALT!"

Foe froze in mid-grab when Fumm's roar cut through the growling and stomping. There was a brief scuffle as the black-haired giant shoved through the circle, pushing Foe and Fye aside in order to have a clear view of the two humans. Jack craned his neck, trying as best he could to look the giant in the eye. Though his face wasn't a complete mask of fury, Fumm did not look happy. At all.

"I should kill you for this," Fumm said, his gravelly voice sounding strained. The corners of his mouth turned down, making him resemble a bulldog about to bite. "Do you realize what your carelessness has done?"

"We lost Isabelle." Having finally said it aloud, Jack could feel despair strolling in through the gates of his heart and making itself at home. _She can't be gone. She can't be!_

"And you let the dragons take the Crown!" Fumm's angry shout was almost a roar. Beside him, the other giants shuffled restlessly. "Once they deliver it to their egg-mother, we will all be her slaves!"

His words ended on an eruption of furious growling. Foe actually drew his sword, the metal made a bright streak in the deep night. Fine drops of cold rain began to dew the backs of Jack's hands, along with his shoulders and hair. An instinct born of years spent living in tune with the land told him a storm was building.

_Egg-mother?_ Jack was about to ask what the deuce the giant was talking about when he heard the metallic scrape of a sword being sheathed behind him, and suddenly Elmont was at his side. The knight regarded Fumm coolly, showing no trace of fear.

"You're not the only ones with problems. Our princess was taken!"

Fumm's hard expression didn't change, but Jack thought he caught a flicker of something in his eyes. _Concern? Worry?_ "If the dragon does not kill her, she will have to face my brother. Fallon is the best tracker of us all. I doubt she would be able to escape him."

Jack couldn't contain his fear. The thought of Isabelle, all alone and at the mercy of that two-headed freak..."He'll eat her!"

"Not without my permission, Which I don't intend to give!" The defiant shout hung in the air, weighted with conviction. The ring of man-eating teeth and huge, knob-knuckled fists seemed to close even tighter around them when Elmont squared his broad shoulders. He stepped in front of Jack and approached Fumm, unruffled by the unfriendly stares falling darkly upon him, only stopping when he stood dangerously close to the black-haired giant's feet.

"I'm going to look for the princess," Elmont said, his voice steady and firm. "And wherever I find her, I'll likely find the Crown. You lot can either stand there and growl, or help me."

Silence fell. Tension lay thick and hot in the air, yet Elmont remained standing tall. Jack was beyond impressed with the knight. To talk to a mob of giants like that showed either tremendous courage, overwhelming self-confidence, or suicidal craziness. Maybe a little of all three.

Fumm hissed, letting out his breath in a long, slow rush of air. Something feral seemed to drain out of him, and he nodded. "We will honor our alliance with you until the battle is won." Unhappy muttering followed on the heels of his declaration, but no other giant tried to challenge him. They all apparently knew who was boss now.

Turning to his companions, Fumm began issuing orders. "Fee. Fye. Go with the human and help him recover the princess and the Crown." He paused. "And Fallon as well, if he still lives. Foe and I will remain to guard the human city."

"I'm coming with you!" Jack shouted as he turned to face Elmont, but the knight shook his head.

"No, you're not, Jack." Elmont's voice was stern. "The people need you to lead them. You're still the King."

"But-"

"Go with them." Elmont grasped Jack's shoulders and turned him to face Foe and Fumm, who were already heading back to Cloister. "I swear I'll find her, Jack, but you have other duties to worry about now."

It was the hardest decision Jack had ever had to make. Everything in him screamed to go with Elmont and rescue the princess, to be a hero again. Abandoning the sweet, innocent girl that he'd loved at first sight felt like betrayal. Maybe not deliberate, not the sneaky, underhanded Roderick-style of betrayal, but betrayal nonetheless.

But Elmont was right. He was needed elsewhere.

The night closed in around him as he turned to go.

_Jack isn't happy and I don't blame him_, Elmont thought as he watched his friend's departing back, his shoulders slumped under their burden of responsibility and grief. The horses they'd brought with them had all either been eaten during the dragon attack or broken free of their tethers and made for parts unknown. Jack was in for a long walk back to Cloister, if Foe or Fumm didn't offer to carry him.

A heavy footfall from behind him was a reminder that he had giants of his own to deal with. Elmont turned to see Fye looming over him. The giant's craggy face seemed frozen in a mask of distaste. His heavy brows hung over his squinting eyes like cliffs and the frown he wore seemed to be chiseled from stone.

Elmont addressed the brute in his most intimidating voice.

"What guarantee do I have you won't eat me?"

Fye responded immediately. "None."

"Oh, don't worry, little man." A more cheerful voice called from directly behind Elmont. The knight turned to see Fee standing there, his head crowned by a mess of lanky hair while his giant toes wiggled in excitement, and realized the two monsters had hemmed him in without him even being aware of it. _Oh, bloody hell,_ he thought, suddenly wishing he had a nice, arrow-slinging crossbow with him._ Make that several hundred._

Fee grinned, showing every one of his chipped teeth. "We're about to have _lots_ of fun together!"

{O}

**AN:** I need some feedback here, guys. Is Isabelle too whiny? Last thing I want is to make the heroine of this tale whiny and annoying. This chapter was shorter, but it was hard to write and I'm still not sure I did the images in my head justice.

One other thing worth mentioning. Fallon speaks of himself interchangeably in both the 1st and 3rd person. When he wants to include his small head, he uses "we." When he means "me and me alone," he uses "I." A minor detail but I thought I'd point it out so there's no confusion.


	9. Chapter 8: Trapped

**Title: **Seed of Darkness

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** A new threat descends upon Cloister and Jack must use the Crown of Erik to call on some unlikely allies. Fallon/Isabelle, Fumm/OC

**Disclaimer: **I make no money whatsoever off this story or any of the characters.

**Chapter 8: Trapped**

_Life is pain, princess. Anyone who says otherwise is selling something._

_-_**The Princess Bride**

{O}

The alliance between the princess and the giant began the way all meetings between two strong-willed, temperamental people do. With an argument.

"We should go back to Cloister!" Isabelle sat on the shelf of rock with her legs tucked underneath her, trying to keep as much of herself covered by the golden dress as possible. The cut of the gown left her shoulders completely bare, which looked fetching at court but now drew attention when she least wanted it. Once or twice she could've sworn she'd seen Fallon giving her appraising looks and had pretended not to notice. It seemed the wisest thing to do, for she didn't want a repeat of what had happened between them in the garden. Though the sloppy kiss he'd given her still left her baffled, she didn't allow herself to read much into it. She guessed he simply couldn't wait to eat her. It was foolish to think that the man-eater saw her as anything more than a sweet treat, or a tool to be used, or any number of awful things. He was a problem she didn't have a clue how to deal with.

Keeping warm was another problem, for the air in the cave was still damp and bitingly cold, and she'd just spent an uncomfortable night trying to sleep on hard stone while a giant's snores rumbled close by. Her ribs ached. Her joints were stiff and sore. All she wanted was to go home and crawl into a warm featherbed where she wouldn't be bothered by stubborn, stone-hearted men. For a little while, anyway.

Metal clanked in the darkness as the giant adjusted one of his gauntlets, tightening it around his thick wrist. "Your kingdom is miles away and would take days to reach, even for me." The gruff words were thrown at her from over Fallon's broad shoulder as he stomped over to the cave's entrance. Placing his hands upon the boulder that served as a door, his words gave way to formless grunts as he rolled the boulder aside. The cave echoed with dry little crunches as the massive stone yielded to the giant's strength, and Isabelle lifted a hand to her eyes when sharp daylight flooded the chamber.

Wiping water from her eyes, Isabelle heard Fallon brushing dust off his hands, then his thumping footsteps approaching her ledge. The outcropping put her at chest-level with the giant, giving her an excellent view of the grooves and notches in his armor. Some of the scrapes intersected, seeming to form a twisted, scowling human face. "We're already in their territory. Might as well bring the hunt to them." There was a fierce gleam in his eyes the princess was sure she'd seen before, while galloping on horseback over a windswept field pursued by him and his marauding gang. While the smaller head wore an apprehensive frown, Fallon himself was ready, willing, and eager to cause a little carnage.

She didn't flinch when he picked her up, though it was close.

His fingers didn't clamp as tightly around her this time, which was a small blessing since he'd already bruised her ribs the night before. She was able to hook an arm around his thumb while the world moved around her, the swaying motion of his body making her stomach lurch in unpredictable ways. Being carried in a giant's meaty hand so far off the ground wasn't something she was ever sure she would get used to. Experience had taught her she could survive the fall if he dropped her, but the landing was always unpleasant.

Birds scattered as he emerged from the cave. His small head blinked owlishly, making odd little squeals. Despite the slate-colored clouds blanketing the sky, the day was still bright. Fallon sniffed the breeze, wrinkled his nose, and chose a path through the hills. Cool wind buffeted her face, blowing the hair off her brow and ruffling the sleeves of her dress as she tightened her grip on his thumb and tried not to look down.

"Have you really hunted dragons before?" Isabelle asked shyly. For some reason, she felt the need to say something to him rather than dangle idly in his grasp.

Fallon spared her a glance. "What do you think this is?" A sharp jerk of his head drew Isabelle's attention to the bone spikes he wore on his left shoulder. She'd never really had a chance to study the shoulder guard too closely before, and still wasn't expert enough to note all the details. But the triangular shape of the lumpy bone, the openings where nostrils would be, and the pair of horns jutting from between the brow ridges marked the trophy unmistakably as the skull of a young dragon.

"Oh," Isabelle said, feeling oddly chastised.

The path Fallon had chosen sloped steadily downward through tall grass, and it wasn't long before the grass transformed into stands of elder pines, spruces, and other needleleaf trees. Some of the trees were centuries old, making them gnarled monsters of twisted wood and sharp leaves that grew taller even than the giant. This brought on another argument, in which Fallon insisted he needed both hands free to clear their way and would have to carry her in his trophy bag like he'd intended to do in the first place. Of course, the princess objected strongly to this, making all sorts of dire threats she had no way to carry out but which sounded good anyway, until Fallon snarled, placed her on his shoulder in the gap between his two heads, and told her to "hold on or your corpse can ride in the bag an' it won't mind a bit."

So now Isabelle found herself even _higher_ off the ground riding a moving mountain, clinging to the neck of the small head as though it were the mast of a sinking ship while trying not to be spattered by drool whenever it would try to speak to her. The creature acted like it wanted to complain; its wide eyes were rolling in its head like marbles while its cheeks were turning an odd purplish color. But, try as she might, Isabelle couldn't relax her grip. Every step Fallon took jostled her to the point where she couldn't help crying out in fear.

After about the fourteenth or fifteenth petrified squeak, Fallon huffed out a long, exasperated breath. "For the love of the angels, woman, how did you make it up the beanstalk without dyin' of fright?" A pair of trees in front of them were shoved aside like kindling, the snap of breaking branches tinged the air with the smell of sap and crushed pine needles.

"I didn't climb it. I was carried up in a house." Feeling foolish but too sick and scared to care, Isabelle hid her face against the small head's neck as Fallon started walking again.

Though she couldn't see his expression, Isabelle thought she heard something of amusement in the giant's voice. "So you will answer questions when it suits you." Crackling as more trees were pushed aside.

"When I'm not being interrogated," she shot back, though her voice was muffled by the small head's neck.

He answered with a grunt, then stopped walking. Isabelle raised her head, alarmed that she'd offended him, but saw his attention was focused entirely upon a tree. Standing off to the giant's left, it was a pine tree that reached the same height as Fallon's thigh. With it being so small, Isabelle could see no reason to knock it over and so couldn't figure out why the giant was so transfixed by it. Fallon sniffed a few times, then bent down, forcing Isabelle to cling even more tightly to the second head. _I hope I don't strangle the poor thing,_ she thought as she watched Fallon reach within the branches of the tree. His hand disappeared up to his iron-clad wrist in rustling green leaves, feeling around until finally drawing out something that looked like a ball of twigs. Isabelle squinted her eyes just as something in the center of the ball flashed speckled white, and she realized he'd discovered a bird's nest, complete with eggs. He popped the whole thing into his mouth and swallowed, not even bothering to chew. Isabelle shuddered slightly, while the small head whined and spluttered, apparently put out at not getting a bite for itself.

He stopped at several more trees, finding eggs and occasionally live birds huddling in the branches. All went into his mouth without a thought. Isabelle stayed stock-still and silent, the last thing she wanted being to fall under the attention of a hungry giant.

It wasn't until they crossed paths with a herd of deer that Fallon's whole demeanor became that of a true predator, feral and wolfish. Pushing a stand of trees aside, the giant emerged into a clearing where at least twenty deer grazed peacefully. Their tawny heads jerked up, a few still with tufts of grass poking from the sides of their gray muzzles, and then they were off. Their long, spotted legs carried them halfway across the clearing in seconds, with their white tails raised in fright. There was at least a mile of open space before reaching a thicket of sheltering trees. _Oh no,_ Isabelle thought, sensing the change in Fallon and instinctively taking hold of the small head with a deathgrip a second before the giant gave chase, bounding after the deer with long, earth-shaking strides.

Isabelle recounted few details of the chase, as she was too busy trying not to be thrown off Fallon's shoulder. Impressions of an enormous rippling wind in her face, occasional flashes of green seen through her eyelids, and chattering cries of birds taking to the sky. Every running step rattled her teeth and made her head spin, despite her eyes being squeezed shut. The thundering hooves of the deer were soon eclipsed by Fallon's heavy footsteps, and it couldn't have been more than a minute before she heard his unmistakable growl, followed by the pitiful squeals of a wounded animal. Her heartbeat skipped over itself when Fallon stopped running, and she slowly loosened her grip on his other half, feeling alternating waves of relief and helpless anger over the giant's total disregard for her. _Didn't he even realize I could've been killed? _

Opening her eyes, Isabelle peered out from beneath the small head's chin. For its part, the misshapen head seemed utterly cheerful, like a child who'd just ridden a fast and spirited horse. It burbled another string of nonsense at her, and the interrogative lilt at the end made Isabelle think she almost grasped its meaning.

_Wasn't that fun?_

Isabelle opened her mouth, then closed it, not trusting herself to speak.

More panicked squealing pricked her eardrums like tiny pins, causing almost physical pain inside her skull. She didn't want to see whatever Fallon was doing to the deer he'd caught, for the sounds were horrible enough. She swallowed around the lump in her throat when the animal's squeals were cut off by a sickeningly brittle crunch, then followed shortly by wet, grisly tearing as his hands ripped the deer's body apart. Blood tainted the air so strongly even she could smell it, and she quickly turned away from the second head when Fallon offered it a glistening piece of red meat.

The misshapen head took the treat from his fingers eagerly, gulping it down while licking smears of juice from its flabby lips. Another bite-sized chunk was offered and accepted. Isabelle tried to angle her body away from the monster while it ate. Her hands shook as she made them unclench from the base of the pop-eyed creature's neck, but a few drops of disturbingly warm blood fell on her left hand before she could pull it away. She grimaced as she flicked them off, ugly memories playing through her mind of a castle full of angry giants and a good man screaming as he died...

Her nape tingled as she felt a pair of dark-rimmed eyes upon her from the opposite side. Turned slowly to see Fallon glaring at her.

"You think us monsters for having breakfast?" he growled. Traces of blood still coated his lips, and his eyes were narrowed to thin slits of gray. A half-eaten deer carcass was clutched in his right hand, with a ragged stump where the head had been and both hind legs missing. From the north, a stiff wind blew, clearing Isabelle's head a little as it carried away the mixed scents of fresh gore, crushed pine needles, and dust-laden animal pelt.

Nervous, Isabelle swallowed hard. Keeping the left side of her face partly blanketed by her long hair, she mumbled, "I-It just seems...cruel."

Fallon stared at her, then lifted the deer to his mouth and bit into its side. Viscera and brittle rib bones disappeared into his mouth, leaving behind a neatly gouged hole any butcher would envy. His jaws worked as he chewed and swallowed. "Such is the way of the world, princess. You've lived too long inside your pretty palace if you don't know that." He sounded so reasonable. Not malicious or spiteful, just stating a fact.

It made her angry, all the same.

"But what you did to Crawe..."

Fallon shoved the last scraps of deer flesh into his mouth and chewed blandly. With his mouth full, he grumbled, "Who?"

That one word made the simmering coals of her anger erupt into red-hot flames. Ignoring the internal voices telling her not to, she snapped at him. "The soldier you ate back on Gantua!"

"Oh, that one." Fallon's cheeks bulged where his tongue appeared to be probing along the inside of his mouth. A second later a pair of broken antlers were spat out into the grass at his feet. "He was askin' for it."

Isabelle stared, then before she could think properly about what she was doing she rounded on him. "I _have_ been out into the world, and I've found that if you treat people decently and with kindness, they'll do the same to you."

The giant snorted, clearly deeming her statement unworthy of a reply. He started walking again, forcing Isabelle to once again fling her arms around the small head's neck. That one small exchange between them had left her feeling so thoroughly drained that she felt no qualms about closing her eyes and laying her cheek against the second head's throat, Surprised, the little creature made a thin, high-pitched whistling sound, and Isabelle hung on as her world narrowed into sounds of breaking trees, clanking metal, and thumping footsteps.

Her strange little companion wouldn't stay silent, however.

"Squaweakagh!"

She lifted her eyes to meet its round, childlike, slightly mad ones. "What?"

"Pfffokk!"

_"What?"_

"Waaphaka!"

_"WHAT?"_

From beside them came a guttural cry that was halfway between a roar and an irritated scream. Chipmunks and squirrels fled at the sound, chittering in terror while scurrying through the underbrush on quick little paws. The small head clamped its mouth shut immediately. Isabelle did likewise, but not without patting the tongue-tied misfit on its chubby cheek to reassure it. _Poor thing. Attached to that brute without a hope of freedom._ She couldn't imagine a worse fate.

Well, actually she could, but she preferred not to think about that yet.

Small shrubs and fallen branches crackled beneath Fallon's feet as he continued trekking through the forest. Sometimes he would pause long enough to sniff the wind, then start down a different path, shoving trees and other obstacles aside as he went. His choices of direction seemed completely random to her, but must've made perfect sense to his nose. As she continued to cling to his second head, she found herself stealing glances at his rugged face, noting how different the two halves of his being were. Fallon was a contradiction, in every sense of the word. She soon found herself wondering what it must be like for someone so wild and fierce to be bonded to a freakish little twin that he could never be separate from. For the most part, he appeared to completely ignore his other self, yet had shown enough consideration to offer it a bite to eat. _That's far more courtesy than he's shown me_, she thought archly. Her empty stomach gave a nasty rumble, upset at being forgotten.

It wasn't long before curiosity overruled caution. "A-Are there any other giants with two heads?" she asked hesitantly. A gust of wind blew a tangled skein of hair off her brow, and she resisted the temptation to lean back against Fallon's misshapen brother and brace for an angry rebuke.

Fallon took so long in answering she was sure he would ignore her, but eventually his huge head swiveled sharply in her direction. "No," he said before turning away just as quickly. A hard edge in his voice warned her not to pursue the subject further. _At least he's talking. _Time passed between them in silence, broken only by sounds of rustling leaves and the thump of Fallon's feet. Slivers of sunlight occasionally poked through the clouds, sending needle- fine rays of light among the swaying trees. From somewhere in the distance came the splashing and bubbling of running water, but Isabelle couldn't tell from which direction. _Where are we going anyway? Would he even tell me if I asked?_

An idea came to her that might help her gather information, while keeping her on what passed for Fallon's good side. If nothing else, it would certainly placate his overbearing ego.

Turning to face the monster while keeping her position on his shoulder, the princess said, "There are...legends about you and your fight with King Erik." A querulous mumble from the second head prompted her to turn to it, adding, "And you, too."

Fallon said nothing, but she could tell she'd piqued his interest, for his eyes grew wide enough that the darkness around them seemed to retreat as the whites flashed. She held her breath, watching him as he paused once more to sniff the wind. Satisfied with whatever he'd found, he stomped forward, but not without darting a glance at her as she huddled on his shoulder.

His voice was a bass rumble. "Really?"

Taking a deep breath, she plunged ahead. "My mother used to tell me. Th-They've been passed down among my people for generations."

"What do they say about us?" Now he'd abandoned any pretense at being disinterested, actually slowing his strides so as to pay closer attention to her.

Isabelle's mind flew into a frenzy as she recalled the old stories, retelling what she'd heard while giving herself leave to make things up as needed. "They say your feet shook the ground when you were angry."

"That's true." He sounded pleased. The small head grinned goofily down at her. Overhanging branches trailed leaves over the little misfit's helmeted head, but it appeared not to notice.

"Go on."

"They say you could catch a thunderbolt in your bare hands."

Fallon actually chuckled, a deep-throated laugh of genuine amusement."That's _almost_ true. We caught a battering ram in our hands right before it knocked us to the ground." His small head glanced sideways at him, snickering. For the barest instant, they became just like two human brothers reveling at past mischief. Isabelle shook her head.

"What else, princess?"

She struggled to think. There was one thing she remembered clearly but she hesitated to say it.

The expectant look Fallon gave her decided the matter for her. "And they say you killed a hundred men every day," she said, hoping the resentment she felt didn't creep into her voice.

Fallon grinned as his eyes took on the slightly glazed cast of a man remembering a happy dream. "There was never any shortage of soldiers stupid enough to attack us. We feasted well in those days."

_Feasted?_ Revulsion soured her stomach. So many soldiers...eaten alive. Her lips pressed together as she swallowed, hard. "They were defending their homes!" Her rebuke was barely a mutter, but Fallon heard her anyway.

"And we were defending ours." The snarl underlying the words made her jump and lean away in fright. The world seemed to pause around them as he stopped shoving at a pair of thick-rooted oaks barring his way and focused all his irate attention upon her. Isabelle's pulse ratcheted up as steel-gray eyes the size of dinnerplates fastened on her face.

"Tell me, princess. What do your legends tell you of King Erik?"

Surprised, she had to force her mouth to work properly as she stammered, "Th-That he was a good King. That he fought for his people and-" Her voice faltered when she saw Fallon's lips compress into a thin line.

The second head looked at her with huge eyes and began to whimper. Was it _worried _about her?

A growl built deep in Fallon's throat, rose in pitch before exploding into an angry shout. "Of course they would say that! Maybe I'll tell you the truth about King Erik before I eat you." The smugness in his voice made her skin crawl. Unable to take the weight of his stare any longer, she turned sharply away. Felt her back prickle as his eyes lingered on her a few seconds longer before leaving. With a grunt, the two trees before him were knocked aside like cobwebs and the giant thundered on his way again, his thick legs carrying him forward like a trundling siege engine made of muscle and iron armor.

Isabelle's hair was whipped off her face by a cold blast of wind. "That's...fair enough, I suppose," she said, keeping her voice low and her face tucked neatly into the shadow of the second head. She didn't trust her expression at that moment, the giant's harsh words having reminded her of their gruesome pact and how it would eventually end. Above her, Fallon's little twin looked down and made soft cooing noises that she almost thought were meant to reassure her.

_Half of him seems to like me. I guess that's something_, she thought sadly.

She'd grown so used to the steady rhythm of his walk by now that she knew instantly when he'd found whatever he'd been looking for. His whole body went rigid, the muscles in his arms and shoulders bunching up so tightly they bulged like steel cables beneath his skin. "Finally," he said, triumph plainly coloring his voice as he stared down at a spot of leaf-strewn underbrush at his feet.

Isabelle had to grit her teeth against head-swimming dizziness before she could lean forward and look down to see what he'd spotted. From the height of his shoulder, the forest floor resembled a living patchwork of curling green plants, lichen-covered stones, and churned soil. A wealth of subtle signs must've been there for an experienced hunter to read, but the princess didn't need much experience in order to see what had gotten Fallon's attention. So close that the giant could've dipped his toes in it was a thick puddle of dark purple blood.

"That's dragons blood," Isabelle whispered..

Fallon glanced at her, blinking. She wasn't sure, but the slight tilt to his head suggested her statement had surprised him. "Aye. From the one who carried us here," he said, then swung his head about in sharp little jerks, sniffing. "I nearly ripped the bastard's wing off so there should be more."

And there was more. Splotches and daubs of purple ichor covered the ground ahead of them, forming a meandering trail. Isabelle watched intently as Fallon followed the trail like a bloodhound. His bulging arms swung at his sides as the length of his strides increased, stepping over blood-spattered stones and tree roots, only pausing long enough to scent the air before trudging on again. Even his second head was sniffing with its mouth set in a grim line, an expression so unlike its normal childlike self. Isabelle's arms quivered from the strain of clinging to its thick neck but she didn't dare move, not when both halves of Fallon were so keenly focused on the hunt. _Just like when he chased Jack and I through the palace_, she thought, then shut the memory away, forcing herself to take deep, even breaths.

They followed the trail as it looped and zigzagged up and down hills, passing between a pair of worn gray boulders whose sides were stained with drying purple. In places trees had been thrown down, while any left standing stooped like tired old soldiers, their trunks blackened and raked clean of bark. Fallon plunged ahead without slowing. Dead trees in his path broke apart like logs in a fire, twisted, uprooted, and tossed aside, then crushed under his feet. Biting her lower lip, Isabelle threw nervous glances up at the cloud-covered sky, fearful of seeing sleek reptilian shapes flitting behind the murky veil. Soon Fallon shoved the last of the damaged trees aside, revealing before them a vast open field. Here the land was mercifully flat, with only a few clumps of shrubs and scattered pink and yellow wildflowers posing as obstacles. The air was clearer here, free of the charred smokiness within the burned forest, and Isabelle felt the dizziness brought on by the giant's constant motion begin to recede a little. But her relief quickly turned to dismay when she spotted a set of grooves dug into the soft ground. Some large-bodied creature had dragged itself through the grass. Fallon took a cautious step forward. His nostrils flared wide and his fingers twitched.

Isabelle tensed, drawing her legs up and squeezing herself into a tight little ball on his shoulder. If there was about to be a fight between a giant and a dragon, the last place she wanted to be was in the middle of it. Fallon seemed oblivious to her safety. She couldn't count on him to protect her, despite his claim that nothing would eat her except him. _I suppose he thinks that should make me feel better._ Resigned, she clung doggedly to the second head and tried to look everywhere at once. For its part, the second head licked its bottom lip while following Fallon's gaze as he took in the scene.

It wasn't long before Fallon wrinkled his nose and glanced at her. "You can relax, princess. The scent is faint. Its not here."

Embarrassed, she gave the inside of her cheek a sharp nip. _Damn giants and their fear-sniffing noses! _Forcing her trembling muscles to unfold in increments as she stretched out of her battle-ready crouch, Isabelle mumbled, "Maybe it's dead."

Fallon knelt down, examined the grooves dug into the damp earth. Isabelle's senses were already on high-alert so the sudden change in perspective didn't catch her unprepared this time, though it left her fighting a fresh surge of dizziness as the entire field seemed to roll around her like an ocean wave. Fallon leaned forward, traced a finger through the churned-up soil, then brought the dirt-coated fingertip to his nose, all while the princess locked her arms tight around his spluttering second head and wished for the hundredth time that day he would move more slowly. "It's not dead," Fallon said, grimacing. His narrowed eyes swept the clearing. Isabelle watched him intently. The giant was tense - she could tell by the way the rock-hard muscles in his shoulders had grown just the barest fraction harder. Around them, tall grass swayed and bent in the wind, a hypnotic display both beautiful and deceptively normal. A moment passed before Fallon straightened up to his full height, but this time he moved slowly enough that Isabelle's pounding head had time to adjust. A small favor for which she was inexpressibly grateful. "But it is hurt and confused, blundering about in circles." Scorn was thick in the giant's voice as he flicked dirt off his fingers. His other head rolled its eyes and squawked out a word harsh enough to be a curse.

Isabelle stared at the disturbed ground, trying to see what the giants trail did seem to loop back on itself, though how Fallon could tell that the deep gouges sliced into the earth were all the work of a single dragon was a mystery to her. Wetting her dry lips, she cautiously asked, "So, what now? We wait for it to come back?"

Wind ruffled her hair and rippled the bodice of her dress while she waited for the giant's answer. It came when the corners of Fallon's mouth turned up in a grim smile. A cunning light shone forth from his eyes that thrilled Isabelle and terrified her simultaneously, prompting her to silently thank God she wasn't the one he was hunting this time.

"Aye, we wait. And we'll give it a little welcoming gift on its return."

With that, he reached up a hand and Isabelle gasped as his fingers folded around her. Her grip on his second head tore loose as he plucked her off his shoulder, then set her down in the grass near his feet. "Don't get in my way," he snarled, and the princess backed hurriedly away, her gown and hair buffeted by the wind raised by the giant's feet as he walked. He hadn't gone far before he knelt down and plunged both hands into the ground. Isabelle kept off to the side, staying to the right and a little bit behind the giant, wondering what he was up to.

From under his breath, she herd him growl, "No tools so we'll have to do this the hard way." He pulled his hands out of the ground, bringing up fistfuls of loose soil that crumbled down between his fingers. Isabelle edged around him, keeping well out of the way as the giant tore at the ground like an enemy, digging up fistfuls of earth that were flung carelessly over his shoulders.

Isabelle stared, half-wondering if he'd gone mad. "What are you doing?"

The giant ignored her, continuing to dig.

She crossed her arms. "Maybe I could help if you told me what you were doing!"

His response was to chuck a generous amount of dirt in her direction. Either by accident or design, his aim was off and she was easily able to avoid the worst of it. The exposed skin on her face, chest, and legs ended up coated in a thin layer of grime all the same, to say nothing about the dress.

_Insufferable barbarian! _She sank to the ground in a huff. Once again, she was being treated like a useless thing, though she'd hardly expected anything different from the bully who'd locked her in a cage, terrorized her, and tried to eat her. Spreading her dress over her crossed legs, she tried to calm herself by picking white wildflowers and tying them into the petal scraps that remained of her flower crown, but soon gave the activity up as hopeless. Her fingers weren't nearly as nimble as Ana's and most of the blossoms were half-withered already.

She watched Fallon working with his back to her, digging with his bare hands. _Does he worry that I might try to escape? _This was as good an opportunity as any. Maybe she could use ashes from the burned trees to hide her scent and...

_It would be suicide to try_, a sensible voice that sounded closest in spirit to her mother whispered. _He could smell you in a heartbeat, ashes or no. And with all the dragons running about, leaving him would be a fool's gamble._

It came as a surprise when thoughts of abandoning him - or them - stirred up the tiniest bit of guilt buried beneath the layers of frustration and general hostility the old monster inspired in her. _The only reason he's out here is because I was slow enough to let a dragon catch me._ And though Fallon himself was less than civil, his little twin had shown her some affection, indeed, was even endearing in its own odd, clumsy way.

She shook herself. _What am I thinking? Their giants! They can look after themselves!_

By now, Fallon had dug a hole so deep she couldn't see him anymore, though from within the pit she could hear occasional grunts and gibberish as the brothers conversed, or tried to. Clumps of soil and rocks were being thrown out of the crudely-hewn pit, filling the air with dust and the rich fragrance of deep, moist dirt. A few times, the thrown sods barely missed her, making it necessary to scramble further away. She'd been thinking, and thought she had an inkling of what the pit was for.

When Fallon climbed out of the pit, he was covered from bald heads to bare toes in muck. Isabelle didn't dare laugh; though she felt certain that if Fumm were with them, he would've done all the laughing for her. She simply followed her instructions and stayed out of the giants way as he stomped back into the forest. He emerged moments later carrying bundles of trees under both arms. While sitting on the ground, he stripped them of their branches, snapping them off one by one until the trunks resembled blunt spears. Using an edged stone the size of his fist, he scraped at the trunks, whittling them to brutally sharp points. All the while Isabelle watched quietly, fascinated despite herself.

"You're making a pit-trap," she muttered.

The giant paused in mid-scrape, clutching the last tree in his big left hand while holding the scraper in his right. "What?"

Her cheeks felt hot. She hadn't meant to speak aloud! "A-A pit-trap. Foresters use them to kill wolves back home."

Fallon squinted at her. One corner of his mouth curved up. His second head raised an eyebrow while making a soft, questioning noise. "And how would a little princess like you know what foresters do?"

Flustered, she voiced the first answer that popped into her head. "Because I ask questions."

Fallon stared at her for a few more seconds while she sat, twisting her hands in her lap and hoping she hadn't just reignited his volcanic temper. Then he lifted his left shoulder in a strange half-shrug and bent to work over the tree again, scraping it down until it was just as sharp and deadly-looking as the others. He tested the point with a finger and nodded, satisfied.

"Aye, it's a killing-pit," he said without looking up. "The beast will cross this path again. It can't fly, so this little trick might actually work." Fallon pushed off the ground until he stood at his full height again, casting Isabelle in his shadow. Gathering the bundles of newly-made spears under his arms, he stomped over to the pit and began arranging them at the bottom, shoving them down with all his strength until they protruded like rows of straight, carnivorous teeth.

It took another hour for the giant to cover the pit, concealing it with enough loose soil that it would appear as solid land to all but the keenest eyes. When he had finished, he stomped over to Isabelle, bent down, and scooped her up in his dirty hands. She sneezed at the cloud of dust that surrounded him, fervently wishing for a tub full of hot water and soap. _Though one would be hard-pressed to find a tub big enough for a giant._ The thought was so amusing it almost spurred her into nervous laughter as she rested in his cupped palms. She was carried for a short distance back into the woods, then set down upon a scorched log. She'd scarcely made an attempt to smooth down her filthy dress before the giant folded himself down into a tight crouch next to her.

The small head grinned down at her. "Dwagon!"

"What?" Isabelle whispered, holding a hand to her mouth.

"Be silent, both of you!" Fallon snapped. His hands were resting on his bulging knees. Isabelle realized he was staying low to avoid being seen from a distance, for he'd chosen a spot where there were enough trees left standing to shield his body from direct view. "I smell it near."

Isabelle licked her lips nervously. The field was still visible from between the thick boughs that shielded them. Any moment she expected to see a flash of green scales or a slitted, yellow-gold eye. Gazing out from between clawlike branches, she counted her breaths and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

_What time is it?_ she wondered, swiping at her bleary eyes again. Beside her, Fallon still crouched like a grime-spattered gargoyle, but there was a significant droop to his shoulders. Peering at him, she noticed that the second head was sound asleep with its tongue lolling out of its gaping mouth, and quickly clapped a hand over her mouth to hide her smile. Fallon, though, was less than amused. He banged a fist into the side of its helmeted head, waking it into a spluttering rage, and Isabelle felt her amusement flash into alarm when both heads turned and snarled at each other.

"How long has it been?" Fallon grumbled. His brow ridge was practically hanging over his eyes in a surly frown. The small head pouted, thrusting its thick lower lip out in comical indignation.

Isabelle stretched and scanned the sky. "Six hours, I think." Overhead, the thick spread of clouds had lost some of its luster, fading from bright slate to old beaten iron. She'd long since abandoned the splinter-covered log, folding herself into a dainty ball on the ground, past caring about the chill and damp that had soaked into every part of her. She rolled her shoulders, trying to coax feeling back into her numb fingertips.

Fallon sniffed the air again, his dark-rimmed eyes taking on a slightly bewildered look that somehow made him seem less threatening. Isabelle stayed on her guard, however, mindful that a confused man is often the most dangerous. "Maybe we're in the wrong place," Isabelle said, keeping her voice light and reasonable.

Fallon shook his head vigorously. "No, I can smell it! Smells never lie!" He shifted his weight, rocking on the balls of his feet so that his toes left deep prints in the blackened soil. A crease had appeared in his forehead and the tip of his hawklike nose seemed sharper. "It should cross the path right over the trap I've set for it."

"We can always come back later and check." Isabelle sighed, not really expecting him to take the suggestion. Still sitting, she poked at an unfamiliar weed with spiky leaves, then picked up a handful of dead leaves and let them crumble between her fingers. Somewhere in the forest, a bird screeched.

A faint rattling sound reached her ears, so small and innocuous she would have dismissed it if it hadn't seemed to come from somewhere directly below her. Sweeping her gaze around herself, she noticed two pebble-sized stones laying in a clump of grass by her left ankle. The pebbles tapped against each other. Lightly, as though they were being shaken. And it was then that she became aware of the vibration welling up from deep below the forest floor. A quiet hum, almost subsonic, but sending trembling waves through every leaf, tree, stone, and bramble around them.

The bird screeched again, then more birds joined it. Dead trees shook their ruined branches, though the wind was completely still. Isabelle's right hand spasmed, became a tight fist. A trickle of crawling, primeval fear threaded through her veins, only to be multiplied tenfold when from beside her Fallon muttered a Gantish curse.

"Fallon," she said, her voice tight and frightened, "I think..."

_I think we should move_, she'd meant to say, only then the ground below them heaved up like an angry stallion trying to throw them off its back. Isabelle rolled several feet until her back collided against a knobby tree root as wide as her leg. Wincing with pain, she scrambled away just as the root split, exposing white inner bark stained brown with rot.

Scrambling onto her hands and knees, she raised her head and glanced around wildly for Fallon. Found him still on his feet, yet barely managing to keep his balance as geysers of mud erupted all around him, and there was no mistaking the miserable voice of the second head as it groaned.

"Oh fu-"

A green, scaly whip tail shot out of the ground, fastening itself like a snake around Fallon's leg, pulling him off balance. A second later the buried dragon exploded out of the earth in a flurry of claws and gnashing teeth, sending up a thick cloud of dirt and leaves that pelted Isabelle's face as she staggered to her feet. Panic electrified her limbs, forcing her into a stumbling run. She was close, far too close, to what was about to be a battle between titans, and needed to move _now_.

Launching forward, she flitted like a crazed bird among the singed pines and spruces. The hem of her golden dress, now streaked with mud and dust, flowed out behind her like spoiled honey. Stones dug into the soles of her feet, sending spikes of pain up her legs. From behind her, she heard monstrous roars and snakelike hisses. The forest floor still shook, only now the source of the trembling was aboveground as the dragon and giant rushed each other. Wood snapped behind her as more trees were either uprooted or thrown to the ground. Something massive hit the forest floor, setting off a miniature earthquake that nearly threw Isabelle onto her face. Out of breath and cowering behind a thick-bodied oak, she whipped her head around and peered through a scraggle of stick-thin branches to see the progress of the fight.

The two combatants were locked in a flailing, snarling ball amid a wreckage of smashed forest and swirling dust. Fallon was fighting on his back with the dragon bearing down on him. White wisps of smoke trailed from its open jaws as it leaned in closer to the giant, and Isabelle's heart gave a frantic leap when she heard the beast suck down a deep, rasping breath. _Fire!_ she would've shouted, but the giant had already sensed the danger and sent a closed fist flying at the dragon's throat. The fist connected with a meaty _thwack!_ as Fallon snarled more curses. Surprised, the fire-breather convulsed, appearing to choke while curving its neck back into an S-shape. From its nose and mouth the dragon exhaled a shower of harmless red and yellow sparks that fell in a glittering puff on Fallon's face. As one, the two brothers barred their teeth in a wicked sneer just as the dragon lifted a forepaw and raked its talons across the bridge of Fallon's nose. Isabelle gasped. Even from a distance, she could see blood flowing freely from the cut made below Fallon's right eye. Attached to his shoulder, the small head was unable to do more than curse and bare its teeth in an expression of rage and pain. Though only half his size, the reptilian crouched like a scaly cat upon his chest, its tail coiled like a choking vine around his right leg. One of the dragon's wings fluttered loosely, the membranous folds torn to ragged strips with purple blood still seeping at the juncture where wing met body.

Isabelle's breath hitched. She felt utterly small, powerless, and angry with herself. Though she wasn't especially fond of the giant, she couldn't just stand by and do nothing for him. She glanced in the direction of the open field, judging the distance between herself and the edge of the forest. _Not far._ And though she couldn't tell exactly where it was, the pit-trap was still out there, waiting.

_You can't seriously be considering this._

A high-pitched squeal stabbed her ears like a burning knife, bringing all her attention back to the fight. The dragon had sunk its claws deep into the exposed area of skin beneath Fallon's second head, puncturing muscle all the way down to the collarbone. The giant writhed in fury, managing to smash a fist into the dragon's ribcage as it continued to gouge holes in his shoulder, hissing at the second head, trying to tear it off.

_Oh bugger._

There was no more time to think. She dove out from behind the tree, feet nearly slipping as she bent to scoop up a heavy, egg-shaped stone. She ran, dodging through broken, bent trees back to where the monsters fought, getting so close she could see how the pebbly scales along the dragon's flanks rippled as it breathed. Fresh steam billowed from the dragon's jaws, and Fallon was too focused on keeping the beast's mouth and claws away from his face to notice her. But the second head twisted on its stumpy neck and caught sight of the princess just as she drew her arm back. Its eyes grew perfectly white and round when it realized what she was about to do.

"Don't!"

_That was clear enough_, she thought just as the stone left her hand. It sailed in a smooth arc through the air, tumbling as it flew, until it struck with a solid crack against the side of the dragon's hard, spike-studded head.

_I hit it_, she thought stupidly. Wonder and fear mixed in equal parts within the churning maelstrom of her mind. Until now, she'd been certain she would miss.

Seconds ticked away as the stone bounced off the dragon's tough skull, harmless as an acorn. With the dark pits of its nostrils flaring in anger, the dragon's head swiveled in a quick, fluid jerk. Slitted, eggyolk-yellow eyes fastened on Isabelle as she stood in full view, small yet regal in her tattered golden dress and wilted flowers. Fallon grunted as the dragon pulled its claws out of the shredded meat of his shoulder and began twisting its entire body to face the princess, having relegated the fallen giant it crouched upon to little more than an afterthought. Bloodstained claws clattered over iron chestplating as the dragon tensed, hindlegs quivering, foamy saliva dripping from its toothy jaws.

_No dragon can resist a princess once she's trussed up and ready to be sacrificed._

Isabelle didn't wait. She bolted, shredding the hem of her dress as she ran. Behind her came the whisper-slide of scales rubbing each other as the dragon came for her. But for once, her size was an advantage, enabling her to slip easily amongst the trees whereas the dragon had to either squeeze through them or knock them down. Its broken wing dragged over the ground, snagging on every branch, thorn, or tree root strong enough to tear the inner membrane. It hissed in frustration as Isabelle stayed tantalizingly out of reach.

Arms and legs pumping, Isabelle pushed herself to the limit. She was staggering by the time she reached the tree line. The field spread out before her, wide and open with no place to hide, and when the dragon exploded out of the forest her foot slipped into loose earth and she was falling...

Uncoiling like a spring, the dragon leapt for her...

...just as the ground beneath her dropped away. To late, it saw the danger and tried to flap its wings. But its leap had already taken it over Isabelle's head and into the pit.

Isabelle didn't see the spears impale the dragon's body. She just knew it must've happened, because suddenly the whole world was filled with its inhuman screaming. No legend had ever told about the power of a dragon's scream. It was like a million mirrors being shattered and shattered and shattered, until each tormented sliver of glass was ground into sparkling dust. Sounds of a thrashing dragon body several feet below mingled with the screams while the princess tried to pull herself to safety. She wanted desperately to slap her hands over her ears, but letting go of the pit's edge would mean falling to her death among those flailing claws.

Chunks of grass and soil were coming loose in her fingers. The dragon's jaws snapped below her, and the sick knowledge that it would stay alive long enough to sink its teeth into her flesh galvanized her into a titanic effort to clear the edge.

Her foot slipped. Crying, she felt herself falling backwards.

Only to be grabbed roughly by a giant's huge hand. A giant who, when she was brought up to his face, looked absolutely_ furious._

\"You little fool!" he roared. Isabelle didn't flinch at the sound. It was almost a relief to hear him yelling after enduring the howls of a dying dragon. "What were you tryin' to do? Cheat me of my revenge?"

Isabelle tried to get her shaking under control, and failed. "That thing was going to kill you!" His thumb felt solid, reassuring, and the princess grabbed onto it for dear life.

"No, it wasn't!" The giant stepped away from the pit as a gout of flame shot up in a white-hot blast, the last gasp before a dragon death. Despite the blood smeared around the right side of his collarbone, the slice across his nose, and his drooping, bruised, and bloody second head, Fallon snarled out, "I had this!"

Isabelle blinked, then shook her head, feeling far too tired to argue with the stupidity of warrior men. She simply clung to his fingers, gripping his warm skin so tightly she was surprised it didn't hurt him. _Not that he would admit it if it did_, she felt sure. "Is it dead?" she asked weakly.

Fallon spared a glance into the pit. "Aye."

"Well, I suppose we can call it a day, then."

Isabelle could've shouted her praises to God when he agreed.

And so the giant and princess returned to the cave. Maybe the old monster sensed she was too tired to cling to his shoulder, or was making sure she couldn't escape, or simply wanted to keep her close to him. Perhaps it was all three of them at once. But for whatever reason, the giant didn't release the princess from his hand until he'd sealed her up nice and neat within his den once more, and this time she went into the darkness gratefully, too tired to fight, wanting nothing more than to curl into an exhausted ball and sleep.

{O}

If only the universe would let her.

"AAAAAGGGHH!"

The pained roar sounded muffled through covered ears, but was no less terrifying. When it had finished bouncing and echoing through the cave, Isabelle lowered her shaking hands until they rested in her lap. Patches of fluorescent moss sprouting between ridges chiseled into the cavern roof cast a sputtering green half-light on the man-shaped monster as he groaned. The princess cringed on the stone ledge that served her as a bed and stared down at the wounded giant.

She somehow found the courage to speak. "F-Fallon, maybe you shouldn't do that."

He turned, and the dark look he gave her drained the last drops of color from her already pallid face. "No, I shouldn't! That way, the wounds can fester and rot!" The giant's face tightened as he gritted his teeth, then pulled out another sliver of dragon claw embedded in his shoulder. Isabelle had already covered her ears against the earsplitting howl that followed. The small head yelped pitifully. Its round eyes glistened as though there were tears in them.

After a few moments of rough, ragged breathing, the giant's whole body sagged. "The claws might carry poison," he said, his voice deep and dragging from weariness. Isabelle stared. Sitting among the broken boulders strewn around the cave floor, with his big head bowed and blood sheeting from the torn flesh below his right shoulder, Fallon looked less like a marauding monster and more like a beaten down soldier. She'd only ever seen him seriously hurt one other time, and the injuries he'd sustained then had been even more unpleasant.

_Why do I feel responsible for this? _

Pulled between his fingers, the last fragment of claw slid out of his skin like a bloodstained smile. Isabelle's hands were over her ears, but she lowered them when no roar seemed forthcoming. Only breath hissing through clenched teeth; it seemed to be all the giant had energy for. The amount of blood he was losing bothered her. Giants were able to take an extraordinary amount of damage and walk away alive. Fallon was a testament to that fact, but even his uncanny knack for survival wouldn't save him without enough blood to animate his body.

Isabelle cleared her throat, working up the courage to speak. She'd seen patches of moss growing on the trees near the cave. On Gantua, Jack had used a compress made of moss to heal her cut. Whether the same trick would work with giants, she didn't know, but it was worth a try.

"F-Fallon." She gulped as the huge monster turned to regard her. A streak of crusted blood marred his face. The bridge of his hooked nose was swelling up to twice its normal size. The sight was so pitiful that, were Fallon a normal man, Isabelle felt certain she would've cried. With its ears drooping and eyes glazed, the smaller head merely twitched toward the sound of her voice, too tired for anything else.

An expectant silence fell, and she hurried on. "Th-

There's moss growing on the trees outside. It might help with the bleeding. It helped me on Gantua..."

Her voice faltered when Fallon narrowed his eyes at her. The growl that followed sent her scuttling away to the relative safety at the back of the ledge. But instead of attacking, the giant lumbered to his feet, stomped to the boulder-door without saying a word, and rolled it aside. An evening sky stroked the cave floor with weak gray light as Fallon stepped back out into the forest.

Isabelle slumped against the rock wall. Fallon hadn't bothered to block the entrance, but it was a moot point since there was no way for her to get to the ground without injuring every bone, muscle, and internal organ she had. She'd just have to wait for him to come back.

And hope he was in a good mood when he did.

Too nervous to relax, Isabelle resorted to counting the slow-crawling minutes on her fingers. She'd reached thirty-five when Fallon returned just as gruffly as he'd left. The boulder was rolled back into its place, plunging everything into semi-darkness. Hugging herself, Isabelle fought down the panic clawing its way up her throat when she heard Fallon's footsteps coming closer to her ledge. The footsteps ended, and the princess held her breath when she sensed the giant staring down at her.

Isabelle yelped in surprise when something was dropped onto the ledge at her feet. Lots of somethings, judging from the little smacks they made as they struck stone. Fallon's hulking shadow moved away, leaving Isabelle to take a shaky breath before venturing forth to see what he'd brought her.

A pile of apples, mostly green, but a few sporting sweet golden skin. Their colors were just barely visible; it was their tart smell that gave them away. After all this time, Fallon had finally thought to bring her food.

An army of emotions warred for dominance in her thoughts. Relief, gratitude, anger, so many conflicting feelings Isabelle soon gave up trying to sort them out and settled for a whispered, "Thank you."

No answer came. Of course, she hadn't expected one. Fallon's bulk stood out as a darker shape in the general darkness of the cave. She could hear him pacing around the center of the cave, a restless beast. As she bit into an apple, she caught a glimpse of his chest passing beneath a patch of glowing moss. The parts that weren't covered by armor were slathered in a thick green paste. She wrinkled her nose at the bitter smell the moss gave off as it closed his wounds. Isabelle blinked, slightly shocked.

_He actually listened to me for once. _A warm feeling of unexpected accomplishment spread through her belly, like she'd been tunneling through a mineshaft looking for treasure and was about to give up when suddenly all the dirt crumbled away to reveal glittering diamonds. No more shuffling footsteps could be heard, which hopefully meant Fallon had stopped pacing and was finally calming down. It had been a trying day for all of them, and Isabelle just wanted to finish eating and fall asleep. Even her bed of stone was beginning to feel comfortable.

She'd just bitten into her third apple when Fallon's voice drifted out of the darkness. "Sing to us."

A bit of apple in her throat nearly gagged her. She forced it down, then stared at the dark shape of the giant seated like a stone king in the center of the Earth. Certain he was watching her, Isabelle squirmed with the effort it took not to blush. Of all the outlandish demands Fallon could've made of her, this had to be the most bizarre. "What?"

"Sing to us. Our Father's woman could sing." She heard him sigh, long and deep. "She was a princess too."

Brief surprise was quickly replaced by panic. Singing was something she rarely indulged in, not since she'd sat by her mother's deathbed watching the life drain out of those deep brown eyes. The eyes that had so closely mirrored her own. Making music just hadn't seemed appropriate after that. "I...I...don't think I..."

Weariness colored the giant's vice as he grumbled, "Just sing."

So she did. The lullaby her mother had sung to her as a child had stuck in her mind all these years, and a wave of unreality washed over her as she sung it to a monster out of a childhood storybook. Hesitant at first, but gaining strength as the verses came back to her. Her own voice, raised in song, shocked her. It was sweet, slow, and flavored with a pinch of sadness that had more than a little to do with her current situation. Unbidden images of her mother swam before her closed eyes, and it wasn't long before the princess was fighting back tears.

When the snoring started, Isabelle took it as permission to stop. Tension bled out of her arms and legs as she folded down onto the stony ledge, curling on her side and making a pillow with her hands. Sleep was about to drag her down when she noticed it.

A pair of bright, round eyes still watched her from the darkness.

Struggling to stay awake, Isabelle whispered, "Are you feeling better?"

"Yeg."

_I think he meant "yes."_ She decided it was better to be sure, though. "Will you...he...both of you...be alright?"

Bright eyes blinked several times before the small head nodded.

"Goodnight." A huge yawn nearly ripped holes in her cheeks. Isabelle covered her mouth, but not before the small head had seen and mimicked her yawn with one of its own.

Tired and battered as she was, this made the princess smile.

{O}

"This forest is haunted."

"What?" Elmont yawned, casting a quizzically raised eyebrow up at Fye. The lumpy, stone-skinned giant had barely said a word all day. Which was a blessing, considering Fee chattered nonstop about the most nonsensical subjects. The two giants had kept up a brisk pace, and despite his considerable endurance, the worn and weary knight soon had no choice but to ask one of them for the favor of a ride. Fee had been gracious enough, and truth be told Elmont thought the long-haired fellow halfway decent for a giant. Though by the end of the day, the knight had sores from where he'd nearly bitten his own tongue off, trying not to scream while Fee described, in great detail, why sheep were the best-tasting of all the many flavors of livestock, as well as all the clever devices he'd designed to catch them. "If you lot hadn't blundered into my net, I'd have had a royal feast," he'd complained with a tired and cross Guard Captain riding on his broad shoulder. A Guard Captain who wished that, among his meager supplies, he'd thought to include earplugs. Oblivious, Fee had droned on. "Cows are tasty, but they have too many stomachs. All that grass in their guts colors my teeth green after awhile." Elmont had kept glancing at Fye, wondering if the big giant felt the same way about all the inane chatter. But Fye had stayed stoic as ever as he'd led their small party deeper into the wilderness, saving the knight's sanity without even knowing it. Hiking through miles of highland forest and rolling hillsides while having to put up with two jabbering giants would likely have driven him mad.

Having ended the day's search without finding so much as a whiff of Fallon or Isabelle, they'd decided to make camp. The giants had knocked over several trees, clearing a space big enough for them to sit in. They'd used the timber to start a fire, and now sat round the crackling flames. Elmont lay on his side, propped up on one elbow and resting his chin in his hand. Let himself appear to relax while still keeping a close eye on his man-eating companions. At the moment, their bellies were full from having caught, skinned, and ate what amounted to an entire herd of deer, so Elmont had no fears of being speared on a stick and toasted over the fire. Not for this night, at least.

"Haunted?" he asked, keeping his tone polite but curious. Elmont was pretty sure Fye didn't like him. Then again, it was hard to tell. The stone giant's face seemed frozen in a perpetual gloomy frown.

"Just like the Gargoyle Grove back home," Fee said. He was using a forked tree branch to pick at his teeth. Elmont winced at the complete lack of manners.

"What do you mean 'haunted?'" Elmont studied the giants carefully. Fye was unreadable as ever, but Fee appeared nervous, darting quick little glances out into the surrounding forest while continuing to scrape at his teeth.

"Can't you smell them?" Fye growled. He threw another whole tree on the fire. Flames blazed up with sizzling little crackles, painting the giant's carven face with wavering red and yellow light. "Dark spirits are everywhere."

Elmont tried and failed to keep the sarcasm from his voice. "Aren't you fellows a little big to be scared of ghosts?"

Fye's face seemed to twist in on itself in a way that amplified his normal surly expression by five. "Not ghosts, you fool." The ground shuddered as the giant settled himself more comfortably upon the grass. In the light of the fire, his face appeared sharper, ghoulish. "This forest reeks of the Fay."

_Fay? The Good Neighbors? Fairies!?_ He'd heard of them, of course. Commoners whispered about them to their children, telling little girls and boys that so-and-so would get them if they didn't behave. Then there were the old wise grannies who hung scissors above doorframes because fairies supposedly couldn't come near iron. He'd even heard of a few superstitious peasants swearing that their children had been whisked away by fairies and that the smiling, giggling infant in the cradle wasn't their natural child, but really a straw doll made to look like their child. No properly educated person believed any of it. That the giants believed it only showed how unrefined and simple they really were, despite their remarkable size and strength. Elmont shook his head. "Dragons. Giants. Fairies. what else is there to worry about?"

"Gnomes!" Fee supplied helpfully.

Elmont sighed and flopped down upon the grass, wincing when the pommel of his sword jabbed him in the back. Overhead, the stars wheeled, bright chips of ice spread across a dark cloth. The sun had set hours ago.

Fye's craggy eyelids drooped as he yawned, his thick-lipped mouth stretching into a gaping black cavern. "We should sleep and cover more ground tomorrow."

"I don't want to sleep in a haunted forest," Fee complained as he threw his giant-sized toothpick into the fire, "but I'm too tired not to." He wrapped his arms around his middle, hugging himself like a frightened toddler.

Fye's deep voice rumbled. "Perhaps the human will take first watch," he said, his dark gaze falling on the knight, "since he's not afraid."

_Bloody right I will_, Elmont though as he sat up. _As if I could sleep with you two man-eaters at my back all night._ "Splendid idea! You two need your rest, after all." He sat with his sheathed sword resting across his knees as the giants made themselves comfortable, laying themselves lengthwise upon the ground so that their lumpy bodies appeared melded with the earth, like old, crumbling fortresses.

Before shutting his eyes, Fye growled a warning. "Don't fall asleep," he said while staring hard at the knight. "And don't leave the fire."

Elmont nodded, acknowledging the giant's words while showing nothing of his irritation. _For God's sake, I'm Captain of the Royal Guardians, man! Do you think I don't know my own business? _He lifted a hand to the badge affixed to his armor, tracing a finger over the royal insignia only the King's Chosen wore. The mark of a lifetime of training, discipline, and hardship. _Just like a giant to underestimate a human. They think our size makes us weak._

It wasn't long before the two giants were immobile as brick houses, and their rumbling snores filled the night like two colossal millstones grinding together. Sleep became as likely for Elmont as acquiring Fee's taste for raw sheep. Chewing on the strips of venison that were left for him, Elmont watched the dwindling fire, its red glow dulling from a roaring inferno to a gentle crackle. He wondered if the giants expected him to keep it going all night. _I suppose I could throw a few logs in, _he thought with a trace of black humor. _Not as good as whole trees, but it'll have to do._

It wasn't hard to find enough wood. Pieces of broken trees were strewn all over the camp. He fed the smaller pieces to the fire, taking care to avoid stumbling against the two slumbering monsters as he did so. With that done, he sat back down and tried to lay out plans for the morning. Where they would search and how wide a sweep they would make. The giants could cover vast tracks of land in a single day, but if the slightest detail were missed then the entire venture would be for nothing.

The possibility of failure got him thinking, inevitably, about Isabelle. Where was she? Was she with Fallon? And would he keep her alive if she were? Elmont ground his teeth at the thought of Isabelle suffering the same gruesome fate as Crawe. I_ swear, if that ugly bastard lifts a finger against her, I'll make him eat that extra head of his._

Hours passed. The night seemed to deepen around him. A few crickets chirped sluggishly, their cheery song weakened by the chill in the air. Elmont leaned back, studying the stars. In the foothills of the mountains, the night sky seemed bigger. Clearer, as though a scrim of dirt had been swept away and the Earth was just a little bit closer to Heaven's silvery light.

"Hehehehehe!"

Elmont's head shot up. Senses that had been going lax went on full alert. _That sounded like a woman's laugh!_

Soft rustling sounds came from the foliage around the camp, like little hands pawing through leafy branches. His pulse quickened as he stood, keeping his sword sheathed but ready at his side. He cast a quick glance at the sleeping giants, who didn't so much as twitch. In the firepit, red and yellow flame still popped and leaped, casting a circle of wavering light. But the laughter had come from the darkness beyond the light.

"Princess?" Elmont called out cautiously.

More tittering laughter came, followed by more rustling leaves. Whoever was out there wanted to be heard.

_Isabelle?_ What would she be doing laughing like that in the forest at night? Maybe she wanted him to leave the two giants and was trying to tell him so without revealing herself. It would certainly fit her mischievous nature, but she was old enough to know that this was neither the time nor the place for such childish games.

Still, if it was her...

He had to be sure. Sweeping his gaze over the campsite, he fixed its location in his mind before buckling his sword at his waist and stepping out of the warm firelight into the deep night chill.

The forest swallowed him. Dry leaves swirled past his ankles, blown on a breeze that had sprung up suddenly, as though summoned. Whispering voices rose and fell around him, raising goosebumps along his leather-clad arms and lifting the fine hairs on his nape. Though certain the soft whisperings were no more than trees sighing in the wind, once or twice he caught recognizable words congealing out of the formless sound. _Intruder! Treekiller! Murderer!_ The sensation of wooden claws digging into his back became overpowering. Threatening enough to make him quicken his pace, though every time he checked, he saw nothing behind him.

The night air thickened, taking on almost physical weight. The scabbard of his sword bumped against his hip as he walked. He hadn't drawn the blade free yet, though the urge to do so was strong. He straightened his shoulders just as a trickle of air brushed across his face gently, as though a small winged creature had flown past unseen. All around, trees seemed to be watching him, sizing him up like an insect about to be dissected. His spine stiffened as something light and fast as a rabbit streaked across the path in front of him, quick pattering of feet the only sign of its existence. Judging from the sound, the thing had scurried off to his left, into a grove of birch trees. Clustered in a tight circle, each slim, white-barked tree stood frail and dead-looking as skeletons beneath the crescent moon. A tightness was in his stomach as he debated on whether or not to follow. Something about the stand of birches felt unnatural, even dangerous._ This is ridiculous._ _You've been in forests at night before, man! he berated himself. Steel up!_ Resting a firm hand on the pommel of his sword, he stole cautiously into the circle of trees.

"Isabelle?" he called. Slender white trees loomed all around him, trapping him, their branches entwined like old lace.

"Brave knight." Elmont's whole body stiffened as the unfamiliar voice echoed all around him. It was low, yet somehow musical. _Definitely_ not Isabelle. "Brave knight on a quest."

"Who's there? Show yourself in the Name of the King?"

Soft rustling from above him, then something leapt lightly down from the closest tree. Elmont gazed, openmouthed, at the single most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Clothed in green satin that hung down to her ankles, with lily-white skin and an oil slick of dark hair flowing down her back, the girl glided toward him, each delicate foot seeming to barely skim the ground. Elmont noted, wondering, that the tips of her ears were pointed.

"Yes, I am on a quest." The knight felt his skin growing warm from watching the girl's movements, the sway of her hips. Everything about her was lithe and graceful as a young sapling. He swallowed, trying to coax moisture into his dry throat. The girl was now right in front of him, her skin bright as salmon scales in the night. _Those eyes are the deepest shade of green I've ever seen._

Seconds ticked by before he remembered what they'd been talking about. "I'm looking for the princess of Cloister."

She giggled. The mischievous smile drew attention to her full red mouth and high cheekbones. "A Cloister is a Cluster is a Clister," she said, a high, sing-song lilt to her voice. Slim wrist bones pressed against pale flesh as she lifted a hand to touch a finger to her upper lip. Elmont found the sight mesmerizing. "Thunder's Child wants to kiss her."

_Thunder's Child?_ Elmont shook his head, thoroughly bewildered. The girl leaned in closer, and the knight found himself engulfed by the smell of mint, sickly-sweet and cloying. Thoughts became muddled, half-drowned under the sweetness. He had to force himself to focus. "Have you seen the princess? Is she all right?"

"As right as right can be." She laughed, running both hands possessively over his chest. Mint wafted from her skin like fog, drenching the air around her. "Why don't you come and dance with me?"

She wrapped her arms around his neck. Emerald eyes locked with blue.

_Dance with me._ An echo in his mind. Sharp. Commanding.

Later, Elmont wondered what broke the spell for him. There'd been no magical dart, no invisible hand, or anything of the like to make him turn his head away from that marvelously sparkling green gaze. Though he thought there was a moment, a brief flash of a second, where he'd been drawn down into the lake of her eyes and come up spluttering, choking on the brown, putrid-smelling slime at her core. Even of that, he couldn't be sure. It was simplest enough - not to mention more reassuring - to believe that he was brought back by his unwavering commitment to his country, King, and Princess.

That, plus a lifelong abhorrence of mint.

He stepped back quickly, letting her hands slide away from him. "Sorry, miss. I'm afraid I don't dance." And steel rang as he drew his sword.

The girl leapt backwards with unnatural speed, landing on all fours like a bristling cat. Hissing, her once-luscious mouth drained of all beauty as fangs shot out of bleeding gums. All plumpness melted out of her cheeks until the skin that was left stretched tight over thin facial bones, transforming her face into a half-starved, emaciated mask. Tangled black hair whipped around her head, wild and coarse as a horse's mane. She growled deep in her throat, and the tips of her pretty pink fingernails blackened as they sprouted into claws.

When she spoke, her voice was guttural and deep. Not in the least beautiful.Breath reeking of gangrene and burrowing maggots filled the air as she screamed._ "Kill him!"_

From all sides, black shapes launched themselves. Elmont stumbled back, keeping his sword up as they came for him. Things with stick-thin bodies and fingers that curled and bent in impossible ways. They moved too quickly for him to make out details, until he got a clear view of a pair of burning red eyes when one creature leapt for his face. Reflex took over. His sword sliced air, cleaving through a small, brittle body along the way. The monster fell in two pieces at his feet, causing the others to pull back. They formed a loose circle around, hissing, their red eyes fastened warily on the sword.

Elmont continued to back away, brandishing the sword as needed, until he was out from beneath the canopy of birches. Inhuman things still followed him as he sped back to the campfire, gnashing their teeth as they chased him, pinching and biting whenever they were close enough. Whenever his pursuers got too frisky, he turned and threatened them with the sword, whereupon they would retreat to a safer distance. It did not, however, stop them from attacking, if their idea of an attack was to pelt him with spoiled fruit. But as long as the sword was in his hands, they didn't dare approach, and he was certain he knew why.

_Iron and steel together. Perfect defense against the Fay._

The light from the fire shone through the trees like a beacon. Before taking the final three steps that would bring him into the safe circle of light, one of the monsters threw caution to the wind and sprang at him. Silhouetted in fire, Elmont got a glimpse of a twisted, gray face fringed by a thick mat of silvery beard. Thick lips pulled back over a mouthful of canine teeth as the creature drew a clawed forelimb back, preparing to swipe at Elmont's eyes. The crackling fire, the creature's face, everything became a muddled blur as he moved. Wet warmth spattered in huge drops over the knight's face as he ducked under the creature at the apex of its leap, slicing metal across its belly. It tumbled back to earth in a heap of spidery legs and arms, mewling pitifully as it dragged itself away.

Once more within the sputtering firelight, Elmont fell to his knees. The white-knuckled grip he'd maintained on his sword eased up, the blade landing in the grass with a soft thump. As he'd suspected, the dark beings out in the forest were unable to come any closer.

_Don't leave the fire._ Fye had known, damn him.

Sore from being pinched and poked, not to mention dripping with rancid fruit juice, Elmont let his chin droop to his chest. Sprawled out in the grass, the blissful snoring of the giants filled the night around him.

There came a brief stutter in the near-synchronized pattern of sound. Elmont glanced up to see Fee crack open one bleary, unfocused eye.

"Wussa goin' on?" he asked, his voice slurred from sleep. 'Didja find us some sheep?"

"No," Elmont said, rubbing his shoulders and wishing with all his heart for a beehive to stick in the giant's mouth. "Go back to sleep."

{O}

**AN: **Having sweated and agonized over this chapter, first thing I want to blurt out is that I'm really starting to wish Fallon's second head had a name. I mean, I can't call John Kassir's Fallon "Fallon" because that might confuse him with Bill Nighy's Fallon when I actually mean the entire being that is Fallon and...you get the idea. And having to refer to the little guy as "the small head" or "the second head" gets boringly repetitive after awhile. So, I'm curious. To my readers and reviewers, what do you guys think would be a good name for Fallon's second head? I can't promise I'll use any of them in this story, but if nothing else this little query should provoke some entertaining discussion within the JTGS fandom!


	10. Chapter 9: Trust

**Title: **Seed of Darkness

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** A new threat descends upon Cloister and Jack must use the Crown of Erik to call on some unlikely allies. Fallon/Isabelle, Fumm/OC

**Disclaimer: **I make no money whatsoever off this story or any of the characters.

**AN:** The ice finally breaks between Isabelle and Fallon. Oh, and there's fanservice.

**Chapter 9: Trust**

"There it is. I knew I smelled it!"

_You sound ever so pleased with yourself._ The princess silently admitted that her giant companion had good reason to be happy. The lake was the most beautiful sight she'd seen in days. Wide as the moat that surrounded Cloister, the water sparkled a healthy blue that was tinged in places by green algae. Fallon had followed the scent of water for hours, tracking the paths of fast-moving mountain streams. Stepping across rivers strong enough to wash away a normal man, their waters splashing and foaming around his ankles, while the princess rode with her arms locked tight around the neck of his second head and prayed that he wouldn't trip on the jagged rocks beneath the water. Their journey had taken them out of the deepest recesses of the mountains, down steep hillsides and through narrow ravines until they'd finally found the bowl-shaped depression where all the streams joined. Where even a giant could have a bath.

Beside her, the second head huffed and rolled its eyes, unhappy with its brother for taking all credit for the discovery. Keeping a tight grip on its neck with one hand, Isabelle lifted her other hand up to stroke its cheek. The little creature immediately brightened. The princess cast a wary glance at the bigger head, wondering if her gentle touch also affected him.

Aside from a slight twitch in his cheek, Fallon's attention stayed focused on the lake as he headed down the gradual slope to its shore. He did, however, seem to be in a conversational mood. Smug satisfaction practically dripped from the giant's deep voice when he spoke. "Plenty of room for all of us, eh, little songbird?"

Isabelle cringed, her face turning beet-red. What he implied was indecent enough; the use of his new nickname for her added an extra layer of embarrassment. Singing him to sleep the other night had left her feeling unexpectedly happy and accomplished...until he'd woken up._ "You did well last night, my little songbird," _he'd grinned_._ She wasn't sure if he meant the name as a taunt or an endearment, and wasn't quite sure how to respond to it either way. Which was, she suspected, exactly what the sly old monster wanted.

As the heat drained from her cheeks, some of her old boldness returned. Turning to glare at the side of Fallon's nose, Isabelle shot back, "You need a bath more than I do."

Fallon's upper lip curled. "Of course. Because princesses never lose their sweetness. Or their temper." He touched a finger to the palm of his right hand, stroked a tiny scar nestled among the lines of his veins. It was, Isabelle realized, the scar she'd given him when she'd stabbed him in the garden.

_Your one to talk about losing your temper._ She didn't dare voice the thought aloud, unsure how far she could push him.

Thick fingers closed around her, and the princess shut her eyes against the dizzying change in perspective as the giant lowered her to the ground. Taking a moment to brush down her dress, she then took a tentative step closer to the water. Damp sand clotted between her toes, a sensation both unpleasant and oddly reassuring. Reeds and cattails grew in clumps along the shoreline, swaying whenever a light breeze ruffled them. Tiny ripples flowed over the surface of the water, otherwise all was still. If she could just forget about the reptilian menace - plus one unpredictable giant - that might suddenly come at her with teeth gnashing and eyes blazing, Isabelle thought she might be able to relax.

Steel armor rattled and clanked behind her as Fallon moved away. She'd only been half-joking when she'd said he needed a bath more than she did. The wounds he'd received in yesterday's battle needed to be kept clean. And while she felt thoroughly filthy clothed in a tattered, mud-spattered dress with unwashed hair and dirt grimed under her fingernails, going another day without a bath wouldn't leave her in danger of dying from infection.

_Just like you, to put others needs before your own._ Her father's voice drifted like old, sweet incense through the back of her mind, raising a brief flare of bittersweet pain in her heart. _To you, even the life of a selfish, savage giant is worth saving._

A smooth voice from behind her jerked her roughly back to reality. "It's good to feel wind against my skin again."

She turned, and felt her jaw drop while her lungs forgot how to breathe.

_Oh my..._

During her brief stay in Fallon's castle, she'd found herself in the presence of many huge, nearly naked men. At the time, the threat of a gruesome, violent death at the hands of her captors had left her terrified brain incapable of noticing or appreciating any of their physical attributes. Indeed, she liked to think she was indifferent to her baser instincts concerning the opposite sex, what with her royal upbringing and father's nearly zealous crusade to keep her confined to the palace. That indifference, real or imagined, was being sorely tested at the moment by the sight before her now.

All the pieces of Fallon's armor lay in a silvery pile on the ground near his feet, along with the human and dragon bone trophies he liked to wear. Standing bare-chested, with only a ragged brown loincloth as a flimsy token of modesty, the giant was a living, breathing mountain of raw masculinity. Isabelle found herself rubbing at her arms and shifting from foot to foot just to keep from staring like a blushing maid at the curvature of each powerful, well-defined muscle.

She took a few steps back, trying to look everywhere but at the two-headed beefcake in front of her.

Glaring down at her, Fallon tilted his head to one side. The second head mimicked him while making a small burbling sound. Judging from the way Fallon's eyebrows were drawing together, her sudden shift in behavior mystified him. "What?" he snapped.

Isabelle felt her cheeks burning. "Do you have to-?" She waved an arm at the discarded pieces of armor, their sharp edges glinting innocently in the sun.

Fallon stared at her a second longer before comprehension hit him. His expression stayed perfectly blank, though for a princess who'd spent years at court learning - with mixed success - to read the subtle nuances of feeling behind the masks people made of their faces, the flicker of amusement in the giant's eyes did not go unnoticed. "Yes, I do. Not that you would know this, princess, but it's harder to swim when you're weighed down by steel."

_You seemed to have done well enough in the fire-moat._ Isabelle knew better than to voice that thought aloud, though.

Fallon took a step toward her, prompting her to take one back, so that she was almost standing ankle-deep in the water. A slow smirk crinkled the corners of his mouth. "You could undress too, Your _Highness_."

Had there been anywhere to hide, Isabelle would've gladly made herself scarce, for the sound of his thickly accented voice dragging out the sibilant hiss at the end of "undress" ignited her face like a torch. Refusing to look at him, she let her hair partially shield her features while she struggled to make the sizzling-hot butterflies in her stomach go away, feeling confused, awkward, and more than a little disgusted with herself. Fallon wasn't even human. He shouldn't be able to affect her like this, his intense stare and overwhelming maleness notwithstanding. And what about dear Jack, who'd thrown himself into Fallon's hands to save her from a hungry childhood nightmare made real...

_It's the end of the line, princess._

Calling to mind the memory of Fallon's wide-open mouth coming closer and closer to her while she screamed provided the jarring reminder she needed to rethink the kindlier thoughts she'd had about him earlier. Cruelty was in his nature, and he enjoyed tormenting his intended prey. True, her future as sacrificial lamb to sate Fallon's lust for revenge in exchange for the safety of Cloister was wholly her own choice, but the knowledge that it was the right thing to do wasn't enough to staunch the hot tide of resentment boiling up towards the giant and his sick games. He was like a child, playing with his food before he ate it. The Royal Guardians, Elmont, Jack, Crawe, all of them had fought so hard to save her from the terrible fate written in the old legend, only to have it snare her again anyway.

It wasn't fair.

Folding her arms across her chest, she managed to sound as much like a pampered, snobbish princess as she could. "I'd rather keep my clothes on, if it's all the same to you."

The smirk didn't leave the giant's face. If anything, it grew larger as he raised a hand to scratch at a scabby claw mark that trailed like blood-colored ink over one bulging pectoral."As you like, little songbird."

His use of the pet name rankled, and Isabelle had to fight against the unladylike temptation to grind her teeth.

Fallon stared at her a moment longer, impassive, with the dark flecks in his gray eyes swirling. Then he grunted, giving a slight twitch of his head as he dismissed her and turned his attention to the giant strode past her, causing Isabelle to splash backwards through shallow water, overcome by the instinctive urge to get out of his way. The air around her grew cold as she was momentarily blanketed in his shadow. Water sprayed up wherever he stepped, some of it spattering over her dress, though his great feet never came too close to her. Soon he was past, wading deeper and deeper into the lake.

Watching him as he stood submerged in cool blue up to his waist, it occurred to Isabelle that her only source of protection was leaving her, alone and vulnerable on the shore of a remote lake, while it went off for a merry little swim. And even though they hadn't seen - or in Fallon's case, smelled - any dragons around, that didn't mean that the crafty lizards weren't just biding their time.

"Fallon!" she called out.

The giant paused mid-stride. Still keeping his back to her, he growled, "What?"

""What about the dragons?" Isabelle hoped she didn't sound as nervous as she felt.

Apparently, she did. Fallon partially turned, giving her a quarter-profile view of his face, and she could see his lips press together in an exasperated grimace."Are you always so easily frightened?"

Her pride stung, Isabelle couldn't stop herself from snapping back. "When I'm surrounded by legendary monsters who want to kill me, yes!"

She soon regretted her rash words when she heard a soft mewling sound, and caught a glimpse of the second head as it strained to look past its brother. Its big, droopy eyes looked moist and sad, and its puffy lips puckered in a perfect, upside-down U as it frowned at her. Isabelle bowed her head, shamed. In her emotional state, she'd forgotten all about the little deformed misfit, who was the only "monster" to show her any kindness since this whole ordeal had started.

_Dear God, _she thought, worrying her lower lip._ I think I just hurt its feelings. _

If Fallon took offense at her words, he didn't show it. He did, however, sound extra-gruff when he snarled back at her. "Stay close to the water, then! Dragons won't come near that which quenches their fire."

The second head tried to say something, but was cut short when Fallon abruptly turned away. Sunlight streamed down on his broad back, and Isabelle once again found herself staring at all the rippling muscle beneath his skin. Tearing her eyes away took some effort, much to her dismay. More water splashed as the giant waded deeper, grumbling all the while, until he gulped in air and plunged beneath the surface of the lake.

Isabelle breathed deep, feeling flustered and confused and slightly nauseated at herself for behaving so wantonly. She was engaged, after all! And Fallon was a giant. An enemy.

_Not all of him._ Guilt coated her mouth with ashes when she remembered the genuine hurt she'd seen in the eyes of his second head when she'd unintentionally labeled it a monster. She'd spent the past two days clinging to its rubbery neck, taking comfort in its childlike, non-threatening presence while Fallon ranted and raved. The little misfit was starting to feel like a friend, the only friends she had in this mad adventure. Including the poor creature in the category of "enemy" seemed wrong. And that bothered her.

Wading into the shallow water, she dropped to her knees in cold, clear liquid that soaked the hem of her dress. She really did need a bath, and washing up would distract her from the war of conflicted feelings going on inside her. Though the dress was a hindrance, she refused to take it off, fearing Fallon would surface at any moment. Scooping water into her hands, she splashed her face until she felt clean skin again, then ran her soaking fingers through her tangled hair. As baths went it was meager fare, but it made her feel better. More civilized.

_Though I wish Fallon would hurry up. How long does it take a giant to bathe, anyway?_ Every few seconds, she cast nervous glances at the sky, expecting at any moment to see huge wings fly across the sun. The forest near the lake also made her uncomfortable. The branches of the trees tangled around each other like pythons, creating a canopy so green and thick no light reached the ground. It looked, she thought, like every forest spoken about in childrens' stories: dark, deep and full of monsters.

_I'm not afraid,_ she told herself._ Fallon can disappear for as long as he likes. I'm not afraid._ She peeled back her damp sleeves, intending to scrub at her arms, only to stare in dumb fascination at the purplish latticework of scars twisting over her skin all the way from wrists to elbows. The sight made the scanty breakfast she'd had flip over inside her stomach. It seemed a lifetime ago since she'd knelt on the abbey steps, with her sword buried deep in the mouth of a dragon and her arms covered in its burning blood. After the itching blisters had healed, she'd hoped that any marks left behind would be faint. Cupping a handful of water, she splashed it over her right arm, only to make the purple streaks look even more ghastly against her pale skin.

_At least I earned those scars._ The thought gave her little comfort. If anything, it only made her sadder. _Maybe if I had a sword again I wouldn't feel so- _

_\_

Something slammed into the ground less than a dozen feet away from her, showering her with dirt and sand. Nearly toppling over in her rush to get to her feet, she caught a wavering reflection in the water of a pair of slitted yellow eyes framed by spiky brow ridges. Shock made the underside of her skin tremble; the creature's gliding approach had been so stealthy she hadn't even sensed it. Shaking, with water running in trickling gold streams over her dress and dripping off her arms and hair, she turned to face the creature.

A winged, demonic- looking lizard, it crouched at the water's edge. Its muscular torso was fully armored in hard, overlapping green scales that scraped against each other when it moved, or even breathed. The princess took a tentative step back, deeper into the lake. Keeping its thick-lidded yellow eyes fixed unerringly on her, the dragon opened a set of jaws wide enough to swallow a human arm whole, Isabelle kept backing deeper into the lake, step by step, until she stood waist-deep in cold water. Still, the dragon remained on shore. Something about it seemed hesitant, uncertain. A fringe of silver-tipped spikes around its jowls spread out like a peacock's fan as it sniffed at the water. Its nostrils dilated, becoming black pits at the tip of its snout.

Isabelle's heart threatened to tear itself out of her chest. Where was her giant? "Fallon!" Her shout came out rough and half-choked with fear.

The dragon dipped a scaly forepaw into the water, and abruptly pulled it back, hissing. It ruffled its wings as a wisp of superheated steam leaked from a gap in its rows of crooked teeth. Inching forward, it lifted a foreleg and cautiously stepped into the water again, sinking wickedly-sharp claws into the soft mud.

Isabelle took another step back...and felt her foot slip. She barely had time to gasp before cold water closed in around her, filling her nose and mouth. For a brief second her vision filled with a whirl of green and blue bubbles, then she broke the surface...just in time to see the dragon's claws reaching for her.

_"Fallon!" _she screamed.

The lake churned behind her, then fountained thirty feet into the air as a single massive body with two mismatched heads raised itself from the lake bed. Two pairs of dark-rimmed, angry eyes latched upon the dragon. A dragon caught in the act of trying to steal _his_ princess! Battle rage filled the giant's heart as he charged forward, water sheeting off his torso in glittering streams. Startled, the dragon leapt backward, putting distance between itself and the princess just as the giant crashed into its side. Isabelle could only bob in the roiling water and watch, awestruck, as the dragon was pinned like a green butterfly beneath Fallon, who rained blows down upon it without stopping. His heavy fists were soon coated in steaming purple blood.

If the princess hadn't known better, she might've thought the giant was defending her honor.

Soon, the dragon's frantic wingbeats slackened, It squirmed less, making only weak attempts to rake Fallon with its claws. Sensing victory, Fallon's lips curled away from his teeth as he grabbed the dragon's neck in one hand, while keeping the other firmly planted on the beast's chest to hold it still. Forcing the dragon to bare its throat, he fastened his mouth around the vulnerable flesh. His teeth sliced through the dragon's neck like guillotine blades, and Isabelle had to swallow bile when she heard bones snap. Unable to watch anymore, she looked away.

When she looked back, the dragon's head hung from its neck by a single braided cord of skin and dripping, eggplant-colored muscle, nearly decapitated. Blood had spattered all over the face of Fallon's smaller head, painting its cheeks, nose, and forehead as though it had been dunked in grape juice. More rivulets of the strange blood were coursing down its temples, threatening to flow directly into its eyes. The little creature gibbered at its brother, who grudgingly offered assistance, flicking away the blood before it could hamper his brother's sight. Fallon himself was spitting out gobbets of purple-tinged saliva. His chest bore a fresh set of ragged gashes above the older, partially healed ones. He let the dragon's body fall among a clump of reeds, where it lay as a crumpled pile of scales, spikes, and bony protrusions The body made a soft, papery noise as it settled, like old snakeskin drying in the sun.

Floating in the water, Isabelle debated within herself. Even though she was soaking wet and freezing, Isabelle wasn't sure she wanted to approach her savior just yet. _He just bit the head off a dragon._ The crunch of monstrous teeth biting through bone awakened too many memories, none of them pleasant. She was still locked in indecision over what to do when Fallon decided the matter for her by taking two swift strides forward and snatching her out of the water.

Being lifted into the air by a giant's hand didn't help her increasingly tenuous grip on control. Panic threatened to overwhelm her, never mind that Fallon's grip on her wasn't as bruisingly tight as when he'd tried to eat her. Never mind the way his brows drew together in a look that might possibly be called concern.

She tried to speak, but Fallon cut her off.

"Quiet!" he snapped. "Do you not hear it?"

And then she _did_ hear it. Hissing so loud it sounded like it came from the throats of a million angry cobras. Slowly, she turned her head until her gaze landed on the forest, sure beyond any doubt that the source of the danger lay concealed among its dark paths. She was right. From her vantage point off the ground she could see the trees shaking, bending as streamlined predators slipped among them, with only the telltale flash of green scales to betray their identity.

Dragons. Lots of them, all converging on the spot where Fallon stood. And judging from the winged shadows passing overhead, they were in the skies as well. Turning back to Fallon, she blinked as she stared into the bulging eyes of his second head.

They looked _frightened_.

She looked up at Fallon, whose expression turned hard and focused. "Can you fight them?"

He looked at her as if she'd just posed the most ridiculous question ever asked since the beginning of time. "Do you _still_ think we are fools? We can't fight an entire army of them on our own, Your Highness!"

Isabelle followed Fallon's gaze as he returned his attention to the lake. Vast, deep, and with an opposite bank that was so remote it was invisible.

He turned back to her. "Can you swim?"

Isabelle shook her head. "Not very well, no."

It was probably fortunate Isabelle didn't understand Gantish. The guttural curse the giant used to express his feelings sounded so nasty in his native language no human translation could possibly do it justice.

The hissing was so loud now it was deafening. One

dragon had already emerged from the trees and was stalking toward them with slow, leisurely steps.

Trapped in Fallon's hand, Isabelle was struggling not to hyperventilate when she was lifted so high she could look directly into the giant's eyes. Being able to lock eyes with him was always a jarring experience, only now it was doubly so because she couldn't decipher what was going on behind that hauntingly direct gaze.

"Do you trust me, princess?"

She gaped at him. Was he joking? Since she'd met him, she'd been locked in a cage, chased by dragons, and stuffed in a bag of bones. Without thinking, she blurted out, "No!"

Unfazed, the giant shot her a grim, tight little smile. "Better start now, then."

And before Isabelle even had time to scream he shoved her into his mouth.

{O}

Fallon would've laughed, if his mouth hadn't been full.

It was ridiculous enough, cramming an entire human into his mouth. Knowing that he was doing so in order to protect said human was so hilarious he only hoped his brothers back home never found out about it. They'd never let him live it down.

Around him, the dragons came. Their hisses and snarls filled the air. Easy enough to hear, despite his right ear having nearly gone deaf from the screeching raised by his second head. The little half-wit thought he was going to eat its human pet. There hadn't been time to explain his plan to either of them and there wasn't any more time now. Sparing a quick, wistful glance at the pile of discarded armor, he ran for the lake, splashing into the water until it closed around his waist, then dove headfirst below the surface.

Unlike most of his kind, he'd never really liked getting wet, but he was a strong swimmer when it came down to either swimming or dying. He'd spoken the truth when he said he couldn't fight an entire army of dragon's on his own, though it galled him to have to flee from battle, even a hopeless one. Chances were he could take at least a couple of the bastards down before they got him. The princess would've been killed for certain, however, and that was a death he couldn't allow, unless he was the one doing the killing.

The water was icy cold, but clear. Much clearer than the castle moat he'd been dunked into. He swam fast, fighting against the currents with powerful strokes of his arms, kicking with both legs. The princess was helping to spur him on by wriggling like a scorpion in his mouth: kicking, punching, and just adding to his general discomfort. Never mind that his cheeks were stretched so far they felt ready to burst. It was a struggle simply not to give in to the temptation to just swallow her whole. But if he did that, he knew he would be breaking their agreement by taking his revenge too soon.

_When has a little detail like that ever stopped you?_ a voice spoke up inside him. He didn't like that voice. It made him think there might be other reasons he'd want to keep her alive.

_She would kick going down_, Fallon told himself. As an excuse for showing mercy, it felt weak until he flashed back to the time he'd swallowed a knight wearing reinforced steel boots. The little upstart had nearly choked him before he'd quaffed an entire cask of beer to help the little human on his way.

_I hate it when they kick._

**CRACK!** Wincing, Fallon almost opened his mouth in response to the sharp pain where a jab from inside damn near knocked two of his teeth out. _Girl, I'm getting you across this thrice-damned waterhole as fast as I can! _He normally found it amusing when the princess tried to fight him; he was finding it less amusing now. _Fire and Thunder,_ _I HATE it when they kick!_ He consoled himself by savoring her taste in his moat, the richest ambrosia he'd had in centuries. Sweet as apples drenched in spiced honey, but also mixed with a curious sour tang that reminded him of...

The foul juices of a dragon? Yes, it was there. Soaked into her very skin. Interesting. He hadn't tasted it on her the day he'd sampled her flavor in the garden. Of course, she'd been wearing armor that time.

He'd question her about it later. Right now he had to focus on getting her out of his mouth before her wild flailing dislodged every tooth in his head.

Relief swept through his aching body and burning lungs as the lake grew shallow enough for his toes to touch the bottom. Pebbles and rocks chafed the soles of his feet as he waded to shore, inhaling deeply through his nose when he could finally raise his head above water. His second head released its own held breath in a ripping, noisy gust, then glared at him expectantly. He knew what it wanted, and he was more than happy to oblige. Striding quickly onto shore, he spat a miserable-looking princess into his hand. With her arms and legs dangling over the sides of his hand, the girl lay across the flat of his palm unmoving and gleaming wet as a golden fish. Fallon watched her, expecting her to scream or curse him. Instead, she just lay in his open hand like a dead thing, her sopping hair sticking to her shoulders in a tangled, hazel-colored mess, her glazed eyes wide-open and staring at nothing.

Pain shot through Fallon's waterlogged ears as his second head let loose with a high-pitched, anguished yowl, the meaning of which was obvious. _What did you do? _Some of its concern started to affect him as he raised the stunned human to his nose and sniffed her. No smell of blood. She wasn't hurt and he saw the rise and fall of her chest. Most likely, she was simply in shock and they'd just have to wait for her to come out of it. Perfect

_Why do humans have to be so damn fragile? _He grumbled to himself as he cradled the little female in his hands. He gazed down at her, studied the strange, beautifully soft angles of her face, and felt something brittle give way inside his heart. She was so small, so defenseless and vulnerable...

"Princess?" he asked tentatively. A low murmur came from beside him, the sound of his little brother chiming in.

Something rustled in the tall grass nearby. Fallon's hackles rose. Cursing himself for a fool, he tore his eyes away from the princess and scanned his surroundings. He was on open ground, with a dangerous clear sky above him and a long trek through hilly terrain before they would find shelter. Swimming across the lake might've thrown the lizards off his scent for now, but it wouldn't be enough to make them give up the hunt. He worried little about himself if they were ambushed, but the princess wasn't in any shape to fight, even if it were possible for her to hold her own against a fire-breather.

Checking the position of the sun, Fallon set off for the northern hills, carrying the princess in his cupped hands. He'd barely taken ten long strides before a dragon thrust itself in his path. The beast's scale-covered chest nearly hugged the ground as one foreleg extended to bar his way, while its spike-studded head whipped around to face him, teeth bared and eyes flashing.

Fallon growled, deep and slow and threatening. He tracked his adversary's every movement: the swish of its pointed tail, the positioning of its folded wings, each time its ribs became visible when it breathed. This dragon was small, lightly muscled but with a sleekness that spoke of a wolf's gift for speed. Fallon began racing through possible attack stratagems in his mind. A single dragon, no matter how fast, could be easily dealt with by an experienced Gantuan warrior, especially in a straight fight, but it wasn't standard practice for his kind to do battle while shielding very traumatized, very breakable humans. Fortunately, this dragon didn't seem in any hurry to attack. Lambent yellow eyes glared at him from down the end of its sickle-shaped beak. Then its throat began to work, the pale green flesh bulging as the creature forced out harsh, half-choked cries.

Fallon began to understand. The ugly snake didn't intend to attack, but to deliver a message. Though they were all capable of speech, dragons hardly ever deemed it worth their while. Unless the creature to whom they spoke had several times thwarted their schemes. In which case, they _always_ had something unpleasant to say.

It took several moments for the choked sounds to coalesce into words. When they did, they were raspy, crowlike utterances barely recognizable as speech. "I speak for the nest. First and last time I will ask it of you, Two-Heads!" The dragons eyes swiveled in their sockets, each working independently to keep both of his heads in view. It was unnerving, but the giant hid his uneasiness behind a snarl. "Give us the sweet little maiden!" The dragon snapped its jaws shut in a decisive click.

_That wasn't exactly asking,_ Fallon thought as he stared down at the hunched reptile. _Of all the pretentious arrogance! _Fallon's second head expressed its own feelings in a vicious snarl a millisecond before his larger brother repeated the gesture. Clutching the princess to his chest, the giant shouted, "She is MINE! My claim was on her before you worms ever poked your foul snouts from your shells."

The dragon spread its wings, then folded them again like an irritated bird. It shut its eyes and reopened them in a long, slow blink, a sign Fallon recognized as expressing indifference."And we claim her now, Two-Heads. The pretty princess killed our egg-brother. Robbed him of rightful hunt-prize. Food should not fight back."

Fallon hid his surprise at this revelation behind a mask of stony calm. Whereas his smaller, more excitable brother failed completely, barking out a quick string of garbled -up words that vaguely sounded like _She did WHAT?_ The dragon paid his little brother no mind, however, keeping its slitted yellow gaze entirely trained on Fallon, who sneered back, "Really? No fighting takes all the fun out of it, if you ask us."

"Place her in my jaws, and your tribe may hunt human meat with us." Curving its neck, the dragon opened its toothy jaws and waited, like a baby bird expecting food.

If the giant had still carried his flail, he would've let it do the answering for him. As it was, his fist made a fine substitute for the iron ball when he stooped and sent it flying at the dragon's face, while cradling the princess in his other hand. His knuckles connected hard with the curved tip of the beast's snout, knocking a few scales loose before sending the beast cartwheeling backwards. By the time it rolled to a stop, it had crashed through a thicket of young beech saplings, flattening them like wheat stalks. "We would rather suck flyblown corpses than hunt with you! The princess belongs to us!" A raucous shout echoed his declaration as his second head agreed. The dragon rolled on its back like a turtle, wings flapping and jaws snapping. In a moment, it had regained its feet and crouched amid a ruin of smashed wood, sap, and leaves, glaring at the giant with shining, hate-filled eyes.

The dragon hissed, prompting Fallon to sneer back. He cradled the princess even closer to his chest before speaking. "You want her, you'll have to shed blood for her. I've already sunk my teeth into one of your kind today. I can easily kill more."

_Though I hope I don't have to._ Tensing, Fallon watched as the dragon's throat puffed out. Then it seemed to gag, its whole body shivering in quick little spasms while nothing more dangerous than a few white smoke clouds burst from its mouth.

Fallon grinned. "Not feeding well lately, are you?" A gleeful giggle from his second head. "Not enough fuel for your fire."

Things crunched and broke as the dragon extricated itself from the pile of debris that used to be a thicket. It spread its wings, ribbed supports stretching, transparent membranes backlit by the sun so that they practically glowed with green light. "Doesn't matter!" it screeched. "Bastard sons of filthy angels! Mother will soon swallow you all!"

It pushed off with its hind legs and vaulted into the sky. Fallon watched it until it was barely more than a black pinprick against the blue, feeling oddly jealous. Such loathsome beasts should never have been blessed with flight.

In his arms, the princess began to stir. Her small hands pushed feebly against his chest.

"Be still!" he snapped. His second head repeated the order in a voice that creaked like rusted iron hinges. Miraculously, she obeyed, going rigid as death in his hands. A breath of fear drifted up to him, causing both giants to wrinkle their noses.

_Today was a pleasant little disaster_, he thought archly. A fresh set of claw marks streaked his chest, he had lost his armor, and every dragon in the entire cursed world wanted a piece of his princess. More than a piece, if they could get it. A growl built up inside him, but was smothered when pain flared from the wounds on his chest. He'd have to find more of the healing plant later. First task was to get Her Majesty back to the cave in one piece, then he'd deal with the consequences when they came. Who knows? Perhaps he'd have a grateful little princess at his beck and call tonight.

{O}

"PRINCESS! COME OUT!"

"No!"

"COME OUT OR I'LL-"

"SQUAWK!"

Fallon sighed, and brought his big hands up to rub at his aching temples. He should've known the girl would try something like this. She'd been quiet the whole way back to the cave. Fear had boiled from her skin, tainting her usual sweet scent with its pungent reek. Normally, he liked the smell of fear on humans but smelling it on her made him feel...different. He'd been so distracted that, upon reaching the cave, he'd made the mistake of setting her on the ground, instead of on the shelf of rock where he usually kept her. Once he'd done that, he'd meant to roll the boulder to bar the entrance and scarce had turned his back before the insufferable girl was dashing off for the smallest, darkest crevasse she could find and squeezing herself into it. Her scent had betrayed her, of course. Sniffing out her whereabouts took only moments, but she'd evidently learned a thing or two about him, the crevasse was only a chink in the rock wall, barely wide enough to poke his fingers into. For a frightened, pint-sized human, it made a very neat little hidey-hole, especially when said human was pressed so far back he couldn't even see her.

Speaking slowly, he struggled to keep the angry tremor out of his voice. "Princess." The angry tremor still found its way in, and was accompanied by another reproachful squawk from his twin. "Come out, and we promise not to hurt you."

Her high, terrified shout came from deep inside the wall. "Please, just leave me alone!"

_This is useless. _Fallon clenched and unclenched his fists, itching to do some damage. It would've been so easy to just punch a hole through the wall and drag her out, but she could very easily be injured by falling debris, and as frustrated as he was, he didn't want to hurt her.

Yet.

Growling to himself, the giant brushed a vast space clear of rocks and moss, then sat down outside the princess's hiding place.

"Then we shall sit out here and wait for you."

No answer came from within the wall, and for the first time in over a century the giant found himself at a loss over how to handle a situation. This wasn't warfare or an interrogation or any of the countless hunting games he was good at. This was a human girl frightened out of her wits. He'd guessed something like this would happen eventually. He'd seen captured human soldiers break under pressure, mostly because he'd been the one supplying the pressure. Usually, such captives were disposed of after no more use could be made of them, but the princess was far too valuable to cast aside.

Minutes crawled by in total silence, and with each ragged breath he took the blazing hot anger in him slowly cooled, leaving an uncomfortable emptiness inside. His shoulders slumped, his head hung low, and his hands lay together in his lap, long fingers twisting and fidgeting. Never before had a human's fear of him made him so dejected. He searched his whole being for reasons why this should be, and the answer, when it came, unnerved him.

Cracks were forming in the outer crust of his hard heart. So far, they were no bigger than hairline fractures, but there were many of them, and the princess's sweet nature was their cause. Her face, her scent, her voice, all of it was chipping away at the unfeeling stone in his chest, bringing forth the great furnace at its center. His soul burned from the molten heat as he was filled with desires and emotions that had lain buried for countless ages of forgotten years.

It was the same condition that had taken his Father. And now it was taking him too.

Proof that, of all things, God still had a sense of humor.

An army of conflicting feelings clashed as a violent war raged inside him. A siege upon his very nature. His warrior spirit shouted for him to kill the girl, rip her body to pieces and season her tender meat with pepper and vinegar before gulping it all down until there was nothing left of her. But the small, disorganized army fighting on behalf of his heart's desire would not give up easily. He'd felt drawn to her ever since he'd first seen her as a terrified prisoner. Bloodlust and hate had clouded his judgement, for he should've guessed there was more to her arrival than mere accident. A suspicion took root in his mind as to a possible reason behind her unexpected arrival in Gantua. And if what he suspected was true, then he and his entire race had missed their chance at salvation. Again.

Fallon's thoughts were so bleak he soon lost himself in staring morosely into the dark recess where the princess had hidden herself, wondering how to get her out.

_Simple enough, lad. You have to make her trust you_. Imagining his Father's advice was more irritating than helpful. How the hell was she ever going to trust _him_, the ancient enemy of her family? Fallon glanced over at his second head, who returned his stare with a small noise accompanied by a quizzical lift of an eyebrow. It was no secret to him that his halfling twin had taken a liking to the girl, a liking that he thought was returned. Never before had he bothered to ask advice from the little half-witted growth on his shoulder, but he figured now he had nothing to lose by trying. "What do we do?"

His twin's eyes shone, his dopey smile was huge, and Fallon's spirits lifted as he hoped to hear the little misfit speak comprehensible words to him for once.

"Glurrrrgher! Barfen! Squeeee!"

All his hopes plummeted out of the sky, were dashed into pieces, and swirled into dust. "What?" Resting his chin in one hand, Fallon could barely muster the energy for his usual caustic reply. It was pitiful, his little brother's eagerness to help. He lowered his eyes again, fixed them on the spot of darkness where his quarry was hiding. His brow furrowed as he thought over possible ways to approach her. _A frightened human will hide until it thinks it's safe to come out. _He'd learned that from experience. _So we just have to make her feel safe. _

He took a deep breath. This wasn't going to be easy.

"Princess," he said, keeping his voice low and even, "why do you hide from us?"

When it finally came, her reply was sharp and accusing. "You tried to eat me."

A growl thrummed in the back of his throat before it was choked off. He reminded himself that she didn't know what had happened once they'd made it across the lake, didn't know that she owed him her life yet again. "Princess, if I wanted to eat you, you'd be in my belly by now. I did what I did to save you. I promised I would not take my revenge until after the dragons had been dealt with and to that I will hold true." His small head chirped in agreement.

Silence greeted him, broken only by the occasional drip of water. He bent closer and squinted, trying to peer into the girl's dark sanctuary. Thought he spied a flash of tattered gold silk that vanished almost as soon as he'd laid eyes on it. Leaning back, he exhaled sharply through his nose, clearing it of dust. The fear scent was still strong around her. Stroking his chin, he tried a different tactic.

"One who has slain a dragon should have little to fear from us." He leaned back and waited. If she didn't answer this time, he would tear down the wall and...

"How did you know? I-I mean who told you I did any such thing?"

_At last, we're getting somewhere._ One corner of his mouth curved into a triumphant smirk, which was mirrored by his twin's lopsided grin. Carefully, he shifted himself so that he was a fraction closer to the opening.

"You're scars told me, princess," he said, keeping his voice as low and soothing as it was possible to make it. "Only one who has drenched themselves in dragon's blood comes away with marks like those. An impressive feat, Your Highness. No human has ever slain a dragon and lived."

His ears pricked up, catching the sound of rustling fabric. Small stones crunched beneath him as he scooted just a tiny bit closer. If she ventured far enough out of her hole, he'd have a chance of snatching her.

When she finally spoke, her voice was small and hesitant. "But in all the old stories..."

Try as he might, the giant couldn't hold back his snarl. "You mean the lies of dead men?" An angry squeal from his twin reminded him to stay focused. The girl was too young to know that the reason no dragonslayer's ever survived was because they were all systematically hunted down by the snakes and eventually killed. The lust for vengeance ran hot in both Gantuan and dragon blood. As long as fire-breathers roamed Albion, they would never stop hunting her. Worry, outrage, and a territorial desire to protect his rightful prize all rose up within him, making his nostrils flare and hands clench into fists.

Shaking himself, he forced his attention back to the girl. Perhaps it was time for a little flattery. "Such a feat took great courage, Your Highness. Know that we do not offer praise lightly."

Her voice, low and resentful, echoed around the cave. "You don't even like me. You gave me to your Cook."

It took a full minute of controlled breathing before the giant could get a grip on the fraying leash of his temper. "Only because Roderick commanded it," he said. A muscle twitched in his cheek as he recalled the arrogant little man. "I would never have given you to such a foul cook. The fool couldn't even stew a lamb's heart without spoiling it. I would rather have eaten you raw than-"

The giant stopped mid-sentence as a familiar high-pitched wail shot daggers into h8is ears. Slapping a hand to the side of his head while baring his teeth in a pain-filled grimace, Fallon endured yet another incoherent tirade from his second head, a spluttering, mashed-up string of angry jabber where the only words he could remotely make out sounded suspiciously like _You idiot! _

Curling one hand into a fist and making a threatening gesture proved successful in persuading the raving little lunatic to shut its mouth. Lapsing into sullen silence, his twin narrowed its round eyes into slits while jutting its lower lip out in an angry pout. Its glare made Fallon feel oddly self-conscious, like something was expected of him. Something he needed to say if he was ever going to get the girl to come out of her stinking hole. A tremor passed through his body as he thought back to how, on the cliffs of his homeland, he'd been chastised by Fumm concerning the princess. _She was helpless and a prisoner! You had no right!_

He cleared his throat.

"Princess," he called out. "When you were caged, I should not have treated you so roughly. I am" - he found he had to force the next words through gritted teeth - "sorry for what I did to you."

The words hung in the air. The two giants held their collective breath, waiting.

"No, you're not," she said.

Her rejection hit Fallon like arrows fired from a phalanx of scorpions. Snatching up a small boulder, he turned and, snarling, hurled it into the flickering gloom at the opposite end of the cave. The sound it made as it shattered echoed through the stone chamber, bouncing hollowly among the twisted spears of stalactites. Fuming, the giant's entire body quivered in pent-up fury as he whirled back to regard the chink in the wall. Never before had he dealt with a woman so frustrating. If he'd had hair, he would've been tearing it out by the handfuls. Whatever his second head was yammering was quickly drowned out by Fallon's own angry outburst, his strained voice barely staying below the level of a roar. "Fire and Thunder! Have we not been punished enough? Do you know what it felt like when that cursed beanstalk sprouted inside us? We are no strangers to pain, my twin and I, but being rent asunder from within was an agony like none other. The imps of Hell have yet to devise a more cruel torment. "

Her reply, faint and scared, drifted out to him. "I'm sorry you suffered, but that wasn't my fault."

A tidal wave of red rage nearly overwhelmed him. He pounded a fist into the cold stone floor, leaving a two-foot deep crater surrounded by a spiderweb of cracks. All control finally slipped and his voice became a full-fledged roar as he shouted at her. "NOT YOUR FAULT? You, my little princess, have brought us nothing but misery and suffering since we saw your face in that dungeon! How many of my brothers died because of you? And how many of your own? Your friend, Crawe, might yet live had he not thrown his life away. _For you!_ Death follows your footsteps wherever you roam. And you claim it's not your fault!"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. Throughout the cave, dim green moss-light sputtered in clumps like beds of fireflies as Fallon grew silent, the inferno within him slowly cooling. His throat was beginning to hurt from all the growling and yelling, he was still wet from swimming in the lake, and his head felt like an entire castle had fallen onto it. Deep creases etched themselves on hi forehead as he leaned against the stone wall beside him, all the fire and bluster draining out of him in a long, deep sigh. Sparing a glance at his twin, he saw the edges of its ears droop in a comical show of defeat. He knew what it was thinking. That last outburst likely sent the princess scurrying so far back into her shelter that not even seeing a dead man's apparition would be enough to force her out. His chest twinged, the wounds he had suffered today once again making themselves known. He closed his eyes.

When he opened them, the princess was sitting on a lump of rock within easy reach of his hand. A shivering wisp of a girl in tattered gold, with her arms wrapped tight around her middle as if she were about to fall to pieces and, most distressing of all, there were tears flowing freely down her cheeks.

"You're right," she said, wiping at her eyes. "It was all my fault. When the beanstalk reached Gantua, I had a whole day where I could've climbed back down. But I didn't and-" Her face crumpled as she nearly choked on her sobs. "My mother used to tell me that when I was Queen, I could make the world a better place. And now that I am Queen, my kingdom's falling apart, my people are dying all around me, and I can't do anything to stop it. I haven't even been crowned yet and I'm already a failure."

A soft, mewling note of distress came from his second head. Then its neck began to strain and pull against his shoulder, like it would tear itself away and go to her. An unsettling tightness was in his body. Watching the princess weep was sloughing more layers of stone from his heart. Months ago, he would've laughed at her weakness. He couldn't bring himself to laugh now.

Heaving a resigned sigh, he reached down and gathered the princess up in his hands. Her little frame shook from cold and fear; her clothes still damp, icy, and clinging in ways that were not entirely unpleasant to his eyes. Any giant who said human women were ugly was a fool. The beauty was there, it just took some getting used to.

He lifted her up, hesitated, then pressed her against the naked skin of his belly. Judging from her surprised gasp, such gentle treatment had not been what she'd expected. She made a token show of resistance, pushing and squirming against him, but soon gave up and allowed herself to be held. Her weight seemed unbelievably light in his hands, as if she were made of clouds and air. Fallon could feel the press of her cheek against his flesh, was aware of her tear-stained eyes blinking up at him in confusion.

Gazing down on her, he spoke very slowly, letting his second head chime in whenever it wished. "You could've climbed back down." He paused, waited until th princess answered him with a nod. "Why didn't you?"

Her eyes misted over, seeing visions of a legendary world full of wonder and danger. "I wanted to look around first." She lowered her eyes, looking almost embarrassed. "I'd heard stories about Gantua all my life. I...just wanted to see it."

"Hmm," he grunted. He'd thought as much. "When we were younger," he said, careful not to growl lest he frighten her, "we dreamed of one day climbing Old Stormshiver, the highest peak on Gantua. It is said to be so tall its summit touches the feet of God himself." He paused, while the princess stared at him with very wide, wondering eyes. "Do you believe in God, princess?"

It was the first question he'd put to her when he'd conducted her interrogation, and judging from the pained look in her eyes, she remembered. Unfamiliar guilt tied Fallon's gut into a knot as the princess gulped, no doubt thinking of dark dungeons and cages. "I'm...finding it a little difficult at the moment."

"Do you know how Gantua came to be in the sky, princess? Why it floats there, unaided, and is forever separate from your world?"

She blinked at him, causing another tear to slide down her cheek. "No, I don't."

He nodded, having fully expected her not to know. Mankind's ancestors were still crawling in mud and throwing rocks at the stars when all this had taken place. "It is there because God's angels put it there." He paused, feeling her start to tremble a little in his hands. Carefully holding her against him with one hand, he moved his other hand so that he was free to trace a finger down her spine."Long ago they decided giants could not stay on Earth. So they created a place in-between, a place that was neither of Heaven or Earth, and gave it to us to be our home."

"Do you know what it is like, my princess, to be trapped between two worlds? Knowing that one rejects you and the other is already full of-" He'd been about to say _worthless little meatsacks_ but fortunately his brain cut him off just in time.

With his hands wrapped around her, he could feel the unnatural beat of her heart - twice as fast as his own - and worried it might explode inside her chest. He stopped stroking her spine and began drawing lazy circles over the tense muscles of her back, careful not to apply too much pressure. A dark, hateful corner of his mind wondered what the hell he was doing, but he found it was becoming easier to keep that part of himself at bay. At least when the princess was looking at him the way she was now.

Isabelle stared up at him, tears glimmering on her long lashes. She licked her lips nervously, not fully relaxing under his touch but not fighting to get away either. "After my mother died, I-I kept running away from the palace. Because I felt like I didn't belong there. Everyone treated me like the pampered daughter of the King but they never tried to understand who I really was. They didn't care about the real me, people just wanted to be my friend so they could curry favor with my father." She sighed, her voice growing very soft and sad. "They wouldn't have bothered with me if I wasn't a princess. So I would run off and mingle with common folk whenever I could. To them, I was just another face." She sighed again, was unable to meet his eyes. "If I hadn't run away from home the night the beanstalk sprouted, I wouldn't have been taken to Gantua, and you would never have caught me."

Fallon permitted himself a silent smirk._ Oh, we would've found a way to catch you, princess. Never fear. Even if we'd had to grow wings and fly down to Albion like a bird. _"When you are born with two heads, princess, finding 'the real you' is not only impossible, but pointless." An indignant screech from beside him, a word that sounded like a strangled _Hey!_ Fallon ignored it, focusing all his attention on the girl in his arms. "And I was wrong about you, princess."

Blank surprise greeted him. "You...were?"

This time, saying the words was easier, and even a little rewarding when the princess's mouth opened in a look of pure amazement."We don't believe you ever truly meant any harm, little one. We don't even believe you ever truly had a choice in the path laid out for you. "We...I am sorry, princess." There was a wriggling on his shoulder, then a small croak as his second head mimicked him, all sad-eyed and droopy-eared. _Sorry._

One of her small human hands lay against his skin. He found the touch...distracting. "But...but..._why?_" she stammered.

"Isabelle," he said, feeling a strong desire to use her given name. "What were the chances that a daughter of mankind, a girl descended from the divine blood of kings, would be brought to us on the leaves of the first beanstalk to sprout in more than a thousand years?"

She shrugged. "Coincidence?"

"No, little princess." One of Fallon's fingers moved to touch her hair, and he found he liked the silken feel of it. "Your coming was likely a test." _A test that we failed miserably._

"And all this with the dragons is also a test?" she asked, sounding uncertain.

Fallon lifted his left shoulder in a half-shrug. "It could be." He didn't give the question much thought, finding himself more interested in the princess's hair. Not many of his kind had hair; getting to touch it was a true novelty. "God likes to do these things now and then, just to make all our lives interesting."

"I wish He'd warn us first."

The giant chuckled softly. "Don't we all, little songbird."

Time passed. The princess leaned against him, a thoughtful look in her eyes. Fallon growled to himself, a low, contented rumble.

"What about your armor?" Isabelle asked finally.

"I'll go back for it in the morning." _And hope that the dragons haven't melted it all to slag. _

Cold air swirled around the cave, heavy wit the scent of water, moss, and petrifaction. Fallon inhaled, catching a heady draught of Isabelle's scent, and noticed it had changed slightly. A silly grin spread over the face of his second head, almost from ear to ear.

"You smell better when you aren't soaked in fea_r, _princess."

"I thought you hated the way I smelled," Isabelle said, her mouth quirking up in a half-smile. "You said I smelled like Eric the Terrible."

Fallon leaned toward her, prompting Isabelle to cringe ever-so-slightly away. There was no way for her to escape, however, and the giant felt his heart burn with pleasure at having her in his grasp and at his mercy/ "You carry a trace of his scent in your blood," he growled. "But the rest of you...," he paused, and inhaled deeply,"...smells like Heaven."

That caused her face to turn a delightful shade of red before she looked away from him. And so the two-headed monster held the princess a while longer, continued to stroke her arms and shoulders and play with long strands of her soft, nut-brown hair, while his heart further softened to molten goo in his chest. And it occurred to Fallon to wonder how, if this kept up, would he still have the heart to eat her in the end.

{O}

AN: I've tweaked this chapter so many times and I'm still not sure how I feel about it. I didn't intend to get too deep into the theological stuff, but the movie set it up so that theological references are hard to leave out. I also found out that the plant Jack used to treat Isabelle's wounds on Gantua was yarrow, not moss. Tiny little mistake, I know, but I still felt the urge to facepalm when I caught it.


	11. Chapter 10: Outcasts

**Title: **Seed of Darkness

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** A new threat descends upon Cloister and Jack must use the Crown of Erik to call on some unlikely allies. Fallon/Isabelle, Fumm/OC

**Disclaimer: **I make no money whatsoever off this story or any of the characters.

Chapter 10: Outcasts

_"Taking a cue from the richest of kings, they developed a taste for acquiring things. But the one taste that made giants lose all control, was the taste of human blood, bones, and all."_

_The little princess made a face. "That's revolting," she said, wrinkling her nose._

_Her mother smiled gently at her, amusement dancing in her eyes as she turned the page. "Too scary?"_

_Propped up by a mountain of pillows, the Queen and her daughter cuddled together. It was bedtime, and bedtime was the best time because that was when the little princess got to hear her Mama tell a story. The princess loved stories, but she liked one story best of all. _

_Outside the windows, thunder rumbled. A late October storm was blowing in, a rare event that she'd overheard Father say would cause trouble for the farmers by drowning any harvest they hadn't got in yet. He'd looked so worried before he'd kissed her goodnight, telling her not to be afraid of the thunder because the storm was still very far away. Only now as she lay snug in her bed listening to her mother chant Fee Fye Foe Fumm, the little princess couldn't stop herself from imagining that the peals of distant thunder were actually footsteps. Footsteps that shook the ground...and were coming closer. _

_"Giants aren't scary," she said in a huff. It was a tiny lie, but if Mama knew the truth she might stop reading, and that was the last thing the little princess wanted. _

_Mama smiled down at her. Leaning over so that the book was right in front of her daughter's nose, the Queen pointed to a picture. "Not even their terrifying leader, a monstrous giant with two heads?"_

_The little princess followed her mother's finger...and her brown eyes grew wide as saucers. For there on the page was a crude illustration of a giant - or two giants. Two giants that were stuck together on a single body twice as big as the other giants milling about in the background. Covered in gray steel armor, the monster stood at the head of a vast army, raising a fist to the stormy, lightning-streaked sky. The heads of the monster were mismatched, with one being larger than the other. And while the smaller head looked disfigured, with a froglike mouth and eyes that looked ready to pop out of their sockets, the larger head could almost pass for human -if it weren't for the darkness around its eyes and the cruel, knife-sharp angles of its face. _

_But what really frightened the princess was that in its raised fist, the giant held a wriggling human form...and the large head was thrown back, with its mouth open wide. _

_The little princess shivered, but hid it by snuggling deeper into the thick blankets. "It's only a story."_

"It's only a story," Isabelle mumbled, echoing the last words of her dream-self before wakefulness snatched them away. She moved, sluggishly at first, her mind almost begging to be pulled back into the safety of her dream-bedroom full of warm, loving light. _Mama didn't finish the story._ The complaint flitted half-formed through her head before she registered the cold hardness pressing into her back. Sighing, the princess threw off the sweet memories of sleep and prepared to face reality.

The first thing she noticed was how deep the silence felt. Only the occasional _plink_ of dripping water echoed in the cavernous space around her. The whole cave, from the enormous boulders down to the tiniest pebble, felt still and undisturbed. A nervous cough escaped Isabelle as she propped herself up on her elbows. If there was one thing she knew with certainty about her two-headed giant companion, it was that he was _never_ quiet. Every move Fallon made in this confined underground world caused some sort of damage, whether he was smashing boulders in an angry fit or simply making himself more comfortable. He was like an infant crammed into a basket that was too small; the cave could barely hold him. Even when Fallon slept, his snores shivered the air and rattled any loose stones by his feet. When both heads were sleeping, the racket doubled in volume, making such a din that if Isabelle wasn't nearly dead from exhaustion at the end of each day she'd never be able to sleep through it all. That she wasn't hearing so much as a snort from either one of him now told Isabelle something was wrong.

She strained her eyes, trying to pick out the lumpy shape of the giant amidst the smudged outlines of rock pillars and boulders. The faint, green-tinged phosphorous given off by the moss was barely enough light to see her own hand. "Fallon?" Her small, shaky voice was caught by the cave walls and bounced back to her, multiplied into a dozen fading echoes.

Cautiously, Isabelle inched forward along the rough stone. She stretched out a hand, feeling her way like a blind woman...

...and snatched it back when her fingertips brushed empty air. Reflex took over, forcing her eyes to focus. Shadows took on sharp contours, and Isabelle gasped. Only an inch of solid stone remained before her. Venture any further and she would plunge straight down into a dark, airy void and shatter her bones on jagged rocks streaked with flickering moss, giving them the appearance of glowing green teeth. A panicked cry escaped her as the princess scrambled backwards, not stopping until her back pressed firmly into the point where the ledge melded with the rockface.

Breathing hard, Isabelle silently cursed the giant for forcing her to sleep on a narrow stone shelf every night. She'd guessed the arrangement was meant to keep her from attempting escape. Fallon had every reason to expect it from her when she'd first woken up in his lair, terrified and desperate. Though now that the icy mood between them seemed to finally be thawing, she felt a little annoyed that he still thought trapping her was a necessary precaution. Sighing, she supposed it was too much to hope for the giant to change all his bad habits. Trust didn't seem to come easily to his kind.

_Strange that I don't even remember how I got back up here,_ she thought ruefully._ He must've put me here after I'd fallen asleep._

Her last conversation with Fallon felt like a dream now. Heat flooded her face when she thought of how she'd fallen apart before him, leaving her feeling grateful for the darkness hiding her now. Babbling like a child, confessing her sins to a monster; she'd acted like a fool. _You had a rough day,_ she tried telling herself, but the voice of self-recrimination - the voice that spoke with the snide, arrogant tone of Lord Roderick - wouldn't let up. _You were lucky the beast didn't flay you for showing such weakness._ Chill, damp rock pressed into her back, snaking frost-tipped fingers through her tattered dress. Truly, she would've been a sight in court now, with her finest gold gown ripped and torn, her hair a disheveled brown mess, and her skin sporting a collection of oddly shaped bruises that ranged in color from faded green to dark, angry purple. Frustrated, she opened her mouth to call for help again when a cramp rippled through her abdomen, a reminder from her much-neglected stomach that she was hungry too. Gasping, she bent over while pressing her palms flat against her belly, riding out the waves of pain, feeling thoroughly miserable and alone.

When it was over, Isabelle slumped down onto her bed of stone, curled her hands into a pillow for her head, and tried to go back to sleep. As soon as she'd shut her eyes a memory of being inside Fallon's mouth flashed before her like a burning arrow, and was quickly caught and extinguished. Pinned by the meaty weight of his tongue, nearly drowsing in his spittle; it had been the single most disgusting experience of her life.

_He did it to save me._ The idea sounded ridiculous, but if she could believe the giant, then it was true. Why he'd done it still baffled her, especially since he'd seemed so keen on eating her in the past. And if the taste of anything human made giants lose all control, then it must've taken a king's ransom of self-discipline for the monster not to have started munching the second he'd gotten her in his jaws. Self-control wasn't something she'd believed Fallon to possess, not in large quantities at least.

Uneasy thoughts drifted like fog through her mind, pulling her down into a murky half-sleep, when the clatter of stones scraping together jolted her awake. Raising her head slightly, she watched the chink of light around the boulder widen as huge hands rolled the makeshift door aside. A cold breeze freshened the cave's stale, dust filled atmosphere, studding Isabelle's skin with goosebumps. Her breath caught at the sight of the massive figure standing at the cave's mouth, silhouetted by beams of late-afternoon sunlight. The giant had returned.

Isabelle swallowed, fighting down the urge to hide. _Giants aren't scary_. The words of her six-year old self seemed unbelievably stupid now after she'd come face to face with real giants. They _were_ scary, especially Fallon, and the princess wasn't sure if she'd ever feel wholly safe around him. Sitting up, Isabelle scooted until her back was once more pressing against solid rock, giving her small comfort. Her dress pooled around her legs and she crossed her arms over her chest, watching with mingled fascination and fear as the behemoth make his entrance.

The light from outside was sharp, but she could clearly see the giant stoop to avoid knocking his heads against a cluster of overhanging stalactites. He'd recovered his armor - she saw the glint of steel on his chest and arms - and something dangled in his right fist. When he stepped out of the light, the princess studied the expressions on both of Fallon's strange faces, trying to guess his mood. The pair wore identical smug grins, their flabby lips appeared stained with something disturbingly dark. After pausing for a moment to sniff the air, Fallon's steel-gray eyes fastened on her. "At last, she awakens," he grunted, making his way toward her perch. Isabelle fought down the urge to cringe as his thumping footsteps came closer.

Gathering all the courage she could find, Isabelle asked, "Where have you been?" She sounded small. She _felt_ small as the giant gazed down at her.

"Hunting." The small head tried to mimic the word, instead producing only a bubbly, half-strangled sound, Fallon rolled his broad shoulders, jostling the little creature so that its wide eyes bounced in their sockets. Loose skin around its eyes and mouth wrinkled as the smaller head gave its larger counterpart the evilest of looks, which was wholly ignored. Fallon's mouth opened slightly and his tongue slid out to lick at the dark substance coating his lips. Isabelle could only stare, feeling like a mouse hypnotized by a snake. "We wanted to bring you dragon meat, but this is just as tasty."

His right fist came up, and Isabelle saw its fingers were curled around the neck of a large, brown sack. The giant tipped the sack into his left hand. Something fell out onto his palm, and Fallon dropped that something onto the ledge before her.

Isabelle gaped at the dead boar. It was a swineherd's nightmare, a battering ram of corded muscle and thick rolls of fat wrapped in tough, bristly hide. The tusks alone were three feet of curving ivory death. A whole hunting party of armored men, trained hounds, and mounted knights might have balked at going up against this monster, yet she could tell from the circular patch of crusted blood marring the animal's chest that Fallon had simply driven a finger through its heart.

_As easy as biting someone's head off._ Bile splattered the back of her throat and she swallowed, trying to keep her gorge down.

"Well, go on! Eat!" Fallon wrinkled his nose. His little twin cocked its head to one side like a dog. "We thought you would be hungry." He sounded, of all things, let down by her reaction.

Isabelle stared down at the fresh carcass, then back to the giant. Did he expect her to eat it raw? One furtive look at Fallon's blood-dyed skull necklace and she had the answer: of course he did.

"I-I can't eat it like this." She clasped her hands together, trying to sound as reasonable as possible. Fallon blinked down at her, mouth set in a straight line, his expression having gone from confused to mildly irritated. The second head merely watched her with bright, curious eyes. "It has to be cooked first."

"Do we look like palace cooks to you?" Fallon's upper lip curled and a vertical crease appeared between his eyes as he glowered down at her. Isabelle lifted a hand, palm facing outward in a peacemaking gesture. The small head turned on its neck to stare at its brother with large, puppyish eyes, its lips puckered, one eyebrow raised. Without saying a word, Fallon spun around in a whirl of clanking armor and stomped away. Isabelle could only watch his retreating backside as he exited the cave, grumbling to himself like a lion disturbed from sleep.

The princess released the breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding. From outside came brittle cracking sounds she recognized as trees being ripped up by the roots. _He's angry._ The thought was accompanied by a flurry of conflicted emotions: sadness, guilt, and frustration, all dancing like court jesters in her heart._ Why do I even bother trying to befriend him? I'm going to be his dinner when all this is over. _The ledge suddenly felt very high and lonely. Isabelle let her hair hang forward so that the loose strands partially blocked the sight of the dead boar; its glassy, dead brown eyes were not a reassuring sight.

Outside the cave, sounds of rending, splintering wood continued to fill the air while the princess sat alone. For the first time in days, she became conscious of the engagement ring on her finger, its soft weight a reminder of the world she used to live in. It felt like years since Jack had proposed to her, bending his knee outside the theater where they'd first met. That he was a commoner hadn't made a whit of difference to her and Father had felt honor bound to reward the boy who'd saved the life of his only child. Now she doubted she would ever see his sweet face again. Her heart felt leaden as she began twirling the gold band around her finger, wishing she were back at Cloister with Jack and Elmont and Father. Her living, breathing Father...

A heavy thump followed by a muttered string of indecipherable curses snapped Isabelle to attention. Fallon's shadow flowed before him as he reentered the cave, and the princess swallowed, one hand nervously going to her collarbone. Under his arms, he carried bundles of wood, their mingled scents of pine and spruce making Isabelle's nose twitch.

She stared, wondering, as the giant dropped the wood and snatched up a heavy, flat-edged stone. Holding the stone in one hand, the giant rose to his full, impressive height while letting his eyes roam until they found Isabelle crouched on her ledge. Satisfied that she was watching, Fallon brought the stone's edge down on hard ground with a crash that reverberated throughout the cave, making the princess jump halfway out of her skin. He struck again, once, twice, three times, grunting with effort until the last strike broke the gray upper crust into a lacework of white spiderweb cracks. at the center of which was a crater large enough for three men to lie down in. Biting her lip, Isabelle edged further into the shadows while never taking her eyes from the giant. _What in all of Albion is he up to?_

Her answer came when Fallon, having discarded his crude stone tool, gathered up the biggest pieces of wood and threw them into the crater. For a moment his back was turned, and the princess was treated to a brief glimpse of uncovered bare skin below his right shoulder. Muscles stretched and flexed from exertion. When he faced her again, Fallon held two boulders, one in each hand, hefting them as if they weighed no more than eggs.

Isabelle stared, her eyes gone wide. Her muscles were so tense they felt ready to snap. She had to know what was going on.

"What are you going to-"

With amazing force, he slammed the two boulders against each other. A red spark leapt from between them to land among the wood. Soon flames spread among the largest pieces of dry timber, eating them up hungrily.

Dropping the two now significantly dented boulders, Fallon stomped over to the cave mouth and flung his arms around the mountain-sized rock door, preparing to roll it closed. From outside came the trilling of evening birdsong, and Isabelle felt a sudden pang. She called out to the giant as he grunted and strained, pushing against the boulder that was nearly as big as he was. "I'm not going to run." A faint note of pleading was in her voice. Too much time spent in dark caves was making her truly appreciate the light.

"We know you won't, princess," Fallon said, growling the words out as he gave the boulder a mighty shove. It rolled into place, cutting off the fresh air and sinking sun. "But we need to stay hidden. We don't want a dragon catching the scent of your dinner, do we?"

"My...dinner?" Her eyes flicked from Fallon, to the lumpy shadow that was a dead boar, then to the huge crackling fire, and finally back to Fallon, who was striding toward her. She huddled on the ledge, waiting.

"You say you can't eat raw meat." He reached down, and Isabelle gasped as dry, cracked fingers closed around her. The dead boar disappeared into the palm of his other hand. "Don't know what you're missing, really." He lifted her off the ledge, and Isabelle held onto her roiling stomach as her legs dangled fifteen feet above a bone-shattering impact. Gritting her teeth, she hooked an arm around his thumb and tried to focus on the reassuring way his palm pressed against her back. With both hands full, Fallon spun around and carried the princess and the boar toward the fire. Isabelle's face grew damp from the heat. "But we can't have you turning to skin and bones so..."

Something about the way Fallon said _we_ _can't have you turning to skin and bones_ made her think that the meaning behind the words was _we want you nice and fat when we eat you,_ but she hoped very much it was just his odd way of teasing. Soon the giant knelt and opened his hand, releasing her before standing back up. She took a few wobbly steps forward before plopping down at the very edge of the firepit, curling her legs in and tugging down the hem of her dress. The huge fire had dwindled somewhat since Fallon had blocked up the main exit but was still the height of a harvest bonfire. It belched forth clouds of orange-tinted smoke that drifted up among the stalactites and were sucked away by natural openings in the cave's roof.

Between the flames, she caught glimpses of Fallon as he squatted on the other side of the fire. A sitting giant was still a daunting sight - and the source of much neck pain as Isabelle found she still had to crane her neck to look up at him. Firelight danced in the eyes of his second head, rendering them bright and childlike. The gaze of his other head was entirely directed at his hands -hands that Isabelle saw between bursts of flame were cradling the boar. She caught only glimpses of what he was doing to the animal, just enough to know that he was skinning it.

Her life in the palace had never afforded her the opportunity to watch a butcher at work. Even during her short escapes into town, she'd avoided crossing paths with all the lines of goats, sheep, and cows being led to the slaughterhouse, knowing she wouldn't be able to stomach the sight of so much blood and pain. She was certain, however, that what Fallon was doing would make even the most hardened butcher flee in terror.

The giant was peeling the skin off the carcass with his fingernails the same way a fruitseller would peel a fat grape. His dexterous fingers tore off strips of thick bristled hide, exposing slick red muscle and internal organs. A detached part of her mind pondered the mystery of how his big hands could do such careful work without crushing the small animal to pulp. It helped distract her from the wet snaps and pops as he excised the bones before stuffing each one into his mouth, crunching them up while continuing his work. Soon all the human-edible bits were arranged in piles of red meat so juicy that even the princess couldn't miss the copper-sweet bloodscent hanging on the air. Then, using foot-long pieces of wood, Fallon speared the biggest chunks of meat and held them over the fire. Isabelle squirmed inside, uncomfortably reminded of the Cook making hors-d'oeuvre's out of live, squirming pigs. Then the smell of roasting pork filled her nose, and her mouth flooded with saliva.

Neither of them spoke. Around them, the cave was dappled with shifting patterns of red-golden light from the cookfire. Isabelle took her eyes off the giant long enough to watch a hanging skein of the glowing moss shrivel into white flakes from the heat, leaving behind a smell like rancid butter. Several more clumps of the strange fungus were curling up moon-pale tendrils in a futile attempt to escape the unwelcome light, a few disintegrated with little puffs. _The world is changing all around me._ The thought was so painfully true that the princess ducked her head, becoming momentarily mesmerized by one of her dirty kneecaps poking through a gaping tear in her dress.

She was in the middle of trying to cover the exposed skin when a chunk of sizzling-hot meat was dropped before her, so close it almost fell in her lap. From the other side of the fire, Fallon growled, "There! Now eat!"

Isabelle studied the proffered supper dubiously. Fallon's idea of cooking meat seemed to follow the simple principle of holding said meat over a fire until it got hot. Half of it was burned black, while the rest was still red, tender, and speckled with drops of pig blood. She lifted the meat in both hands, sniffed it cautiously.

"We took the trouble of preparing your meal for you. The least you could do is taste it." Fallon's voice was a bass rumble, followed by a high-pitched chirp from his twin.

_He does have a point. And I'm starving._ Isabelle barely tasted her first bite, caution having given way to ravenous hunger. The second bite was chewy and tasted slightly of ash, but she no longer cared. She devoured it greedily, and Fallon gave her another piece. Through the flames, she saw him reach inside a sack and pull out something white and fluffy that could only be a sheep. Together they ate in silence, the princess struggling not to wolf down her food while the giant shamelessly gobbled whole sheep and cows, giving every other bite to his second head. Soon there was nothing left between them but a few bones and a dwindling fire.

A colossal belch tore the air loud enough to wake a sleeping bat colony hiding high up in the cave's darkest recesses. Their frightened chittering filled the air while the fire sputtered. Isabelle frowned up at the two-headed monster. Both heads shared identical looks of pure innocence, though the bigger head had a single eyebrow raised. Isabelle rolled her eyes in response.

Unfazed, Fallon studied her grease-stained lips and hands. "Hungry, were you?" he asked, sounding amused. He picked up a bone and began picking his teeth with it. Isabelle wiped her mouth with the back of one hand, having decided the concept of proper table manners didn't apply here.

"Yes," she said, then added carefully, "Thank you."

The giant answered with a grunt, then stretched his arms behind his head and yawned, showing all his chipped teeth. His smaller head broke into a yawn of its own seconds later.

With the fire between them, Isabelle watched Fallon nervously. His body was a lumpy tower of glinting armor and muscle that stretched the length of the cave. His immense size made it hard for him to find a comfortable spot, and Isabelle was afraid things were going to start breaking soon.

"Were you hunting all day?" she asked. Conversing with her old tormentor felt awkward, but keeping up a semblance of normalcy helped rein in her ever-present desire to flee.

"Most of it." Stones cracked as Fallon turned onto his side. He propped up an elbow, cupping the chin of his large head in one hand while trying to stretch out his legs. A mound of fist-sized rocks tumbled over in a collision with his knee. Isabelle flinched. The giant growled.

_Like a whale on dry land,_ Isabelle thought. She'd never seen a whale herself, but had begged to hear bits and pieces of lore about them from a castle servant who'd used to be a fisherman. _Think of a beast too large to exist_, he would say. _So huge that the whole ocean shouldn't be enough to hold it_. She clasped her hands together and fought down her amusement while Fallon tried - and failed - to get more comfortable. "Why didn't you take me with you?"

Fallon spared her a brief look that implied he thought the answer was obvious. "You were sleeping."

It was true. She'd been exhausted and he hadn't woken her. Which meant that the giant had taken her well-being into account for once. Still... part of the reason why she insisted on joining the monster in his wanderings was so she could keep an eye on him and - possibly - save any unfortunate people who might cross his path. _What exactly was he up to while I wasn't watching? And where did he get the livestock? _She pushed the thoughts away, deciding it might be better not to ask.

Instead, she focused her attention on the present. "What now?"

"We rest. A tired hunter catches nothing." Fallon said the words with such conviction Isabelle wondered if it was one of the Rules of the Hunt. She said nothing, but continued to keep a wary eye on the giant, who seemed to finally have found a tolerable position. Then his second head frowned and made a pitiful whining sound as its pudgy nose wrinkled. Isabelle was trying to decide if she should ask what the matter was when Fallon lifted a hand to help his twin - and promptly banged his elbow against a stalactite, which shattered into dust on impact.

"OW!" The furious bellow echoed like a thunderclap. More squeaks came from the frightened bats overhead while Isabelle removed her hands from her throbbing ears. Then the loudest sounds in the cave were Fallon's heavy breathing and Isabelle's own pounding heart. She could see Fallon's face contort in a grimace, the lips pulled back and brows drawn together. Between them, the fire sputtered as more wood burned to ash. Soon there would be no flaming barrier, no burning wall of protection, however feeble it might be, to separate Isabelle from the giant, whose enormous body lay sprawled out like a ruined castle.

Feeling more and more like a mouse locked up with an irascible cat, Isabelle began fidgeting with her engagement ring. Fallon continued muttering dark things under his breath as he reached over to scratch the nose of his second head, who thanked him by sneezing into his hand.

Growling, Fallon tore his hand away and wiped it on the ground. "I scratched your itchy nose for you, you ingrate!" What followed was the most bizarre sibling squabble Isabelle had ever seen: two heads stuck on one body, the smaller head tripping over its own tongue to form half-intelligible insults while Fallon snarled and cursed in Gantish. It occurred to the princess that now might be a good time to sneak away and find a dark corner to hide in. She began edging away from the fire, an inch at a time, and had almost made it out of the ring of light when Fallon spoke.

"You wear a betrothal ring."

Isabelle froze, sensing both pairs of giant eyes fastened on her. Looking down at her left hand, she stifled a curse of her own. The gold band shone in the firelight, cap of diamonds twinkling innocently, announcing its presence to all and sundry. She quickly covered her hand, but Fallon continued to stare down at her. His face had gone flat. Calm, but with a hint of something explosive bubbling beneath the surface.

"Ring," his second head croaked. Its eyes rolled madly, the veined whites showing starkly against the gray irises.

Hastily, Isabelle stammered a reply. "What! I-"

"We aren't fools, princess. We know what that is." Fallon grew quiet, still. A silence hung between them, an expectant silence that made Isabelle squirm. Fallon brought a hand up and pressed a finger to his chin, then slowly traced it along his jaw. His expression was unreadable. Like stone. Around them, ruddy light still played along the cave's harsh angled walls, joined by an occasional spark as the fire died its slow death.

Fallon's deep voice took on a thoughtful cast. The bone spikes on his left shoulder gleamed a sickly yellow as he leaned forward. "When that coward Roderick came to our castle, he spoke to you as though you were his betrothed." He paused, running a finger along his jaw. "But you wore no ring."

Isabelle struggled to find words, knowing Fallon expected an answer but unsure what to tell him. Her heart felt strangely hollow as she remembered her former fiancee. "I know. We-" She gulped, "We were supposed to be married."

Fallon leaned even closer, so that wisps of smoke curled around his face. "Did you want him?"

_What?_ Warmth radiated from her skin, a blush that had nothing to do with the fire. Sand coated Isabelle's throat as she answered."No. The whole thing was my father's idea. I never cared for him."

Fallon leaned back, and Isabelle felt something tense and stormy that had been brewing in the air between them dissolve. She rubbed at her shoulders, trying to soothe the taut muscles. Strands of hair fell in her face, were swatted away irritably. The fire was down to its last log, sending up a few halfhearted flickers that didn't touch the bulky shadow of Fallon looming over her. She could sense the giant's eyes boring into her, intent and watchful. When she dared to look up at him, she almost gasped at the change. He looked _happy_. A spark was in his gray eyes, and the princess could've sworn she caught a flash of a smile on his face.

A smile that was almost immediately replaced by a scowl. "And we suppose now you intend to give yourself to that farmboy of yours?"

Isabelle sat up straighter. The scornful way he'd said _farmboy_ rankled. "He saved me!" The words _From you!_ almost tumbled out, but the princess bit them off just in time. The clenched fists and flared nostrils told her Fallon was in no mood to be reminded of the details.

"He shoved a beanstalk down my throat!" the giant shouted.

"You were going to eat him!" she shot back.

The giant appeared to grope around for something to say in his defense and, finding nothing, settled for grumbling to himself. "That little trick with the bean was well played, we'll grant him that."

'Bean," his second head whispered. A tremor passed through it, rippling from its helm all the way to the base of its neck, and its droopy eyes grew wide and fearful. Its tongue poked through its teeth as it mumbled, "Yuck." Fallon growled in agreement.

"Does your Guard Captain approve? I thought the rules of courtship forbade royalty from marrying commoners."

"I don't care about the rules!" Isabelle's answer was a bit more forceful than she'd intended, but the giant was rubbing at all the raw places in her heart. _This is absurd._ She lowered her eyes, refusing to look at Fallon, instead focusing on the flames eating away at the last remaining log. With the fire guttering low, a chill was beginning to creep back into the air. _Here I sit, tired, grumpy, cold and discussing my marriage plans with a giant who wants to eat me. _The princess withdrew into a protective ball, drawing her knees up to her chest and hugging herself.

Resting her head on her knees, Isabelle mumbled, "Why do you care so much? Is this an interrogation?"

His answer was a menacing rumble. "Not yet."

"Then why are you the one asking all the questions?"

"Because we always get answers." A thoughtful pause, then, " You surprised us, though."

Her curiosity roused, Isabelle lifted her head up a fraction of an inch. "I...did?"

"When you were caged, we expected you to tell us anything to save your own skin. It was what we'd come to expect of human prisoners." His words trailed off into a low growl, and even if she hadn't been looking the princess would've felt the frown pass over his face. "But you refused to talk."

"If I'd told you about the beanstalk, you would've taken an army down to conquer Albion and thousands of people would've died." _And I would've been right. _

The giant grew quiet, solemn. Isabelle didn't dare speak, but let Fallon mull over whatever was going through his oversized head. Now that the fire was almost out, she could sense Fallon's presence more easily than she could see him. Around them, any patches of moss that hadn't roasted in the fire's heat sputtered back into life, sending out an undersea glow that shimmered over the giant's armor. It was an eerie half-light that only revealed him in pieces: a glimpse of a gauntleted arm, a flash of chest plate. Mostly, he remained a looming dark shape surrounded by more darkness.

"You would've died to keep them safe?" His voice had gone soft, like a whisper in some old, barren place.

"Father would say that's what any good ruler should be willing to do." _Even if it feels like suicide._ Isabelle tried to curl into an even smaller ball. Something was bothering the giant, and she had no idea what it was, what had caused it, or what she could possibly do about it. And whenever a giant like Fallon became upset, people usually died.

Isabelle watched warily as Fallon reached into the firepit and snuffed out the last burning log between thumb and forefinger. "And would you still die for them, princess?"

She tried not to sound bitter. Tried very, very hard. "I think that's obvious." Elmont. Jack. Ana. It hurt to think of them. Hurt to imagine their grief-stricken faces when they heard of her death. But she would gladly trade her life for theirs if that was the price of keeping Cloister safe.

It happened so fast Isabelle didn't have time to run, hide, or even scream. One moment the giant was immobile as sculpture, the next he was sweeping an arm through the remnants of the fire, sending burned, blackened wood everywhere. His hand came down on her, snatching her up roughly, bringing her up to his face where she could see the furious gleam in his eyes. Breathing in ragged pants, too frightened to speak, Isabelle flopped bonelessly in his hand, her mind groaning out a single, miserable thought. _What have I done now?_

"Why does God show mankind such favor?" Fallon growled. His nostrils flared, his thick dark eyebrows drew together in a tight knot. "You have more land, more, happiness, more lo-" Whatever he'd been about to say got choked off, to be replaced by a ripping growl. Fingering his skull necklace, the giant seemed to see past Isabelle to some ancient time rife with grief and hatred. _And jealous eyes are looking down on peaceful fields in Albion._ The old rhyme came back to her in a searing flash. The princess was certain she was looking into those eyes now.

"I don't know!" she cried, frantic. "I don't know. I don't know. I swear I don't know!"

The fingers squeezing her loosened. Isabelle swallowed a sob as Fallon came back to himself. His second head frowned, its mouth a perfect upside-down u. With a heavy sigh he lowered the princess to the ground, setting her down gently. She crumpled in a heap, shaking.

"You don't know, do you?" Fallon rumbled, his voice softening as his rage cooled. "Of course, how could you know?"

Isabelle's voice nearly broke as she stammered out, "I-I don't know anything about giants, really." She sounded like a frightened child, and felt like one, too.

The princess yelped as Fallon caught her in his hand again. "Shhh...we won't hurt you." A finger prodded her closer to his side. She went reluctantly, a shaking mess, resigned to whatever incomprehensible thing the giant would do next.

What he did was about the last thing Isabelle had expected.

"You like stories, don't you, princess? Then be still, and listen..."

{O}

"I'm hungry, Fumm."

_So you've told me, ever since we came out here._ Fumm might've growled if he hadn't been preoccupied with catching the heavy granite block hurtling straight for his head. Raising both hands, Fumm caught the stone missile before it could shatter his skull and shoved it into place, closing a gap in the curtain wall that wound like a ribbon around the city. It slid in on a cloud of chalky dust, coating Fumm's hands in a layer of gray powder. With a finger, the giant prodded the block, decided it was as well-placed as it was going to get, and reached down into the mound of stone piled at his feet.

"I mean, we're in a place with loads of tasty little mankind running around. Why shouldn't we eat them?" Foe was standing with both arms crossed over his barrel chest and a surly scowl on his craggy face, waiting for an answer. Fumm still searched for a granite chunk to lob at the other giant; he wanted a nice, thick one.

"I told you. They're our allies." _But for how much longer?_ Fumm could smell human fear wafting like hot smoke through the whole city. The skies were a constant threat, with dragons materializing from the clouds at erratic intervals. The beasts would circle like vultures, diving upon the tallest towers and snatching up any humans stupid enough to be in them. Most of the little people had gone to ground in vaults and cellars, leaving only an exhausted City Guard, an inexperienced boy-king, and two giants - who were just as big, terrifying, and hostile to human life as the dragons - to defend them.

Fumm sighed. In short, they were doomed.

_This city is ripe for conquest,_ a small, secretive voice tickled the back of his mind. It was the voice of his baser nature, of battlelust and greed and stolen treasure heaped in glittering piles. Like it or no, destructive urges were a part of him - as they were for all giants - and sometimes they were hard to ignore.

Like now, as he catapulted a stone block roughly the size of a cow barn at his brother.

Foe caught the spinning slab in one hand and forced it into place. It had been Jack's idea to put them to work repairing the wall. The boy had asked them himself - very politely, Fumm had noticed with a smirk. Fumm had consented, not bothering to point out that walls were about as effective as spit against enemies who could just fly over them. _The boy's probably afraid we'll get bored in the lull between battles._ The thought gave him grim amusement. Doubtless the little king lost sleep at night imagining what gruesome things might happen in a city full of humans should two man-eating giants become bored.

They took to the task with enthusiasm. Work had rapidly degenerated into a sort of game, with the giant brothers hurling pieces of the wall at each other. It made the job more interesting, but unfortunately didn't make the time pass any quicker. Not with Foe complaining like a hundred year-old child. "But they're _delicious_ allies." Foe's face turned dreamy as he licked his lips, no doubt imagining sweet human blood trickling down his throat. "We don't even need them. We can kill dragons all by ourselves."

A swirling cloud of gray dust drifted into Fumm's eyes, making him squint. Foe took advantage and tossed another stone at him, but Fumm had more than a thousand years experience with his brother's tricks and caught the block without needing to see it. It was hard to sound patient, but Fumm tried. "You were there when the scorpions shot that dragon out of the sky three days ago. The humans are proving themselves."

"Only after you showed them how to fletch their arrows the right way."

Foe meant the comment to be cutting, but it secretly pleased Fumm that the humans were listening to him. Getting the City Guard to heed his advice about the arrows hadn't been as hard as he'd thought. _They need to be sharper. Thinner, to slip between a dragon's scales._ He'd done his best to demonstrate the technique on a folded piece of treebark. _Carve them like this_, he'd explained, bending the wood until it resembled a ragged lightning bolt. In return for the secret of arrow-shaping, he'd demanded to have a look at one of their scorpions. This seemed only fair; the devices had given him no end of grief when he'd laid siege to the city. It was for that reason he liked them. Fumm wished he could bring down a few of his brothers who were skilled crafters, then put them to work assembling a scorpion large enough for a giant to wield. And what would the flying lizards make of_ that?_

He could never speak of it with Fee, Fye, Foe, and especially not Fallon, but he was coming to realize humans weren't the stupid, weak little creatures his kind had always believed them to be.

And there was something else. Something that tugged at his mind even as he stared unblinking back at his brother's hard, accusing face.

"They have something we don't."

Foe sneered. "Really? What's that?"

"Girls."

For a moment, neither spoke. The look on Foe's face was somewhere between confused, incredulous, and disbelieving before finally shaping itself into a nasty leer. It was as close as he ever came to a smile."I knew it! I knew it!" he crowed, shaking a stubby finger at his brother, "Your heart's going soft for that human girl. The one that looks like a strawberry."

"It's the color of her hair, you fool," Fumm growled. He was already regretting the whole subject.

Foe moved, and Fumm suddenly became aware that his brother had been keeping one hand behind his back for a while. This time, the rock sailed over his head and clipped the top of the wall, taking out a previously undamaged guard tower. Dust rose up in a billowy cloud while stone fragments tumbled down in a minor avalanche.

"You're aim is off," Fumm remarked drily, nudging a toe against the rubble. "We're supposed to be making repairs."

"But I want to eat!" The bald giant's lower lip protruded in a fresh sulk. "Can't I just nibble on one of those little men in the brown robes? You know how good they taste."

Fumm knew. He also knew that the monks were staying well inside their abbey and Foe would have to tear the place apart if he were to get at them. Such destruction would not go unnoticed. He needed to end the matter in a way Foe would understand, and he needed to do it now. Straightening to his full height, Fumm locked eyes with his brother. "The humans are under my protection." He snarled fiercely, pouring all his pent-up frustration out through his yellowed, chipped teeth.

Scowling, Foe took a step back, unhappy but submissive. "Fallon will just have to knock some sense into you when he gets back."

Fumm crossed his arms, proud and defiant. "We'll see."

Foe turned back to the wall, kicking at the mound of stone bricks left unmortared. Evening was settling over Cloister and they weren't even close to being done. Fumm sighed, picking up a brick and staring at his brother's profile. Foe wore his anger in the lines of his face; it boiled in every stiff, shuffling move he made, and yet Fumm sensed a trace of genuine puzzlement beneath it all.

Reaching up to adjust his helmet, Foe seemed unusually pensive. He refused to look at Fumm, but his brother plainly heard curiosity riding on his voice when he spoke. "What are human girls like, anyway? I know they taste good but-"

"Ahem."

The voice came from somewhere close to their feet. Looking down, the giants saw an assembly of at least a hundred unsmiling human soldiers, armored in plate mail and pointing lances directly at them. The menacing display didn't carry much weight, however, since none of the soldiers stood higher than the giants' ankles. Fumm inhaled, smelling a great deal of fear among the paltry throng. His mouth began to water.

A bearded, flinty-eyed human who must've been either suicidal or very brave stepped forward. "I believe you two are supposed to be fixing the wall, not bashing more holes into it."

A growl from Foe made the mob take a collective step back. Fumm waved a hand, signaling him to stand down. "It was an accident, nothing more. My brother and I were-"

His eyes widened. A familiar scent was in the air, though almost obscured by clouds of human fear. A sweet scent, like sun-ripened berries._ Ana._ She was close, but where?

A commotion was taking place among the mass of humans at his feet. Fumm watched two soldiers rush to restrain something - or someone.

"You shouldn't be here!" an angry soldier shouted.

"Please, don't hurt him!" It was her voice, sweet and clear. Fumm's eyes roved, searching the crowd.

"Girl, he's a giant! He's like as not to hurt us!"

There he spied her, a flash of red hair among steel-clad manikins. Ignoring the panicked shouts, Fumm took a step forward. Humans scurried to get out of his way, their weapons forgotten. Three more steps and he'd reached his goal: a slender girl gowned in white silk, with a mane of red-golden hair hanging down past her waist. Bending down, the giant scooped her up in his hands, to the shocked cries of several humans. Fumm ignored them all and set off carrying Ana through the deserted city streets, though he did cast a sideways look at Foe's bewildered face. His brother giant seemed undecided about whether to laugh or curse. The soldiers were still milling about, torn by their reluctance to throw themselves into a hopeless battle and their chivalrous desire to rescue the helpless maid. Looking down, Foe snarled at them. "Oh, don't worry, he won't eat her. The fool thinks he's in love." And then, before Fumm passed out of earshot: "Do any of you tasty men have any pretty daughters? I want a girl like his."

Fumm picked his way carefully through the streets, choosing only the paths wide enough to admit him. Any humans he encountered were quick to get out of his way, running like frightened rabbits. It made it easier not to step on them, though the giant prickled at the curses that were occasionally flung at him. As he rounded a corner, Fumm surprised a mother and her young son, who pointed up at him in wonder. The mother shrieked, grabbing at the little boy's arm and dragging him into an alley. Fumm sighed.

A small hand patting his wrist drew his attention to the girl. She lay nestled in his cupped hands, peering shyly up at him.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

Fumm shrugged. "Fine."

"I thought they were going to attack you."

Deep black curls bounced as he shook his head irritably. "They wouldn't have hurt me." Fumm grunted, stepping high to avoid crushing a cart tipped onto its side in the street. "You know that."

Ana stared down at her hands. "I-I know...I just wanted to...to...

"You wanted to see me?" Fumm felt a grin inside that almost managed to creep outward to his face. It was an unfamiliar - but entirely welcome- sensation.

Ana was blushing scarlet and not doing a good job of hiding it. She seemed fascinated by his dirty fingernails as she admitted, "I like seeing you."

Carefully, Fumm curled his bulky forefinger around her arm. "I like seeing you too." It was true. He did like seeing her. Even if her ears weren't wide enough or her teeth were unnaturally straight and even. She was no giantess, but she was still the brightest beauty he'd seen in a long time.

And that worried him.

He carried her to an open, grassy place, one of the ornamental lawns close to the palace. The sun was traveling low in the sky when he set her down, then lowered his huge body down beside her. Water splashed in a nearby fountain, sounding almost like the gurgling river that flowed over the edge of Gantua, spat out of a gargoyle's mouth. The sound soothed him.

He stretched out a hand to curl his fingers lightly around Ana. "You need to be more careful, little one. I don't know how much longer this alliance between our kinds will last."

The girl looked up with green eyes that were big, lovely, and worried. "Jack will help."

Fumm shook his head. "Jack can't hope to control my brothers without the Crown. And the princess is still missing."

Ana's face crumpled, prompting Fumm to hastily add, "She may still be alive." _But don't get your hopes up._ No news of the princess had been heard since her abduction. The odds on her survival weren't good. If she'd been taken to a dragon's nest, she was as good as dead. If Fallon had her, well, who knows what he would do? _Surely he wouldn't be stupid enough to eat her? She's more valuable as a hostage. _

The hostage scenario seemed more likely. Fumm also knew from many painful injuries that his brother harbored a strange desire for the girl that might possibly go beyond eating her. Thinking of the implications made Fumm want to chuckle. T_he princess is terrified of him, the savage brute. God help the poor girl if she can do to Fallon what Ana has done to me._

_Ana._ Fumm snapped his attention back to the girl, who remained silent and downcast. He stroked her back with his thumb, regretting having mentioned the princess at all. The whole kingdom mourned for Isabelle, but Ana most of all.

After a moment she spoke. "You promised to tell me more about giants." Her head still hung, her voice sounding very small and sad. "Where you came from, why you live in the sky...and why you hate us."

"I don't hate you!"

"But can you say the same for everybody?" She raised her eyes to him then, and Fumm noted they were bright with a hint of fear. "I know what your weapon is made of."

The weapon in question rested in its pouch tied to Fumm's waist. One of his hands covered the bulge it made guiltily. If he'd known how attached he was going to become to the human girl, he would never have let her see the sling he'd fashioned from a dead man's skeleton. "He was a soldier who tried to kill me by hurling rocks at my head. Stupid, but brave." Fumm paused, remembering the muscular man who'd screamed curses while throwing the biggest rocks he could find at the black-haired giant who'd just smashed through his entire army, trampling warriors like grass. With his sword broken and shield gone, rocks had been the only weapons he'd had left. "After eating his flesh, I took his bones and made them into a stone-slinger. It seemed fitting."

Ana shuddered. With his fingers still folded around her, Fumm felt the tremors course through her little body. He pulled her closer, wanting to give comfort if she would let him.

"Why do you eat people?" she asked, blinking. Her eyes were wet.

Fumm sighed. "We have always been slaves to our appetites. Our hunger got us banished from the Earth."

"Banished?" Ana was a warm, soft flower in his hand, gazing up at him with curious eyes. Fumm felt something twist inside his heart. This wasn't going to be an easy story to tell, but he owed it to her.

"Our ancestors - the fathers of our entire race - were the angels. Sons of God who loved mortal women, and these women bore them powerful children. The first giants."

Far away, in a cave chiseled out of a mountainside, Princess Isabelle cried out in disbelief, _"Angels?"_

Tactful as ever, Fallon grumbled. "What did you expect, princess? That some wizard magicked us into being?"

"Well, actually...something like that, yes."

Fallon said nothing, but his second head burped and rolled its eyes at humans and their crazy ideas.

Back at Cloister Fumm continued his tale, recalling the old legends he'd learned as a nestling. "The first giants were the Titans. They were like nothing ever seen before, monstrously huge, gods on the Earth. The men were mighty warriors, and so were their women. Together they had children, and multiplied, and spread across the world."

In the cave, Isabelle tried to imagine a world teeming with giants. Pictured them leveling entire forests for firewood, grinding mountains like millstones, and drinking whole lakes in single gulps. _It must've been an absolute nightmare._ Peering up at Fallon, she chewed her lower lip, hesitated, then finally let the question fly. "Were you alive back then?"

His reply was a derisive snort. "At the dawn of creation? We're not _that_ old, princess."

"The first giants overran the Earth, and the Earth wasn't a vessel meant to hold them. Mankind was being pushed aside, despite the blood ties they shared with the Titans. And this couldn't be allowed, since God has always favored mankind." Fumm paused as his sad eyes met Ana's. "That's why mankind tastes so good. Because you all are God's chosen."

"God punished your ancestors?" Ana asked,

"The angels did, since we were their creations." Seeing Ana entranced like a child was enough to make Fumm forget that he was describing the sordid, nasty history of his own kind. It was a history so old that it had become just another story, and, as the sinking sun blazed gold in the west, Fumm warmed to his role as storyteller. "The Titans were banished to a land in the sky, caught between Heaven and Earth. There, they began to diminish, shrinking in size through each generation, until we are no bigger than we are now."

"You're still very big to me," Ana pointed out.

Fumm inclined his head, musing. "I suppose it's a matter of perspective."

Huddled in the cave, Isabelle asked, "So how do the dragons fit in?" She didn't really expect an answer, and so was surprised when she got one.

At Cloister, Fumm continued, "The dragons came when Fee, Fye, Foe, Fallon, and myself were still young." Fumm leaned back, recalling the day they'd finally been allowed to set foot in their father's castle. He'd been seated on a massive throne carved from mountain rock so ancient the shapes of fossilized bones were clearly visible within, making it appear as though he reclined upon a hill of skulls. He'd taken one look at his five sons and decreed that they should all fight to determine who was strongest. After Fallon had left his four siblings in a bloody, battered heap, Father had made him war chief. _General Fallon._ Recalling that humiliating day made Fumm want to hit something. Then he felt Ana's little fingers touch him, and relaxed.

"The dragon's war wasn't with us, but with Heaven itself. Our home was in their way." Fumm growled, remembering. "Their leader was old, powerful, and cunning. Many giants fought him, and were burned alive. Even Father was wounded by him and bore the tainted scars from that fight until his own death. But that wasn't the worst of it."

"You said all the giantesses died in a war," Ana asked quietly.

Fumm nodded. "The dragon's wanted to wipe us out, for all time. What better way to drive us to extinction than by killing all the females?"

"That's horrible!" Ana cried out.

"That's terrible!" Isabelle shouted.

"Indeed." Fumm said, remembering how the dragons had stalked sleeping giantesses in their caves, burning them out. Smaller than males, a giantess still made for a formidable fighter, but even the bravest warrior can fall when half a dozen dragon band together with the intention of tearing their prey to pieces. "But they didn't go down without a fight."

In the cave, Isabelle sat spellbound, almost forgetting she was in the presence of a legendary killer. "What did they do?"

"There were three sisters. Old crones who were the last living Titans, though they had diminished. They were still powerful enough to send the dragon's leader back to Earth as a fiery comet, but the three of them burned to ash as well."

Isabelle suddenly remembered the picture she'd seen of the three haglike giants, hunched over by their great age, each sporting a single, glaring eye. "Did these Sisters, by any chance, have only one eye instead of two?"

Fallon's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You know of them"

Isabelle gulped, remembering who she was talking to. "I...saw their picture in a book once."

Fallon growled; no doubt guessing exactly which book she meant.

At Cloister, the last rays of sunlight disappeared. Deep purple twilight settled over the besieged city. No one saw the woman and the giant sitting together in peace, and might not have believed their eyes if they had. Curled in Fumm's hand, Ana asked, "So the dragons were defeated?"

"Any dragons that survived the final battle fled back to Earth." A sharp twinge at the base of Fumm's neck made him sit up straighter. He rolled his shoulders trying to massage the stiffness out of them. "Sometimes on Gantua we come upon nests that were left behind, and deal with any young or eggs within." Fumm sniffed. The night air was heavy with the scent of roasting meat, and of humans fearful that they would be the next ones roasted. "Now the scaly bastards have returned," _And I should be happy_, Fumm thought. _I should be eager for vengeance._ His own mother, Freya, had died when a dragon tore open her chest and ate her still-beating heart. Freya's heart had been soft, not because she was weak but because she'd loved her children.

Fumm looked down at the tiny girl in his hand, this kind, vulnerable, and fragile human female that he'd inexplicably grown to care for. If Cloister falls, she will be devoured along with all the rest. He imagined the city in flames, burning under torches held by his own brother giants as they sacked the city, plundering and laughing and eating to their heart's content...

"Whatever happens, I will not let you be harmed, little one," he murmured while stroking her hair.

"I promise."

**AN: **This ending is kind of rushed and I don't know if I like it or not, but it was past time I get this chapter up. Just so it's clear, I switched between Fumm and Fallon during the storytelling because I wanted to make it feel like the beginning of the movie where two characters are hearing the same story at the same time. Transitioning like that is tricky to do in writing but I gave it my best shot. Lots of backstory in this chapter; I dug into mainly Christian and Greek mythology for the origins of the giants. I hope I made it work.


	12. Chapter 11: A New Home

**Title: **Seed of Darkness

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** A new threat descends upon Cloister and Jack must use the Crown of Erik to call on some unlikely allies. Fallon/Isabelle, Fumm/OC

**Disclaimer: **I make no money whatsoever off this story or any of the characters.

**Chapter 11: A New Home**

_The catacombs sprawled beneath Cloister, a labyrinth of twisty stone tunnels that were old and dusty and full of secrets. No one remembered who the original architect had been, for he was of an era so far removed nothing survived but bones. And there were plenty of those in the catacombs, the bones of kings and queens, princes and princesses, and more lords and ladies than could ever be counted. Like a great devouring snake the labyrinth wound a sinuous path beneath the city, biding its time, waiting for its next meal. All of Cloister's rulers were swallowed up by the catacombs in the end, their bones swaddled in gray cloth and laid in ornate sarcophagi within its bowels. There they rested, probably at peace, with their memories and treasures resting with them. No one dared disturb them; no one but graverobbers, monks, or people wanting to have adventures. _

_That was the goal of the little princess as she scampered over loose stones and splashed through puddles of brackish water. Other children might speak of the catacombs in fearful whispers, calling them haunted, but to the princess the twisting maze was another world full of mystery and history. The palace she called home was beautiful, comfortable - and often boring. In the catacombs she could go anywhere as long as she remembered how to get out again. She was an explorer. She was free._

_Her kingly father would die if he saw her now. She'd traded her pretty dress for a pair of well-worn trousers and a coarse woolen shirt. The shirt felt twice as big as she was, the hem fell down past her knees while the sleeves flapped around her elbows. Anyone seeing her would've taken her for a common street urchin as she raced down an old, unused tunnel beneath the palace. The little princess stumbled, leaned against a wall to catch her breath, and reached into one of her grubby pockets. Her hand came out clutching a piece of chalk. The princess examined the wall carefully before scrawling an approximation of a cat's face over the ancient stone. Satisfied, she put the chalk back into her pocket and wiped her hand against a pant leg. She liked to pick a different animal for each tunnel. The drawings were her guides when it was time to leave again._

_Beneath her feet, the floor slanted ever downward. Through the walls, she could hear the gurgle of an underground river. The dampness in the air made the stone cold and slick to the touch. Most of the passages were well-lit, with metal grates wrought into the ceilings to collect rainwater. There was an old joke about how the catacombs were a bathhouse as well as a bonehouse, with the city's water supply being channeled through the newer tunnels. But it was to the old places the princess ran, where her ancestors were sleeping. _

_I know he's down here somewhere! I know it! the princess thought as she darted around a corner. The downward slope was growing steeper now and the light of the upper world was fading, but the princess was unafraid. An ancestor was calling her, leading her. An old king wanted to be remembered. _

_Another twist and turn, around a bend and through an archway, then she saw them. A circular chamber, filled with rows of stone coffins covered in dust and grime. Torches burned in high wall sconces, casting a ring of flickering light that gently brushed each coffin lid, outlining their carved faces in yellow and red. Noble kings and beautiful queens stared sightlessly at the princess as she passed each coffin, but she ignored them all, for none of them was her king._

_She found him at last, in the center of the circle. The solemn face of King Eric gazed up from his stony bed. "You're real," the princess whispered, awestruck. Chiseled eyes seemed to watch her coldly. The princess swallowed hard, suddenly nervous. "Did you really fight the giants?" The carved face looked like it was frowning at her and the princess took a step back, feeling more and more like an intruder. She turned to go, and that was when it came for her._

_A great pounding against the coffin lid startled the princess so badly she fell to her knees. Rolling onto her back, the little princess's eyes grew round with fear as more sounds of tearing and rending came from within the sarcophagus. Then a tiny crack appeared in the stone box, and a thin, green tendril uncurled and gently touched the ground by the princess's foot. In seconds, leaves were budding and growing big as paper fans. The princess had time to think King Erik's magic beanstalk, it has to be! Then the coffin shuddered as several more vines burst free of their stone prison, until King Erik's carved face disappeared beneath a roiling mass of green. One vine snaked around the princess's boot, then slithered up her leg, holding her fast. Soon her arms were pinned as well, and the princess cried for her father as the wrathful plant began to squeeze. _

"Wake up, princess."

_Struggling, the princess cried when she felt leaves brush against her throat just as all the torches sputtered and went out. _

"Wake up NOW!"

The jab hit her in the small of her back, driving needles of pain through her arms and legs. Isabelle woke with a gasp. She put a hand to her neck, half expecting to feel delicate green tendrils threading their way around her windpipe, but found nothing there but bare skin. She sat up, blinking sleepily. Habit had made her wary of moving around in the dark cave, since a single misstep would send her tumbling headlong off her sleeping ledge. It was hard to miss the armored giant standing over her, though

"What?" she asked, rubbing at her back. She didn't doubt she'd have a bruise there after getting poked by a giant's finger.

"Quiet!" Fallon snapped, and Isabelle grew instantly wary. The giant was standing close to her ledge, looking down on her with two different expressions. His main head looked fierce with its usual toothy snarl, while the smaller head frowned and whimpered as though it had been struck. _This can't be good,_ Isabelle thought, and was proved right when Fallon muttered," We have a visitor."

_A visitor?_ Her heartbeat stuttered, then broke into a full gallop. Fallon's nostrils were flared wide, a sure sign that he either smelled something or wanted to kill something. Or both. Isabelle smelled nothing but rotten moss and burnt wood from the fire they'd shared, but that meant next to nothing. A giant's nose was a thousand times sharper than any human's.

Isabelle held her breath, waiting...and heard the faintest sound of scales rasping against stone. Claws clicking as they scraped the ground.

_Oh no._ On the ledge, Isabelle gathered herself into a tense ball, while Fallon sank into a crouch and growled a low, dangerous declaration of imminent violence.

The impact felt like an earthquake. Fist-sized chunks of granite clattered like hail around Isabelle as she screamed and covered her head. Fallon roared with two throats just as a second blow hit the cave from outside, rolling the boulder-door so that a sliver of pre-dawn sky could be seen amidst a storm of falling debris. A reptilian eye suddenly filled up the empty space, glowing yellow with the pupil a dark slash in the center.

Another impact rattled the cave. The monster was trying to force a way in. Isabelle felt herself pitch forward as the stone ledge underneath her buckled. She flung out her arms as she slid, a killing drop raced toward her, barely managing to catch hold of the edge at the last instant. "FALLON!" she cried as her legs swung out over nothingness.

Either the giant heard her shout or saw her dangling by one hand. Soon Isabelle felt his hand close around her, and she was snatched away just as the ledge broke away from the wall, crumbling into pieces before it had even hit the ground. The cave swung around Isabelle in a grayish blur, then she found herself back on the giant's shoulder. She threw her arms around the neck of his second head, not understanding a word of what the creature was jabbering at her, just grateful to be alive. _Though I'm not sure how much longer that will last. _

Rocks rained down around them, bouncing harmlessly off Fallon's armor. None of them were big enough to hurt the giant, but Isabelle knew that would quickly change when the entire ceiling came down. The dragon was still throwing its weight against the boulder blocking the cave entrance, snarling and spitting tiny jets of flame that teased at the gaps around the rock, making a halo of dragonfire. Fallon was growling curses as he strode angrily toward the boulder-door, despite the scaled menace thrashing beyond. Clinging to his shoulder, Isabelle found herself praying silently. _Please, Father, don't let him get us all killed. _

"Hold on to us," Fallon roared practically in her ear. Then Isabelle watched, wide-eyed, as the giant picked up the boulder, chest heaving, and hurled the massive rock with both hands. There followed a sickening wet crunch when the boulder landed. Isabelle winced.

"A lesson for you, lizard. Never wake a giant from his sleep." Fallon stepped carefully around the spot where the boulder now rested. Isabelle could see a puddle of purplish blood oozing from underneath, and spot a leg of the squashed dragon jutting out like the feeler of a dead insect.

"What...what now?" Isabelle asked. She was trying to get control of her heart, and failing.

Fallon turned, and his cool gray eyes studied her intently. "We find another lair," he said, with his second head gurgling in eager agreement. "It's no longer safe here."

**{O}**

"Is that what I think it is?"

From his perch on Fee's shoulder Elmont found himself seeing Albion as birds in flight must see it. He could look down on the tops of trees and cross flowing rivers in a single step. Wind would come slapping at his face and force the knight to raise a hand to shield his eyes, but that left him clinging with a desperate one-handed grip to Fee's beefy neck. The giant ambled along at a leisurely pace, but even a slow walk made his big body sway like an abandoned watchtower ready to collapse, with Elmont holding to the slanted roof trying not to get tossed off. Nausea and dizziness were becoming his constant companions. Climbing the beanstalk hadn't even unnerved him like this. At least the bloody thing had possessed the decency to stay still.

_Yes, Albion looks the way birds must see it, _he thought to himself. _Terrified, spinning out of control birds_

The search had dragged on for days now. As much as he disliked riding Fee's shoulder, it was easier than trying to keep up with two giants scouring the hills for any sign of their leader or the princess. Several times Foe thought he had the scent when it ended up leading them around in circles, and once to the shore of a deserted lake where Foe insisted Fallon had been recently. "The fool went into the water," Foe had grumbled when they'd stopped to look around. "Is he trying to lose us?" Most likely, he'd been trying to lose the dragons-lots of dragons, judging from the clawprints they'd found pressed into hardened mud near a copse of trees. They'd stayed close to the lake that night, hoping for a glimpse of Fallon-or in Elmont's case, of Isabelle-but neither the two-headed monstrosity or the fair princess were anywhere to be found. Not a single scrap of them.

Until now. The view from Fee's shoulder was impressive, but Elmont could've easily spotted the massive iron ball and coiled chain from the ground. It was hard to miss, seeing how it was made for a giant's hand.

"That's Fallon's favorite toy," Fee growled. Before Elmont could stop him, the giant was racing over to pick it up, with the oaf's bounding gait forcing Elmont to take a deathgrip around his neck. Fye joined them, grumbling, and together they all stared down at the flail. The chain had gotten tangled up amongst the husks of some splintered trees. An impressive crater marked where the iron ball had come down. Elmont could barely see the wooden grip among clumps of dirt and rotted wood. "What's that thing doing here?" he asked. "Surely Fallon wouldn't leave it. He carries it everywhere." A fact he'd learned the hard way, during several occasions where he'd had to chastise the giant for pulverizing some unfortunate merchant's townhouse with the weapon's business end.

"Looks like he dropped it." Fee stooped-an act that made Elmont's stomach try to crawl up his nose-and began untangling the chain. His big hands tugged and pulled at the links, working them free, until he rose with the flail clutched in his right fist, Peering down, Elmont could see the ugly gargoyle face carved into the iron ball snarling back at him as it swung in a lazy circle. _A nasty piece of work, _Elmont thought. _Just like the giant who owns it._

Fee flicked his wrist, making the ball dance like a maddened metal imp. "I always wanted to give this a twirl, but Fallon never let me." _And for good reason_, Elmont was certain of that by the wary look Fye was giving his fellow giant. With his stony brow furrowed, Fye's grim features looked grimmer than usual as Fee wound up, then let the fiend-faced ball of destruction fly. Shards of granite flew where the metal monster struck a cliffside, knocking a house-sized hole in the rock.. Fee yelped in delight...only to flinch away half a heartbeat later when the ball ricocheted, speeding by his right ear with millimeters to spare.

Breathing heavily, Elmont tried to make his fingers relax their white-knuckled grip on Fee's shoulder. He'd been able to do little more than stare in fascinated horror throughout the whole incident. If he closed his eyes, he could still see the pale gleam off its iron surface as the giant's flail barely missed squashing him like a bug. Bits of stone still crumbled from the cliff Fee had dented, clattering to the ground with a sound like bones breaking.

Elmont searched until he found Fye standing off to one side, well out of range of Fee and his new toy. Giant gray eyes met the knight's pale blues, and they shared a look.

_We should take it away from him_, the look said, and for once man and giant were in complete agreement.

After a further search of the area turned up nothing, Fye decided they should head deeper into the mountains, claiming that he'd caught another whiff of Fallon's scent. They hadn't managed to get Fee to part with the flail, but they'd succeeded in getting him to keep it looped at his belt. The chain clinked noisily, adding an ominous counterpoint to his thumping footsteps. Elmont could do nothing but get rocked from side to side as he struggled to hang onto Fee's shoulder and hope desperately that the dimwitted monster would soon forget about the bloody thing. _The big, blundering dolt could bring down entire castles with that flail, without even meaning to. _

As they trekked up steep mountainsides, grass was replaced by scrawny weeds sprouting up through chinks in rough gray stone. Sparse stands of pine and ash formed a green canopy that sheltered small creatures, though many of the trunks only came up as high as the giant's waists. Fee and Fye tore through them without a thought, shoving aside the trees they could reach while simply stepping on any they couldn't. Elmont tried to keep track of landmarks-a strangely shaped boulder, old deer paths, anything that could help him retrace his steps if he had to make a quick escape from his two companions, but soon gave up. _If I have to run, all I'll need do is follow the trail of destruction these two leave in their wake._

Though Fee was gentle enough, and Fye hadn't done anything other than give him threatening looks. _It may just be the way his face is made._ The burly, barrel-chested giant said little, speaking mostly in grunts or clipped sentences. Fee was often the complete opposite, chattering aimlessly about his sheep, his treasure hoard back home and, sometimes, humans.

"Who was the man I found hiding behind the tree?" Fee asked. He squinted as though he were trying to peer behind every tree in his path. "Crawl? Crawler?"

"Crawe." Elmont winced. Just saying his old friend's name hurt, the poor, stubborn fool.

"Oh, yeah." Fee wrinkled his nose. "Fallon ate him."

"Yes." Elmont ground his teeth, then took a deep breath to make himself stop.

"Not fair, that," Fee continued glumly. The giant began to sniffle. He reached a hand up to his nose and plunged a finger into one nostril, causing his next words to come out muffled. "Old Two-Face should've let me have a bite. I found him."

Elmont turned his attention back to the grou_nd, _back to Fee's enormous feet plodding over stone and scrub. It was an easier sight to take than watching the giant pick his nose, and distracted him from painful memories of Crawe's last tried not to resent Fee for wanting to have gobbled down a bite of Crawe; the dunderhead was at least putting in an effort at being friendly._ Fumm raised much the same objection concerning Isabelle,_ Elmont mused, recalling the argument between the two alpha giants after he, Crawe, and Isabelle wound up a trio of sorry prisoners in Fallon's castle. _And he was beaten for it._ The knight was beginning to get a glimmer into the ways a giant's mind worked, and wasn't sure he liked it. _Territorial. They don't like to share. _

He risked a glance over his shoulder...just in time to see Fee's finger emerge from his nose with a slimy, greenish bogey stuck to its end. The giant flicked the wheelbarrow-sized blob away carelessly. Elmont didn't see where it landed, and hoped to hell he never would. He wondered how hard it would be to convince Fee to wash his hands later."What'll we do with the princess if we find her?" Fee asked. He turned to Elmont, all smiles,"Can I keep her?"

"No." _God, no,_ Elmont added silently.

"Oh." Crestfallen, Fee's lips pressed together in a sad pout. "I always wanted a princess."

"To eat?" Elmont said, perhaps a bit too harshly.

"I don't know." Up ahead, Fye was pushing his way through a narrow gap between two cliffsides. Rocks tumbled down as the giant grunted, squeezing his bulky frame through. Fee made it with less difficulty, though Elmont nearly swallowed his tongue when Fee banged his shoulder hard against a granite outcropping. Elmont had to scramble up Fee's neck almost to the height of his floppy earlobe to keep from being crushed, using fistfuls of the giant's lanky hair for purchase. Fee continued on, oblivious to the panicky human tangled up in his hair. "Princesses make you do funny things." Cupping one hand to his mouth, he shouted to Fye. "You remember Father's princess?

Fye grunted, then dipped his head in an almost imperceptible nod.

Fee continued chattering while Elmont slid back down the giant's neck. Upon landing, he took a fresh grip on the edge of Fee's shoulder guard and hung on for all he was worth. "Our Father caught a princess once. We all assumed he'd eat her-she looked so sweet and tasty and we'd already eaten all the little men in the funny brown robes- but instead his heart went all mushy and soft, and he fell in love with her."

_I am bloody well not in the mood for children's fables. _"Things like that only happen in stories," Elmont growled. It was hard enough sometimes dealing with Jack's nonsense, let alone some gangly giant with oatmeal for brains.

"But it happened! He loved her. Wouldn't let any of us come near her, not even me." Fye huffed out a breath scented with the mutton he'd had for lunch. Elmont waved a hand in front of his nose, scowling. A moment passed in silence while Fee stepped over boulders strewn about like enormous gray beads. He could hear Fye up ahead sniffing, intent upon some scent that might have just been Fee's breath. Elmont hoped it was something that smelled of Isabelle. The list of horrible things that could've happened to her out here was endless. _Please let her be all right. _

"Do you love the princess?"

"What?" Elmont's head whipped around so fast he got a faceful of the giant's stringy black hair. Fee's question blindsided him, for a few seconds rendering him incapable of doing anything but gaping like a page caught filching sweets from his lord's table.

"Somebody must want her back, else why would we be out here? You were the one who told us to go looking for her." Fee scrunched up his forehead, dredging details from the leaky milk pail of his memory. "Well, actually that was Fumm. But you were the one who made him make us go after her. So you must love her, then."

Elmont considered the question. _How can I explain these things to a giant?_ He thought back to that day in Gantua when he'd helped Jack put bees in the helmet of a sleeping giant. Their fool plan had actually worked, sending the giant toppling off the edge of the world and clearing the way to the beanstalk. He remembered how Isabelle had laughed and flung her arms around Jack, and how he'd had to look away. _I'd served her family for years,_ he thought. _I knew there could never be anything between us...but I'd always hoped. A fool's hope._

"Of course I love her," Elmont said, staring down at his hands and counting the scars. Each scar earned defending his king and princess. "Ever since she was a child."

"Then why don't you keep her?"

Elmont almost smiled at the honest puzzlement in Fee's voice. "She's not mine to keep."

"Who's is she, then?'

He was about to say _Jack's_ when the path in front of them opened onto a scene of utter destruction. A mountain of rubble was all that remained of what had been a cave. A ripe smell was in the air that stung Elmont's eyes and made Fee cover his nose. A growl from Fye sent a dark swarm of crows off screeching, revealing a limp green leg sticking out from beneath the biggest boulder Elmont had ever seen. A lake of purple blood flowed like discolored wine through cracks in the fractured stone, some of it dried into black stains but a great deal more looked alarmingly fresh and wet.

"What the bloody hell happened here?" Elmont shouted.

"Fallon was here." Fye dropped into a crouch, examining the dead dragon with his eyes and nose. "There was a fight."

_That looks bloody obvious._ Elmont tugged on a handful of Fee's hair, and the giant set him down. He picked his way through the debris, taking care not to sprain an ankle on the uneven footing. Clouds of dust still swirled in the air, mingling gray and white, and Elmont felt an icy raindrop hit his shoulder just as another landed in his hair. The daylight was getting colder as well as darker.

"Fallon's scent is all over this place." Fye said. He picked up a slate-colored rock and sniffed it.

"What about Isabelle?" Elmont felt a bubble of panic rise in his chest from staring at the ruined mountainside. _If she'd been caught under all that..._

Fye sucked in so much air Elmont thought he was about to have a titanic sneeze. A shudder passed through him, then the giant growled. "She was here, too. I can barely smell her." Both giants began to dig through the heap of fallen rock, taking stone out by the handfuls.

The wait seemed to last for days. Elmont could do nothing but count heartbeats and listen to the clatter of stones being moved. The giants would scoop up handfuls of rubble, then pause and sniff, pause and sniff, until at last Fye sat back and laid his grimy hands on his knees. "No dead humans here. Or giants princess might still live." A pause, then he added. "Unless she's been eaten. Then not even her bones would be left."

Elmont shuddered. _Bloody giants._

Fee sprawled lazily atop a pile of stone. letting one hand drift down to finger at the flail's chain looped at his belt. "Fallon won't come back to a place after an enemy's found it. He knows better." He paused, thinking, then lurched to his feet, ignoring the dust and pebbles that fell from his lap like gray hail. In a few strides he'd bounded over to the massive boulder - stepping over a shaken Elmont on the way - and squatted down to poke a finger at the dead dragon's leg, feeling a bit of muscle."Hmm...nice and lean, this one was."

Rain was now falling in big cold drops. Fye's bald head shimmered beneath a layer of water. Being ill-tempered at the best of times, the weather didn't help much. A growl tore from his throat, eventually forming into words."This search is hopeless. Fallon and this human girl could be anywhere. We should go back to Cloister and eat the..." He caught himself, and had the wisdom to look sheepish. "...help the humans there."

"We know we're closer to them than we were yesterday," Elmont said. He put as much iron-clad authority into his words as possible. Neither of the giants seemed to much care what happens to Isabelle so long as they found their two-headed brother, alive or dead. And even concern for their fellow giant seemed to be waning by the hour, judging from Fye's sullen looks and Fee's intermittent bouts of complaining. _I have to be the leader,_ Elmont thought. The prospect was tiring, but he couldn't let them give up. Not now. Fee and Fye weren't quite his friends, but they were all he had. "We'll keep looking."

Fye gave him a murderous look. One of his big hands opened, ready to snatch, and Elmont hastily added, "Three more days. If we haven't found anything by then, we'll go back."

"Can I eat the dragon?" Fee called. Elmont and Fye turned as one to see that Fee had rolled the boulder aside, revealing a mess of crushed spines, broken wings, and raw meat, all covered in purplish ichor like an obscene sauce. One bite of beet-colored flesh was halfway to his mouth, but he sat waiting for their answer, a hopeful gleam in his big gray eyes.

"I suppose," Elmont said, ignoring the way his stomach flipped. _Fee's like a child, and Fye is like the practice yard bully._ "What's left of it, anyway." He shrugged. Fye grinned happily, and bit into the dragon leg like a chicken drumstick.

Fye gave the knight a lingering look, then shrugged as well. Elmont let himself breathe again. _He's not happy, but he's with me. For three more days, at least._

More rain came spattering down. Nearby Elmont could hear the slobbery sounds of Fee chewing, licking his fingers after every bite. "Let's find some shelter," Fye rumbled finally, rising up to his full, impressive height. Elmont was a veteran of a hundred battles, but even he felt a twinge of unease when the giant's misshapen shadow fell over him. "It's getting nasty out here."

**{O}**

The rain started coming down in earnest, just as the princess realized that she and her giant were hopelessly, irretrievably lost.

Big fat drops pelted both of Fallon's bald heads as he walked, hitting with little_ clangs_ against his armor. Isabelle's arms were tired and achy from all the time spent clinging to his second head while the wind and rain turned her skin to ice. From time to time, she stole worried glances at the second head. Its eyes were closed, its face slack, and it drooped forward so badly she wondered if it was sleeping or sick. Her fears were laid to rest when a fresh sheet of rain pounded hard onto its helmet, waking it into letting out a startled, "Aaahhhh!" _Poor thing._ Isabelle patted its cheek. Her hand made a squelching sound rubbing against the creature's damp skin.

If the second head was uncomfortable, Fallon's own head was miserable. Isabelle could hear him growling under his breath every time he stepped into a patch of muck or had to lift a hand to flick water from his eyes. His hooked nose was dripping like a rainspout, and more water was sliding down his chestplate so that the steel shimmered as if immersed in a river. "The dragons won't hunt us in this weather," he mumbled. Isabelle wasn't sure if he was talking to himself or to her. Either way, it seemed a woefully weak attempt at cheer.

"Where are we going?" she asked. Her voice sounded muffled by the rain.

Fallon shot her a weary look. "Someplace dry, we hope." His smaller head pursed its lips and made a half-strangled croaking noise like a frog swallowing too many flies. If Fallon understood his twin he didn't show it, but kept plodding doggedly forward. The land around them was growing steeper and stonier; they passed rain-slicked boulders and once or twice Isabelle thought she spied the white shine off snow-dusted rocks, though they were gone before she could be certain. I_t's cold enough for snow, _she thought. _I never thought I'd miss the cave. The place was dark and frightening, but at least it was dry. _

"I don't think-" Whatever she'd meant to say was cut off when Fallon stumbled. His shoulder dipped so suddenly Isabelle's wet fingers slipped from his little twin's neck. Panicked, she scrabbled for purchase only to grab handfuls of empty air as her whole body pitched forward, then freezing wind was rushing through her hair and clothes and she was falling...

...and landed with a moist smack in Fallon's open hand. Dazed, she lay across his palm blinking water out of her eyes, trying to form coherent thoughts around the roaring in her ears. Fallon was a dark blur above her, his expression unreadable. Isabelle lifted a hand to him in a feeble wave. "Good catch."

A low growl was her only answer. But the giant didn't put her back on his shoulder. His other hand came up, cupping her gently, and Isabelle found herself pressed closer to his chest, with her cheek laying against the cold steel of his armor. The princess threw him a questioning look, but if the giant noticed he ignored her. The sky draped a heavy gray cloak around them as the giant trudged forward, heading even deeper into a world of rough stone and white mountain mist.

"S-should we even be h-here?" Isabelle's teeth were chattering. Mostly from the cold, she told herself. "I m-mean, so far into the mountains? It's d-dangerous." For as long as the princess could remember, the mountains had carried a sinister reputation. As a girl, she'd heard tales of cannibal witches who lived up in high mountain passes: cunning, smiling old women who built houses from gingerbread. Any innocent little children she lured inside her house of sweets were never seen again. And there were worse things...

Fallon snorted at the mention of danger. "My kind _owned_ these mountains back in King Erik's day, princess." His second head burbled a single identifiable word: _Mountains_. Fallon sniffed loudly. "I smell traces of them here still."

Isabelle grew quiet, and let Fallon follow his nose while her back soaked up the warmth from his palms. His fingertips curled into a fleshy cage around her and she could, if she wished, snuggle against his wet armored chest. Being held so close to his body meant she was shielded somewhat from the worst of the wind and rain; however, the princess went rigid with fear every time a loose stone shifted beneath the giant's feet and threw him off balance. _If he falls, I'll end up squashed flatter than the dragon he killed this morning. _Moving slowly, she hooked an arm around one of his thick fingers, holding on until she felt a little calmer. A memory surfaced of the scattered moments after the dragon had carried her off. She'd been hiding in a tree while Fallon growled and snarled until the wounded lizard finally took the hint and fled, Once the dragon turned tail, the giant had come for her...and she'd fallen out of the tree from fright. _But I didn't fall, _she thought. _He caught me that time, too. And this morning, when I almost fell off the ledge. _The knowledge gave her some comfort; if the giant wouldn't let her fall, he probably wouldn't let her get squished either.

No more words passed between them for a while, though for once the silence wasn't threatening. The rain had finally tapered off to a cold drizzle that hung in the air like a thin wet blanket. Isabelle ran a hand through her tangled wet hair, trying to work out a knot that was wound so tightly a single tug threatened to take out half her hair. After a moment of futile pulling, she gave it up for hopeless and lay listening to the soft thunder of giant footsteps. That dreaded sound had terrified her before Fallon had come back and her world turned upside down. Now she was as used to it as if she'd been born on Gantua. _I never thought I'd live this long around a giant. The Fallon I met on Gantua would've killed me without a second thought, not saved me from hungry dragons, or fed me roast boar, or bothered to catch me if I fell off his shoulder. Why should he care anything about what happens to me now? _Much of what her unlikely protector did was a mystery to her, but that was one riddle she hoped to learn the answer to before she died.

Fallon was sniffing deeply, his huge head turning madly to catch any stray breeze. Watching him, the princess wondered if she dared asking him straight out what he ultimately planned to do with her when his whole body went tense, the ropy muscles in his arms and neck going taut as harpstrings beneath his skin. Her position close to his chest allowed Isabelle to actually feel the agitation coursing through him, a deep thrum like a bowstring about to loose an arrow. "What's wrong," she asked cautiously. Peering up at him, she mainly had an excellent view of the underside of his chin, but when his head dipped to look down at her she saw that his mouth was set in a tight line while his nostrils were flared wide. Beside him, his second head sniffled, then broke into a fit of coughing so intense Isabelle feared it might choke.

Fallon's eyes were chips of hard, cold flint."What do you mean, 'What's wrong?' We thought even your pitiful human nose could smell _that_, princess."

His harshness actually stung. "I don't smell anything," she shot back. She squirmed against his chest until she was almost sitting upright, with one of her small hands pressed flat against his armor. Coughs and splutters still came from the second head. The little misfit was complaining loud about something in words that might've been Gantish or badly mangled English; it was impossible to tell which. "What is it?'

"Death."

A chill crept up her spine with cold, mincing feet. Isabelle knew better than to question him further. Instead she closed her eyes and just let Fallon carry her. feeling curiously weightless, like a ghost, like the little girl she became in dreams. Sounds washed over her: the giant's heavy breathing mixed with his muttered curses, the drip of water on stone, the moan of freezing wind rushing through deep gullies and narrow trenches. The mountains were a strange, fierce territory, cold and hard as giant hearts. _Fallon knows where he's going...I hope._

Fallon stopped so abruptly it was like he'd hit a wall. Though all was still and silent, the air around him seemed charged and smoky with tension. Isabelle took a breath to steel herself before opening her eyes.

The first thing she saw was the skull. It had to be a skull, because no natural rock would have such large, pitted holes where eyes should be, or such a huge mouth full of the stubs of broken teeth. _Except this skull is bigger than a house, _Isabelle thought, overcome by a mixture of awe and dread. The flesh had long since rotted away, leaving the deaths head grin belonging to all human skulls; however, no one with any wits could mistake the skull as human. Isabelle realized Fallon's keen sense of smell had led them straight to a giant's graveyard.

Above her, Fallon's little twin gave a small, sad moan, then broke into another coughing fit. _The smell of death is strongest here, _Isabelle thought, shuddering. Even she could smell it now, the musty, rotted stink of bodies left out in the sun to decay. She wasn't sure she wanted to know how Fallon himself was faring. Knowing him, not very well. He still carried her like a toy, not grasping tight enough to hurt, but if he got angry enough... "Fallon," she called out, very gently. A brusque growl was the only reply she got.

They found more bones further on: rib cages the size of elephant tusks, fingerbones longer than a human forearm, femurs taller than trees. Isabelle stared at half of a skeleton so old most of it had long since fused with the rocks, so it was almost impossible to tell where bones ended and mountains began. Scattered among the bones of giants were smaller bones, yet they were so similarly shaped they could be nothing other than human. One huge skull still clutched a tiny leg bone between its cracked front teeth. Isabelle turned away from the sight, swallowing bile while pressing her face against the cold steel covering Fallon's chest.

The rest of the journey passed in a confused blur. Judging by all the sniffing, Fallon had picked up another scent, while Isabelle simply lay in his arms and let him wander where he would. Though Fallon was the one walking, she felt exhausted. All around her was evidence of past carnage. _The First War._ _No wonder the mountains have such a bad reputation, if giants once lived here. _Several times Fallon took her past boulders that had been carved to resemble the stone heads of gargoyles, though their features were so worn only a bare outline remained of toothy snarls and bulging eyes. It was as though Gantua had been brought down to Albion. _The giants tried to make a new home here,_ Isabelle thought, feeling small, frightened, and more than a little awestruck at seeing the old legends brought to life. Too overwhelmed to take it all in, Isabelle closed her eyes and would've happily kept them shut if Fallon hadn't started barking orders at her.

"Open your eyes, princess!" he snapped. "_Now!_"

Reluctantly, she did as she was told...and received a shock that raised another layer of goosebumps under her half-frozen skin. An impossibly huge staircase unfolded before them like a grayish-white ribbon, each step chiseled out of a looming mountainside. There were no handholds Isabelle could see, and on either side was a sheer drop onto spiky rocks.

Isabelle's mind felt as numb as her feet. She had to struggle to find words. "What is this place?"

"Years upon years ago, it was one of our greatest strongholds." Fallon seemed as surprised as she was by the old ruins, the surviving legacy of his former conquest. His second head gave an appreciative whistle. "We built several places of power before your _Erik the Great_ used his Crown to tame us. We doubted any still remained." The giant practically spat the name of Isabelle's childhood hero, loading it with contempt. _Erik was our savior, and his worst enemy, _she mused, before her thoughts returned to a bleak, stony landscape littered with the ancient bones of giants and men. _What happened back there? It looked like a slaughter, but by who?_

The last thing Isabelle wanted was to return to Fallon's shoulder where she'd have to endure the headsplitting view, yet that was where the giant put her. He needed his hands free to climb the steps, or what remained of them. As soon as his fingers released her, she grabbed onto his second head with a vengeance, flinging her arms around its neck and burying her face in its tender skin. The climb was steep, and Isabelle sucked in her breath every time a loose stone clattered free, sending up distant echoes as it bounced down the mountain. _These stairs were made for giants. No sane human would ever want to climb this. _Soft crooning sounds came from the second head; the little creature was trying to calm her. The ascent didn't worry her half as much as what they would find at the mountain's peak. _A huge castle full of angry giants, with every one of them wanting to rip me apart..._

"You stink of fear, girl. What is it now?" Fallon's grumpy voice cut like cold iron through her rising panic, so that hearing his complaint was almost a relief. Shakily, she pulled away from his second head, but didn't open her eyes.

"W-what's up there?" she asked.

"Ruins. Death. There's no one here, princess. Look around you."

She did. They were at the top of the staircase, Fallon having climbed in minutes where a human would've taken hours or days. The gray belly of the sky pressed uncomfortably close, close enough to touch, so that Isabelle had to wait for her head to stop spinning before she could focus on the castle before her...or what was left of the castle.

Like the castles she'd seen on Gantua, this one sported a collection of cylindrical towers carved from solid stone. She counted four, but only two were still standing, the rest having crumbled into sad piles of broken slate and granite. A square keep squatted like an enormous stone toad among remnants of old statues; here a grasping hand broken off at the wrist, there a headless warrior raising a rusted sword. _This place must've been terrifying in its day,_ she thought. Even ruined, the place still felt like a steel trap about to snap shut. In her mind, she saw baskets of screaming human prisoners being brought up the mountainside by troops of hungry giants wanting a feast. As Fallon approached the gate, Isabelle saw the stone around the portcullis was stained red and sculpted to resemble a giant mouth about to swallow them, with iron spikes for teeth.

"I don't want to go in there!" The words were shouted out before she could stop herself. Dimly, she heard Fallon's second head squawk something at her, but her full attention was on the portcullis and the inky blackness waiting beyond it. Years of rust had chewed away at the iron until most of the bars were like dried straw, brittle and weak. They gave easily when Fallon started prying them apart.

"You'd rather stay out here in the rain, with only bones for company?" Fallon grunted while his bare hands tore into the rusted portcullis, ripping out huge chunks of rusted iron and tossing them aside like chaff. Soon his knuckles were streaked red by rust flakes. The sight made Isabelle think of Crawe's blood, which subsequently made her feel like crying.

"No one's going to eat you, little princess," Fallon mumbled the words without looking at her, yet Isabelle could faintly hear something in them that sounded almost, _almost_ like kindness. His second head flashed her one of its mischievous grins that showed a lot of teeth while still managing to appear elfin and harmless. Isabelle was clinging so tightly to its neck she was taken completely by surprise when the little beast stuck its tongue out at her, flicking the tip lightly over her face. Warm spit dribbled into her eyes, but rubbing them meant she'd have to let go and risk falling. _I could strangle him and claim it was an accident._ _Fallon would know it was a lie, though._The whole situation suddenly struck her as so ludicrous Isabelle couldn't help but give a weak, tremulous laugh. The little imp beamed down at her, happy at having made her happy. _Not exactly happy, but prepared. If anything tries to eat me, it won't be the first time. _When Fallon wrenched the last bar from the gate, Isabelle took a deep breath and held her head high as he stepped into the mouth of darkness.

The inside of the castle looked as broken as the outside. An entry hall spread out before them, vast stone floors covered in thick dust that swirled up at the slightest breeze. Braziers lined the walls holding torches long since guttered out and were now just sticks of rotted wood, if that. Part of the roof had collapsed, forcing Fallon to move carefully through the debris. Cold, cloudy gray light streamed in where the roof should have been, silvering the hooked noses and pointed teeth of a row of gargoyle faces chiseled into the walls

_A dreary place,_ Isabelle thought. She wondered if the same dark thought was in Fallon's twin minds as he stepped under an arched doorway, the wooden door having long since rotted through. Water dripped down as they passed beneath the stone lintel, splashing Isabelle's hair and landing with a wet _plink_ on Fallon's head,, but if the giant felt it he gave no sign. Even his second head was quiet. Isabelle noticed its dented helmet had fallen to one side like an oversized hat, covering its left eye like some dimwitted pirate. Any other time the sight might've made her giggle behind her hand, but in this ruined wreck of a castle any hint of laughter felt singularly unwelcome.

Whether Fallon knew the way by touch, smell, or from following paths graven in memory, Isabelle couldn't say. She just knew the giant seemed to have some innate sense of where he was going. They passed through a long chamber wide enough to have served as a banquet hall. Stone pillars reached up to a ceiling that to the small human girl seemed thousands of feet high. Past that they entered a maze of dark, twisty passages that eerily reminded Isabelle of the catacombs beneath Cloister. _This place is big enough to swallow my palace whole and still have room inside for more,_ she thought, more than a little unsettled. What little light there was seeped through chinks in gray stone walls, and soon there was no light at all. Even then Fallon didn't stop, but sniffed long and deep, following a scent. Isabelle turned to his second head with raised eyebrows, questioning, but little Fallon stared straight ahead, intense and focused as his brother.

Soon they halted at a pair of tall wrought iron doors. Two ornamented doorknockers carved into the likeness of giants with lolling tapered tongues, bulging eyes, and cruelly pointed teeth snarled at them in challenge. Iron clappers wrought in the shape of bull rings dangled from each bulbous nose, but Fallon didn't bother knocking. He shoved against the doors until their rusted iron hinges squealed. until Isabelle's ears ached from the colossal sound of so much tortured metal. Once the doors were opened, Fallon made his way down a set of wide stone steps that spiraled down into an underground vault.

Isabelle tensed, wondering if they were headed to a part of the castle she'd rather not visit. "Is...Is this the dungeon?" She'd been a guest in one of Fallon's dungeon before, and hadn't enjoyed her stay.

"No, princess. Something even better," Fallon said. The rock walls caught the giant's deep voice and threw back the echoes, which tumbled over each other before fading. The air down here was so cold Isabelle was certain her breath would be visible if there'd been enough light to see it. Shivering, she held onto the smaller head's neck as Fallon reached the bottom of the steps, turned a corner and...

Her breath caught. She stared, dumbfounded.

As a child, she'd heard plenty of stories about the treasure hoards giants kept. Many a bold adventurer sought their fortune in these very mountains, seeking the legendary treasures the vanquished race had left behind. Whether they found the famed gold can't be said, for none had ever returned. Her sweet Jack was the only man in living memory to have laid eyes on a giant's treasure and lived to tell the tale. But words now proved a wholly inadequate way to convey the wonder, splendor, and sheer decadence of what the princess saw before her.

Gold was heaped in shining yellow piles stretching from one end of the chamber to the other. Golden cups, plates, swords, scepters, and gold coins beyond count or price, all glowing as if they were freshly minted. Each treasure pile towered as high as a miniature mountain to Isabelle, forming a magical sparkling landscape. Gemstones crusted the floor: emeralds, rubies, sapphires, and a glowing purplish stone the princess had never seen before. Beside her, Fallon let out his breath in a triumphant hiss, his second head gave a happy little chirrup and grinned, and even Isabelle forgot for a moment how hungry, cold, and tired she was, amazed by the magical sight.

"It's good to be back." Indeed, with a broad smile that stretched from ear to ear Fallon looked the happiest she'd ever seen him. Crouching down, the giant took up handfuls of gold coins and let them run through his fingers, sighing at the sounds they made clinking together. Reaching up, the giant plucked the princess from his shoulder and set her down near his feet, where she sank up to her waist in a sea of gold.

She picked up a rope of twisted gold inlaid with rubies, their depths flashing with bloody red light. "Is all this yours?"

"Some of it." Fallon had sat himself down in the midst of the treasure hoard, sorting through the various trinkets, picking out the ones that pleased him. "This fortress was meant for more than just battle. My brothers and I needed places like this to hide the plunder we couldn't carry home with us."

_Plunder._ That word. Isabelle dropped the golden rope she'd been examining back into the pile. "You stole it," she said, without much surprise.

Fallon scowled. "Who's to say it wasn't stolen from us first, and we were only stealing it back? It makes no difference now. The kings of old are long dead. The treasure belongs to whoever claims it." Fallon scooped up a handful of gems and peered at them through half-lidded eyes, soon entranced by their multicolored glitter.

_Giants._ The more time she spent with Fallon, the more accustomed she was growing to feeling amused, sad, and angry all at once. _A taste for acquiring things, indeed._

Something strange caught Isabelle's eye. At first, she took it for a lump of gold, but when she turned her head just so the lump looked more and more like a ball of...feathers? Curiosity overcame her, and she waded through waist-high drifts of glitter and gold until she reached the object of her attention. The back of her neck tingled from the weight of Fallon's watchful eyes on her, but for once she didn't care. The thing she had found was more than just a ball of feathers; it was a bird.

_A goose,_ she amended. A golden goose.


	13. Chapter 12: Safe

**Title: **Seed of Darkness

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** A new threat descends upon Cloister and Jack must use the Crown of Erik to call on some unlikely allies. Fallon/Isabelle, Fumm/OC

**Disclaimer: **I make no money whatsoever off this story or any of the characters.

Chapter 12: Safe

{O}

The goose slept with its head tucked under a wing. Each feather was masterfully painted, each long, fluffy shaft tapered to points of shining gold. Isabelle stroked the ruff of feathers on its curved neck, marveling at how soft they were._ So beautiful,_ she thought sadly. _A shame its stuffed._ She took hold of the folded wing, intending to pull it back so she could have a look at the goose's head. That was when the beautiful stuffed bird uncurled its neck, lifted up its head, and let out an irritated _honk_! The princess was so startled she yelped and fell over backwards. She flailed her arms wildly, struggling to pull herself out of a mountain of gems, gold, and other precious things that wanted to swallow her down. Around her she could hear Fallon's laughter booming off the walls, mingling with the throaty squawks of his second head.

"You woke him up," Fallon said, his amusement plain. He stretched out a hand and took hold of the princess before she could sink any deeper, lifting her out of the pile and setting her upright. His fingers lingered, brushing flakes of gold off her shoulders.

"It's alive!" Isabelle stared at the goose in slack-jawed amazement. The bird returned her stare with beady, amber-tinted eyes, then warbled amiably and settled down to preen itself. Soon she was transfixed by the play of light over the bird's wings. When Isabelle realized her mouth was ajar she shut it quickly, knowing that the giant watched and fighting to keep her cheeks from flaming."I thought it was dead and stuffed!"

"Creatures like him never die unless forced to, princess. Their magic keeps them alive." The giant sounded almost reverent for once. The bird continued to clean its dusty feathers with its long, golden beak, calm and untroubled despite having just woken from a thousand-year sleep. Then it squawked, flapped its wings, and squatted down, warbling to itself dreamily. When it rose again, a shining gold egg lay between its feet. The goose bent its neck and rolled the egg toward Isabelle with its beak. It took three nudges from the goose before the egg bumped against her outstretched hand.

Picking up the egg, the princess was distantly aware of the sound of Fallon's chuckle. "A gift for you, princess." Wondering, she tapped a fingernail against the shell. It rang high and clear, a sweeter sound than the bells of Cloister Tower. The weight alone told her that the egg was likely solid gold.

_That's impossible,_ Isabelle thought as she set the egg aside. The goose had already gone back to sleep, its head once again tucked snugly beneath a wing. _No more impossible than talking to giants or finding treasure or escaping from dragons. _A sound like a stifled growl reminded Isabelle one of those impossible things was right behind her. Turning slowly, she took in the sight of Fallon staring down at her. A strange look was on the giant's face, but was gone as soon as she met his eyes, replaced by his usual stern mask. He was leaning back against a wall, his arms crossed, his legs drawn up before him. Despite his fearsome visage, Isabelle sensed he was content in a way he hadn't been for centuries. _And why not? He's reclaimed his old castle, found fabulous treasure, and gotten a golden goose in the bargain. _From its place on his shoulder the second head stared longingly at the sleeping goose, like a child wanting his favorite toy.

_He's over a thousand years old._ The implications were wonderful...and terrifying. With only seventeen years to her name, Isabelle couldn't imagine being that old. A million questions swarmed in her mind like raucous bees, begging to be asked. _What was Albion like when he first came here? What was my ancestor the King like?_

The giant had finally noticed her staring. "What?" he snapped.

She took a breath. _Here goes._ "Those...those giants' bones we found on the path here - did you know them?"

Fallon gave a slight shake of his head, dismissive. "Do we know the names of every warrior who falls in battle, princess? No. But they died fighting. They were good deaths."

"Did you ever meet King Erik?" _Careful here,_ the princess reminded herself. King Erik was ever and always a touchy subject with her giant general.

Fallon narrowed his eyes and frowned down at her. Isabelle sighed, expecting him not to answer when, miraculously, he did. "We met him twice. In battle. The first time we made him and his army weep blood. The second time..." His shoulders rose and fell in a huge sigh. "The second time he had the Crown."

_The King humiliated him. The same way Roderick did. No wonder he hates him so much._ Isabelle had seen first hand how powerless the giants were before the Crown. No one likes being made a slave. For such proud creatures, robbing them of their free will would be worse than death. That was something the princess understood all too well.

_Only they left us no choice,_ she reminded herself. _They would've killed us all otherwise_. She cast a wary glance at the giant, studied his meaty, long-fingered hands, his wide shoulders, the brutal look of his face. And the second head that forever marked him as a freak, even among his own people. _The first time I saw him through the bars of that cage, I nearly fainted,_ she recalled. _A monstrous giant with two heads, just like the legend said._ But for all the rage in him, for all his ugliness, there was a drop of gentleness, too. She'd sensed it in the way he'd carried her through the mountains. And then she recalled a time, ages ago, where she'd sat thumbing through the brittle pages of an old, dusty journal, and wondered about the other captive princess and if she truly was the first to see a giant's softer side.

Quietly, she asked, "Who was the-"

It took only a second for the giant to reach out, for Isabelle to feel his fingers close tight around her waist, and before she'd drawn breath to cry out the sea of treasure flew away beneath her dangling legs and his snarling face was all she could see. "So you think to interrogate us now, do you?" His gray eyes bored into her, full of suspicion. "Well, go on, princess. Ask. What ignorant questions do you want answered?" His throat worked, issuing angry growls, and his curled upper lip exposed every one of his chipped teeth. "Well?_ Ask!_"

But Isabelle couldn't speak. Panic left her throat too small and tight for words. _Did I push too far? Is he going to kill me? _Risking a glance at his second head, she saw its wide-eyed expression was as confused and frightened as her own. His grip around her waist tightened painfully, making her gasp. That's when the innate stubbornness that had gotten her into more trouble than she could recall finally took over. Maybe she was just a small girl in his eyes, but she was also the daughter of a king, and wouldn't be bullied like one of his underlings.

Swallowing down the fear that threatened to choke her, she forced herself to meet his eyes without flinching. "I want to know about the other girl you spoke of. The other princess."

A slight twitch of the giant's left eye was the only indication that her boldness had startled him. She could hear his second head nervously smacking its lips together, trying to speak, but she didn't dare take her eyes off Fallon long enough to offer it reassurance. Seconds stretched out like hot tallow. By the time the giant dipped his chin in submission and set her down in his lap, Isabelle's brow was damp with sweat.

"Are all human girls so foolishly reckless?" Weary resignation laced Fallon's voice. Isabelle was too preoccupied with trying to stop shaking any satisfaction over having won another fight with him. He continued, while the princess fought to hear past the pounding in her ears."The princess you speak of was King Erik's own daughter," Fallon admitted softly. "Young. Beautiful, in her own human way. She was among the monks who climbed the first beanstalk, almost the first one to reach the top. My brothers and I had seen the stalk rise over the edge of our world, its leaves unfurled as though it longed to touch the sun itself. I remember how we stood in a circle like a pack of fools wondering what this new thing was and why it was here. Then up came the little brown-robed men and one dark-haired girl."

"Our ancestors knew of mankind, and had left warnings that we might meet them again someday. The little men fell to their knees. We couldn't understand the noises they made, but they seemed to think we were servants of God. Perhaps they thought we were gods." Fallon chuckled, a black sound with little real mirth. Isabelle could easily guess what had happened next, even if she hadn't heard the story every night as a child.

"You attacked them."

"They were trespassers meddling with a power they didn't understand!" Fallon's lip curled in disgust. "I threw the first man back over the edge. Then my brothers started feasting on human flesh and urged me to try some. It was the sweetest thing we'd ever tasted."

"The girl was the last left alive. We could tell she was someone of importance, small as she was. My brothers and I argued over what to do with her when our Father arrived."

"He beheld the tiny, terrified girl, and his heart melted."

"It...melted?" Isabelle's asked, confused. It felt awkward sitting in his lap, but his hand clutching her prevented her from moving. Fallon seemed to stare off into horizons only he could see. His second head did the same, looking sad and wistful. "There are many ways to melt a giant's hard heart, princess," he finally said. "One way is with fire and smoke. The other way..." He looked at the girl in his hand then, and the princess saw a painful struggle going on behind his eyes, some internal fight that was leaving him raw and bloody inside. She was surprised at how much this sign of inner turmoil made her feel for him. "It had been a long, long time since Father had seen a girl. Of any kind."

_All the giantesses were dead,_ Isabelle thought, recalling the dragons and the slaughter they'd brought to Gantua. _The men were all alone_. "You mean he...fell in love with her?"

Without answering her question, the giant pressed on with his tale. "Father took her back to his castle, and kept her there while my brothers and I climbed down the beanstalk to the world below." Some of the old hostility crept back into the giant's voice. His left hand reached up to rub at the corded muscles around his neck, while his right hand held Isabelle close. "We didn't know what to expect at the bottom, but we wanted more of that sweet human taste. We found a world even more vast and rich than our own. A world that had been forbidden to us...but was no longer!"

Isabelle cringed, inside and out. Thinking about what Fallon and his kin must've done during their first rush of newfound freedom made a cold, sharp blade twist in her stomach. The piles of gold throwing off innocent sparkles all around them were proof of how giant greed and desire had run rampant. Fallon must've sensed her discomfort. "We'll spare you the details, little songbird," he growled, "but those were the days when your ancestors learned to fear the thunder."

"But then our Father sent a messenger down ordering us to stop."

_Stop?_ Isabelle knew the old legends forwards, backwards, and sometimes lived them in her dreams, but she'd never heard this part before. "He told you to stop? Why would he-"

"It was the girl's doing," Fallon said. "After so long, she had taught Father a few words of human speech, and she'd learned some of ours. Enough for her to beg Father to end the slaughter of her people, for the sake of his feelings for her. He agreed. And for a time we left mankind alone. None of us dared oppose him. Even those not bound to him by blood feared to anger Thunderdel." A fierce gleam awoke in the giant's eyes, a fiery shine Isabelle recognized as pride. "He was the closest thing to a true King our kind has ever had."

"It didn't last, did it?" Isabelle said, remembering the field of human and giant bones they'd crossed to get to the castle. "The peace didn't last?"

Both of Fallon's heads shook simultaneously. "No, of course it didn't. But we were content to let the peace stand for as long as it could. The little king did pay us tribute, after all."

Isabelle didn't like the sound of that. "Tribute?"

"Oh, we've come to something left out of your little story, eh princess?" Fallon grinned. His fingers around her tightened imperceptibly. "Pay attention then, little one. Your great King Erik was no fool. He feared us. So every so often he would send...gifts to keep us at bay."

_I don't think I want to hear this._ There was no way Isabelle could ever know what type of man King Erik had been, but she knew giants, along with the sort of things they liked. What "gifts" it would take to make them happy. _I always thought he was like my father,_ she thought, then remembered what her father had always said: a king will do what he must to protect his kingdom.

Even if it meant a sacrifice.

"He gave you people to eat."

Fallon nodded. "Ten men every month. Picked by lot, we suppose. Or maybe they had broken laws and needed to be punished. We never asked." He watched her carefully, waiting to see her reaction. _He could be lying_, the part of her that balked at the very idea of good King Erik doing something so monstrous insisted._ He could be saying this to hurt me. _But another part of her that was made of cool, cold logic sensed there was truth in what he said. _Your own father would've chopped down the beanstalk and left you to die for the sake of the realm. A wise king would sacrifice the few so that the many could live. _

If the giant expected her to scream and curse him, call him liar, or beast, or any of a hundred possible names, he was surprised when all she did was ask in a flat, calm tone that held no hint of her true feelings, "What happened then?"

The giant opened his mouth, then closed it, suddenly uncertain. The hand holding her relaxed, one finger uncurling to stroke her arm. "Do you really want to know these things, Isabelle?" The use of her name got her to look at him again. _He never says my name unless he means to. _The lines on his forehead looked deeper, so did the darkness around his eyes. He looked _tired_, as though a thousand years of memory wrought in heavy iron chains were draped over his shoulders. "You have a soft heart and this is not a pretty story. We," he paused, seeming to struggle for words, "we wish to spare you more pain, if we can."

_First my Father, then Jack and Elmont, now even a giant wants to protect me?_ Under better circumstances, such delicious irony would've made her throw up her hands and laugh. "Just tell me. Please."

Fallon growled, then closed his eyes. The princess counted her heartbeats until he opened them. "Something very precious to my kind was stolen." Isabelle cast a glance over at the golden goose asleep on its pile of treasure, then looked back at the giant questioningly.

"Not him," Fallon said. "There are thousands more like him." Then Fallon's eyes took on the shifty air of someone about to confess something they'd much prefer to keep to themselves. "It was a harp."

"A _harp?_" Incredulity made her almost forget that she was in the hand of a being who could crush her to pulp in bare seconds. A mental image unfolded of Fallon gently strumming the golden strings of a harp with a beatific expression plastered on both his faces. It made her head hurt. "You fought a war over a harp?"

A snarl underlay the giant's voice, a sign of either anger, exasperation, or likely both at once. "It wasn't just any harp, girl! It was a harp forged in Heaven by the angels themselves. A holy relic from the creators of our kind." Bitterness coated his words, heavy and black. "The last gift we ever received from them."

"When the harp was stolen, we all went mad. Nothing Father or his princess could do would stop us. Humans fled before us as we tore their villages apart." Fallon paused, appeared to choose his next words carefully. "Many and more humans were slain, but giants also fell. King Erik had learned new tricks since our first meeting. The giants he slew had their hearts cut out and their heads mounted on iron spikes. No other human had ever brought us so much suffering. And so we named him Erik the Terrible."

"I set out to free my brothers from this menace once and for all, but by then it was too late."

"He had the Crown?" Isabelle asked in a hushed voice.

Fallon nodded, while his second head croaked weakly. "We could do nothing against it. We had no choice but to bow before that monstrous king." Isabelle almost objected to hearing her ancestor referred to as monstrous, but thought better of it. Fallon had grown quiet, and his tense stillness was all she needed to know that now was not the time to argue over who had been the true monster all those years ago.

It was a moment before Isabelle rallied up the nerve to ask another question. "What...what happened to the princess?"

A pained look contorted the giant's face. His second head whimpered pitifully. Fallon reached over to pat his little twin in a rare display of brotherly affection. "After King Erik sent us back, he commanded that his daughter be returned to him. She went willingly, to prevent more strife between our people. But Thunderdel, he...he couldn't bear to let her go. He climbed down after her. He was climbing even as King Erik cut the beanstalk down and let him fall to his death."

The princess bit her lip, seeing a vivid image of herself and Jack clinging to each other as the beanstalk fell. Wind buffeting their faces, the ground rushing up to crush them, then the stunned look on Jack's face after he'd gotten them both safely down through sheer luck. _That turned out better than I expected. _

For Thunderdel there had been no one to help him when the beanstalk fell. And all he'd wanted was to be with the woman he loved. She imagined Fallon and his brother's standing at the cliff's edge, watching in anguish as their Father fell to a dwindling speck among the clouds, knowing there was nothing they could do...

With his fingers wrapped around her, it took a couple of tries before she was able to wriggle one hand free and pat the giant's thumb. "I'm sorry."

Fallon growled, but it seemed half-hearted, like he was uncertain of what else to do. Isabelle removed her hand from the giant's thumb and settled back against his palm, nervously studying each of his huge fingers. His thumbnail was bigger than her whole hand, yet another troubling reminder of just how small she was.

Around them, treasure gleamed in a million different colors. The golden goose slept on, oblivious to all. Isabelle drew a long, shaky breath. Fallon's glum expression said that he was done answering questions, but the princess wanted to know one last thing. "In all the villages you destroyed, did you ever find the harp?"

Fallon's mouth twisted up at the corner, as though tasting something bad. His second head groaned and looked down. "No. No, we never did. It remains lost." The giant gazed down at her, and Isabelle could've sworn she saw something like worry in those stormy gray eyes. "Do you hate us now, princess?"

To say the question took her by surprise was an understatement. She gaped stupidly up at the two-headed monster before realizing that he honestly did expect an answer. So she considered her feelings. There was no question she feared him at times. Only a fool wouldn't fear a two-headed, flail-wielding giant possessed of enough bottled anger to level cities. And there was no question he'd done horrible things during King Erik's reign, but those events were so remote they might as well remain a fairytale. She cared more about what he did now, how he treated her and her people. There were times when he angered her, saddened her, made her want to scream in frustration...but she didn't think she'd ever truly hated him. When we first met you were the one to hate me, not the other way around, she wanted to say. Instead, she said, "No." "No, I don't hate you." A querulous whine came from his little twin, and the princess smiled slightly, amending, "Either of you."

She'd expected the news to cheer him. Now Fallon was staring at her as if she were the one with two heads. "You don't hate us?"

"No."

"But we locked you in a cage!"

The princess shrugged. "I was trespassing on your land. You had every right to be suspicious."

"We killed your friend, Crawe!"

That made her wince. But she could only tell him what she honestly felt. "I know what you did and I still haven't forgiven you. But hating you for it won't bring him back."

Fallon blinked, then shook his huge head. His eyebrows drew together and he raised a hand to his brow, like he was trying to stave off an oncoming headache. "You make no sense."

The princess laughed. It felt like the first real laugh she'd had in days. "I know!" She raised her shoulders in an offhand shrug. "Maybe I'm going mad."

A sardonic chuckle came in reply. "Truly, that would explain some things." His second head finished the statement with a burble that sounded like "Crazy!" Glancing at it, Isabelle noticed its large eyes were crossed stupidly.

"So, are we staying here tonight?" Isabelle asked, a little awkwardly. The conversation they'd just had had given her plenty to think about. She felt drained, tired, and unsure what else to say still trapped in his giant hand.

The giant waved his free hand in a dismissive gesture. "Might as well. We are safe here."

"Are you sure?" Isabelle wanted to fidget. It made her nervous with the giant looking at her the way he was. Plus, her experience in the cave had made her jittery about staying underground. _The last thing I need is a thousand-year old stone castle to come crashing down on my head._ "What if the dragons find us again and-"

Cold air touched her skin as Fallon released her from his hand. Goosebumps prickled her bare shoulders, making her shiver and wish for the millionth time that she had a cloak to cover herself. Sounds of clinking metal drifted down from above and Isabelle brushed hair from her eyes while craning her neck, wondering what the giant was up to. She watched, confused, as Fallon unclasped the iron cuff from his right forearm. Before she had time to protest, the princess found herself plucked from his lap and dumped into the crook of his bare arm. It crossed her mind to struggle, until his finger pushed her back against the inside of his elbow, where the tough skin was softest. Wide-eyed, the girl stared up at his sharp-featured face, searching for any sign of hostility. _He looks sad, not angry._ For the first time, she became keenly aware of his scent, a musky mixture of pine forests and fertile earth that wasn't unpleasant. _I always thought giants would smell filthy_, she thought sleepily. He began to stroke her, gently running his finger down her spine, until all the pent-up tension inside her drained away and she found herself yawning. _He isn't going to hurt_ me.

"Sleep. You are safe here, little princess," Fallon rumbled, even as Isabelle curled up in his arms and closed her eyes.

"You are safe."


	14. Chapter 13: A Delightful Reunion

**Title: **Seed of Darkness

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** A new threat descends upon Cloister and Jack must use the Crown of Erik to call on some unlikely allies. Fallon/Isabelle, Fumm/OC

**Disclaimer: **I make no money whatsoever off this story or any of the characters.

**Chapter 13: A Delightful Reunion**

Fallon knew he was doomed.

Around him was piled treasure stolen from a thousand kings. Diamonds split light into rainbows, staining the drab gray walls with hues of pink, green, and indigo. Statues wrought from gold and silver were scattered carelessly about like childrens toys, all sculpted likenesses of angels, monsters, and the heroes of mankind immortalized in majestic poses. He was surrounded by beauty and wealth, yet what held him in quiet awe was the sight of the human girl sleeping peacefully in his arms.

She lay with her head pillowed in his elbow, her lips partly open. One of her small hands rested lightly against his skin. For the first time, he was aware of her human scent mingling with his own. The combined scent was pleasant, suggestive of apples mixed with warm clay, and it somehow calmed him. It was a calm he sorely needed, because without it the giant was sure he would explode from inner turmoil.

_I don't hate you,_ she'd said. _Either of you._

He remembered the day Fumm brought her to him. She'd been laying unconscious at the bottom of the cage; a result of his clumsy brother having knocked her senseless while snatching her. Upon presenting his captive,, Fumm had backed away when he'd seen his leader's two faces; a result, Fallon supposed, of the fierce anticipation that must've shown in their snarl. _At last!_ he'd wanted to shout, grabbing the cage from an irritated Fumm, who clearly hadn't wanted to hand over his prize._ A chance for revenge!_ He'd taken his new prisoner down into the darkest dungeon, its floors still littered with the bones of past occupants, and hid himself in the shadows. He'd waited and watched, studying the small, frail, innocent-seeming girl - the first human he'd seen in centuries. And, for the merest second, something completely unexpected had happened. The rage churning in his hard heart had been replaced by something softer. It felt suspiciously like sympathy.

_No! _He'd railed against this violating emotion, neither wanting nor understanding it. _She deserves to suffer! _He'd feared, even then, that he was in danger of falling under the same spell his father had. The curse of loving one's enemy. It was in that dungeon he'd refused to even entertain the notion of showing mercy. After she'd woken, he'd been cruel to her. Threatened her. Killed a man in front of her. Even tried to eat her...all to destroy any trace of compassion remaining in her and, worse, in himself.

_And it was all for naught,_ he thought glumly. For the first time, he understood why his father had been so captivated by his human princess. Fallon's heart felt soft and vulnerable, yet filled with peace. _Melted._ It was an intoxicating feeling. The girl had completely undone him with her insufferable kindness. Even if he devoured all of mankind, he'd never be able to eat the last of Erik's kin. The giant took his eyes off Isabelle long enough to send a meaningful look to his twin, the misshapen head that was forever stuck to his shoulder like an ugly parrot. "We've failed."

A rustling of feathers drew Fallon' attention to the golden goose. The bird was awake and watching him with it's head tilted ever so slightly. It's throat moved, making soft cooing noises that sounded suspiciously like warbling laughter.

Fixing the upstart fowl with a glare made of pure iron, Fallon growled, "What are you lookin' at?"

The goose didn't blink. Its big golden eyes were all innocence.

Tiny movements in the crook of his arm alerted him to Isabelle beginning to stir. Fallon expressed his feelings to the goose in a final menacing growl, then turned his attention to the princess. _Such a little beauty, in her ragged finery._ He took the opportunity to gently pet her until her eyes fluttered open into full consciousness.

The princess yawned, blinking sleepily. When she focused on the two faces peering down at her, color touched her cheeks. Her whole demeanor changed, becoming almost shy as she recalled how and where she'd fallen asleep. "Um...hello?" she said timidly.

"Good morn, little princess!" Fallon exclaimed cheerfully. His second head babbled its own incomprehensible greeting. A mocking undertone was in his voice as he added, "Sleep well?"

"Actually, yes." Isabelle stretched. "You're much more comfortable than a stone ledge."

The giant laughed. Any resentment he felt towards the girl was fast disappearing. He tightened his arms around her just enough to bring her closer to his belly. "We will not subject you to a cold stone bed again, princess. From this day forth, you will sleep in our arms."

The princess stared at him with wide eyes. "Umm...thank you." More shyness in her voice. Perhaps he'd let her sleep on his chest next time. He would look forward to seeing her reaction to _that_ .

It was then that his stomach made itself known with a loud rumble. From her close proximity to his belly, Isabelle couldn't help noticing. She giggled."I don't like the sound of that."

"We must hunt up something for breakfast." Doing so meant he would have to part with the entertaining little female in his lap for a while. Not a happy prospect. But perhaps... "Want to come with us?" he asked. His second head echoed the question with a single hopeful word. _Come?_

Worry flashed in her eyes. It made her young, fine-boned face seem even more sweet and vulnerable. "You aren't hungry for humans, are you?"

_We're always hungry for humans,_ he thought wryly. But admitting such a thing to Isabelle would be a sure way to lose any ground he'd gained with her. He no longer wanted her to fear him. "Dragons and livestock only," he said with a sigh. "Humans,,,we'll leave them alone. We promise."

Her face brightened. She smiled up at him. "Then I'd love to."

It was strange, the effect that smile had on him. His day just got a whole lot better.

}O}

Elmont's day just got a whole lot worse.

It had begun well enough. Fye seemed in a better mood than usual, insisting they were following a strong scent this time. Elmont had no idea what Fallon smelled like and wasn't about to ask, but he trusted Fee and Fye knew their business when it came to hunting. Or at least Fye did. Just the day before Fee had gotten distracted by a herd of mountain goats. Watching the simpleminded oaf blunder about trying to snatch the goats as they leaped from rock to rock would have been funny if Elmont hadn't been hanging from the giant's shoulderguard, holding onto a chink in the iron armor by his fingertips while yelling for Fye to get his brother under control. Now every time Fye glanced his way, Elmont got the impression the stone-faced giant was trying hard not to laugh.

_It's an improvement, I suppose,_ Elmont had thought while being lifted up to his precarious perch on Fee's shoulder. _I'd rather have him laughing at me than trying to kill me._ Elmont's stomach was tied in a knot before Fee had taken his first lurching step. He'd made a deal with Fye to search for three more days. The knight doubted he'd be able to push the giants any longer than that.

_If we don't find Isabelle soon I'll have no choice but to continue the search alone...and these two maneaters will go back to Cloister where they could raise seven different kinds of hell._ Elmont had been unable to sleep wondering if Fumm would keep his word and not let the kingdom be attacked. He prayed that Jack had things under control there.

Dawn broke gray and cold. Wind played with the long strands of Fee's hair, blowing the stuff in Elmont's face and making him wish for the hundredth time that he had a horse to ride instead of a giant. Overhead, clouds piled on top of each other like sheets of thick wool. Fye never stopped sniffing, leading them through a gap between two sheer rock walls. From somewhere a bird gave a high, clear cry that echoed eerily.

"I don't like this place," Fee whimpered. His hand dipped down to touch the wooden handle of the flail looped to his belt, making the ball and chain jangle like a pouch full of coins. "It smells bad."

_Indeed it does._ Elmont wrinkled his nose while cupping a hand over his mouth. There was a rank stench in the air reminiscent of flyblown meat. Dread filled the knight as he swallowed a lump in his throat. _Whatever smelled that bad couldn't be alive. _

When they found the graveyard the knight got the first inkling of what his day was going to be like. Grim-faced, Fye slapped a hand over his nose and mouth as he made his way across the stony field, wading through the unburied bones of slain giants. Elmont whistled, impressed. King Erik's people certainly hadn't gone down without a fight. Signs of an ancient battle were everywhere. Skeletons of giants lay where they had fallen, some still with remnants of bronze and iron spears embedded in their torsos. Scraps of pearl-white mist clung to some of the bones like translucent rags. The whole place had a haunted, hollow feeling, as if at any moment the hard ground would crack open and bleed out the angry shades of a thousand dead warriors.

Elmont was startled out of his reverie by Fee, who had stopped dead in his tracks. The poor giant was blubbering like an overgrown child, pointing a stubby finger down at a huge skull that sported a splintery hole in the middle of its forehead. "His brains came out!" _This place is really scaring him,_ Elmont thought, patting the giant's shoulder._ I didn't think his ilk were scared of anything._ But Fee definitely was. His whole body trembled, all twenty-four feet of him. As much as he hated giants, Elmont felt a twinge of pity for the big lug who'd been his only friend on this mad adventure. The knight was about to say something reassuring when Fee gagged, choking out, "I think I'm going to be sick!"

And he was. Fee doubled over, grabbed his knees, and vomited up the entire flock of sheep he'd had for breakfast that morning. Elmont was thrown from the giant's shoulder, cursing loudly, barely managing to twist in the air and roll upon contact with the ground to avoid the giant pool of sick. Coming out of his roll, he lay stretched out next to a thighbone longer than his body, staring up at the sky. His armor had taken the brunt of the fall, but underneath the leather his ribs felt bruised. _An ache,_ he suspected, _that would only worsen as the day went on._ Elmont turned to the giant, who was wiping greenish-yellow slime from his lips, and thought of all the colorful things he'd like to say to him. And just as quickly realized he couldn't say any of them, because Fee gave him the most pitiful look a maneating giant could muster. His big, dopey eyes were so wide and round Elmont could see his reflection mirrored in their shiny black pupils. Tears streamed down the creature's dirty cheeks as he raised a forearm to wipe the last dribbles of snot from his nose.

Still sniffling, Fee tilted his head to the fallen human, mumbling, "Sorry."

Soon enough Elmont found himself once again riding Fee's shoulder, trying to remain intact as miles of steep, rocky highland passed beneath him. The giants seemed perfectly at home in the mountains. Their long strides cleared man-sized boulders as though they were no bigger than pebbles; they treated stands of spruce and pine like tall sticks, stepping over them or shoving the taller foliage aside. A grudging respect was growing in Elmont for the giants' immense strength. _They'd make a hell of an army, if only they could be controlled.._

That line of thought led him to wonder about the Crown. When last he'd seen it, it had been flying away in a dragon's claws; where could it be now? At best, it was lying forgotten in a dragon's treasure hoard somewhere. At worst... Elmont would rather not dwell upon the _at worst_.

_Fumm fears that the dragons' could use the Crown to enslave the whole giant race._ _If that happens...Good God, Roderick had been bad enough. _

"Halt!"

Obeying his brother's command, Fee stopped so suddenly Elmont was nearly thrown from his shoulder again. "What the-" The question had scarcely left Elmont's mouth before he saw the unmistakable, three-clawed shape of a dragon's footprint stamped deep into the ground.

"There." Fye pointed. At the end of his finger were masses of boulders resembling pottery fresh out of a kiln. Extreme heat had melded them together into lumpy gray mounds, with faint wisps of smoke still curling from the tops. As the giants cautiously approached, Elmont saw beyond the melted rocks was a jagged hole blasted into the mountainside.

"Dragon lair." Fye cracked his knuckles. "Finally, some action!" Fee growled in response, curling his upper lip to expose his dirty, chipped teeth. The lanky brute reached down to pat the flail again, making the chain rattle ominously.

Elmont didn't like where this was headed. A battle required proper planning, not reckless abandon."We don't have time for this." Yanking a handful of Fee's hair, Elmont tried to steer the giant's attention away from the cave. "We have to find-"

A low growl from Fye cut him off. "You humans brought us down to Albion to fight dragons, didn't you?" The giant swung his burly arm, gesturing at the signs of dragon-induced carnage around them. "I want to have some fun!."

"Me too!" Fee crowed, his huge frame jiggling with excitement. Elmont sighed.

They approached the dragon's lair, two growling, lumbering hulks hungry for blood. Fye threw a punch that landed just above the lair's entrance, sending up a cloud of gray dust. Both giants took turns trying to force their way in, battering the mountainside that separated them from their prey. "We can't get to it," Fee said, panting. His face was streaked with dust and sweat. "The cave's too small."

It was at that point Fye fixed Elmont with the sort of grin one only reserved for very nasty jokes, and the knight realized with a sinking heart what was coming. It hadn't escaped his notice that Fye hadn't willingly spoken to or even looked at him since they'd passed the field of giants' bones. The sight of that bleak place had turned Fye's normal remoteness downright frosty, and now he saw a chance to get some nice, cold revenge.

"Send the human in as bait."

_Bloody giant sounds perfectly reasonable_, Elmont thought archly,_ and not like he's pronouncing my death sentence_. "Wait a moment! I don't think-" But he was already being whisked through the air and placed on the ground by Fee, who then crouched down to talk to him excitedly. "Don't worry, little man! It'll be easy! You go in there, wake the dragon up and make it chase you, and we'll be waiting out here to smash it!"

"And me along with it?" Elmont grumbled under his breath. "How am I supposed to-" But Fee's hand was already pushing him toward the gaping slash in the rockface. Darkness and heat wafted out from within the monster's lair, raising beads of sweat on Elmont's forehead. With a huge, _I-must-be-a-daft-fool_ sigh, he headed into the cave.

All he could see in front of him was vast, impenetrable black. Nothing moved. Even the air felt still and heavy. His footsteps sounded unbearably loud. Taking a shaky breath, Elmont stopped to lay a hand on his sword hilt. The light from the exit shone behind him, making him a perfect target.

_Maybe there is no dragon._ It seemed a slim chance. Still, he'd love to break the news to the two idiots outside: _The cave's empty, and you two beat your knuckles bloody against a rock for nothing._ That would wipe the smugness right off Fye's ugly face...

Something wet hit Elmont full in the face and landed with a plop at his boots. _Don't look,_ he told himself. But of course he _did_ look. The light from behind was enough for him to make out the grisly thing: a human hand and forearm, covered in triangular teeth marks from something that had a mouthful of steak knives, and soaked in thick, yellowish goo that reminded Elmont of what came out of a horse's mouth after a hard ride..

The dragon had spat it's dinner at him.

"Bugger," he muttered, then turned and ran for the exit.

He sensed the dragon coming behind him on a rush of hot wind and scales rasping against stone. There was no need to turn and look for him to know that it was big and ugly and not very happy about being disturbed. The exit, though only a few feet away, seemed impossibly far. When he burst out into fresh air and light, he'd never been more relieved to see such a barren, .gray, half-melted landscape.

His relief was short-lived, because it didn't take long to realize something crucial was missing from that landscape.

Fee and Fye were gone.

_Of course they are,_ a droll voice inside him mocked, but Elmont didn't waste time listening. He got as far from the monster's lair as he could before flinging himself behind a hill of misshapen rock. Hear radiated from the warped stone, warm enough to penetrate his armor. Forcing himself to ignore it, he pressed his back hard into the rock, then sidled close to the edge. Hurling silent curses at giants, dragons, and all the stupid legends which had brought them into his life, he leaned his head around to get a quick look at whatever nightmare was emerging from the mountain.

It was mostly all neck, with a large triangular head crowned with spikes. Eyes the color of sunstones flashed as the head swung back and forth. The reptile appeared dazed after lying in the dark for so long. Small stones clattered around its feet as the dragon squeezed itself through the opening. Once through, it unfolded its wings with a snap and screeched, proclaiming a drakonian challenge to all and sundry.

_Wonderful,_ Elmont thought. He quickly ducked out of sight. _Where the bloody hell are the giants?_

Sounds of scraping and slithering floated to him as the dragon began to hunt among the mounds of slag. Elmont crouched, tense and sweating. He felt the way Crawe must've felt hiding with only a tree between him and a terrifying enemy. Something crunched and snapped uncomfortably close. The hairs on Elmont's neck stood up.

Flames shot around the sides of his rock, bathing the already half-melted stone in even more heat. Elmont held his breath as fire buffeted the air around him, turning everything orange and yellow. Just as he was close to passing out from heat and smoke, the onslaught stopped, leaving him gasping. Then the spearpoint of the dragon's tail sliced neatly through the rock above Elmont's head. With a muffled curse, the knight threw himself to the side, barely avoiding the superheated piece of rubble when it fell. It splatted into the ground like a ball of sizzling-hot lead.

Leaning on his sword, the knight staggered to his feet. Completely exposed now, he looked up to see the dragon eyeing him like dinner. Flame still dripped from its mouth. It lifted a forepaw, talons spread and glinting, ready to attack.

Defiant, Elmont raised his sword. The blade shone faintly red, like it'd been newly forged. "C'mon," he sneered. "Let's see which of us burns in Hell!"

The dragon hissed steam. Then it paused, it's hackles raising like a reptilian cat. A fringe of spines along its neck raised and stood taut in alarm, and the beast retreated a step.

Elmont sighed. "There's something behind me, isn't there?"

"Get out of the way, fool!"

Elmont was swatted aside with such force his whole skeleton rattled. The world swirled into a confusing blur of green, gray, and white as he flew through the air. Instinct took over, and the knight braced himself before bellyflopping into the ground, all the air rushing out of him in a painful huff. Through the ringing in his ears, he heard roars and clashing metal: the sounds of two behemoths locked in combat. Groaning, he rolled onto his back, and through blurred vision saw the outline of a giant grappling with a twisting, hissing opponent._ Fye,_ he thought blearily. Elmont rubbed at his eyes, willing them to focus. When they did he almost wished he was back in the dragon's lair, because the giant he was looking at most definitely was _not_ Fye. It had one too many heads.

_Fallon._ Elmont gritted his teeth. _Of all the bloody times for him to finally show up. _

He'd been knocked far enough away that he was in no imminent danger of being crushed underfoot. Even so, he watched the battle with his senses on high alert, ready to move instantly if the fighting shifted his way. The dragon had reared onto its hind legs and was clawing at Fallon's chest, scratching furrows into both skin and armor. The serpent opened its mouth, lunging and blowing steam, and for a heartbeat Elmont thought the giant would get a faceful of fire. Then Fallon's fist plowed into the dragon's snout, deflecting the fireball so that it shot harmlessly into the sky.

Disoriented, the dragon became a snapping, writhing dervish. Clouds of steam billiard from its jaws, but for now it seemed unable to breathe more fire. With both giant and dragon wreathed in vapor it became difficult for Elmont to judge the fight's progress. He felt the tiniest bit of satisfaction that the dragon was giving as good as it got, what with it battling his least favorite giant.

Then a break in the clouds let Elmont see Fallon had managed to wrestle the serpent to the ground. Sweat and dirt caked both of Fallon's faces. His larger head was snarling like some hairless, humanoid bear.

Fallon had one meaty hand on the dragon's neck, crushing it, when a round, metallic blur streaked like a meteor over his shoulders. It whipped around, hitting his smaller head on the side of its helmet, making the two heads knock together with an audible smack.

The air sizzled from a fiery explosion of Gantish curses. "Give us that!" Fallon roared at a dark shape standing just behind him. Through the haze and smoke, it took Elmont a moment to make out Fee. The lanky giant passed the round, metallic object to his leader, and Elmont realized it was the flail: Fallon's weapon of choice.

Elmont almost felt sorry for the dragon. A flick of Fallon's wrist sent the iron ball crashing into its reptilian face. Spikes cracked and splintered as its head caved inward, the dragon's skull neatly split. Fallon swung the ball again, cursing. He kept swinging until the dragon's head was reduced to a mush of blood and bones.

With the dragon thoroughly dead, Fallon pulled himself off its carcass. It took a moment for the giant to free his legs, which had gotten tangled up in the dragon's tail. Once the last scaly coil fell away and the giant stood at his full height, Elmont decided it might be wise to move elsewhere. He tried to crawl away, but found he was laying in a dragon's footprint.

The two-headed monster ignored him completely, instead focusing his attention on Fee, who looked down at the ground with a guilty expression. "I suppose we should be glad to see you. You returned our weapon to us." Fallon's countenance looked pained. He rubbed the side of his second head, who squawked at Fee indignantly.

There was a heavy footstep, and Elmont saw a bulky figure step up beside his smaller brother. "Fye," Fallon said, dipping his chin in acknowledgement. "My thanks for leading me here. I would've let you strike the final blow but..."

Fye shrugged. "The human was in danger."

Fallon nodded, then called out to something over his shoulder. "You can come out now, little one."

Elmont stared, his dazed mind working frantically. _Does he mean me?_ Surely the monster wouldn't speak of him with such...affection?

A small figure in a tattered gold dress emerged from behind a boulder, and all thought in Elmont's head temporarily stopped. Then recognition hit, and Elmont was pulling himself out of the enormous footprint and standing on shaky legs, fueled by a surge of energy. "Isabelle!"

Hearing his voice, the princess turned, saw him, and for a second looked as surprised as he felt. Then she was moving. Elmont felt a jolt of apprehension as the girl actually ran between Fallon's legs. It quickly passed when she collided into him, laughing and crying and hugging him like she was nine years old again. "Elmont! Oh, my god, it's good to see you!"

When the hugging lessened enough for him to breathe, Elmont patted the girl's back, chuckling. "I guarantee that feeling is mutual!" He held Isabelle at arm's length, taking in her disheveled appearance. "Let me look at you. Are you all right?"

"Yes! Are you?"

"I took a few severe beatings, but no worse than usual." Her fully human, good-natured laugh was the best sound he'd heard in days. Despite some rips and tears in her gown, some scratches, and tangled hair, she still managed to look like a princess. "What happened to you?" Elmont asked, eagerness making him forget all propriety. "I've been looking every-"

A shadow loomed over them. Before Elmont could react, Isabelle was snatched up and away from him by a very angry two-headed giant. "The girl stays with me, knight." Looking up, Elmont felt the weight of Fallon's twin glares trying to flatten him. The larger head wore a fierce scowl while the smaller stared at him with pursed lips.

_There are times,_ Elmont thought, _when a knight's chivalry outweighs his common sense. _That, plus the fact that he had reached his absolute limit of being pushed around by mythical creatures, made him shout, "Put her down!"

Up in the giant's hand, he saw Isabelle shake her head frantically, mouthing a silent _No! _

Fallon growled down at him. "You do not give us orders. Not anymore."

Elmont reached for his sword. In hindsight, he would admit this was a tactical mistake. The giant reached down, snatched him up, and held him dangling in the air faster than he could think. He managed to pull his sword free, but it was no sooner drawn from the scabbard than Fallon was ripping it away with his teeth and spitting it on the ground. This close, he had an excellent view of Fallon's snarling faces, and could look straight into their hard, cruel eyes. Nearby, he vaguely registered Isabelle's screams. "Fallon, _no!_"

"Perhaps we should remind you," the giant's voice rumbled low and deadly serious, "that I am a General. By the laws of my kind and your own, I outrank you, knight." The giant said the last word with all the malice a dog might say _flea_. He lifted Elmont a little higher, then paused. Seemed to remember the princess in his other hand, glancing at her horrorstruck face. Something passed over Fallon's face, a conflicted expression that was gone so quickly Elmont almost doubted it ever existed. His second head gibbered something, sounding unhappy. Then Fallon fixed the knight with a withering look. "You have a fool's courage, so we will pardon your insolence this time. But draw steel against us again and we will skewer your heart upon that sword and eat it while you lay dying."

Logic told Elmont to leave things at that, for a death threat was preferable to actual death, but boiling hatred for this particular giant overrode his common sense. He spat. "Pity you didn't show Crawe the same courtesy."

Fire flashed in the monster's eyes, and Elmont was certain he was about to become personally acquainted with the inside of Fallon's stomach. He was steeling himself to go down fighting when Fye shouted, "Brothers, look!"

All eyes turned to the other giant, who was pointing at the sky. Overhead, a line of dark winged shapes flew below the clouds. Occasionally, bright red-orange specks would illuminate the scaly underbellies as fire streaked around them. Noting the direction, Elmont judged they were heading for the lowlands.

They watched until the last dragon was out of sight, then Fallon roused himself. Without a word, he knelt and dropped Elmont a few feet above the ground. The knight landed painfully on his backside for what had to be the fifteenth time that day. He had enough dignity not to cry out, instead just lay glaring up at the giant who resumed his full height.

Ignoring the human at his feet, Fallon growled. "I will tend to my wounds. Then we follow them."

{O}

Isabelle's reflection was pale and scared.

Fallon had sniffed out the closest source of water. Now he knelt, with forearms plunged up to the elbows in a fast-flowing mountain stream, while the others waited for him to return. With the water too fast and deep for her to venture in safely. Isabelle resigned herself to pacing up and down its mossy banks. Small, loose stones were everywhere, the kind that could easily turn an ankle on an unwary foot, but the princess was too strung out to care.

_How could I have been so stupid?_ Her recent adventures had certainly changed her opinion of the giants, Fallon in particular. She no longer saw him as a heartless monster, and he definitely seemed to have grown softer regarding her. She was beginning to feel safe with him, was even starting to like being with him. But how could she have been so arrogant as to think she'd tamed him? _No matter how hard you tried to control them, giants couldn't be tamed!_

What just happened with Elmont had been so much like the time Fallon had captured her and Jack in the palace she'd been certain her most loyal knight was going to die. Unless Elmont had hidden a magic bean up his sleeve, he would've been helpless, completely at Fallon's mercy.

A smooth stone shifted underfoot, and nearly sent her sprawling. She stumbled, picked herself up, , then gathered a handful of pebbles. Carefully weaving her way around patches of mud, she crept up beside the giant and tossed the entire handful at him. Hardly enough to really bother him, but it had the desired effect.

"Ow!" His heads swiveled around, looking for the source of the attack, then spotted her. Both of them wore identical bemused looks. "What?"

She had to shout to be heard over the river. "Before we set out this morning you promised me you would leave humans alone!"

Fallon knit his thick eyebrows, confused. His smaller head tilted to one side and whimpered. "What?" Then her words sunk in, along with understanding. "Oh." He shrugged one shoulder, then splashed more water over an open gash in his chest. "The little man needed to learn his

place."

For a moment, the princess was so angry she was speechless. Then she tried again, needing to make him _see_. "But...the way you acted...I thought you were going to..." _I thought you were going to kill my friend. _

Fallon sighed. He picked up some of the pebbles she'd tossed at him and used them to scrub at a long claw mark splitting his cheek. He gazed into the rushing water as he spoke. "We won't harm the knight as long as he does as he's told and stays out of our way. Will that please you?"

Isabelle gaped. When exactly had pleasing her begun to matter to General Fallon? "I don't want you to hurt him at all," she muttered. She didn't look at him, but at her reflection in a murky puddle. "I don't want you to hurt anyone."

The giant stood. Water dripped from his huge armored body like rain. He gazed down at the girl, who barely reached the height of his ankle, and it took every bit of courage Isabelle had left not to back away. "My princess," he said softly. "I will try. For you."

[O]

Things could be worse.

That was what Elmont kept telling himself, over and over again. Isabelle was alive and unharmed. He was alive and -well, not exactly unharmed, but still functional. The sky was cloudy, but not raining. The wind was brisk, but not unbearable. Yes, things could always be worse.

That he and Isabelle were both virtual prisoners of a gang of violent, destructive giants certainly counted as _bad_. But Elmont was doing his best to stay positive. After their initial hot-tempered confrontation, Fallon appeared to have completely forgotten he existed, which was just fine with Elmont. Up on Fee's shoulder, he could keep an eye on Isabelle, who was currently perched on the General's massive shoulder like a butterfly. With Fallon leading the way, Elmont had a chance to study her and the monster together. _She seems to have mastered the art of riding a giant,_ he mused. _Of course, she does have something solid to hang on to._ He was mildly surprised Fallon's smaller head let her cling to it's neck without complaint. _Pity Fee doesn't have an extra head. Then I'd have something to grab besides hair and loose metal. _

But things could always be worse.

His mantra was growing less comforting the further downslope they went. Because by Elmont's reckoning, he and the princess were heading straight into a brawl between giants and dragons. That definitely qualified as _worse._

_Maybe we can slip away while they fight. _Recent experience had taught him not to trust Foe or Fye to protect him. He wasn't sure Fallon was quite so careless with Isabelle. He'd been around enough giants lately to see the General was fiercely territorial when it came to her. _Which,_ Elmont thought with a sour taste in his mouth, _explains why she's still alive. _

The landscape got progressively greener as they left the mountains behind. Patches of dirt and tall grass grew more frequent, as well as stands of spruce and pine. The going became slower as the giants would pause to push the taller foliage aside. Some trees they would just rip out by the roots, which made Elmont cringe. _This lot would give a forester nightmares. _

Fallon stopped, motioning for the others to stop with him. "I smell fire," he growled. "We are close." The giant cast a quick glance at the princess sitting on his shoulder. Elmont was no expert at reading nonhuman facial expressions, but he thought he saw a flicker of worry in Fallon's dark eyes. Could he be having second thoughts about bringing her into a battle? _He should be._

It wasn't long before Elmont also smelled fire, even fancied he heard the crackling flames. They came to the edge of a wood full of nothing but charred stumps. Crispy brown grass turned to powder wherever the giants stepped. Coughing, Elmont clutched at Fee's hair, his throat and eyes burning from acrid smoke. Noticing Fee's puffed out cheeks, he realized the giant was holding his breath. _Huh, _Elmont thought through a foggy head. _Maybe he has some sense after all. _

Beyond the blackened forest, they encountered a village. Or what was left of a village.

Everywhere Elmont looked, he saw destruction. Clusters of small, thatched huts burned merrily to the ground. The air was clogged with soot, and swirling with little white flakes that looked deceptively like snow. Elmont had to constantly brush them off while swallowing his disgust. From somewhere, a goat bleated mournfully, it's plaintive cries seeming lost among the other, louder, sounds of lives burning uncontrolled. "All together," Fallon said. The giants gathered around their leader, whose heads took turns looking, taking in every horrifying detail. Elmont scanned Fallon's shoulders for a glimpse of Isabelle. Though he tried, the knight could barely see her through the smoke, but he imagined she was coping with the scene about as well as he was.

_They were peasants,_ he thought miserably. _Hillfolk. Living peaceful lives, relying on the mountains to shield them. _

The mountains hadn't been much use against enemies with wings.

"All the humans are dead or carried off," Fye said, gruff as ever.

"No doubt," Fallon agreed. The monster reached up to pat something between his two heads. Elmont struggled to see through teary, stinging eyes. Was he comforting Isabelle?

Suddenly, a shadow passed over them. All eyes turned skyward to see the dragons circling overhead, mockingly out of reach. Enraged, Fye picked up the smoldering remains of a burnt-out hut, hefted it, then hurled the entire structure at the sky. Elmont watched, dumbstruck, as the flying house climbed, lost altitude, and sailed over the horizon. The dragons merely circled higher.

"Stand down, Fye," Fallon snapped. Fye grumbled, but didn't send anything else into orbit.

Shaking his main head, Fallon beckoned for Fee and Fye to follow him. "There's nothing more to be done here. Come. I will lead you all back to the castle."

"Castle?" Fee asked hopefully.

_Castle?_ Elmont thought, his mind full of dread.

The castle turned out to be as inviting as the one he'd seen on Gantua, meaning it loomed over him like certain death. He had to admit the entrance sculpted to resemble an open, hungry mouth was a nice touch; it made the place look extra terrifying to human eyes. Fee and Fye were overjoyed at the sight, with Fye actually cracking a genuine smile for once. "I didn't think anything was left from the old days."

"Needs repairs,"Fallon grumbled.

"Can I pick my own room?" Fee asked, grinning.

"Take one with a fallen roof. Maybe you can make a bed out of the rubble." Elmont couldn't tell whether Fye was joking or not.

The giants all agreed it necessary to assess the extent of the damage before taking up full-time residence. Fee and Fye ventured inside eagerly, leaving Elmont at the top of a very wide staircase. Fallon hesitated before setting Isabelle down beside him, saying, "We will return for you soon." He shot Elmont a warning glare before turning his broad back on them and disappearing into the castle.

"Hard to believe proof of the old legends was hidden up in the mountains this whole time," Isabelle said, munching on an apple she'd produced from somewhere. Elmont wondered if a giant had found it for her. She sat down beside him at the top of the stairs.

Elmont smiled. Having her close was doing wonders for his mood. "If you had known when you were little, you would've climbed the whole mountain on your hands and knees, and Crawe and I would've stubbed our toes and broken our backs trying to drag you back down"

She laughed. Together, they shared a moment simply taking in everything in quiet wonder. Up above, the sky was growing darker with approaching nightfall, the clouds turning mixed shades of gray and purple and black. The wind was getting friskier too, and the altitude didn't make it any warmer.

"We should sneak away. Now. Find someplace to hide until dawn, then make our way back to Cloister." He knew it was a bad plan even as he said it, but he felt he should say _something._

Isabelle shook her head. "We'd never even make it down these stairs. Besides, I can't leave Fallon. I promised him." Her mouth snapped shut.

Elmont didn't like the sound of this. "What did you promise him?"

She was edging away from him now. Also refusing to look at him. Not a good sign. "If we have a hope of defeating these dragons, we need his cooperation. I don't want to see any more villages burnt?" A very nice attempt not to answer the question; however, Elmont was familiar with that tactic after years of dealing with her escape attempts from the palace. He knew his king's daughter - knew her better than she thought he did - and understood giants enough to guess the type of promise Fallon would accept.

Elmont _really_ didn't like the sound of this.

"Isabelle," he said gently, taking her face in his hands and forcing her to look at him, "please tell me you didn't agree to hand yourself over to that monster."

Her hesitant reply told him everything he needed to know. "I-I was desperate..."

"Isabelle," he whispered through a tightening throat, feeling like Fye had just dropped a house on him, and sat on it for good measure. "Jack's alive. He's waiting for you."

Isabelle's eyes were wide and bright, full of hope and sorrow. "I-I have to..." Whatever she'd been about to say was drowned out by the heavy thump of giant feet. The princess tore her face out of Elmont's hands and scooted away from him just as Fallon stepped through the castle doors. "I think we'll have to continue this conversation later."

_Oh, we will,_ Elmont thought. Without saying a word, Fallon loomed over them, swept Isabelle up in one hand, and carried her off, growling as he went. In the spot where she had been lay a chewed-up apple core. Elmont thought it the most depressing piece of fruit he'd ever seen.

The knight was so deep in thought he didn't notice Fye's approach until the giant was standing over him. "Come with me." Fye's scowl was back firmly in place. "Fallon says I can't kill you yet."

_Try not to sound so disappointed, old friend._ "Where's Fee?" Of the two, Elmont trusted Fee more not to bake him in a pastry. Well, not on purpose, anyway.

"Fee has a job to do." The giant didn't elaborate, and Elmont didn't expect him too. He gulped as Fye's huge hand reached for him. "You're stuck with me tonight."

Elmont had just enough time to mutter a prayer to God, the angels, and anyone else who might be listening before Fye's hard, heavy fingers closed tightly on him.

[O]

When they were far enough away from Elmont, Isabelle smacked the back of Fallon's hand.

"Stop that," she said, referring to his constant, low growling. "He wasn't bothering you."

"His mere presence is enough to irritate us," the giant grumbled, but he stopped making angry sounds.

Within his grasp, Isabelle watched the floor pass by far below her. It was broken in places, resembling a giant stone puzzle board. She expected Fallon to take her down into the treasury again, but instead he chose a different passage. A few braziers along the walls had been lit, sending up gouts of flame that could broil a whole ox. Everything about the castle was so large, Isabelle felt almost invisible.

The passage ended at the foot of an ascending staircase. Fallon began to climb, up and up and up. Just when he'd carried her so high Isabelle feared the top of her head would go spinning off, he reached the landing and used his free hand to push open an ornate brass door.

"These quarters are the most hospitable in the castle after so many centuries." Which wasn't saying much. A great stone bed was shoved up against the far wall, covered in a blanket that appeared to be a patchwork of various animal pelts. A pair of high, narrow windows overlooked the room, letting in bursts of icy wind. A huge chest was situated beside the bed, made of polished stone and decorated with bits of bone. Glancing down, Isabelle saw more bones scattered across the floor - she didn't look close enough to tell if they were human. Overall, the princess felt as though she'd entered some long-forgotten tomb.

Fallon set her down on the bed, right in the middle of the ancient fur blanket. She sneezed as a huge dust cloud billowed up around her. _Needs airing out,_ she thought. _Years of it._ Still, the wind blowing into the tower room was cold enough to make her teeth rattle. _If I looked outside, would I see nothing but clouds? _If so, then she was grateful the windows were too high up for her to up a corner of the blanket proved too hard; the thing was too stiff and weighted with grime. Hunkering down, she tried to make herself as comfortable as she could.

Fallon had taken an interest in the stone chest. He had the lid thrown back and was trawling through its contents, muttering to himself. Now and then, he would find something that truly interested him, such as a gold coin or a piece of armor. From the bed, Isabelle watched as he examined a pair of rust-covered gauntlets. "Need a good scraping," he mumbled, then tossed them back in the chest.

Turning away, Fallon appeared to lose all interest in the chest and began pacing the room. He seemed full of nervous energy, muttering to himself, using both human and Gantish words so that Isabelle soon gave up trying to understand him. His flail, once again securely looped at his side, jangled menacingly. Gazing up at him always made her feel small. Now, as his huge footsteps thumped throughout the room and she sat completely exposed, she almost wished the bars of her old cage were between them.

"Do you know," Fallon rumbled, finally turning to her, "what that boy of yours has done?" He began stripping off pieces of his armor as he spoke, snapping the straps and links carelessly. "Fye informed us," he growled, sliding off a wrist guard and throwing it down. "He said-" here he removed his cuirass and let it fall "-that Jack-" he tore off his second wrist guard, only this one he hurled against the wall "-allowed the dragon's to carry off the Crown as a trophy!" He stopped, breathing hand, wearing nothing but his armored skirt and a scowl that would turn the bravest knights pale. Isabelle covered on the giant bed, shivering, unable to meet his fiery glare. "I-I'm sure he didn't mean-"

Looking down on her huddled form, the giant suddenly softened. "You are cold."

"I-I'm fine," Isabelle said, though it felt like snowflakes were freezing on her skin.

"You are a poor liar as well." He sat down beside her - Isabelle tried not to flinch when he did that - and before she had a chance to protest the girl found herself being picked up and dropped into his lap. She flailed around, trying to get her bearings, and almost lost her hand in his navel. The idea that she'd nearly stuck her fingers in a giant's bellybutton made her giggle.

He cupped his hand around her. "Warmer now?"

"Mmh-hmm," she murmured, leaning into him. _This_ was the Fallon she cared for, not the stomping, raging brute of a moment ago. This was the Fallon who made her feel safe and protected. Without his cuirass, there was no metal separating her from his skin. His breathing pushed her up and down, and her mind wandered.

She thought of the Crown, lost, possibly in the keeping of the dragon's at this very moment. She thought of the sad little village they'd found, it's villagers all burnt or eaten alive. And felt a smack between the eyes as something became shockingly clear.

_He's terrified,_ she thought, stunned. Another thousand years might go by before he'd ever admit to such a thing, but Isabelle knew she was right. _He's afraid of being enslaved again._ It had never seemed possible that anything could frighten the mighty General Fallon, the Terror With Two Heads and war chief of the entire giant race, but she could understand. No human master could ever be as cruel as one of the dragons, with their cold, reptilian hearts.

Compassion for him welled up inside her, even though part of her insisted he didn't deserve it. _We've both suffered,_ she thought sadly. Something large and warm pressed into her back, trailing gently down her spine. He was petting her.

"It has to stop," she mumbled against his skin. Unsure if he even heard her, she continued anyway. "This war with the dragons, we have to end it. We have to win. For all our sakes."

"We know, little one." Rough fingers gently wrapped around her, and the princess found herself lifted up until Fallon's angular face floated before her like a moon. His second head squawked at her in greeting, a lopsided grin spreading across it's face. Fallon brought her close, bumping her with his nose, nuzzling and sniffing. _He likes the way I smell, _Isabelle thought, a tiny smile playing over her lips. _Well, if it keeps him calm..._

Impulse seized her. Very slowly, she reached out a hand, hesitated, then laid it against Fallon's cheek. His gray eyes widened at the contact, expressing shock, but otherwise he did nothing to discourage her touch. Under her palm, his cheek felt scratchy, covered in stubble. A cut left by a dragon's claw ended in a jagged line above her hand. She trailed her fingers over the damaged flesh. It had mostly scabbed over, but was still red and puffy around the edges.

"You should put some yarrow on this," she said, stroking the wound. Fallon said nothing, but rumbled deep in his chest. The princess recognized it as a happy sound.

Later, Isabelle would wonder where she'd found the courage to ask it, but somehow the question just came tumbling out. "Why did you kiss me that day in the garden?"

The giant growled. She continued to stroke his cheek, willing him to be calm. "Because I wanted to," he finally said.

Isabelle wanted to smack the end of his giant nose in frustration. "But why-"

"Enough." He pulled her away from his face. With her still clutched in his hand, the giant swung his thick legs up and lay full-length upon the stone bed. Isabelle was still reeling from all the motion when he dropped her. She landed with a soft plop on his bare chest. On her hands and knees, she gawked at the ridges and valleys around her.

The princess felt her cheeks grow hot. So much naked masculine flesh made her inner maiden want to swoon. "Do you like your new bed, Your Highness?" He sounded smug. Strike that. One look at his face told her he _was_ smug.

"You're impossible," she muttered, curling up on a mound of muscle. She noticed with gratitude Fallon had removed the blood-dyed skull necklace he always wore. The sight of it had always made her skin crawl. Sleeping near it would've been unthinkable.

It wasn't long before Isabelle began to have trouble keeping her eyes open. Fallon's heart beat below her like a great thumping wardrum, slow and strong. A tendril of guilt took root inside her own chest. Fallon wasn't exactly a man, but he was close enough that it almost didn't matter, and here she was _sleeping_ with him. What would Jack think?

But Jack became as distant as the monastery belltower when Fallon's fingers trailed lovingly down her spine. "When Fee returns, things will be different," he rumbled. Isabelle's half-asleep brain dimly heard the words. "Don't be afraid. We will keep you safe."

She was asleep before she could think to ask what he meant by that, or even wonder where Fee had gone.

{O}

It felt like only half the night had passed before Fallon plucked her off his chest, rumbling an apology she barely understood. Without dressing, the giant strode from the room, carrying her with him. In the passage outside, the braziers had burned down to stubs. Isabelle strained to see, and jumped when she heard Fye speak directly in front of them. "They're here."

_What?_ A sleepy Isabelle wanted to ask, but was whisked along by Fallon, who marched purposefully towards the castle gates. Flanked by Fye, the General stepped out into the pre-dawn light.

Fee stood at the top of the staircase, grinning. Behind him was a line of ambling, humanoid shadows. Though she could barely see through the gloom, Isabelle knew they were giants. More were coming in single-file up the stairs - she could hear the clanking of their weapons and armor. Fye drew up beside his leader, and the princess saw clutched in his left hand was a very dazed-looking knight.

"I did it!" Fee cried happily. "I brought down the others!"

It was then Isabelle realized that in the chaos of dragon slaying, they all had forgotten about the beanstalk. Fully awake now, she felt her heart wanting to climb into her throat.

Bare-chested, Fallon raised a fist high. "BROTHERS!" he shouted, and his thunderous voice echoed throughout the mountains. In his other fist, Isabelle clapped her hands over her ears.

"WELCOME BACK!"


End file.
