The cloaked man continued riding in silence for several minutes. Clutching Elizabeth, he looked back behind them to make sure they were no longer being chased. He saw no one.

“You still haven’t answered my question.” Elizabeth said impatiently. She was gradually becoming more scared, but tried not to show it. “Where are you taking me?”

“You will see for yourself soon enough-”

“Look out!”

Seriously, can I do a single cutaway without this guy popping back in to steal the scene? I know this is kind of a Deejay-centric story, but still...

Flying in from a nearby alleyway, Deejay skidded to a stop right in front of the horse.

“End of the line!”

The horse stopped abruptly and reared in surprise, throwing both riders off of its back. Deejay dove to catch Elizabeth. The cloaked man hit the ground with a hard thump. Deejay made the catch and managed to break the princess' fall as they tumbled to the ground. When the dust cleared, Elizabeth found herself sprawled on top of her rescuer, with his hand accidentally pressed against her chest. Knowing him, I'm willing the believe that actually happened. I'm not willing to believe it was an accident.

“Oh my...”

She blushed, but didn't pull away. Deejay coughed and gingerly slid out from under her. Panting, he stood up and offered his hand to help her up, which she accepted.

“You okay, Highness?” He asked between attempts to catch his breath. “No injuries?”

She smiled politely. “No, I’m fine. Thank you, kind stranger. However, I would like to know who you are and why you were following us.”

“The name’s Deejay.” He stood up a bit straighter, but was still panting. “I’m just an admirer, eager to meet you up close... Forgive me, Lady Elizabeth, but I must say… your astonishing beauty really takes my breath away.”

She laughed and smiled at him.

“You flatter me, Sir Deejay. I don't suppose your shortness of breath would have anything to do with your running half-way across the city.”

“Nope. Pretty sure it's you... You know, you don't seem very scared, given the situation you were just in.”

“Oh, I'm quite alright. I get kidnapped all the time.”

“Huh... We lose more princesses that way, I guess.”

“Still, I’ve never witnessed such speed, and courage. You must be a knight of some sort.”

He grinned sheepishly. “Heh. Of some sort, sure.”

A few feet away, the cloaked man finally started to sit up, groaning in pain. Deejay walked up next to him, striking a victory pose and putting on a corny smile.

“Good work, gang. Now, let’s see who the cloaked kidnapper really is!”

He threw back the hood of the man's cloak, revealing his face. The man was older, maybe in his fifties, with a gray beard and a superficial scar across his nose. Elizabeth was genuinely shocked.

“Captain Archer?! Is that really you?”

The man sighed and nodded solemnly.

Deejay turned to her, confused. “You know this guy?”

“He is the captain of the Royal Guard. But how? Captain, you are a Revolutionary?”

He shook his head. “I would never betray the crown, milady. No, I was ordered by the King to capture you, pretending to be a Revolutionary.”

“My father ordered this?” The confusion on her face mixed with frustration. “But… why?”

“To teach you a lesson, I suppose.” With some difficulty, Archer slowly stood up. “He thinks you are too carefree, going out in public on your own, sometimes without waiting for the guards to escort you. He thought putting a bit of a scare into you might be enough to convince you to stay out of trouble.”

She gritted her teeth. “Argh! Oh, that is just like Father, isn’t it? He simply refuses to believe I can take care of myself. I’ll always be a helpless child in his eyes.”

“I can't speak to his opinion of you, Your Highness. However, my spies had just received word that the Revolutionaries were planning to attack today, and it seems they are out for blood. By the time I received the news, you had already left the castle. I thought the King’s idea to stage a kidnapping would help keep you safe, as well as teach you to be more careful.”

Deejay scratched his head awkwardly. “Well, you definitely made a very convincing kidnapper. I, uh, guess I owe you an apology, Captain.”

“No no, it's alright.” Captain Archer replied. “Whoever you are, stranger, your actions were most admirable, albeit ill-informed.”

“Just the same, I’m sorry about the mix-up. Is there any way I could make it up to you?”

“There is no need. Now then, I must see the princess safely back to the castle, but I imagine the king will want to meet the young man who so bravely defended his daughter-”

Just then, there was the sudden whoosh of a projectile cutting through the air. The captain staggered forward; a crossbow bolt was sticking out of his back near the shoulder blade. He grunted and dropped to his knees.

“Captain!” Elizabeth rushed to the wounded captain's side.

“What the…?”

Deejay looked around to determine where the shot had come from. Just down the otherwise empty street, a disheveled man with an unkempt beard stepped forward, aiming a small crossbow at the captain. He wore plain brown clothing and a bronze pendant around his neck. Two similarly dressed men stepped out from the alleyway to Deejay's left, each of them wearing a similar pendant, each holding their own crossbow. Elizabeth's eyes were wide with fright.

“Revolutionaries... Real ones.”

“Stay down, dog,” one of the men barked. “It's just the princess we want.”

“Grrh…” The captain slumped against the wall of a nearby building, cursing under his breath. Elizabeth tried to help him up but he pushed her away.

“Leave me,” he said. “Protect yourself.”

Deejay looked uneasily around at the three men as they advanced, but held his ground. Elizabeth nervously hid behind him as best she could. The leader of the group strode forward confidently. His accomplices inched closer from the alleyway, attempting to surround Deejay and Elizabeth.

“Surrender,” the leader said.

Deejay smirked reflexively. “You mean you wish to surrender to me? Very well, I accept.”

Understandably, no one looked amused.

“Sir, please don’t do this,” Elizabeth pleaded. “Whatever it is you desire, you’ll get it. You don’t have to hurt anyone else.”

“You are a foolish little girl, Princess,” the leader continued. “As foolish as your father. It has become clear that the only thing that will make him see the error of his ways is the blood of his family spilled out upon the ground.”

He reloaded his crossbow, and pointed it toward Elizabeth.

“And on this day, it seems that blood will be yours.”

Deejay held his hands up. “Look you guys, whatever problems you have with the king, killing her isn't going to solve anything. You're just creating more problems. So how about you just let her go, alright?”

The leader pointed his weapon toward Deejay. “You dare stand in the way of the revolution? So be it. For the good of the people, I will personally kill the both of you.”

Deejay glanced around rapidly, his pulse quickening again. “Well... You’ll have to catch us first!”

Before anyone could react, Deejay turned and swept Elizabeth up in his arms, then took off running like he'd been shot out of a cannon. The two closest revolutionaries were caught off-guard as he flew past them. The leader fired after Deejay but missed.

“Get the horses! Don't let them escape!”

Deejay raced down the street and turned back onto the main road toward the merchant district, still carrying Elizabeth in his arms like a bride over the threshold. They gained a few hundred yards head start, but Deejay's breathing was getting heavier and he was starting to sweat profusely. His pace began to slow.

“Why are you slowing down?” Elizabeth asked, alarmed.

“I'm sorry...” Deejay panted. “This is... a lot harder... than it looks.”

Elizabeth looked behind them. In the distance, she could see the revolutionaries giving chase on horseback.

“You have to hurry! They're going to catch us!

“I can’t… keep... running... like this...” Deejay was desperately sucking in breaths between words. As with most people, he wasn't used to carrying a conversation mid-sprint. “We gotta… lose ‘em… somehow…”

Deejay looked around frantically, and he spotted an open manhole down the street.

“There! The aqueducts.”

“What? That’s a sewage tunnel! You’re not taking me down there. It’s disgusting! My dress will be ruined.”

“You have a better suggestion?!”

He stopped at the hole. From where he stood he could see the murky black water down below. He braced himself for what was coming next and held Elizabeth close.

“Watch your head.”

Deejay jumped down into the manhole, falling almost twenty feet. He landed on his feet, and to his great relief, on a grimy stone walkway that ran along the wall of the tunnel above the river of sewage. As the revolutionaries approached, Deejay moved into the shadows away from the hole. The horses came to a stop nearby. Deejay and Elizabeth held their breaths, both to remain silent and to spare themselves somewhat from the smell all around them. The revolutionaries lingered a moment longer, until the leader shouted some indistinct orders to the others, and the group rode off in another direction.

Deejay gave a sigh of relief, took a deep breath, then immediately regretted it and buried his nose in the shoulder padding of Elizabeth's dress, which she allowed while she held the sleeve of her dress over her own nose. Deejay looked around the darkened tunnel, allowing his eyes to adjust. Their surroundings definitely looked like a primitive sewer system. The stone walkway they stood on seemed to follow the entire length of the tunnel. Sensing they were safe for the moment, Deejay started to set Elizabeth down.

“No!” she protested. “I can’t set foot down here. This floor is filthy. Do you have the slightest idea how expensive these shoes are?”

“Seriously? My arms are killing me here.”

“Please, just carry me a while longer. We’re not terribly far from the edge of the city. I'm sure we can escape from there.”

“Alright, alright. Whatever you say, Your Highness.”

Reluctantly, he began trudging down the tunnel. Exhaustion was beginning to set in, but he continued onward dutifully carrying Elizabeth. He probably considered copping a feel again, if only there were any sensation left in his arms.