There was no where else to go. They were trapped.

"Father..." Charlotte said, looking up at him. He would know what to do. He always did. He looked back at her for just a moment, then desperately searched the room for something, anything, that would hide them from the soldiers. 

He led her over to one of the tall windows and pulled aside the curtain. The windowsill was just wide enough for the both of them to stand. Father helped her up and was about to join her when a great clattering noise sounded, nearly making Charlotte jump out of her skin. An iron candle holder had crashed to the floor. When her father had pulled aside the curtain it had caught and caused it to fall. 

There was no doubt that the soldiers had heard it too.

"Here, I heard something!"

"Through that door!" Father looked at her with those big brown eyes that were exactly the same shade as her own, swallowed, and said:

"Remember, Charlotte. I love you." He pulled the heavy curtains shut, hiding her from view, a split second before both doors on either side of the room burst open.

"Don't move!" a man yelled. "Put down your weapon!"

"I do not believe I will," she heard her father say. She heard him step away from the window, but she could see nothing through the thick curtains. She clamped a hand over her mouth so they wouldn't hear her ragged breathing, and prayed mightily in her heart that somehow both her and her father would make it out of this.

"I said put it down!" the man shouted again.

"Now, now, commander, watch your tone. He is a king, after all," a new voice said. The words were nice enough, but the way they were said sent chills down her spine. 

Charlotee carefully pinched an edge of one of the curtains and gently pulled it a fraction to the side, so she could see out the middle. A man was slowly walking through the crowd of soldiers to stand before her father. He had dark black hair that was long and unruly, contrasted to her father's neatly trimmed brown hair. He had a sneer upon his face, and was staring at her father with such hatred... 

But her father, King Lachoneus, stood tall, firm, and proud, sword held tightly in both hands. The other man glanced around the room and settled on the fallen candle holder beneath the window. His sneer worsened. 

"What were you thinking, Lachoneus? That you could leap from the window? It must be at least a fifty foot drop to the ground below."

"There wasn't much choice."

"Oh, you wound me! That you could think that falling to your death would be better than my hospitality-"

"You mean my hospitality!" Father boomed. "This remains my castle!" The man let out a bark of laughter, and even his smile looked like a grimace.

"Not anymore, Lachoneus. Look around you." He gestured to the soldiers that filled the room. "I think it is safe to say that I control this castle, this city, and the entirety of Raelin! You have lost... and I think it is time I exact my revenge." 

The man waved an arm and the soldiers backed away from the two, leaving a wide space in the middle of the room. Then he drew his own sword and he and her father began to make a wide circle, never taking their eyes off the other.

"You really wish to fight me, Allon?" her father asked, taunting. "I have always bested you in the past, and believe me, this time I won't hold back."

"Words, useless words, Lachoneus," the man replied. Allon, the tyrant king that was the cause of the war, of so much death. Charlotte felt rage boil up inside her. "It is action that will determine who wins this night."

"So, get on with it then. Strike me down, if you think you can!" 

With that her father rushed forward, his sword slashing down toward the sneering man. The slash was deflected, and the sword now blocked the other. Then ensued such an earnest battle, with such noise and so much movement that she could not see it all through the small opening between the curtains. 

Charlotte had seen her father fight before. He sparred at least twice a week, sometimes with three opponents coming at him at the same time. But, as she listened to the ringing of the swords and the grunts of the two men who wielded them, she knew this was no sparring match. 

This was a fight to the death.

Suddenly there was a clang followed by a moment of complete silence, and Charlotte adjusted her position to see what had happened. The clang was a fallen sword, the sneering man's sword, and now her father held the tip of his own weapon up to Allon's neck. She felt a wave of relief, and pride. Father had beaten him, this man that sneered even as he faced death.

"It is time for this to end," her father said grimly, and pulled back his sword and let it fall for a killing strike, too fast to be seen. A bright light flashed, and when she looked back she saw that the sword had been stopped in midair, only an inch away from cutting into the sneering man's neck. Her father's face showed utter and complete surprise, while Allon smiled his grimace.

"I couldn't agree more," he said, then snatched the dagger hanging from his belt and rammed it into Lachoneus' gut. 

The bloody point could be seen sticking out an inch from his back. The sword slipped from his hands, the resounding clang as it hit the stone floor ringing in her ears. Father slumped down against Allon, disbelief the only expression on his face. 

"Ah, sweet revenge," Allon crooned, watching Lachoneus' face drain of color. "You should have known I would come. That I wouldn't just let you get away with it. She was mine, Lachoneus!" That last part was said in a deathly whisper, almost too low for Charlotte to hear. Lachoneus lifted his head, a faraway look in his eyes.

"That's where you're wrong, Allon. She didn't belong to anyone. She followed her heart. It just didn't tell her to stay with you." Allon's face twisted into a terrifying expression, full of rage and hatred. He yanked the knife out of Lachoneus' gut, then plunged it into his chest three times in quick succession. 

Then, he let Lachoneus topple to the floor.

To be continued...