Chapter 10: The Battle of Whitefield

The air was frigid and eerie, and the sun had just only risen. The moon was still faintly visible from above. Everyone—my armies—stood behind me waiting for my signal. I had already given them my speech earlier today. This battle determines my place in history. I would either be remembered as the Princess who won the victory against the fiercest warrior alive, or the princess who failed to protect her realm, securing their family's downfall. My family was already on the move to the other camp while I was sent here to stall for them. I, their dutiful daughter, was more than happy to accept my task. After all, what is my life if I do not have a purpose? In this way, I could be remembered as someone who did something.

There I saw him from across the border that divided us both. He sat on his mighty black stallion wearing the most expensive armor there was. The steel is forged with the hardest steel on earth, and the only thing that could destroy it was the same steel it was forged with. I happen to have a sword made from the very same material. The wind blew through his beautiful mane of curly brown hair, and his ocean-blue eyes pierced through my black orbs. It's quite arrogant of him to show his face before triumph. Perhaps that's a good omen for me. I shall not lose to him.

"He is gorgeous," said one of my men, "I shall hope you do not falter because of his beauty, your royal highness."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "He is more than lucky that I hide my beauty," I said confidently, "For if he saw my head, he will be sure to falter. It is not their custom to send a woman to battle after all."

He raised his sword, insinuating that the battle has begun. He put on his helmet, taking the lead. His men charged along with him ever so loyally.

"Let's go, boys!" I declared, taking the lead. I charged in with my white horse, striking a number of men down. These minor people are the least of my priorities. I only had eyes for one person—the crown prince of Cross. It seems easy enough. He stood behind them on horseback, watching as the battle roared. It looked as though he was waiting for me to come for him. As I reached him, he raised his sword, threatening to take my life.

"So," he says, "You're the Knight the cowards sent to defeat me, huh?" He pointed his sword at me arrogantly. "They didn't have an heir to protect them; is that why they sent you?"

I dare not answer. If I did, it would've ruined the plan.

He charged at me. I evaded the attack, striking his horse down. I slayed his stallion with one strike of my blade. The head of the beast came rolling down and the prince had fallen off the creature.

"Fuck," he cussed, trying to mimic the attack I'd done.

I wouldn't give him that satisfaction, and I happen to love my horse. I jumped off Cloudy, landing directly on top of the prince. I got off him, standing my ground.

"That was a stupid move trying to save your horse" he comments, charging at me.

I avoided his attack, kicking him behind his knee. Before I could strike again, he kicked me in the abdomen, making me fly. I fell down with my sword still in my grasp. He jumped toward me with the intent to kill, my sword shielding me from his wrath. The fight went on and on until both of us were panting.

He took his helmet off arrogantly as though he knew he was going to win. I didn't let that taunt me. With my leg, I made him slip, his sword also escaping his grasp, thus giving me the opportunity to strike him down. I stepped on him, piercing through his armor with my sword. The sight of me conquering him was enough to scare his people off. They were forced to flee because they had failed in their mission and to protect their leader.

He grunted, flinching in pain.

I took off my helmet, shocking his retreating people and him as well. The look on his face gave me satisfaction. It was a mixture of astonishment and rage.

"They didn't have a prince to protect them," I said whilst the wind blew through my long black hair, "But they did have a Princess who won victories." I kept my blade still, keeping him in place. I did not wish to kill him. My family would prefer him alive until they've figured out what they want to do with him and this victory.

"You're who they call the White Knight, aren't you?" he asked.

I nodded, smiling devilishly. "I am," I replied. I relished in his pain. He deserves everything that was to come to him. In his veins flows the blood of past kings who have killed countless people.

My people soon came, putting him in shackles. He glared at me in silence.

"Take him to the base," I commanded.

After an hour, I came to the base where he was kept. I noticed his armor was gone, leaving him with just his pants and a loose shirt on. I could tell that I wounded him pretty hard on the chest by the blood that stained his shirt.

"What are you doing here, Princess?" he asked, still with an arrogant tone. He had a sinister smile on his face.

I took my sword, slashing another line at his wound. Now there's an "x" mark on his left chest, just above his heart. "This mark means I have conquered the greatest warrior alive today," I said, withdrawing my sword. "I am Princess Angelique of White, the woman who has defeated you in battle. Do not forget my name."

He flicked his tongue, staring at me. I couldn't read what he was thinking. He was just staring at me with those mysterious blue eyes and that... damn smile.

"What?" I asked.

He smirked, looking at me from the head down. "What is it that you plan to do with me?" he asked.

"Why?" I asked back, "Do you fear that I'm to kill you, Prince Damien?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't fear death, Princess," he says ever so smugly, "If you go to battle fearing death, then you're as good as death. Besides, I know you won't kill me."

"You underestimate me, sir," I say, resting my blade against his neck.

He licked his lips as though my actions were giving him some type of pleasure. I breathe heavily, observing him. What is he thinking of?

"You won't kill me, Princess," he says, "Your parents will not permit you. You've no real power. At least not until you're Queen of the White's. But really, let's not fool anyone. We both know that even when you've become Queen, you'll remain their little marionette—following mommy and daddy's orders."

I loathe him. I really do. I wonder how keeps this smug look on his face is this arrogance. If he doesn't fear death, what does he fear? I should want to know that I may crush him with it.

"You look like a man," he insults, "Did they raise you like one because your mother failed to bring forth an heir?"

"I would fear me if I were you," I said.

He chuckled. "What are you doing here, Princess?" he asked, "Really, why did you come here? I'm sure watching me is way beneath your station. So why did you come all the way here, huh? Did you come here to see my pretty face?"

I leaned closer, holding him by his chin. Our faces were but a breath away. My eyes were fixated on his lips—they looked ever so soft and moist. Damn. The rumors were true. He is a handsome prince, but a cocky one. His eyes locked into mine as though he was waiting for something.

"Your pretty face?" I whispered, my breath brushing against his skin. "Is nothing to me."

"And yet here you are but a breath away," he says huskily, "Don't lie to yourself, Princess. Why don't you just give in already? No one's gonna know." He chuckled, staring at my lips.

Just before I could give a reply, the door swung open. My parents entered the room looking appalled by the scene they'd just witnessed. I stood away from him, keeping my sword against his neck.

"Mother, Father," I greeted, still keeping my eyes on Damien.

"What is going on?" asked my mother.

My father sighed, saying, "You may go now, Angelique. We are to release the boy."

"What?" I exclaimed.

"We've decided that enough is enough," he explained, "His parents and we agreed to sign a peace treaty therefore ending this war once and for all. Now, please, go home."

I took one last look at Damien before leaving.

I woke up sweaty and trembling. It was all a dream. I had just relived that day—the day I won my greatest victory. Little did I know that this victory would become the pathway to becoming the wife of Damien Cross. I glanced at the time—3:00 in the morning. I sighed, watching my drunken husband enter the room. He looked completely wasted.

"Ah," he points at me, his voice insinuating he'd had too many drinks. "My wife, did you wait for me to come home?" He struggled to walk, almost stumbling down the room.

I stood, coming his way to help him. "You reek of alcohol," I groaned, struggling to help him remove his shirt.

"Ooh," he says, taking his pants off, "I say I like where this is leading to, my Princess."

What a complete moron. Even now, in this state, he thinks of just that. What a complete idiot.

I sat him down on the bed, carefully asking him, "Where do you keep your clothes for bed?"

Grinning, he replied, "I don't really wear anything when I go to sleep."

I blushed, trying to avoid looking anywhere but his face.

He laughed, asking, "What's wrong, Princess? Why do you look so shy? Why don't we continue where we left off before Maidservant Rose came and disturbed us, eh?"

I slapped him hard on the face. Not because I wanted to hurt him, but in an attempt to wake him the bloody hell up. I don't know how to help him when he's drunk.

"What the hell was that for?" he asked, still drunk.

I groaned in frustration. "Damien, go to bed," I commanded, pointing at his side.

He grinned, shaking his head in response. He was like a little kid trying to vex me. Seriously, this is beyond annoying.

I helped guide him to his space, laying him down. I covered him with a blanket, half-hoping he wouldn't freeze to death or catch a cold.

"Why did you wait for me?" he asked through muffled voices, "Have you fallen for me already?"

"You wish," I fought, "I woke up due to the sound of your heavy stumbling."

"Ah," he says, pulling me towards him. He wrapped his arms around me, making me flinch. Why the bloody hell is he hugging me? Is he that drunk? I tried to get away from him, but his grip only tightened. I could feel his breath against my skin like a burning sensation.

"Don't go," he says, burrowing his face on the nape of my neck, "Stay."

I closed my eyes. What else can I do at this point? Nothing. I suppose I'm stuck here until he finally falls asleep.

"Everybody leaves me," he muttered.

I shifted, turning to face him. His arms still kept me tightly in place. His eyes were closed and his breaths were deep. Even in his sleep, he possessed such strength. I touched his soft hair, staring at his angelic face. He looked so innocent. Almost like the first time we met. I then glanced at the scar on his chest, tracing it with my fingers.

"It must've hurt like a bitch when I slashed my blade against your skin," I muttered. Yawning, I decided to close my eyes. I'll just wait a little longer until he releases me from his grip.