Silvaze: Taken Hands

Silver rushed through the forest leading to the Sol Kingdom's palace, kicking up grasses behind him with each stride forward. He held fast to his cap, looking every which way with frantic eyes, licking his lips chapped by dehydrating panic; he wasn't used to this feeling. The Sol kingdom was under attack - the life of his beloved princess was in jeopardy, without a doubt - and Silver never knew anything of it. Normally, being as open-eared as he was around the area, he might have been able to get word of the attack before they arrived. He scolded himself each time that thought raced to the front of his conscience, for surely he could have prevented the situation had he remained alert.

It was the Cryokinetics, surely, Silver thought to himself. He knew of their plans to snatch the Sol Emeralds in the past; for many decades they had laid dormant in their attempts, feigning a desire for peace to recruit an army in the meantime. It was only earlier that year that Silver had stolen the Cryos' plans for their original invasion. He was able to alert the princess, and Sol thwarted the attack before the enemy ever set foot on land. All the pride that had brought Silver was being diminished by the second.

Through the passing spaces between trees, Silver soon found the despicable silhouette of fighting in the distance. Far too near in the distance for his liking, actually - one of the invading phalanxes had already moved to the palace's facade. The pirate cursed beneath his breath, and gained a subconscious burst of acceleration once Blaze's balcony was in his sights. It was as if all his nightmares had decided to rear their wretched heads on Sol's shores.

After leaping over the shrubbery lining the foundation of the palace, Silver scaled the vines leading up to the princess's balcony with an intensity he had never before employed. He moved as if he were under the eye of an archer - and perhaps he was, he thought - that would be the most typical of deaths. Sweat was pouring past his eyes, down his muzzle and neck, saturating the frills of his coat and the fur beneath it. For a moment, he believed that the princess would be forced to tend to him once he reached her chambers. He also possessed enough self-awareness to laugh at such irony.

In a perfect world, Silver expected to find Princess Blaze immediately - surely she would be perched behind her window, gazing out with a somber contour to her lips as the Cryos' siege crept closer. He would be able to comfort her before speaking of his plan, and that would soften her to the idea of it. On the contrary, of course, she was nowhere to be found, and Silver had to venture into the hallways to stand any chance of escaping with her.

"Princess!" Silver whispered sharply, scuttering along the carpet so that his boots wouldn't alert anyone. He peered around each corner he came to, fearing the inevitability that he would be mistaken for an intruder, or some senseless notion. He raised his voice as his search dragged on, leading him to duck behind tables and chairs whenever paranoia played its tricks.

Silver soon found himself on one of the grand hallways, weaving behind columns that overlooked the barren dining hall several stories below. There was simply nothing to hide from. He seated himself to catch his breath, and after he had done so without any disturbance, he decided that the residence portion of the palace was empty. Still, he checked the handle of the cutlass at his belt, and looked down either side of the hall before venturing to one of the tall windows before him. He winced at the faint clashing of swords and shields; Sol was never a kingdom built for war. Powerful, it was, but only for the peace it stood for. There were no battlements, no gatehouse, nothing separating it from the people it resided over. Even a mere pirate could roam its interior in a time of such crisis. The town, only a few hundred meters away, was being ransacked - by nightfall it would be reduced to a pile of dust. More painful clanging of metal against metal rang out through the air.

Silver checked the leverage he had on his weapon once more. An oddity, since he was a sworn pacifist; for as many immoral deeds as he had inked to his resume, he only ever stole. A robber he was, but never a murderer. Often times, his theft had merely been to provide for his crew, anyway. Silver had his way through his words, not his sword. He had a certain way of speaking - a honeyed, high-pitched, sensual voice that could manipulate even a deity. One would think he had, given all the times he had escaped death. But never had he cut life with his weapon. He simply assumed that would have to change, if he were to escape with the princess alive.