Fleance Thane of Lochaber, now a grown man, himself noble and brave soldier like his father. He hoped he had lived up to his father, made him proud - God rest his soul.

It had been hours after battle, Fleance was roaming the woods, clearing his head, if you will.

His armour clanked softly as he strode, approaching a deep lake and a nearby short yet rocky waterfall, beginning to take the heavyweight gear off and dip his feet in the fresh water.

That was until he heard rustling behind him, his head immediately snapped back. A young woman, dressed in deep green fabrics - a low neckline.

..She was a witch.