The smell of beer, stale air and sweat tumbled out the open doorway as Cameron stepped from the confines of the bar. The noise of voices and laughter, under cut by the whiny of an old jut box, followed her exit. She turned back and waved to the bar man.

"Night Andy," Cameron said.

The burlly man lifted a half cleaned glass in salute. The door swung shut, cutting off the ruckus sound of half drunk men spilling their life stories. Cameron turned up her collar and stuffed her hands into her jacket as she made her way home. Street lights dotted the sidewalk along with the splattering of late night travelers. The blackened night sky was speckled with stars, the rest of the constellation hidden behind looming clouds.

Cars rushed by, their tires splashing through puddles and sending sprays of murky water into the air. Cameron glanced about, the quietness of the city unnerving.

She quickened her pace.

She was passing a dark alley when rough hands reached out and grabbed her. She let out a scream of surprise, the sound ringing into the silent street. Callus hands covered her mouth. Cameron bite down hard, eliciting a yelp of pain from her attacker. For a split second she was released.

She raced for the alley's entrance, her heart pounding in her ears. Another man grabbed her. She spun around, punching the man in the head. The man cursed and Cameron kicked his knee, sending him stumbling to the ground. Before she had the chance to turn towards freedom two more men were before her.

Cameron jumped out of the way as one the them reached for her, but was too slow. A vice like grip clamped onto her arms.

"Help!" she screamed. "Help!"

She opened her mouth to yell one more cry for help but a meaty hand slapped her mouth closed, his fingers squeezing her jaw. Another man pulled her arms behind her. Cameron struggled, kicked and flailed as panic coursed through her. The two men she had managed to fend off first came forward, their sneers cast in shadow from the moonlight.

"You kid have something that doesn't belong to you," one of them said, his voice raspy.

Cameron struggled harder, fear seizing her, pressing against her lungs making her short of breath. The man stopped inches from Cameron's face, his rank breath choking her.

He flicked a knife open, the blade catching the light. Cameron looked at it, her stomach turning as years of taking pictures of manipulated bodies flashed through her mind.

"Pity to mess up a pretty face, but that can't be helped."

Cameron squirmed, her muscles aching from strain. The sound of her frantic heartbeat seemed to be the only sound left in the world.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a cold, steady voice said.

The man with the knife turned back towards the entrance to the alley. Standing, outlined by the street lights, was a tall, lean man wearing a coat, the hood pulled down low. He moved forward, his heavy black boots thundering in the surprised stillness. The man raised the knife so it was inches from Cameron's eye. She jerked back, pressing her head against barrel size chest of her attacker.

The hooded man stopped.

"You have two options," he said. "Release her and go to prison or die here in this alley."

The man with the knife growled.

"I'll take my option. Kill you then kill her."

The hooded man nodded.

"So be it."

Cameron's attacker nodded his head to his companion and the mountain of a man lumbered forward. The hooded man stepped forward with a grace of a dancer, swung his foot around and smashed the side of the man's head with his boot. Before the man even crashed to the ground the hooded man was upon the group.

He ripped the knife out the leader's hand and slammed his head down onto the man's round forehead. One of Cameron's capturers, upon seeing his comrade beaten, dropped his hold and lunged for the hooded man.

Faced with only one attacker, Cameron swung on him, crashing her fist into his face. The man retaliated and slammed Cameron into the wall. Dots of white light flickered into her vision as she collapsed to the dirt coated ground.

Weak with dizziness, she tried to force herself to stand. Past the blurring of her sight she could make out the entrance to the alley. She pushed herself up, but her shaky limbs gave out and she fell, clipping her temple on the jagged rock.

The edges of her vision blacked before the world vanished.

*****************

Cameron rolled over and let out a moan. Pain pierced through her thoughts and consciousness rushed to greet her.

She blinked.

Familiar objects took form, lit by the light of the moon shining through her window. Her head was cloudy with fog as her pushed herself up.

"Gently," a deep voice said.

Cameron stiffened. She looked around searching for the source of the voice. The hooded figure took a step closer. Moonlight illuminated thin lips and a defined jaw, the hood obscuring the rest of his face.

"Who are you?" Cameron growled, though as her thoughts from the night's events came back to her, she knew there was nothing she could do against this man.

He raised his black gloved hands. On his left arm the gap between his glove and his coat revealed a strip of wrist that held a narrow, jagged scar.

"I do not want to hurt you," he said, his voice gentle. "I can not tell you who I am, but you are home and safe. The man who attacked you are no longer a threat."

Cameron kept her eyes trained on the man as she shifted into a sitting option.

"You killed them?" she asked.

The man seemed to take this as a good sign and lowered his hands.

"No," he said. "Injured, but not dead. They are in police custody."

Cameron nodded but regretted it as her head ached from pain. Her pressed a hand against her temple, trying to combat the throbbing.

"You cut your head," the man said. "I stitched it up. You'll be fine but you might have a faint scar."

"Thanks."

They were silent for a moment as Cameron came to realize she was in her own apartment.

"How'd I get here?" she asked.

"I carried you."

"Why not take me to the hospital?"

"I didn't want to leave you and couldn't risk being seen."

"Well, thanks again."

The man nodded, then took a cautious step forward.

"Do you know why those men were after you?" he asked.

Cameron gave a low sigh.

"Because I got images of their boss Valatti in the act of beating a woman. It won't be enough to keep him behind bars but it would be enough to get him there. Seems his employees didn't care for that."

"You're Cameron Alveron, the photographer. Your father runs the Highland Newspaper."

Cameron pushed herself off the bed, groaning with the effort.

"Yes, thank you for telling me what I am already aware of."

She stumbled to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. She downed the whole glass, resting against the edge of the sink. The man followed her but stayed at the kitchen's opening.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"You know, I could say this is the first time I've felt like I've been dragged through the mud but when you've worked for someone like my father for five years then really the feeling is nothing new. Just this time I have the bruises to prove I made it through an ordeal."

"You started when you were 16?"

Cameron moved away from the sink, using the wall as her guide to the bed.

"Sure. How else was I suppose to become the best photographer out there. Only suckers have lives and homework to think about."

Cameron eased herself onto the bed, her body heavy with fatigue.

"Now," she said. "If you're going to kill me could you do it quickly or else let me sleep. I have to be up early to get photos of the royal family knighting some pompous prick or other and I would prefer not to look like the piece of crap that I feel like."

"I don't plan on killing you."

"That's a relief," Cameron said, her tone careless.

"I wanted to make sure you woke up and were alright."

Cameron looked up at the man, trying to see beneath the concealment of his hood.

"You saved my life," she said.

His lips twitched into an amused smile.

"Thank you," she said. "I've faced gangs before and it's never gone that bad."

"I'm sure you were one kick away from having them all on their backs."

Cameron smiled, the expression softening her narrow features and green eyes.

"Thank you," she said.

The man nodded and left the room. By the time the door clicked shut Cameron was fast asleep.

**************

Sunlight poured into Cameron's apartment and splashed across her bed. She rolled to her side and patted the end table for her phone. Blinking herself awake, she check the time. Her eyes flew open.

"Blast!"

She scrambled out her bed, ignoring the shock of pain that tore through her head, a vivid reminder of the previous night's fight. Frantically, she moved about the cramped apartment, pulling on jeans, a top, a leather jacket and boots. Grabbing her satchel and camera, she left the apartment looking as if a bomb had gone off inside.

Outside the crisp, fall wind woke her up completely. The city was alive with car horns, discordant voices and the screech of sirens. Cameron cut through the throng of pedestrians and stepped out onto the street. She hailed a taxi and jumped in.

"The palace and if you get me in there in under twenty there is a extra fifty in it for you," Cameron said.

The driver's eyes widened in the review mirror and took the on the challenge with childlike glee. As the city rushed by Cameron took the time to pull her tangled brown hair back into a bun. She checked face in a mirror, gingerly touching the cut in her head and bruises that surrounded it.

The taxi screeched to a halt outside the ten foot tall fence, surrounding the palace. Cameron tossed money at the driver and hopped out. At the guard house she flashed her press badge and ID.

After fifteen minutes of endless scrutiny, Cameron was allowed entrance.

A guard accompanied her to the main ballroom that was already bursting with reporters, camera man and photographers. Large studio lights lit the platform at the center of the room. Upon it were four chairs, each for the members of the royal family.

Cameron snaked her way to the front of the crowd, popping up beside her fellow employees. A tall, dark haired man with a classic good looks glanced at Cameron.

"Hey Cam," he said.

Cameron made no reply. He looked more closely at her, his eyes narrowing.

"Who'd you get into a fight with?" he asked.

"My bathroom door," Cameron quipped.

The man's chuckle was cut off as the door in the back of the room opened.

The royal family emerged.

The King, with the Queen on his arm, led the procession. He was a stately man with graying black hair and a strong jaw line. The Queen had a sweet heart shaped face encircled by light, fading blonde hair. Prince Thoran, the next in line, took after his father. While Prince Henry, though he had his father's strong jaw, took after his mother with light blonde hair that looked almost white. They stepped up to the platform, the members of the audience, bowing their heads in respect. The family spread out, the King and Queen in the center, the two Princes on either side.

Cameron raised her camera and started snapping photos as the family smiled and waved to the crowd in greeting. Her lensed paused on Prince Henry as he waved.

Her stomach jumped into her ribs as she noticed a narrow, jagged scar on his left wrist.

She lowered her camera.

Prince Henry's gaze moved over the crowd, as if searching.

A second later his gray eyes met her's.

A familiar amused smile cut across his thin lips.

"Hello Cameron," he mouthed.

****************

Hey!

So I got this idea the other night while, surprise surprise, I was trying to go to sleep. My stories might just be the death of me. Worth it! So what is this story about? No idea. I just pictured this first scene. I figure Henry and Cameron will team up and take down criminals. And of course in the process fall in love, but that's pretty much a given.

What do you think should happen? Literally, I'm open to all ideas. Heck! Write the second chapter for me! (seriously write the second chapter and send it to me) Or tell me what you think the plot should be!

Vote, comment, follow, be my guides for the direction of this story!