Author's Note: Hello there! I've been rolling this idea around in my head ever since I saw Jack the Giant Slayer a couple of weeks ago. Ewan McGregor absolutely stole the show, and I loved the movie; but it was sorely lacking in the badass-ladies category, as well as in the Elmont-love-interest category. So I decided to remedy that.

This story will eventually cover the events of the movie, but it begins about five years before it (I think Isabelle is 18 in the movie, so she's 13 here. I think her mother died when she was 11, but if anyone knows for certain, please correct me!). So if you haven't seen the movie yet, there shouldn't be any real spoilers for at least several chapters.

I'm currently working on chapter two, so it should be up shortly. Anyway, I hope you enjoy what I have so far! Please review and let me know what you think!

Chapter One: Wolves at the Gate

"What do you mean, there are wolves at the gate?"

"Dire wolves, captain! And men riding them! They demand to see the king!"

Elmont hurried to untie and mount his horse, barking orders. "Crawe! You're in charge here. Drake, Martin, Haze, and…Piedmont! With me!" He turned to the three knights who'd ridden from the gate to warn him. "You three as well. If it's a fight they want, we'll need your strength."

"Captain!" Elmont turned, finding Crawe rushing toward him, sword in hand. "I think you'll be wanting this, sir!"

He glanced down at the wooden training sword in his hand, which he'd been using to demonstrate tactics to his men. He tossed it to Crawe and accepted the real one, sliding its familiar weight back into its scabbard. "Thank you. If you hear the signal, rally the men and meet us at the gate."

"Yes, sir."

The Captain of the King's Guardians surveyed his men, checking that they were all mounted and armed, and then spurred his horse in the direction of the city. "With me—to the gate!"

They rode hard and fast away from the training ground and through the city, to the northern gate, where a league of knights had gathered, uncertain how to defend against this strange threat. Faulk, the Commander of the City Guard, spotted him and waved him forward, and the knights parted before him, giving Elmont a view of the five dire wolves.

They were enormous, larger than horses though not so tall. Their riders sat with neither saddles nor reins, each cloaked in brown, black, or gray to match the fur of the beasts they rode, their hoods raised to hide their faces in shadow. Beneath, they seemed clothed in thick furs and supple leathers—hardly substantial armor for storming the city, if that was their intention. A few wore swords on their waists, though others held axes or spears. All weapons were held loosely, non-threateningly, kept within reach but not intended for attack.

Elmont rode forward, past the rows of knights, reigning up at a distance from the silent, still strangers. "Who are you, and what business do you have in Cloister?"

One of the black wolves growled, shifting its feet, and its evidently-male, black-cloaked rider snarled, "Who wants to know?"

Elmont lowered his hand to the hilt of his sword, making certain that they all saw the gesture. "I am Sir Elmont, Captain of the King's Guardians, and I will not ask again."

The same rider hissed, his hand dropping to his own sword as his wolf pawed the ground anxiously; but the central rider, in gray cloak atop a gray wolf, trotted forward, a hand raised for peace. The other stilled immediately.

The gray-cloaked rider reached up and lowered its hood. "You are Sir Elmont?"

His breath caught in his throat at the sight, a thick knot of surprise that tied up his mind and his tongue—this rider, armed with an axe and a spear and a dirk, sitting proudly on the back of a dire wolf…was a woman. She had light brown skin and dark brown eyes, and bright white hair incongruous with her youthful appearance, pulled back in a long, thick braid. Her features were cruel, with dark, full lips that seemed prone to scowling, high cheekbones, thick white eyebrows, and sharp, intelligent eyes. She was fearsome…and beautiful.

"…I am," he finally managed to answer, hoping it hadn't taken as long as it had felt.

A grin spread across the woman's face, adding a strangely-fitting softness to her features that made her even more attractive. "It is a great pleasure to meet you, Sir Elmont. Tales of your prowess and courage have spread far and wide, even to those of us in Kaerregg."

Elmont had heard very little of the land of Kaerregg—only that it was insurmountably far to the north, nearly uninhabitable, and populated with fierce warriors.

Before he could ask about it, the hotheaded, black-cloaked Kaerreggan spoke again with an evident sneer. "Oh yes, it's so courageous to slay an aging dragon!"

"Kieran, still your tongue!" the woman reprimanded with a glare as sharp as her words, and the man crossed his arms and kept his silence.

Elmont felt a fresh sting of remorse, wondering how they had possibly heard about that, the final task that had earned him his position as captain. "I'll admit, it was a sorry business. The creature seemed out of its mind in senility; but it is my duty to protect the kingdom from all attacks, including that of an aged, confused dragon."

The woman seemed to hang on his words, her brow lowered in concern. "It attacked Albion?"

Elmont nodded slowly. "Yes. Of course! I would never have done such a despicable thing were it not for the safety of the kingdom. To have to kill such a noble beast—the last dragon in Albion, if not the world—is…a tragedy."

She hung her head solemnly. "A tragedy indeed…" She shot a fierce glance at her companion, and held out her hand. "Kieran, give me the letter."

With an annoyed grunt, the man reached within his leather tunic, retrieving a rolled-up piece of parchment that he handed to the woman. She unrolled it, eyes scanning its contents quickly. "I have not tampered with it!" her companion hissed.

"I should certainly hope not," she murmured, not raising her eyes from the paper, though her tone carried enough of a threat that a glare was not needed. The man called Kieran crossed his arms again with an annoyed huff.

Apparently satisfied with its contents, she rolled the letter back up and dismounted from her wolf in a smooth, liquid motion. The four remaining riders all rose up to follow, but she held up a hand. "Stay amount!" she commanded and, hesitantly, they sat back down. She strode forward, holding her spear up to her wolf. "Hold please?" she asked, and it gripped the shaft in its mouth, displaying long, sharp teeth. She thanked it with a pat to its furry cheek, and then strode across the ground between herself and the knights of Cloister.

She was much shorter than he had anticipated, but she walked with purpose and authority, stopping several feet from him—too far away to be capable of reaching him with her weapons. She gestured back to her companions. "Excuse me. I simply did not wish for our mounts to frighten yours. They seem easily startled." She gazed up at his horse in something like wonder. "What are they?"

Elmont frowned, glancing around at his fellow guardians, who looked just as uncertain about this whole ordeal as he felt. "They're, uh…horses. Have you never seen a horse before?"

She blinked and shrugged, glancing back at her companions. "I have heard of them, and we saw a few on our journey south, but did not know their names. Their long legs are ill suited to the terrain of our mountains."

Elmont's horse shifted beneath him, uncomfortable under her appraising gaze and with the nearness of the wolves.

"My lady?" Kieran called. "The letter?"

She straightened her shoulders and stood tall, lips pulling into a scowl at being corrected. "Yes, of course." She blinked, and then smiled up at Elmont, holding out the letter to him. "This is an invitation from your King Brahmwell. We have come in hopes to garner a preemptive peace treaty between Albion and Kaerregg."

Elmont eased his horse forward, taking the parchment from her. She took ample steps back, posing no threat while his attentions were diverted by the contents of the letter. It was as she said; he recognized Brahmwell's signature and seal, and it was written in the king's own handwriting, not that of his scribe, so it could be no forgery. Elmont frowned, rolling the parchment tightly. Why had the king not informed them to expect these strange visitors? "I cannot allow your mounts to enter the city," he informed her, handing the letter back. "Our horses are less easily startled than our people."

She frowned, tucking the parchment into the waistband of her leather leggings. "It is not wise for us to leave our wolves behind. They are not tame, and are obedient only to our commands." She turned to survey her companions for a moment before turning back to him. "What if only two of us come in, myself and one other and our mounts?"

He stroked his beard, considering her offer. They were well armed and surely dangerous; but they were here on invitation of the king, and had proven themselves trustworthy thus far. Truth be told, he didn't much like the thought of leaving these wolves unsupervised, no more than he liked the idea of letting them into the city. "What assurance do I have that they'll do no harm?"

She nodded, surprisingly pleased with his answer. "If one harms even the smallest of lambs, you can have its head." Her hand dropped to her side, drumming her fingers along the blade of the axe on her well-formed hip. "I'll chop it off for you myself."

Elmont looked her over carefully. There was a playful smile on her lips, but also a fierce look in her eye that assured him she was not joking. He nodded. "Very well. You and one other will be accompanied directly to the castle. The rest must stay here, outside the gate."

She bowed her head, looking him over from under strange, white eyelashes. "Thank you, Sir Elmont." She spun on her heel and strode back to her wolf, accepting her spear from its mouth, planting its base on the ground, and using it as leverage to propel herself up and mount the beast. With a smirk, she propped the spear against her shoulder and glanced around at her companions, deciding who would accompany her. "Kieran, with me."

All four of her companions protested the order, loudly and vehemently, though none more so than Kieran himself. She scowled deeply, letting it go on for half a moment before whirling her wolf around to face them, shouting at them in a bizarre, guttural language he'd never heard before. They all fell silent immediately. "Now, this is not up for discussion!" she snarled, in English again. "I want to keep my eye on you, Kieran... And I intend to use your anger to assure Albion of our dire need for a peace treaty." She whirled her wolf to face him, glaring. "Do not make me regret the decision."

He bowed his head. "Yes, my lady."

She scowled, and her wolf padded forward quickly, Kieran following closely. She noticed the nervous shifting of the horses, and kept their wolves a safe distance away, looking expectantly at Elmont.

He turned to Faulk, gesturing to the twelve mounted knights to his left—including the three who had ridden to the training grounds to inform him of these strange visitors. "May I have these men?" Faulk nodded, waving the men forward. "You lot, surround them; keep the people from bothering our guests—our King's guests." He nodded to his fellow guardians. "You four, stay with the rest of the knights and the remaining Kaerreggan ambassadors."

Elmont looked over the bizarre woman. He liked her. Perhaps too much. He liked the way she commanded her men and the way they obeyed her. He liked the way she handled the dire wolf that looked perfectly capable of eating her for breakfast. He liked the awareness she showed in her intentional, deliberate manner of assuring him that her people posed no threat, despite their threatening appearance. He liked the way she'd been distracted by wonder at the novelty of horses. He liked the way she scowled. He liked the way she'd smiled at him.

She was too beautiful for him to like her this much. He was beginning to see a dangerous path ahead.

He gestured for her to follow, and turned and led her and her friend and the twelve knights under the gate and through the city. They took the long way to the castle, trying to avoid as many populous streets as possible. Even so, they drew quite a crowd; and by the time they reached the castle, people were flooding the streets to see them, and they had to force their way through.

True to the woman's word, the wolves did nothing more than occasionally growl when someone came too close.

Finally, they arrived at the castle gate, pressing through into the courtyard and closing the gate behind them—and keeping the civilians out. He dismounted, the knights following his lead, and the Kaerreggans did as well. He turned to them, hands out in supplication. "I cannot let you take your weapons inside."

The woman nodded slowly, handing her spear to Kieran, who stood rigidly, looking much less willing to disarm. She removed her axe as well, and her dirk; and then she started pulling knives and hatchets and daggers out of places he couldn't even see, leaving something like twenty blades in a pile on the ground. She glared at Kieran, who grudgingly followed her lead, though he did not have as many weapons as she did.

She looked up at Elmont. "You see we are cooperating. But I must insist that our mounts accompany us inside. I know you won't like it, but I assure you, it is much safer that way."

Elmont sighed heavily, and then nodded. "Very well. Come along." He led them inside, still accompanied by the knights, through the winding corridors of the castle, listening to the foreign sound of the click of the wolves' claws on the stone floors.

The guards heaved open the doors to the king's throne room, casting wary glances at the newcomers. Elmont strode ahead of the strange company, bowing before his king. "Sire, these are ambassadors of peace from the Kingdom of Kaerregg. They have come on your request."

Surprising them all, it was the young princess, peeking out from behind her father's throne, who spoke first. "Are you Lady Draaga?"

The woman stepped forward to stand beside Elmont. "I am. Are you Princess Isabelle?"

The girl squealed, running forward. Before Elmont could react, the woman—Lady Draaga—caught her up in a warm embrace, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around with a bright laugh.

There was no one in the kingdom that Elmont cared more deeply about than the Princess Isabelle. She was like a younger sister to him; and seeing her laughing in the arms of this strange, foreign woman only made him like her more.

"Father said you might not come!" Isabelle exclaimed when she was returned to the ground.

The woman put her hands on her hips, bending over just slightly to look the princess in the eye, despite the fact that she was only a few inches taller. "And miss the opportunity to finally meet you? Not a chance!"

"I must admit," the King began, "I was not expecting you so soon."

The smile fell from her face and she straightened up, all business. "My apologies, King Brahmwell. We left immediately upon receipt of your invitation, and journeyed here sooner than a letter ever could."

The king nodded, rising to his feet. "Your alacrity is inspiring." He waved a hand at the knights in the room and at his many attendants. "Clear my schedule, and leave us. We have…much to discuss."

"Sire—" Elmont began, glancing back at the wolves. The gray one was lying on the ground, watching its rider with an unblinking gaze, awaiting orders; the black one sat back on its haunches, scratching its ear with powerful movements of its back leg, displaying long, dangerous claws. He could not leave his king unguarded!

"Elmont, your guardians are busy at training, are they not?"

"They are, sire."

"Excellent. Kindly escort my daughter to her chambers and return to your men."

"Sire—" he insisted, unwilling to abandon his king with such dangerous beasts; but the Lady Draaga placed a hand on his arm, and all protest was forgotten.

"I assure you, Sir Elmont, we are here for peace."

He looked into her eyes, trying to read their dark depths, and found no malice there. Sending one last, unheeded, pleading look to the king, Elmont sighed. "Come along, Princess Isabelle."

The princess pouted, until Draaga bent and pressed a kiss to her temple, ruffling her hair. "I will see you again soon enough, dear one. I promise."

With a resigned frown, Isabelle nodded and took Elmont's hand, letting him lead her from the room as they followed the knights and attendants.

He only glanced back once, as the guards closed the doors behind him, finding the woman watching him carefully, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

He thought he saw her wink at him, and found himself wishing that the promise she'd made with Isabelle had been made with him instead.