[center][b]With the Northern King[/b][/center]

The High Priest smiled and made a fluid gesturing bow, the danger swirling in the vial, seeping an awful kind of discolored light. With a slip of his hand, he snatched up back up and hid it away in his robes once more. His perfect, dangerous grin, that seemed too large and with too much teeth, like a snake grinning in a pleased sort of irritated way. So full of contradictions. Someone you should feel comforted by was more dangerous than any general. Superstitious? He might be a servant of the Gods, but a gust of wind and a few lights going out was no sign. The Priest could practically hear his dry voice dripping with disbelief in his own thoughts. 

"Of course, it was only a mere suggestion," he said instead, bowing deeply, "By the will of the Gods, I trust your judgment as ever, My King." He would have to do some studying into these supposed signs. Jorundr's sacred flames put out? Ingvil's powers entered the great God's sanctuary? What did these signs truly mean, for surely they were not in favor of this Southern Queen brat! It must mean something else! That little dark-hair she-cub would have to be dealt with, but it seemed he would not get the King's favor in the matter. Then perhaps...a more delicate operations? An [i]accident[/i], shall we say? Then the vixen's death wouldn't weigh on his good King's mind. Yes, he'd have to look into this more.

The lights were once more lit and the High Priest was smiling as any charming snake of his caliber would. "You wish to bring bother Generals together, My King?" there was a bit of disbelief in his voice, "Do you not think that is a bit... unwise? Two wolves in a cage will only bring blood, after all." He fidgeted in his unrest. "If your intentions are peace, why bring a man of war?" he implored, before checking himself, bowing slightly, "But whatever His Highness wishes, it shall be so." Following the King from the chamber, he almost grimaced to himself. He must be patient, patient, wait for the right moment. Then, by his own hand, he could end the senseless War of Ages. [i]Patience...patience is key...[/i]

[center][b]The Southern Queen Traveling, 18 Days From the Meeting Place[/b][/center]

"So was it all you had hoped?" The dry voice of her mother was dripping with disapproval. "Look at you, covered head to toe in red dust like a common maiden asking for true love, of all things."

"Mother, it will wash out before we meet this wondrous Bear King," she said, her own voice laced with frustration as she scrubbed at her thick long dark hair, "It isn't as if you hadn't done the same thing before meeting Father."

"Young lady, I chose your Father with help from the Goddesses," her mother shot right back, helping her daughter wash out the red powder from the ritual she had secretly preformed, "You do not have such a luxury. And how you ever got the General to stand by and let you do such a foolish thing, I'll never know."

"It was odd though," Ashamaria murmured a bit dreamily, "That summer storm danced right over us, and even when we were outside that tiny flame never went out. What do you think-" She looked up at her mother, who was glaring at her with a raised brow. Right. Wrong person to be asking. Perhaps Fonfira... No. The General was not one for romantic nonsense. But the flame hadn't gone out. Which meant her Soul's Pair was still in the threads of her future. Too bad she couldn't see into the future. If anything now she felt more nervous and apprehensive to this whole marriage.

"I want you to be spotless by the time we get there, do you hear me?" her mother's icy disapproval dampened the mystic dreaminess she still had from preforming the ceremony, "I won't have your future husband thinking your some Rskalarn child who dances about in red dye with Heart Flame Moon Maidens!" Her mother opened the curtain to her caravan and left, leaving Ashamaira to star down into the large bowl of red water.

"Well that went well," a familiar snarky amused voice scoffed from behind her. Turning her head, her dark eyes found the petite yet intimidating General Fonfira who slumped down on the sitting cushions, a bowl of sliced fruits resting on her stomach. "Though I do agree with her somewhat," she muttered, slipping a slice of pineapple into her mouth.

"What do you agree with exactly?" Ashamaria went back to scrubbing her hair, her voice trying so hard to keep from wavering with worry.

"You performed the Ceremony, but what good is it?" the General mused, "If anything now you'll just be even more miserable, pining away like some locked up pansy from a Northern fairy tale." The older woman tried softening her tone. "You can't escape this, you know," she said gently, "Your mother will find some way to get you and this King bonded. For the good of both kingdoms."

"I know that."

"So why'd you do it?" the General lurched forward in her seat, putting aside her bowl of sweets, "Why do that to yourself, kiddo? A tiny flame of hope? Like some knight who will whisk you away from all your troubles? This is reality! Things like that don't happen. Ever!"

"I know that!" she shouted, her dark eyed narrowed and zeroed in on her best friend, before relaxing with a wavered sigh, "I just...wanted to feel free...Free to love some unknown man without feeling trapped in by it. I just...wanted to dream a bit...Just a little... I'll marry the Northern King. For the good of the people. To stop the killing." Her hands stopped scrubbing and she looked into the deep red water. "Even if he's some giant monster of a man, old as the mountains and crude and vulgar as a troll... I'd do anything to stop a senseless war and save my people's future from such a bloodstained fate. I'd marry a dragon if that's what it took." She started to scrub her hair again. "But I just wanted to fee normal and free from once. Even if it twisted me inside like a knife afterwards." She smiled up at Fonfira. "Childish, isn't it?"

The female general stared at her for a moment. Then she sat back slowly and let out a long sigh before shrugging. "Yeah, a little," she picked up another slice of fruit and looked at it, "but... You'll be a good ruler, [i]Serigal[/i]. More than you know." Ashamaria smiled at the small endearment her older friend used and went back to scrubbing her hair as their caravans wound through the desert.