Through hazy, barely focusing eyes, Miry took in the scene before her, not exactly processing or even comprehending what it was that she saw. Sweat dripped down her face, her outstretched hands shaking with the effort of trying to hold the air and steam packed in.

She was so focused on holding them together, she did not notice the massive, hulking figure approaching the door, nor did she notice the panicked, horrified squeak that came from behind her. “Shh, Aery, not now…” she mumbled.

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but she definitely was not expecting the drawn out, agonized scream that came from behind her, nor the loud crash – and then a horrifying, terrifying moment where a sharp impact against her back sent her hurtling forward… and right into the steam bubbles that she’d been holding together. And she was so disoriented that she completely let go, the steam hurtling outwards and blasting her backwards again, searing pain shooting through her body before the wind was knocked out of her as she hit the floor hard.

She didn’t know how long she lay there, gasping, dazed, ears ringing and whole body seemingly on fire. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds but it felt like an eternity before she was able to pull herself to her hands and knees and attempt to determine what in all the gods’ names had just happened. As she surveyed the carnage around her she couldn’t help but dimly wonder if it was such a good idea after all. There was so much blood… and…

A strangled cry tore its way out of Miry’s throat as she half crawled across the floor, hands scrabbling at her sister’s dress, scrabbling for her hand, her wrist, then her throat, searching for a pulse or a breath or anything, but there was… there was blood everywhere and a knife and… the knife was under Kasari’s hand—

No. No, no no no. No. She couldn’t have—she…she wouldn’t… And she was… there was a pool of blood all around her and her throat was slit from ear to ear and… Miry choked, clutching at the bodies, a thin keening cry being pulled from her. Whatever pain she’d been feeling was gone now, replaced by pure, horrible emptiness.

A crash from the door and a looming shadow made her whirl, half slipping in the blood and nearly falling across the corpses. She dimly, dimly saw the chaos in the hall, more blood and gleaming weapons, and with a pitiful, cracking whimper she scrabbled to her feet and stumbled forward, breaking into a run. One of the guards tried to throw up an arm to stop her but she dove under his outstretched arm, flinging herself around the corner and down the hall, hurtling down it half blindly with her only thought being to get away from the carnage.

She didn’t know how far she’d run, how many doors she’d pushed through, but at last she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could barely see, and so she half-ran, half-fell into a linen closet, yanking the door shut behind her and burrowing into the sheets, rolling her body up in them tightly as though trying to disappear. Vicious sobs tore their way out of her body, her frail frame shaking as she gasped for breath. My fault. the words repeated through her head infinitely. my fault my fault my fault my fault.

After some time her sobs quieted, as did her thoughts. Instead she was left with that terrifying numbness. Weakly she coughed, attempting to sit up and disentangle herself from the blankets, and was greeted by the return of the searing agony all through the left side of her body. Gingerly, biting back a scream of pain, she tried to pull the sheets away from her, wincing as they stuck to her raw flesh—wait… raw flesh?

In horror she looked down, not exactly comprehending what she was seeing. As she’d lost control of the explosion the rush of superheated air and steam had flung her back and seared her body. Much of her chest, some of her back, her arms, parts of her thighs and hips, and- at least judging by the pain- the right side of her face, the skin blistered and burned and in some places gone entirely. Also, she noted, though this was only a secondary thought – her one change of clothes must have been completely destroyed in the blast, as she was swaddled in nothing but sheets.

With another thin cry she rolled herself back up in the sheets, careful to cover every bit of herself that was burned. She curled over on herself again, wincing as the now-throbbing burns seemingly lit on fire again upon being pressed, but there was hardly a comfortable position to rest herself in. At last she found one that was, if not comfortable, at least somewhat less painful, and so she went limp, shaking again, though this time it was from fear, disgust, a sudden chill, and gods only knew what else.

Dimly she forced her brain to try to work again. She needed a plan. A plan would keep her alive. Water- she needed water. But after the ordeal of trying to hold the steam together, there was no way in hell she had enough energy left to draw any to her. She’d have to ask Zakroti or one of his guards.

Which led to her next problem: Lord Zakroti. Or, more specifically, his grandfather. Before anything had happened, Zakroti had said his grandfather was awake… which would mean said grandfather would likely respond to the chaos and see two dead brides and a missing in action third... which could not end well for poor Zakroti. Internally she vowed that neither of the lords, nor any of their men, could be allowed to see her injuries. That would be a lovely realization – two dead brides and a hopelessly damaged third. One that Zakroti would doubtless be punished for. She shifted, rolling the sheets tighter around herself, draping one edge close over the burned side of her face. As long as no one moved the sheet and she could mask her pain, no one would know.

She scrambled for another bit of thought – any other bit, but her brain steadfastly refused to cooperate. Before she could force herself to think, her vision went dark and she was dragged into semiconsciousness. And while she had been able to shut up the vicious words in those few minutes she’d been awake, in her slumber she was not so lucky as to escape them.

Thump. Thump.

Nothingness. Dark, calm, silent, nothingness. No up, no down... Just nothing. And yet it were as if the entirety of the universe pulsed through one point. A small body, a girl barely out of adolescence with a heart burning brighter than the sun itself. A flowing white dress in stark contrast with the darkness that was everything, long brown curls framing a delicate face, and pale blue eyes full of not fear, nor pain, but acceptance.

Thump. Thump.

Closing her eyes, the girl made a wish. A single, one word trace of a thought that resonated through the darkness like a water droplet on a still pond. How? A room began to materialize around her form. Where there was once nothing, there was now light, color, direction... what was the word again? Existence. At first she didn't recognize where she had ended up, the scene before her seeming distant very much like a lucid dream.

Thump. Thump.

Another girl, a familiar girl. A girl in pain and suffering terribly. Her sister, whose muscles tensed and seized under the strain of pure concentration. And a third, with beautiful brown hair, pale blue eyes and a heart that burned brighter than the sun itself. All eyes were turned toward the door, watching... waiting. For what, she could not recall, but it wouldn't matter either way.

Thump. Thump.

A flash of silver, light glinting off the edge of a knife. Time slowed down to whereas each passing moment was measured in heartbeats. The guard would never have seen it coming, but the girl born of fire couldn't see anything but. Two girls rushed forward at the same time, but the brunette was faster. Slipping between the blonde and the guard, offensive steel met defensive steel. She reached out to embrace the terrified girl, to keep her from doing irreparable harm. Offensive steel met foolish flesh. The wraith in white cowered as pain seared through her chest.

Thump. Thump.

The room was different now. Blonde and brunette lay still on the floor, the sister missing, men shouting and moving about. There was so much going on around her, but all she could focus on was the mirror image of herself staring up at nothing in particular. One of the guards hovered over her, hands pressed firmly to her chest as blood poured from the wounds. His mouth moved, forming words that she could not hear. She was captivated by this one girl on the floor barely clinging to life. Slowly the dulling pale eyes shifted from their place on the ceiling to meet those belonging to the girl dressed in white. In that moment, in that single heartbeat, a smile of recognition appeared and a word was uttered in unison. Forgiveness.

Thump.

Shattering into thousands of pieces around the girl, memories of her life faded back into the darkness leaving her alone yet again. She watched as the lights faded, her own flame no more than a dwindling ember. Slowly she exhaled and closed her eyes, the girl born of fire shining brightly one last time before vanishing into the silence. It was silent, calm, and dark.

Nothingness.

@darkwolf687 @RomanAria

---

Scoot nearly jumped for joy when Rya finally agreed to return to the room with him; nearly. Scuttling along behind her, the pair began their march back to Azilon following a much safer path than they had originally set out on. His excitement was quick to vanish, however, as he began wondering what sort of things Rya meant to have addressed. That couldn't have been a good sign... Could it? She was a bit bossy and he feared that she would say something stupid the young master. Even worse, whatever it was appeared to have been inspired by something he said. The entire way back was filled with nothing but his incoherent babbling and stuttering, none of which formed even a single word.

Without so much as knocking on the door, Rya barged into the room and approached Azilon, a petrified Scoot staring on in disbelief as she practically shoved her hands in his face. He didn't even notice the odd state of the room.

"M-miss Rya... P-please...." He managed to squeak, though it was doubtful a single person heard him. Scoot could barely hear himself.

~~~

The Drakken lord stared down at the Gemminite girl with a stern yet attentive gaze, as if his eyes were attempting to read the inner most thoughts locked away in a person's heart. He listened as each of the girl's demands were made and again when food was offered, unsure of whether or not Rya had any sort of real train of thought. Shrugging internally, Azilon shifted his gaze over to look at Scoot who looked about ready to pass out where he stood. He started chuckling to himself, a sound that quickly erupted into full blown laughter.

"Invertebrate or not, Scoot is my right hand man for all things personal. I'd appreciate it if you didn't break him. Your mark will have to wait until we have arrived at the estate. I know just the person to meet your ever rising standards." Azilon smirked at the girl before his attention was pulled away. Something was wrong, incredibly wrong. There was a heaviness to the air and chill that froze to the core despite standing so close to a raging flame. After a few moments of staring at the door, Azilon snarled menacingly and snapped to attention. Snatching his clothes from where they had been placed for him the night before, Azilon began dressing himself hurriedly.

"Take the food to go, we're leaving. Now. Scoot, go ready my horse." The smell of blood, however faint, was unmistakable. Pain had been felt all through the night by claimed brides... But the tension he could sense in the air, was not that of a pleasurable or even rough night. It was battle, and considered highly offensive for the occasion. A duel was one thing, but somehow Azilon doubted that was the case. Either way, he didn't want his new companions getting caught up in the frenzy. It was best they took off before the whole building got involved in a bloodbath and nobody got to go home.

Scoot nodded and disappeared out the door to ready the horses for departure, all the while wondering what had sparked such a reaction from his master. He had always, or at least for as long as Scoot had known him, displayed an uncanny sense of danger and self-preservation. After his most recent injury, it was clear Azilon shouldn't be fighting quite yet, so it was probably that such a sense was driving him to leave... And leave quickly. The face of the Drakken from the dining hall popped into Scoot's head, the one he and Rya had thought to follow earlier. He had seemed pretty angry, hungry for blood wherever he could find it. None of that mattered though. Scoot was on a mission to prepare for departure and that was what he was going to focus on.

@Ellion @NarcissisticPotato

Amalia Solair

Amalia found the guard's way to her blocked by the body of another Gem. She touched her arm, afraid the guard would put his hands on her sister Gem in order to get to her. But the fire female's words were enough to sway the guard, if not her husband's threats.

They were led away from the crowd were Amalia was chastised by the female Gem, apparently named Kalani. "I apologize," she said, trying to defuse the situation. "I feel no regret for my words, but I do apologize for causing you upset."

The husband of the Gem also spoke, berating her and lecturing her on the finer qualities of hatred. She merely shook her head. She could not blame the Drakken, for this was how they were raised to be, never knowing another way of life. She had to keep reminding herself of that : they didn't know better.
"Forgive my candidness and please show me patience my lord," she said, showing respect for the title, not the man. "I am afraid in expressing my passions I stepped beyond my place." She listened to his words but instead of getting angry, as she supposed he thought she would, her eyes softened with sadness. "I am truly sorry. To live like this from infancy, to feel the cold bite of hatred and not the warm embrace of love... It is something I cannot imagine. My parents distanced themselves from me, but it was because they loved me too much to get attatched to me only to lose me."

Caught up in what she was feeling, she reached out to the Drakken, resting a gentle hand on his arm. Porcelain and steel... that was the comparison they made in her mind.
"But if The Great Mother had hated her children and destroyed them, as you say, then she would not have been a mother. I suppose it is more of a female emotion, to love no matter what. I can only hope that when you hold your child for the first time, feel that small spark of life in your arms, that you moved by love and will protect that life with your very soul. I myself cannot allow the icy cold of hatred in. Hating someone is easy. Love... that is hard. For nothing is stronger when it is reciprocated, and nothing hurts more when it is rejected."

Amalia searched the covering on his eyes, trying to see past it and the man who hid behind it. "I am not going to pretend I am not afraid. I am terrified. Attempting to love a Drakken is one of the most terrifying things I can imagine, because for all of the love I have to give I know it will not be returned. That is the cruel fate I have been dealt. But if I allow hatred in, as the Gem did who attacked you, I will lose myself to it. I will become like the empty shells that so many of our sisters are reduced to. And to any children I might have, I will be the only source of love to that child. My child will know the warmth of unconditional love, will be certain beyond all doubt that they will never have to question my love for them and that I will always be there should they need me."

Suddenly Amalia realized how much she had spoken. She had been raised to keep silent, to be a decorative jewel to be admired behind a glass case. "I am sorry," she said, putting her head down to hide her blushing cheeks. "I do not... I should not be speaking so much. Forgive me."

@Cubix @karamonnom

Zakroti pulled his sword clean from the warrior's leg and the Drakken fell to the ground with a cry of pain, dropping his own blade and rolling onto his side. Zakroti glanced over towards Lugft who was lying in a heap on the floor. Kzaar had struck him over the back of the head with his wargamers and it had apparently knocked the warlord unconscious.

With the final of Lugft's bodyguards dealt with, Zakroti sheathed his blade and looked over the carnage. His eyes came to rest on the two bloody Gemminite carcasses and he stared silently for a few moments before he motioned to them and glanced to Vain.

"Hilyatew gehdzi kala geheiz mathi. (Send them to their homes.)" Zakroti ordered. Vain nodded silently and motioned for two of the men at arms around the room to see him. Zakroti stepped over his fallen foe towards Kzaar and nodded as he looked up towards the massive warrior.

There was a weak moan from the chair where Aurien sat, his wound being tended Toby Gaikas

"Vivpre, lal. You will endure." The old blackguard said. The Serjeant at arms nodded in response and shifted in position, glancing towards the dead men around him. Many of his own soldiers had fallen in this battle hand-

There was a sudden call from down the hall for a healer and Gaikus glanced around before standing up and leaving. Zakroti's eyes glanced back to the two dead Brides- Kasari. She had been brave and would have made a fine addition to the household. He wished he had gotten to know her better than he did.

Indeed, he wished he had gotten to see her perform or to at least show her prowess with her element. Zakroti watched as one of the men at arms lifted the girl up over his shoulder...

Suddenly, a deep and powerful voice rung out; "I trust you have a suitable explanation for this, Zakroti."

Zakroti swallowed and turned slowly towards the doorway where his grandfather now stood, clearly unimpressed by the scene that was before him. Zakroti paused for a few moments before raising his hand and speaking "Vivpre, grand father. Lugft attacked us after his bride fled, we did only what was necessary to defend ourselves."

"Xarxze wel! Wre jusla bathoz acta krepre. (Foolish child! You have started a war.)" Nastaki grunted as he glanced down to Lugft "You should hope he lives- or war is inevitable."

Zakroti paused for a moment before approaching Nastaki and speaking to him again, looking up to him from the floor "Epe kala o lalyent-seran, zu gehdzi epenasze odzieiz Limeiz grunda, zara wre zela gehdzi? (Tell me Grandfather, if they disrespect our family's honour, would you let them?"

Nastaki glared at him for a few moments before seizing Zakroti by the throat and pulling him forwards; He drew his blade and brought it up through the air in an ark, swinging it down towards Zakroti's head. The blade drew nearer and nearer and Zakroti could see his men reaching for their weapons - Finally the blade struck, digging deep into his left horn.

Nastaki let out a grunt of effort before using all his might to break the damaged horn in two and send it clattering to the floor. He released his grasp and Zakroti fell to his knees.

"Wre jusla grundaze! (You have no honour!)" Nastaki declared as he sheathed his blade. Zakroti looked up to his grandfather and then glanced to the floor again

"Kas, muthseran. (Sorry, grand duke.)"

***

Ayltam chased Aymiria through the hallways and down into one of the rooms; The steam had exploded on the Gem as she had darted off and Ayltam herself had been sent off her feet by the blast. The young drakken burst into the room after Miry and dashed over towards the Gem as she wrapped herself as in blankets.

She reached out and gently peeled them back, horrified at the extent of the burns. She dashed back out and back towards Zakroti's room, finding a pitcher of water and dashing back into the hall. As she passed she raised her voice to cry out "We need a healer!"

She dashed over to Mirys side and gently poured the water over some of her burns, using her elemental powers to slowly creating a thin layer over them and removing burnt clothing from them.

Gaikus stepped into the room behind her and looked down at the injured bride "Alas, a victim of her own trap." Gaikus mused as he knelt down next to her and reached to his belt, taking out a small bowl of a murky black substance and gently rubbing it into the burns. Once he had done that, he took a roll of bandages from the pouch and held it up. "The water, put some on the bandage."

"Right?" Ayltam replied as she trailed the water to the bandage to make it somewhat damp. Gaikus unravelled the bandages and used them to gently cover the burns. "Skill she be alright?"

"Her wounds are grave. With what I have with me, the lasting physical damage may be great but with Vivari's grace she will survive." Gaikus said as he glanced towards Ayltam "Perhaps more could be done once we get back to Jupostat. Help me cover her wounds and then bring her. If she awakes, I can give her something for the pain."

Ayltam nodded and set about gently covering the burns with the bandages, looking down to the young girl with concern. "Her sister - she..."

"A scared beast does peculiar things. Tragic things. It is best not to dwell on it while there is work at hand."

Kalani listened quietly as Cuwarr began to talk about hate. She knew that he did not mean what he had said though it was quite convincing. If she had not known about his love for his mother or of his usual kindness, she might have believed him. She had concluded that it was a test, but why? Was her husband interested in the gem?

In return, she continued to preach about love. She spoke of and looked at Cuwarr with such pity, as if he was never loved. "Shut up! Shut up! You know nothing about him! How dare you!" Kalani had wanted to say, but didn't. Because she knew. She knew that this gem was perfect for Cuwarr. She was kind, beautiful, and motherly. What else could he be looking for? She felt her heart drop as Amalia had gently placed her hand on Cuwarr's arm. She wondered if the action had made him fallen for the girl already.

After the girl had apologized for speaking too much, which she definitely was, Kalani finally began to say something. "It appears she has passed your test, mi'lord. And I am quite certain that she will never try to harm you so if you wish, I am okay with having her as a sister-bride," she lied, while taking a step toward the gem. Her words had probably sounded colder than she had intended.

She looked carefully at the girl, noticing her soft, delicate features. Kalani could not help but hate how beautiful she was with her green eyes and long, platinum hair. In spite, she grabbed the gem's face and pulled her in for a kiss. Her lips were softer than Cuwarr's, but the kiss itself was bittersweet. Once she broke the kiss, Kalani said, "Welcome to the House of Naxremis."

"But know that if you ever hurt mi'lord, I cannot let you live," Kalani whispered into the girl's ear. She then went back to her rightful place next to her husband. She reached for his hand and gripped it tightly. She wasn't going to lose to her. She wasn't going to lose him.

"And, most of all, hatred is motivation without purpose." Cuwarr allowed a gentle smile to form on his lips, though, he refused to make any physical contact with the gem at the moment. He had to admit that his fingers twitched for his blade when Amalia rested her hand on his. Silently, the warlord cursed Sorici for making him so vulnerable, so paranoid of a race that were as dangerous as a fly with a stick. Truly, his underestimation of the gems almost led to his downfall. He remembered the sight of the murdered drakken in the room, and how he never expected the gems would be able to do it. However, now, the possibility of that murder being the work of a gemminite was beginning to become quite plausible. The warlord let out a sigh as Kalani delivered her final verdict, taking sanctuary in her judgement. He nodded at his first wife, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead before he grabbed the longbow from his back. Like with Sorici and Kalani, he took one of the roses decorating the limbs of the bow, and placed it gingerly behind Amalia's ear as he quickly withdrew his hand. "Know that I chose you because my first wife, Kalani, deemed you worthy. Do not disappoint her." His introduction, voice, and poise were distinctly different from when he first met Sorici and Kalani. All traces of formality, class, and gentleness were swept away, replacing Cuwarr's speech with nothing more than cold glass-- transparent, emotionless. "Welcome to House Naxremis, Amalia."

Sorici did all of these to him, and how he loathed for it.

He couldn't help but also feel bad for Amalia-- she didn't deserve this coldness from him. Cuwarr recalled the time when he had painted with Kalani and Sorici, the time when he got to know more about them. Everything he did and revealed for Sorici was such a waste, and it was a shame that it wasn't Amalia who witnessed all of it. The renegade gem had turned the gentle warlord into a paranoid, untrusting version of himself. And, only Krenta knew when he would go back to normal. While the two gems were interacting, Cuwarr detected a tinge of jealousy coming from Kalani's tone which had turned colder when she spoke to Amalia. The rather silent gem apparently got more talkative when her emotions ran high. The warlord took this information down for future use, but his core felt a bit warmer when he realized that Kalani's feelings for him may run deeper than what he had expected.

Instantly, Cuwarr coiled his arm around Kalani's waist, pulling her flush against his side before he spun around for the main door of Shadow Worth. He had spent too much time in this god-forsaken fortress, and if he didn't leave, the memories would keep haunting him. With but a whistle, the four deathsword guards gathered to Cuwarr's side as the drakken guards instantly surrounded the second wife to make sure that she followed him and Kalani.

"Qiorach, fetch Amalia's things and bring it to my carriage. Also, prepare for departure. I have had enough of Shadow Worth." Cuwarr shook his head before Pezach ran to his side.

"Dominus, I think this news will be worth your time." Pezach reported as Cuwarr craned his head to look at him. "A war has started between Unalim and Huron's factions. Apparently, a skirmish had occurred which resulted in the death of more than one gem, and a few more guards on each side. I do not know the full details, but the main kingdom of Drakka will not be the same after all of this is over."

"A civil war, perhaps." Cuwarr mumbled. "But, as long as they do not attack Sudreth, our territory, they can bite off each other's throats for all I care." The warlord shook his head in thought before realizing that once they go back to Drakka, the king would probably call on the meeting of the Drakken Council. And, inevitably, Cuwarr would be forced to attend being one of the few warlords. It has been a while since the king had called on the Council, and it somewhat thrilled the warlord to meet so many of his colleagues after more than a decade. "Things will change back in Drakka, that one is sure." He turned to Kalani, sparing a glance at Amalia as well. "It is unfortunate that you must will also go through this turmoil in Drakka, but I believe we will manage, my auburn rose."

After some walking, the carriages of the Naxremis house stood in front of them outside of Shadow Worth. However, Cuwarr also realized that he was not the only one rearing to escape Shadow Worth as he had seen one of Lord Dantanath's retainers Scoot go off to the stables, presumably to ready the horses for departure. Truly, this may be the last Choosing that Drakka may ever have. Things were becoming too complicated, and a civil war in Drakka may mean that the gems might use this to fight back, or something of equal severity. As two carriages and a lone stallion stopped in front of Cuwarr, Pezach and Qiorach took the last carriage while Belnun served as the coachman of the carriage to be used by Cuwarr and his wives. Havfalun rode on the stallion as the lookout at the front of the convoy.

Cuwarr opened the door of the royal carriage as he looked at Kalani and Amalia. "Our journey to my territory in the east begins." He informed them. "It will become cold as we go deeper into drakken territory, but I pray you'll bear with it. Our supplies and rations have been readied, so fear not." Cuwarr looked around, noticing that some of the other drakkens have already began packing and waiting for their respective carriages. It would seem that the clash between Zakroti and Lugft forced others to depart for their own safety. His eyes settled back on his brides as he smiled at them. "Shall we go?" Two brides, one more favored than the other-- Cuwarr chuckled at the thought, but most importantly, he wondered when he could feel better so he could shower Amalia with the same amount of affection as Kalani received. He didn't think it fair for her to suffer for something that Sorici did, but it may be a long road of recovery for the drakken.

He was traumatized in more ways than one, because none had ever gotten so close to killing him. But, what made it worse was the fact that the one who held the blade was once the one who held his trust.

The moon shone bright through the skies, now, and Cuwarr prayed that it would guide their way.

The reaction of both Drakken and Gem was unexpected to say the least. Amalia was speechless as her eyes widened in shock. It was so much to process at once that she couldn't speak at first.

The animosity of the Gem both confused and hurt Amalia. What had she done to deserve such a reaction from the fire-Gem? Amalia used the silence to go back over everything she had done or said in the girl's presence, but could think of nothing. Amalia had been taught to be forgiving and kind, to try and understand others without prematurely judging them (unless they were Drakken) but this girl Kalani was so hostile.

And that was not the only sting she was to feel apparently, for both the bride and the Drakken lord made it plain that Amalia was beneath them. The Gem by her threats and the Drakken by his icy demeanor and by the obvious affection he showed towards Kalani, which she thoroughly enjoyed.
Was this to be her life? Why had they chosen a second bride at all if they both felt this way? Amalia had been trained to be highly empathetic and intune with the emotions of those around her simply by being very observant. And she was certain that her apparent sister-bride fairly hated her and her apparent new husband only chose her because Kalani told him to. If he was swayed by her opinion so easily what would happen if she decided she no londer wanted Amalia around? Would she be tossed aside? Killed? Given to his guards? Eaten by his pets?

Amalia turned her face away from both of them, not wanting them to see her pain even as the shimmer of tears glazed her eyes. It was more painful than if she had been claimed by an abusive husband. Now she was to live as an outsider, seeing affection showered on another while she herself was merely tolerated.

The feel of something being put in her hair startled her and she flinched as if he had struck her. She turned her eyes to him briefly before quickly staring at the floor, even though neither of them would probably care enough to notice the hurt in them.

It began instantly as Kalani was warmly embraced at his side while Amalia was left to walk alone surrounded by guards. He gave the order for one of them to fetch her things. She kept her gaze to the floor. "I have nothing," she murmured to the guard.
Her parents hadn't thought it worth giving her things when her husband would either confinscate or destroy them, so they had told her.

The carriages were waiting. Amalia merely nodded at the lord's words to them. She had already spoken too much. And from her sister-bride's reaction and treatment towards her Amalia was certain no words from her would be welcome. She would revert back to her training : only speak when asked a direct question and answer in as few words as possible. She retreated into the shell she had been raised to reside in. It was better this way. Perhaps, in time, their words and actions would not hurt her anymore.

Getting into the carriage, Amalia made sure to sit across and away from the lord, giving Kalani the place beside him and sending them both a message :

I know I am not wanted here and I respect the boundaries that have been laid for me.

Perhaps if she did nothing to provoke Kalani maybe the fire-Gem would be kinder in time. It couldn't hurt to at least try.
But Amalia couldn't help but reach up and feel the petals of the rose in her hair. She closed her eyes and marveled at it's softness, pictured in her mind it's vibrant color and beauty. A small, barely perceptable smile appeared on her lips as a look of peace came over her face. If a Drakken had access to such beautiful flowers, was it too much to hope that perhaps her new home would have gardens? That it would not be as dark and desolate as she had feared?

When the lord spoke of cold Amalia shivered involuntarily. She was not used to the cold. The Solair Family's estates were in a Southern area that never saw cold. Her dress was made for the summer air of her home. It was fine silk, soft and thin. But she kept silent. A good wife never complained, her tutors had said. She turned her mind instead to wondering if there would be snow. She had never seen snow and wondered what it was like.

Kalani gave the poor gem something that was similar to a smile as she took her rightful place besides her lord. She was still wary of the girl, but wondered if maybe she was too harsh. "It's not like I did anything to hurt her. Besides, she was crazy for talking back to a Drakken in the first place. If anything, I probably saved her from getting mauled and I'm forced to share Cuwarr with her," she thought to herself while looking out the window of the carriage. But even so, maybe she should apologize for her behavior. Things have been strained since Sorici had betrayed them.

As the carriage began to move, she watched her home get farther and farther away. She had decided that as soon as they had arrived at the Naxremis estate, she would write a letter to her parents. Hopefully they will be able to receive it or if she would even be able to send it at all. Regardless, she wished to write down her experiences and thoughts onto paper. She did not know why she felt that way.

The ride was an awkward and quiet one. It was similar to her ride to the Shadow Worth but she was no longer alone. She looked at her husband's face, though the mask had hidden most of it. She could imagine the hurt expression he had when Sorici had attacked him and she could see the scar on his neck. He had been quiet, unlike when she had first met him. She found herself missing his carefree nature and how he would talk on and on about anything that was on his strange mind. While he did have a habit of talking too much, it would still be better than this deafening silence.

Amalia, whom they had both criticized for talking too much, had seemingly learned her lesson. She had not said a single word to them since then. She seemed so passionate before, had she lost that so quickly? Perhaps Kalani had nothing to worry about if her sister-bride was this much of a pushover.

When Cuwarr had mentioned the cold, Kalani had caught her shivering. Kalani, herself, as a fire element was always warm, but the girl was definitely not prepared for the harsher weather. Her flimsy dress and lack of any other possessions was not going to shield her from the cold. Had she not prepared anything at all? Did she plan on freezing to death? "Sister, what is your element?" Kalani asked, out of nowhere. "Your appearance suggests Air but something tells me that I am wrong.

"You are allowed to talk, you know. Especially if it is just the three of us. Let us know more about you, Amalia. We are going to be together til death do us part," Kalani added, in case the girl was still hesitant to speak. She looked at the girl with expecting eyes and did her best to give her a welcoming smile.

Amalia was shocked out of her daydreams by Kalani speaking to her. Was the woman actually being... civil? It was a strange change that made Amalia wonder if her sister-bride was a stable person. Why the sudden mood swing? Was she really interested or just looking for more reasons to despise her?

Since she had been asked a direct question Amalia was obligated to reply.
"My father is an Air elemental, my mother Earth. I recieved my father's appearance and my mother's gift," she explained. "My home is... was the Solair Estate along the Emerald Shore. My father's lands stretch along the coast and cliffs and inland towards the Ember Forest."

She was silent for a bit before continuing. "I have three older brothers. My parents kept us separated growing up, not wanting us to become close. Less painful for when I would be taken. They also followed this philosophy," she added. "I was trained by tutors from the time I was small to be a good wife and mother, to be agreeable and modest and kind and above all silent. I forgot myself before but it shall not happen again. I know this... situation, is not something either of you seem very pleased about. I appreciate you saving me from a fate far worse and I shall strive to remain as out of the way as possible."

Annaveya IV -- A Late Arrival

The eve had drawn to abysmal darkness by the time she had arrived late to the castle. A darkness closely aligned with her state of mind, though she would never betray such. In front of her sat two handmaidens, trembling in fear, jumping with ceaseless anxiety with every imperfection in the cobblestone road. So instead succumbing to her anger, she remained stoic, enigmatic, as calm as the lakes she cherished from her home. As perfectly still as a pond in a crisp, cool morning, the Princess remained as such with her eyes closed until at long last, they arrived with a jarring halt in front of the stairways that lead to the depths of the ominous fortress.

The door swung wide open by the horsemaster of the carriage, and outward came the maidens first, bowing deeply as from it stepped an ethereal beauty so exquisite, that it seemed to be mythical. She did not walk, as she seemed to glide smoothly up the long staircase. With a dress of seemingly liquid ivory, she shone like a beacon of light amongst the darkness. Against the torchlight, flecks of deep crimson could be seen about the concisely fit gown, a color that announced who she was.

Gemmenite Royalty.

Hungrily, eyes of the guards would wander across the flawless curve of porcelain skin that was her neck, yet with effortless grace she paid no heed to them. In her mind, she was above the token savagery of these monsters, and never would she give them any chance to see her fear or woes. Instead, she slung the long braid of luxurious chestnut hair over her shoulder, and into the main quarter she strode, with her maidens holding the long hem of her dress upward so that it wouldn't touch the earth.

Into the chamber for the second round of choosing she came, and the scene before her was bleak. Accomplished as an elemental of Water was she, so she moved swiftly to one of her people who bore a miserable burn. Likely by the hand of those who oppressed her. Silently, she seemed to simply glide between the two, and she knelt before the girl. Never before had royalty been taken, never before however, had those of noble blood even come close to touching their people.

Yet even in spite of such rigorous tradition, the Princess spoke. Each quiet word she uttered out of her rosy lips seemed as warm and invigorating as she was regal. "Please, hold still. I can cure what ails you." She began at first, as her hand began to glower with a faint azure hue.

Gently, carefully, her slender fongertips would reach forward and touch the horrific burn that had scalded the girl's skin. Water flowed from her hand, luminous and flickering in the torchlight, the cooling liquid spread rapidly across the wound. Before the eyes of all, the magic she infused unto the water began to soothe and rapidly heal the injury. It took but only a minute, but soon before long, the wound was completely regenerated with no scarring to boot.

Once the magic had faded, Anna rose smoothly, dusting off the grime from her dress as she offered her subject her hand in order to help her stand.

When the girl finally stood, Anna offered her a reassuring smile in spite of all the horror that had happened. "Be strong," the Princess began, as word quickly began to murmur about as the Drakken quickly realized who she was. "And do not fear them. They, as mortals are just as flawed as we. Yet your sacrifice tonight be not in vain."

She bent forward slightly then, taking the girl's hand and gently kissing it with her perfect lips. "I as both of noble blood, and now kin with you in our sacrifice thank you for what we are about to give. But do not fear, do not give up, and hold your head high. I thank you, and all our sisters here, on part of both the royal family, and our people."

Her eloquent tongue faded then, as she turned to face the mass of Draken with a smile that bespoke of naught but confidence. There she stood in defiance against the darkness.

And she waited.

With the rapidly encroaching curtain of night cascading down the crimson skies, Cuwarr turned back to Shadow Worth for one final glance at the locus of his reawakened bloodlust. A century's worth of murderous urges suppressed within the confines of his heart threatened to jut out in violent tendrils, assuring pain and death to those who would live to see the beast lash out from its cage. Cuwarr believed in his flawless ability to hide and remove his bloodlust, taking pride in it as what made him different from the other drakkens. However, all his hard work riven to fragments with just the flash of a knife, the glint of bared teeth, and the trickle of crimson. Silently, he cursed his escalating bad luck before he watched his wives enter the carriage one after another. While the two of them comfortably seated themselves, Cuwarr breathed out a sigh of relief. He would never lose another bride again. Kalani was a given-- she was dear to his heart. But, Amalia was also another case. With or without Kalani's counsel, he would still have picked Amalia after he saw her defiance against all odds. Like a fish writhing on the ground in hopes of flopping back to the waters, Amalia thrashed against the jaws of death until she floundered to where Cuwarr and Kalani were.

Such defiance and courage could only be born from a lifetime of one's true self being suppressed, and when Cuwarr's ice-azure gaze met Amalia's (though her sight barred by the eyepiece), he saw a burning desire to prove herself, to live and to win. There was nothing more enticing than a gem who knows her own identity before a drakken gave her a new one. He would have lavished Amalia, gave her the affection she deserved. But, Sorici's act froze the warlord in his tracks. Whenever he opened himself up to be probed and read like a book, vivid flashes of Sorici's betrayal would ravage his sanity-- the gemminite's searing torch igniting Cuwarr's pages until he burned out of existence like a whiff of dying embers.

He would do his best to learn, to become his old self. This was the least he could do for them. With his bloodlust pounding against the doors of his heart, Cuwarr knew that if he was not careful in his steps, he would be the brides' undoing more than anything else.

The warlord's train of thoughts derailed when he saw another approaching carriage. The intricate, gem-based design of the vehicle already assured him that it was another bride to be reaped from her home. And, while he grew less interested as two lesser gems exited the carriage, his eyes whipped back to the carriage as the final gem stepped out with the grace of nobility echoing from every step she took. Crimson tresses fell softly down to her shoulders, fairly reminiscent of a candle whose flame warded off the shadows of night from consuming all in its warm light. Her red hair curtained her rather smooth, milky-white flesh on her neck as her hips swayed with little force yet it only accentuated the voluptuous curves which lined her body. She was different than the gems he met: she knew her power, and she embraced it. Furthermore, the deep crimson flecks of her dress just confirmed what Cuwarr already knew.

She was a royalty back in Gemminia. Well, was. Her crown would not help her from being broken and destroyed by the strength of men greater than hers. After all, even the brightest of candles melt should they try to increase their light.

"Well," Cuwarr scoffed as the gem vanished around the hallway of Shadow Worth. "She is as enticing as a rotten piece of meat." The warlord mumbled to himself, stepping into the large carriage which lurched forward when the door shut.

Gemminia was behind; Drakka laid ahead.

---

The gems conversed much to his comfort. He didn't really know how to talk to Amalia yet. While Cuwarr sat beside Kalani, his attention fixated itself upon the talking gem who spoke about her family and who she was. Immediately, she began to express how she knew that they did not like her presence, and to an extent, she seemed too presumptuous to think that she knew what Cuwarr wanted.

"I do not test those who I do not deem worthy." Cuwarr spoke, his voice slicing through the winds. "And, I tested you, did I not?" The warlord leaned back on the cushion before also noticing the slight shiver which ran through his wife's physique. With deliberate movements, Cuwarr bent down to retrieve a large, wool blanket. Cuwarr stood up before wrapping the blanket around Amalia, encasing her in its warmth before he fell to his knees in front of her. "You just grabbed at straws, and drew the shortest one. It is not your fault. Things happened, and it will take some time for me to get back to normal. But, for what it is worth..." He leaned forward, pressing a light, quick kiss on her forehead before retreating back to Kalani's side. "You are not unwanted."

The ride continued as they ascended the slopes of Vekor Atalli, the border of Sudreth. With the biting winds waltzing in and out of the carriage, Cuwarr prayed that his brides would make it. Immediately, he grabbed Kalani before cradling her against his chest in an effort to warm her. In the meantime, the warlord's eyes gazed at Amalia, never letting her leave from his mind and attention.

After all, they were his. And, they were not unwanted.

Miry wasn’t sure how long she’d been there, flames seeming to lick at her skin. Voices seemed to swirl around her… Ayltam’s voice, and the stinging pain intensified for a horrible moment and then subsided again, but still she drifted, seemingly unable to pull herself from the dark. Until, that is, she noticed the light. The soft blue glow seemed to fill her vision for a moment, equally gentle words falling on her ears as her pain finally, mercifully left her.

As the pain fled, her vision returned, though what she saw was deeply confusing. A beautiful Gemminite – beautiful even compared to the majority of the girls in this gods-forsaken place – kneeling over her, offering a hand. Miry took the offered hand shyly, glancing up at the girl in not-quite recognition. She was nearly a foot taller than Miry, though that was hardly surprising- seemingly everyone in this cursed place was.

Of course, then the beautiful woman’s words fully settled onto her. Noble blood. Royal family. Again Miry raised her eyes to the young woman’s face, the determined gaze, soft, full lips, glossy thick chestnut hair…. This was none other than Princess Annaveya. Anny. Miry’s old playmate and, at one point, friend – but here she was, and she didn’t seem to recognize her at all.

Miry slowly dropped into a curtsy, the only response she could think of. She hid her trembling hands in the folds of her skirt as she did, saying simply, “It is an honor to serve you – and our people – again, your grace.” After she straightened up, she shifted uncomfortably for a moment, casting around as though looking for someone – her eyes lighted on Gaikus and Ayltam for a second and she half-raised an eyebrow, noting their mildly bemused and confused expressions.

She was jostled out of any further thought by a shadow falling across them, and glanced up to see an absolutely massive Drakken, the better part of seven feet tall, standing over them with a crude smirk on his face. He had eyes only for Anny, of course, but the way he gazed at her as though she was a piece of meat… it was an injustice that a princess should not have to bear.

Miry stepped between the princess and the warlord, glaring up at him, arms half spreading as though trying to shield Annaveya from the warlord’s vile stare. He had extended his hand, as though to grab Anna’s, but hesitated for a second as Miry stepped in the way. In that moment the tiny girl spoke, her words spilling out before she had a chance to think of them, though they were at least clearly articulated. “Princess Annaveya has been claimed by my lord Zakroti of house Unalim. You may not touch her.”
The warlord took one look at Miry and let out a loud guffaw, reaching out and physically lifting the girl up and moving her out of the way. She frowned a bit and quickly resumed her place, calling water to her hands and freezing it into a pair of razor-thin blades as she again glared up at the drakken. “I said, Princess Annaveya has been claimed by lord Zakroti of house Unalim. You will not touch her.”

The lord loomed over her, all humor gone from his face, his hand on his sword hilt. “Little girl, you do not know to whom you speak. I will take whomever I please, and if little lord Zakroti has a problem with it he can duel me himself. Or is he really so cowardly that he will send a child to do his bidding?”

Miry internally withered at the comments about her size, but stood resolute facing the Drakken. For another moment no one spoke or moved, until Miry, after dissolving the ice blade in her right hand, reached back and firmly took a hold of the princess’s left hand. Her own left hand still clutched the blade of ice, holding it defensively in front of her.“My lady, your new husband is waiting.” she said, pushing Anna back behind her as she backed away. When they were a sufficient distance away she turned again, pulling Anna along through the doors. She cast a glance at Ayltam and Gaikus as they passed, telling them with her eyes to follow.

The moment the doors to the great hall closed behind the girls Miry knelt, taking both of Anna’s hands and bowing her head. “Your grace, forgive me, I overstepped my boundaries and spoke for you as was not my right. Forgive me. I only meant… as you saved me, I should return the gesture. Lord Zakroti is… he is an honorable man, as honorable as any lord here, I daresay. He will not harm you, nor cause you undue suffering.” The girl remained on her knees even after she ran out of words, awaiting Annaveya’s acceptance or refusal.

Annaveya IV -- An Improvised 'Rescue'

As was tradition, the girl deeply curtsied in response to her presence. Though in such an environment Anna thought it unnecessary. She thanked her humbly, but all the while the Princess closely studied the girl's face. She had seen her before...but from where? Frowning as she couldn't quite recall the face, it not until that the Gem shielded her from the Draken bearing down on her did she finally recognize her voice at long last.

All she could muster for a brief second was: "Miry..?!

Even still, she rapidly recovered from her initial state of bewilderment and regained her focus. Much to her surprise, Miry was facing down a handful of Draken with blades of ice, stating that Anna had already been claimed. Internally, Miry's words brought a brief bout of confusion. What did she mean? Had this Zakroti already known of her arrival, and preemptively claimed her? In truth it did not make sense in the least. From what she read, from what she had been told, no selections could be made until the Gem arrived at the Hall.

The looming Drakken knew this too, and began to aggressively push forward. Whether she and Miry liked it or not, they were going to try and take what they thought was theirs for the taking.

Yet in a dizzying whiplash, the entire ordeal took upon an abrupt change!

Before she knew it, her long lost childhood friend had seized her hand and dragged her from the enclosure. With two anxious handmaidens closely behind, it was not until that the heavy reinforced doors closed that Miry spoke again. Hastily uttering an apology as she explained who her new husband to be was. She spoke as if he held to some code of chivalry and honor, which was bizarre when it came to the normal savagery of Drakken. Considering that, she was left with one simple thought that was bitterly accurate.

A Drakken with a hint of honor. That was truthfully the best she could ever possibly hope for.

Yet as she looked down at Miry who still humbly knelt before her, other issues needed to be addressed first. Taking Miry's hands in hers, she spoke with the harmonious soothing tone that she was so well known for.

"Miry, please. It has been long, but not so long that you need to kneel before me. Especially in a place such as this. I am no Princess here beside you, all I am is your friend, and nothing more. So rise, if you would be so kind to me as to treat me as an equal." Nodding softly to affirm this as she helped the Gem stand, the exquisite Princess looked straightforwardly to her as she then continued.

"As to your offer, I believe that I have naught much else to opt for." She began, seeming as delicate amd pure as freshly bloomed rose on a frosty sunrise. "So, I will accept. If your lord decides to have me. I can see a way which me being in his possession might cause detriment." Nodding a second time all the same, she would extend forward a gracious hand towards her fellow gem, her savior, in fact.

"If you would be so kind, take me to him. I wish to speak with your Lord about my choice, and see if he would have me."

Miry looked up slowly at Annaveya as she spoke, a faint, nervous smile coming across her face. “You remember… I was not sure that you would. It would be an honor to be your friend again, Anny.” She rose gracefully to her feet, though she retained her hold on Anna’s hand as she did. The former maidservant glanced up at her lovely princess, gently pulling her along, down the hallway and up the stairs. “I will take you to my lord Zakroti.”

As the girls walked Miry felt a flash of nervousness. It was all her fault. The lord might well have her killed, or worse. Just because he was honorable didn’t mean he would have the patience of a saint, and given how much of a mess she’d made… there were plenty of other, far more docile brides just waiting to be chosen.

She hesitated for a second outside the door, though the guard before it stood aside immediately upon seeing her. As she hesitated she rose up on tiptoe to whisper in Anny’s ear. “There is likely sign of a scuffle. It was… not what it appears. I will explain later, assuming my lord Zakroti does not.”

Miry took a deep breath and pushed the door open. The sight she was greeted with made her blood run cold – not the sight of the pools of blood still on the floor, but the fact that there was a dazed Zakroti kneeling on the floor, blood running down his head from the point where his horn used to be attached, with an absolutely livid Nastaki standing over him.

Oh, gods. The small girl nearly turned tail and ran, absolute terror in every line of her body. But some of the guardsmen had noticed her... no, she had to enter. Still clutching the stunning princess’s hand, Miry stepped into the room, trembling so hard her blonde curls were shaking too. Then she dropped the princess’s hand to curtsy deeply to the two lords, as though they had not just been in a violent conflict.

“Your G-Grace, my lord.” she began, then winced as she realized she’d messed up Nastaki’s title. But she quickly resumed her train of thought, though her voice was trembling even more than before. “I... I would like to present Princess Annaveya. Anny, my lord Zakroti Unalim and his grandfather Nastaki.” Flushing at how improper the presentation was, but at this point not even caring, she turned to face Zakroti directly, a faint look of pleading in her blue eyes. “My lord…I’m s-sorry to drop this on your head too, but… Anny healed the burns, from… you know. She... probably saved my life. I…I felt I owed it to her to save hers.” She hesitated a moment longer and then decided it would be less messy to tell, and so blurted, “And... and as far as every lord here knows you have claimed her as yours. I told them this untruth, and then fled the hall, before they could make a point to challenge it.” Then she fell completely silent, nervously crossing her arms in front of herself and staring at her feet.

As Gaikus worked to tend to the young Gem's wounds, he became vaguely aware of another figure moving swiftly towards them. He finished wrapping the bandage around the wound and then stood and moved to stop her- But before he could she was already there, hands upon the wounded Gem.

He froze and stared for a few seconds, watching her work with awe. By the time the glowing water had subsided, Miry's burns were healed without so much as a mark left. "That is a rare touch, young one." Gaikus murmured to himself as he watched the Gems exchange words. He listened to the newcomers words intently, gleaning any information he could. Ayltam moved closer to him and whispered in his ear

"Norkaan, a nit te a an weli a an Gemeiz Aran? (Blackguard, is that one of the children of the Gemminite King?)" Ayltam asked with a curious look in her eye. Gaikus nodded slowly in response

"Ta a. An Muthseran zaraew gaiar kala losar a niz. (It is. The Grandduke would desire to learn of this.)" Gaikus mused- and then quickly moved his hand to his sword as he watched a large Drakken lord approach the two Gems. As Miry slowly backed away with the young girl Gaikus moved in to intervene- Then he paused with jaw agape and watched as Aymiria claimed the princess in the name of his lord.

By the grace of the gods, these brides would be the death of them all.

Gaikus wasn't sure whether to be impressed with the quick thinking or incredulous at the audacity. The Warlord seemed to back off once he saw the presence of the blackguard, probably under the impression that the others couldn't be far away. Gaikus motioned for Ayltam to stay close to him and moved to follow the two Gems swiftly, lest more trouble brew in these dark halls...



Zakroti breathed heavily as he slowly raised up from the floor to look at his grandfather, opening his mouth to speak- but then he was interrupted by the voice of Aymiria. He snapped his gaze towards the doorway and noticed that his bride was not alone. He cocked his brow quizzically and listened to the introduction before glancing towards Nastaki who had a slightly amused expression on his face. This settled Zakroti's nerves slightly; He had no doubt that his grandfather would like this development.

"Vivarieiz varlas, Aranwel Annaveya- acta narlemae wel zo niz narfin hame. Kree Zakroti! Niz te vasha o acta seranior gandra vit wre (Vivari's blood, Princess Annaveya- a lost child in this foreign land. Attention Zakroti! This one brings me a greater gift than you.)" Nastaki said with a twinkle in his eye. He looked down towards Zakroti once more and added "Kaan geh ma wreeiz lia, Muth Zakroti- cey o zaraew shanta wreeiz dava ogim. (Guard her with your life, Duke Zakroti- Or I will take your other horn)"

"Na wre gaiar, Muthseran. (As you desire, Grandduke.)" Zakroti replied as he looked to the floor; Nastaki brushed past the girls to the doorway, staring them down as he did- Then the Muthseran paused for a moment and looked to Aymiria. After a moments consideration, he tossed Zakroti's broken horn towards her and declared "Here girl! You're more worthy of it than him!"

Zakroti did not speak again until he was certain Nastaki was out of an earshot, though in truth the reality of what had just occured was setting in. "Geh shanta oeiz ogim- O zan... (He took my horn- I am..." Zakroti trailed off in a state of shock, his face pained and humiliated as he slowly looked around to his men. There was a deathly silence for a few moments before Gaikus, standing in the doorway behind Aymiria and Annaveya, spoke.

"Oeiz Muth, niz a ageaze wre epe kala acta wel; Wreeiz rof a zoze wreeiz ogim. Geh lyeze shanta wre grunda as sep wre. (My Duke, this is not a story you tell to a child; your strength is not in your horn. They cannot take your honour by cutting you.)" Gaikus said as he stepped into the room and approached the young Duke. "Wre zan rofior vit niz. Ka! (You are stronger than this. Lead!)"

Zakroti paused and gave a nod. He inhaled deeply as he composed himself, trying to block out the pain from the wound as he turned to face Aymiria and the Princess Annaveya. How was he supposed to act after they had just seen that? How could he achieve any air of dignity now? He felt exposed and inadequate.

That's because you are inadequate. A midget Drakken with one horn, how terrifying. A voice in his head called out to him. He shook his head as if to dispel the thought before speaking.

"I- Forgive me the lack of hospitality, Princess- and my poor appearance. Had I the knowledge of your coming I would have endeavoured not to meet you covered in blood and sweat. Nonetheless, your grace, I bid you welcome." He gave a small and quick bow to her and his entourage followed suit, save for Vain who merely glared at the Princess from under his visor. "I am afraid that we will be departing shortly. It is the safest course of action following recent- events. I would offer you the choice of leaving and finding another Drakken but my Grandfather would find that objectionable."

"That is putting it lightly. I will see that the horses are prepared." Qeynate commented as he headed for the door. Zakroti nodded to him once before letting out a heavy sigh

"It is my honour to meet you, I hope we have time to talk for there is a great deal I would like to know. I thank you for helping Aymiria with her injuries and pray to the Mother and the Gods that your stay with us is not too uncomfortable."

Annaveya IV -- Introduction

(Words rhat are between "< >" are in the Drakken tongue.)

Hurriedly, Miry rushed along the halls as the ivory she wore flickered in the light of passing torches. Winding through the labyrinth that was the Keep, Annaveya was mindful of her surroundings as always. The air a mixture of scents and sounds that were thick with pheromone and lust. Drakken lords taking thwir brides as they saw fit. Despite it all however, Annaveya remained calm. If anything, there was a faint glimmer of hope within her eyes.

For it were truly simple. One can tell the conscience of a man by how he treats those below him, evej how those below him act. Those of the nation that had long oppressed hers were known for their monstrosity had been helping Miry as best they could until Anna had stepped in. Even when she did, they even complimented the Gem on her application of healing water magic.

Though in her mind, it shouldn't come as a surprise. She was a noble, which already spoke volumes ofnthe potency she held within her. Combining such with her tutelage in Magic, there should be absolutely no doubt as to what she was capable of.

The surprise in fact was the Drakken's humbleness in recognition of the prowess of a Gem! All that she had been taught, all that she had been told was that those of Drakken blood despised any Gem who showed any strength in the arts of mysticism. Never had she thought they would not only ignore the strength she had, nut compliment it to boot! In fact, as she hurried along with Miry towards Zakroti's chamber, she walked with her head held high. She was proud of how far she had come, how much she had done, even in spite of how far she had fallen.

The door swung wide, and into the chamber she glided into a grisly scene. There was blood, and alot of it streaming from the broken horn of a younger Drakken. She remained unresponsive, perhaps even placid as Miry nervously introduced Anna too the room. There was a sudden mixture of excitement that took to the air, as Zakroti's grandfather expressed zealous joy at his Grandson's newest acquisition. Though she could fully and clearly understand him, she decided it to be wise not to respond accordingly until hurried out of the room.

With a final word of encouragement to Zakroti from one of his servants, he stood tall. Straightening himself and regaining his regal composure as even he was one of the smaller Drakken, he towered over Anna quite handily.

He spoke eloquently for a Drakken, even in the Gemmenite's tongue; not only that, he made the offer to allow her to go find a new husband if she was dissatisfied with him. Once again, she was taken purely by surprise as he and most of the others bowed deeply in her presence. Naturally in response, she would considerately do the same, bowing deeply as she swept the ivory length of her dress to one side. Once she rose, an uneasy silence hung over the two for just a moment before she began to speak. This time she would similarly offer him a surprise.

Unlike most Gems, she could fluently speak his native tongue.

"<You needn't apologize for the lack of hospitality, milord.>" She began with the Drakken tongue rolling smoothly off her lips. <"But I do humbly request that you hold still, if but for a moment's breath.>"

Gently, carefully, the young princess would come to rise upon the tips of her toes and her fingertips would hover over the broken horn. It took only a brief moment as she drew ever closer to him, so close that his senses could catch the hints of her luscious perfume. With a flicker of concentration, and a faint glisten of water magic, little azure droplets drizzled upon his horn as the pain he was experiencing would rapidly fade. As she squeezed her hand akin to how another would wring out a washcloth, the droplets continues to pour until the agonizing wound had healed completely.

Alas, however, she could not regenerate his Horn, that would only grow back in due time.

Even as the crisp, cool water traced down his cheek, she would reach over and take a rag that instantly became damp from her touch. With it, she would gently dab away at the blood with smooth execution. Each movement she made was just as diligent and purposeful as it were graceful. She even leaned closely, so closely that even the warmth of her sweet breath could graze his skin as she meticulously insured that the blood had been thoroughly cleaned.

<"There, milord. I do believe that you will find such cleaning to be satisfactory, as it will be my duty as your future wife."> She finally spoke again with here elegant tongue. <"It is I however, that must thank you. It is rare to see a Drakken with kindness and chivalry as virtues. As I am sure you can hear, most are oft subject to their vices. I cannot hardly stand to hear my people suffer any further, so can we please abscond from this place?"> she pleaded slightly before glancing back to Miry.

This time however, she would speak in the Gemminite tongue, just in case that Miry did not understand the Drakken Language.

"And I have another request. Just one, and I will be yours unto the end of my days. I know that you must preserve a face for the public, so take Miry on as a songstress, an entertainer, and my handmaiden, but not as your wife. Spare her the nuptials that are inevitable this eve, and I will more than willingly take her place so that she has a chance at freedom, and marrying a man of her own choosing."

She paused for a second, as even despite her pleading, she remained firm.

"I am sure that taking the third in line to the Gemminite throne to he your wife will be just as impressive as taking several wives. Spare Miry, please."

Kalani listened politely to the girl's reply and was surprised. She was aware that some Gem families had purposely trained their daughters to become the perfect brides for the Drakken, but it was uncommon where she was from. Surely, her training had failed her while she may be kind, she was not silent as she had mentioned. But in addition to that, she was definitely not modest. She was playing the hurt victim and held such pride for her ability to "love". Then again, if she had been modest, she would not be here in the first place. She would have kept her mouth shut and not offend the guards. She would have known her place and she still does not.

Kalani did not have to say anything as Cuwarr finally began to speak. While his words were somewhat cold, his actions were sweet. He wrapped the shivering girl with a warm blanket and kissed her gently on the forehead. "You are not unwanted," he had told her. Kalani coughed, trying to not get jealous by this display. "Calm down, calm down. You knew your fate," she chanted in her head. Why did she have to feel something as petty as jealousy? And because of a beautiful sister-bride? They were both in the same boat yet Kalani could not help but feel something ugly. She had not felt that way with Sorici, so why was she so bothered by this girl?

She was only to calm down when Cuwarr returned to his seat and wrapped his arms around her. He was rubbing her shoulders and arm, indicating that he was probably doing his best to keep her warm. She was not actually cold as she did not get cold easily, but she did not tell him that. Instead, she cuddled closer towards him and looked up towards him with loving eyes. But his attention was not on her. It was on Amalia.

Zakroti remained motionless as the girl approached him, though he noticed Vain had tightened his grip around his sword and was ready to strike at a moment's notice. Zakroti let out a low growling noise as the water washed over the wound- but the pain subsided and the wound appeared to have sealed itself. Yet- He frowned lightly. What was she saying? He couldn't understand wh-

Of course.

"[Ah! Drakken! Mine is a bit rust, I am scared. I haven't spoken it for some years, now I'm think of it. The Drakken are rather good at stealing things they like and your language seems to have been one of such things.]" He replied in slightly broken Drakken with numerous minor errors. "[I thank you for your aid. You will find that Drakka, like Gemminia, is diverse. While I think you will find the west marchlands more- civilised than the east, I can give you no rest from the suffering of your people.]"

"If it puts your mind at ease, those Gems who suffer were oft born of those you didn't want." Vain grunted as he eased his hand off the sword

"Vivpre, Vain (Peace, Vain.)[Forgive him. He has a bones to pick with your parents.] I doubt you will find yourself as my wife. Perhaps not even my bride. My grandfather surely has something in mind. As for Aymiria- No, I think not. At this time I cannot risk further dissatisfying the Muthseran." Zakroti said with a dismissive wave of the hand "As for leaving this place, we will soon. We ride by a different road than my kin for we will be meeting and accompanying the Lady Siadamkiru for some distance. Afterwards, we will turn east. It will not be the warmest of paths until we are clear of the mountain so if you brought anything warm, wear it. Aurien!"

Aurien slowly rose from the floor, grimacing at his bandaged wounds and taking his spear in hand. "Oeiz Tak? (My Overlord?)"

"You and Julius will take Ayltam to fetch her things. Vain and Gaikus will remain with Aymiria and the Princess. Kzaar and Kilio will escort me."

"Oeiz Muth-(My duke-)" Vain began in protest; Zakroti held up his hand to silence him and after a moments silence the Blackguard sighed heavily "Na wre gaiar (As you desire.)"

Zakroti turned his attention back to Annaveya "Is there anything else or should we busy ourselves with preparing to leave?"

As Anna so gracefully approached Zakroti, Miry internally wilted a bit. As she spoke fluently in the Drakken tongue, the small girl withered even more. Anna was so graceful and smart and lovely. Miry knew in the back of her head that, had she had the same level of tutelage, she would have likely been of similar grace and knowledge... but still. She hadn't been, and so how could she hope to compete?

She shook herself out of those thoughts in time to hear Anna switch back into the Gemminite tongue to... offer herself in Miry's place? "My lady, no! You're too--" but the complaint died on her lips as Zakroti quickly put Anna's request down. Then he mentioned that they were departing shortly, and moved to leave the room, accompanied by two of his Blackguard-- Kzaar and Kilio. Miry made a note to remember the names. It was the least she could do, she figured.

She curtsied to Zak as he left, and then finally noticed the state of her clothes. The blast had absolutely destroyed her tunic and skirt - it seemed as though they were only clinging to her body by a few threads of cloth. With a muffled grumble - at this rate she was fairly sure she only had one change of clothing left - the girl walked to the corner of the room (being sure to skirt around the smears of blood from the earlier scuffle), opening the basket that she had brought from home. Sure enough, only one outfit. And ironically, it was her palace livery, the one she'd wear when serving for formal occasions.

She hesitated for a second, then realized that modesty had no place here, not when efficiency was key. With a call of "don't look, I'm changing" she stripped out of the now-tattered tunic and skirt. She donned her white long-sleeved undershirt and tights, then the floor-length crimson skirt, cream short-sleeved tunic, crimson vest trimmed with gold, and braided leather belt to cinch it at the waist. She didn't have any proper shoes, much to her disappointment, but she also didn't want to bother Vain about such a trivial thing. She'd just go without. ..Or, she'd take Aery's. It wasn't like her sister would need them.

Miry choked up at the thought and quickly shook her head to dispel it. She shuffled through Aery's basket, but of course there weren't any shoes other than another wretched pair of heel-risers. Well, great. She stood up, looping the basket over her arm - even if there weren't shoes, Aery's clothes would only be a bit too big on her. Glancing down, she noted the skirt covered her feet. Good. no one would notice her lack of appropriate footwear.

The girl padded over to the bed, reaching for the blankets to make the bed. She figured it was the least she could do- the servants would already have a terrifying mess to clean up. As she pulled up the blankets she was met by a dreadful squeaking noise and two small creatures flying out of the bed.

Her own Bunny, and Leo. Because of everything else she'd nearly forgotten them. Bunny immediately nuzzled up to her hand, but Leo was more hesitant, casting around for Kasari and emitting a concerned squeak. "Leo, she's gone." Miry murmured. Leo squeaked again, running in a circle on the bed and peering over the edge at the smear of blood. "She's not coming back. I'm all that's left." Still the little lizard didn't move. Finally Miry crossed the room again, picking up Kasari's basket, and placed it on the bed with the lid open. The lizard hesitated for a second, then hopped into it. Miry closed the lid again and swung the basket over her arm. After another moment's deliberation, Miry tucked Bunny into her sister's basket, then rose from the bed again and went to stand beside Vain. "My lady, Vai--Narlemaewel. Is there anything that you would like me to do before we depart?"

Annaveya IV -- Quite the Surprise

While she was healing Zakroti, she saw his guard tense, and as a response so did she. It was reflexive, defensive, but all the same he did not take action against her life. So she continued on her way once the magic had ceased. As he spoke surprised to have heard what was supposed to have been his native tongue, she blinked in befuddlement. His version of Drakken was rife with grammatical problems and errors. It seemed in spite of his people's oppression of hers, he had instead proven more adept in the Gemminite tongue.

When she heard that his guardian disliked her family, her stance in confusion only increased as a result. What troubles had her bloodline caused a Drakken of all things? It seemed impossible to say the least. Yet even despite such impossibility, she offered him her apology in his native tongue.

<"For whatever affronts my family hath wounded you, I sincerely apologuze on their behalf."> She softly spoke to Vain in his native tongue. <"I hope that we in this moment in time can see past our bloodline's conflicts, and work with one another.">

With a low bow following suit to Vain, the Princess turned her gaze and attention back purely upon Zakroti. He had spoken of doubt that she would even be his bride, and it caused a hint of concern in her eyes. Myria had told her that this man was chivalrous, but she hadn't expected him to still be honorably at the beck amd call of his elders. So deeply in fact, that he would forfeit her to whomever asked.

It was stunning really, and it caused a brief lapse of hesitation on the Princess' part as he asked if they should prepare to leave. In response, she nodded silently and turned two her two handmaidens who carried two cases of clothing.

"Tia, Celes. Please, relinquish my travelling garb from my first case and prepare it for use. Once you have done so, you are relieved from your duties to return home to your respective families. The crown will pay for your work whilst you search for new jobs, since I will no longer be your charge." She stated solemnly, as the two younger girls searched frantically for her clothes. Once spread upon the bed, Anna glanced over her shoulders towards Zakroti and her guards.

"Be off now you two, and Milord, if you would possess the kindness to avert thine eyes. I would find preference in not truly revealing myself until the eve of my wedding." The pair of handmaidens scurried off then, making swiftly for the carriage that had brought her here as Anna closed the first case and then stood beside the bed.

Flexibly reaching for a hidden zipper, the dress came undone. Unraveling in a rippling cascade as within just moments, Anna was standing in the pale moonlight in just thin pieces of purely white silk. Even still, she worked quickly, donning a thicker green dress made out of more sturdy fabrics, and this time extracting two pairs of lightweight snow boots. Lined with thick wool, they would provide plentiful protection in colder temperatures.

The first pair would slide over to Myria, as her adept eyes had caught the lack of protective footwear. And the second would slide onto her own feet. Then wrapping an fur coat of wolven fur about her shoulders, she glanced back to her childhood friend with a reassuring smile as she asked if Anna was ready to depart.

"Let us be off then, shall we?" She quipped, as she seemed to even make heavier wintry clothes seem charming to the eyes. "We musn't dampen the progress of our fate."

Plucking up her own cases of clothing, the Princess looked back up Vain.

<"On your lead then, Ser Vain.">