“I find it strange,” Zeldria's heart jumped for a moment as one of her fellow Gems came alongside her and spoke, “That they would show kindness in the face of all they have done to prove that they are anything but.” The Gem in question had an exotic look to her, with dark hair and bronzed skin. Her body was toned as well, like a dancer's.

"Yeah," she replied, her new acquaintance voicing her very concerns, "That's what has me worried."

“Although I suppose even drakken have to agree that a dirty, travel weary girl would make for a poor prize,” the other Gem said in kind as she seated herself by one of the nearby pools.

“I’m Xaelia, by the way.”

"Zeldria. You don't... think there's anything in the water, do you?" she asked hesitantly as she crouched next to Xaelia at the edge of the pool.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter if there is or isn’t something there. We have to go in regardless.”

That, Zeldria thought, was something she hadn't considered. There were still guards about, and given previous instances,she doubted refusing the bath was an option. She still highly suspected some kind of cruel jest at their expense in play, but that was little more than suspicion, a phantom punishment that may not exist at the end of it all. The punishment for going against what she was told, however, was a vivid certainty.

"You raise an excellent point," she said as she stood up, took a breath, and then slowly unwrapped herself. She draped her towel over a nearby stalagmite and took slow, careful steps into the pool. She stopped, waiting for whatever horrible thing had been done to the water to show itself... and when it didn't, she lowered the rest of her body down and into the water.

A wave of warmth followed the surface as she sank into the spring, the water sapping away her fatigue by the second as her muscles relaxed and her cold skin warmed once again. She vaguely registered Xaelia following suit next to her, but for the moment she was lost in the sensations that brought pleasantry she'd become a stranger to these past weeks.

"It's... actually kind of nice;" she said, her voice passively sighing contently, "Really nice, in all honesty. Almost makes me forget where we are."

“Almost,“ Xaelia said in kind as her attention turned toward the wall of the cavern. Zeldria followed her gaze toward a pair of Drakken guards who'd clearly been taking their time watching the two of them undress and get in. The Gems stared ruefully at them, but that was all they could do. Not that it would deter the brutes regardless.

"Well, at the very least they seem to keep it to just their eyes. For now. Small raindrops in the summer, we used to say back home." Home. Now there was a forbidden word. But, she reminded herself, she had to stop thinking of such things. Clinging to the past would only make moving forward harder. Instead, she sank a little deeper into the spring and tried to let the water wash away her memories as well as her aches. But it seemed Xaelia had other things on her mind, as she stared intently at something along the side of the pool.

"What has you so interested?" Zeldria asked

“M’not sure.” Came the reply as Xaelia moved her hands about and caused the spring water to ebb away from where she looked. Zeldria pushed herself up and moved over to look as well. The light in the cavern was proving too dim, she thought, so she raised her hand and conjured a small flickering flame onto to for light and held it near the spot. There, carved into the stone, was some sort of writing, though Zeldria couldn't quite make it out herself. “We... are not.... things.”

"Things? Huh." Zeldria pondered that for a moment. Surely it couldn't have been a Drakken who did this. Things? The Gems had certainly been taught that they were things, not people. And its location in the springs, perhaps...?"You don't suppose a Gem made this?"

“Whoever wrote it... they aren’t wrong” Xaelia responded as she released her control and allowed the water to resume its shape.

"Yeah... they aren't." Zeldria affirmed as she put out her light. She turned and reached for one of the washing utensils at the edge and began to tend to herself. The scribbles in the rock had the right of it; they weren't just things to be toyed with, they were living, breathing beings. And even if their tormentors didn't agree with that, they had to retain that knowledge for themselves. It was one of the only comforts they would find in this land. Well, that, and kindred spirits. Zel had kept to herself mostly up until now, but being able to converse and connect with another Gem had proven to be precisely what she needed to keep going. Perhaps she could survive after all.

But, as the call came some time later to cut short their time in the spring, she was reminded of the constant menace. As she dried herself as best and as fast as she could, she was still glad for the time spent with Xaelia. She would need all the help she could get...






Unlike many of the fighters, who chose to let the time before their bouts pass in the stands enjoying the food, drink, and company offered, Wilhelm spent his time in what was effectively the barracks, seated on a bench with his hands interlaced, his head bowed, and his sword in his lap. Meditation was hardly a Drakken pastime, and nobody would mistake Wilhelm of doing so, but over many years he'd found assuming the pose in a quiet place helped him to hone his senses and sharpen his focus on the battle that was to come. His opponent was not one of note; a young, hot-headed Drakken probably eager to prove himself for the first time. By all accounts, it would be little problem for the Black Blade to force his surrender. That, however, was no excuse to be lax. A single chip could snap a blade, and a single mistake could lose a duel. And so Wilhelm sat, honing his mind for a battle of blood, steel, and wits that was to come.

"Lord Wilhelm," came the voice of one of the guards nearby, "You're up next."

"Am I?" he replied without raising his head, "Quite a bit earlier than what I was originally told."

"There's been some changes. Some commotion just happened in the stands. Pit Master has orders to produce a good one so's to take the crowd's mind off it."

"And he relies on me to provide," Wilhelm said, finally raising his gaze to look the guard in the eye, "Is my opponent reassigned as well?"

"That's right," the guard replied, consulting a note, "It's to be Captain Stalgren."

"Captain Darius Stalgren? The Desert Reaver?" Wilhelm asked, his interest piqued.

"The very same. You have two minutes."

"Very well. Perhaps this will have been worth the time after all..." Wilhelm said as he gripped his sword and stood, stretching his muscles. Darius Stalgren was one of Drakka's best, an older fighter who still managed to shame Drakken half his age. His axe technique was flawless, his grit renowned, and his ferocity knew few equals. He was, to the bone, a true warrior. He and Wilhelm had battled once before, nearly 30 years prior- it had ended in a draw. And now, it seemed fate had conspired to bring them to blows once more. It was a good thing he had spent his time to focus; Wilhelm would need all of his ability to some out on top in this new battle.

Two minutes later he was striding out into the pit, head held high and eyes locked on the man opposite him. Darius was a little shorter than Wilhelm, but he was also stockier. The Reaver's beard remained immaculate, as always, and he still wore the scar on his nose like a badge of honor. And, as always, he carried his greataxe on his back, its size and weight terrifying even when not in motion. Even as the crowd roared, the two men only paid attention to one another.

"Captain."

"Your Lordship."

"I'm glad to see you can still heft your axe." Wilhelm said, half smiling and half sneering in good jest.

"Ha! It'll take another century yet before my arms give out. And I'll be fighting until the day they do." Stalgren replied, smiling in return.

"It is the Drakken way, is it not?"

"That it is. And someone needs to keep the young wolves in their place! Bwa ha ha ha!"

Wilhelm grinned again as he spread his legs and took a fighting stance. "You and I both know this will be no disciplinary meeting."

"True," the Reaver replied as he drew his axe and squared up as well, "You're not the kind of opponent I can afford to take lightly."

Stalgren's attention turned to the stands, where the jeers and yells had begun to reach a fever pitch. "The crowd's getting restless. Shall we give 'em what they want?"

"Naturally," Wilhelm replied as he swept his cloak off of his body, threw it aside to reveal his bare chest, and drew the black sword that was his family's legacy from its house at his waist. "It will be an honor to defeat you."

"Likewise. Now, enough talk!"

The Reaver surged forward with his axe in both hands, a battle roar filling the air as he closed the distance. Rather than flee or try to recreate the distance, however, Wilhelm lunged in himself and sent his sword snaking forward in a series of thrusts. Stalgren deftly knocked the point away with the axe's haft, but the swift counterstrike had forced his charge to slow. Wilhelm wasted no time as he pressed the advantage he'd earned, lashing at Stalgren's head and chest with a barrage of slashes and thrusts. His target evaded or parried them with little effort, but was still ceding ground as he backed away from the singing edge of the sword.

With another bellow Stalgren ceased retreating and swung the head of his axe up into Wilhelm's sword, knocking the tip high overhead and instantly sliding his hand down to the bottom of the handle as momentum carried the axe up and behind him. As soon as it reached its apex he swung, the axe head barreling downward with horrifying speed. With not a moment to spare Wilhelm leaped to the side as the axe came crashing down, shaking the floor of the pit with the impact.

As soon as he fully landed Wilhelm shifted his weight and ran toward Stalgren, aiming to strike before he could ready the axe again. He swung his sword up from the ground in a rising slash as he rushed toward his opponent's left side, to which the Reaver replied by clenching his left fist and swinging his forearm outward to bat the sword away. The edge bit into his arm in the process, but it was merely a surface wound that would cost him little. And as he swatted the sword away his other arm tore the axe from the ground and brought it around to swing from the side. Wilhelm, without missing a beat, righted his sword arm and passed it across his front to meet the attack with the flat of the blade. The lack of distance on the swing combined with its one-handed nature made it possible for the beat parry to work, and Wilhelm instantly moved from it into another assault!

But the bold defense hadn't been without consequences. The greataxe was still shockingly heavy, and displacing all of its weight had forced Wilhelm's hand to stall for just a moment. In that moment Stalgren had sprang backwards and away from the follow-up attack. Both men paused for a moment and regained their composure as the crowd roared.

"Is that all you've got, Black Blade?!"

"I've only just warmed up, old man!"

With that the battle resumed as both men surged forward and into the fray. This time it was the Reaver that took the offensive, bringing the axe to bear in a round of short swipes and jabs with the wedge as he advanced. Wilhelm danced from side to side as he weaved around the attacks, taking light wounds in the process but keeping the damage to a minimum. Finally, as Stalgren reared back and sent a large swing again, Wilhelm pivoted on his back foot and spun away from the axe's reach. As he came around again the black sword sang through the air once again, driving Stalgren back as he blocked as best he could.

As they clashed, however, Stalgren took one of his hands away from his weapon briefly and used it to conjure a fireball in his hand that he hurled directly at Wilhelm's face! Wilhelm raised his own hand and called a gust of wind to guide the flames away from him, but as his attention was divided Stalgren was upon him again with the axe driving down toward his head. With little time to react, Wilhelm made a costly error- he raised his sword to defend himself, wedging it beneath the axe head on the haft, but as soon as contact was made Stalgren ripped the axe back toward himself, catching the sword inside the head's curve and tearing it from Wilhelm's hands! With his sword sent tumbling away and his opponent still bearing down, Wilhelm had little time to think and less still to act. Before Stalgren could ready another swing Wilhelm surged forward, reaching both arms out to grab the axe himself, his hands right next to Stalgren's on the haft, and engaging the older Drakken in a battle of raw strength!

Muscles bulged in both sets of arms as they wrestled over the axe, each one twisting this way and that trying to force the other to relinquish their grip. The pair spun about the arena as the continued to struggle, neither giving an inch- but where Stalgren was entirely focused on Wilhelm and the axe, Wilhelm's attention occasionally flitted elsewhere. Then, as Stalgren made to twist the axe again, Wilhelm tapped into his command of the earth and willed the stone beneath his sword as it lay nearby to suddenly and forcefully jut upwards like a seesaw, flinging the blade through the air. At the same time he suddenly released his grip on the axe and backed away, letting Stalgren throw himself to the side as he had prepared to meet resistance that was no longer there. Before his opponent could properly recover Wilhelm reached up, called the wind to adjust the sword's trajectory, caught it out of the air, and immediately brought it slashing down across Stalgren's back! No flesh wound this time, the black edge carved a deep gash into the Reaver's shoulder blades, provoking a bellow of pain. Wasting nothing, Wilhelm drove his boot up into Stalgren's abdomen, forcing the Reaver to drop his axe and roll over, at which point Wilhelm's foot was planted on his chest with sword leveled at his neck.

And yet, despite the pain and danger, the elder Drakken found himself smiling. "Ha!" he laughed, "Nicely done!"

"You nearly had me old man," Wilhelm replied, "Your skills are as sharp as ever."

"And yours have only gotten sharper. Good. Drakka needs sons like you."

With that, Wilhelm sheathed his sword, stepped off of his opponent, and helped him to his feet. He retrieved his cloak again as the spectators roared and made his way back to the barracks. It seemed as if the rabble were satisfied. He certainly was, in any case.

---

---

The sun had long since vanished behind a shield of clouds, even before dipping below the horizon. The arena was filled with the scent of roasting meat as the long awaited feast drew nearer. The fighting in the pits had stopped as the sky grew darker and the anticipation of the prizes to come drew close. The drakken who had managed entrance before, but now served no purpose, had been weeded out by the royal guard.

Yet, the room still was crowded with the towering figures of the drakken who stood waiting. The only spot of color coming from the two gems whose husbands had been proud enough, or foolish enough, to bring along. The royal gems having slowly vanished, to make the arrival of the prizes that much sweeter.

The Prince and Princess stood looming by the door, Ehkota flocked by his guard and the princess by a single younger brother. There was a sudden commotion from out beyond the gated doors. A figure loomed in the frame as the doors were pulled open. An cool gust of air bringing the distinct smell of rain.

Moments after the high prince entered, a line of terrified girls trickled in--nearly a hundred in number. Shimmering in the torch light, they cast a halo around themselves, cutting through the dullness of the rest of the room.

Nearly all the girls had entered when the Ehkota reached out and caught a single one by the arm. Sensing a disturbance in his pack, the high prince snapped around, giving his younger brother a deadly look.

The prince gave a half hearted shrug has he pulled the bright haired gem girl away. After all, what was the point of being royalty if there weren’t any perks? @eclecticwitch (Adorabella)

With the younger prince gone, that left Gaelnesh to face the rest of the room.

“700 hundred years ago,”he started, his voice echoing around the chamber. “Our neighboring country faced an enemy they were too weak to handle,” At this, a few of the drakken let out noise of disgust.

The prince waited, his face grim. “And we, in our glory, offered the aid they so desperately needed,” He paused again, as more called out. “It is on this day, so many years later that we remember our greatness and that of the King! It is today that we reap our reward and it is today that next great generation of drakken starts,”

At this, he grab one of the nearby gems, his massive hands easily able to wrap around her upper arm.

“To the victor goes the spoils!”



Due to the rather large harvest, the royal family had picked out several guards who had accompanied the caravan from Shadow Worth to assist in helping hand out the prizes. Several, if not all, of the girls had been chosen for particular people so it had been made incredibly clear that no mixups or mistakes would be tolerated in handing them out. To help keep clarity, each one of the guards had been assigned anywhere from two to five girls that they were in charge of handling, having memorized each of their destinations beforehand.

Being the first guard in the line, a man stepped forward and wrapped his hand around the arm of a brunette who wore the nastiest of glares. Usually such an expression would grant her punishment of some sort, or at the very least a stern talking to. This particular girl, however, seemed to wear the look well. It could be argued that it made her stand out, more attractive even as it was in stark contrast to some of her softer facial features. Such things were none of his business and completely out of his hands as he was just the delivery boy in this instance. He was just happy that she chose not to put up any real fight as he led her away from the line.

Luckily for the guard, his charge was being delivered to an unmistakable name. Zakroti of house Unalim, a member of a rather influential family and rather skilled tactician if the rumors rang true. He had been told ahead of time of the man’s shorter stature, but he had not quite prepared enough for witnessing it in person. Maintaining a professional front, the guard approached Zakroti and his entourage with the Gem in his grip, stopping slightly short to bow his head respectfully.

“Welcome back Lord Zakroti. On behalf of the royal family please allow me to extend our most sincere congratulations. By the glory of the King, may she serve you well.” The guard raised his head from its bowed position, moving his arm in a way that forced the girl forward a few more steps toward her new master before letting her go. From this point on, her life would be in the hands of the man she had just been handed over to, she was no longer his concern.

“His majesty Gaelnesh also sends a message. He was saddened to hear about the events that transpired last year and regrets the outcome. It is his hope that this girl will suffice as a replacement for what was lost. That is all.” There wasn’t much of the message that the guard understood, but it was assumed that Zakroti would as no explanations were given to supplement the delivery. Bowing his head once more, the guard made his way back to the line in order to continue delivering the brides to their new homes.



Evienne approached the pair with a single Gem in her clutches, all indications of injuries hidden by cloth and posture. The girl she held in her hands was a beautiful creature with silvery hair and lilac eyes, bearing a posture of confidence Azilon had not been expecting. Eyes flashing briefly over Rya, the princess turned her gaze back up to Azilon before speaking.

“We’ve been expecting you for some time now, Azilon Dantanath. We were beginning to worry that we had offended you in some way, glad to see you’ve finally come around. It seems you’ve been pretty busy on your own though, tell me little Gem… Are there any new additions to the Dantanath name on the way?” The woman smirked, eyes reflecting a cruel sense of mischief as she laughed.

Seemingly unamused, Azilon shook his head and gritted his teeth against the displeasure he felt at being forced into such a situation.

“You have my apologies, I did not know my absence would be so apparent. As for this one here, she still has a little ways to go before she’s to my liking for such an endeavour. I’m sure you will be well informed should that change.” Azilon was starting to get antsy, not quite used to being around so many people for such an extended period of time. Sensing his unease, Evienne nodded her head and accepted his response without further inquiries.

“Glad to see that your brother will not be stealing all the spotlight this year. For you, may she bear you many strong heirs.” Just about pushing the young woman forward, Evienne waved her hand before making her retreat back towards the line to retrieve her next charge.



Out of the corner of his eye, Gaelnesh kept tabs on the room to ensure nothing was out of place. Between the brides being handed out by those other than his own hands, and the attack that had summoned him home early, the high prince was a little on edge. He was certain not to let it show, however, maintaining a poise that spoke of only power and absolute certainty in his place.

While his daughter delivered a bride to Azilon, and another guard made his way toward Zakroti, Gaelnesh motioned for two of the girls in line to follow him. He didn’t bother grabbing them to escort them, somewhat confident that their experiences at Shadow Worth were enough to ensure their obedience. Just to be certain, a single guard trailed behind the girls as a reminder to keep moving forward.

Approaching the man that was to be their husband, Gaelnesh grinned and greeted the Drakkan with a great deal of respect. The high prince was rather familiar with some of the man’s exploits as a youth, having famously marched into the Gem lands to take his brides as he saw fit before the laws had been put in place, and the reaping put under the control of the royal family. Keregar was only a few years younger than the prince, and just about as tall too, truly an impressive sight to those around him. Despite being younger, however, it seemed the events of his life had weighed him down, giving him a jaded air that aged him considerably.

“Ah, Keregar. It’s been some time, you’ve been well I hope? Word of your sons’ accomplishments have reached us and we are quite proud, I expect to be hosting them here sometime soon. Your family has more than earned these two, may they bring you many fine additions to the bloodline.” The prince snapped his fingers, prompting the girls to either step forward on their own or to be pushed by the guard hovering behind them.

Either way, the girls were exchanged from the prince’s side to Keregar’s where they would remain for the rest of their lives. Whether he kept them for himself or gifted them to his sons was up to him, Gaelnesh only hoped that they were satisfactory as he really did appreciate the man and his efforts for the royal family.

“I have to say though, it’s getting difficult to tell whether Krenta is displaying wisdom for keeping you among us… Or if you are so accomplished as a warrior that he cannot defeat you in battle. I look forward to many more years of fighting alongside you.” Gaelnesh allowed a hearty laugh at the joke, poking fun at the man’s rising age before taking his leave.



Following the lead of his fellow comrades, a rather young looking guard stood with a Gem in either hand. He would have liked to think that the girls feared their destination more than he did, however, they only had to fear the unknown… The guard had heard the rumors about the man that was to receive the two prizes he was delivering, and none painted the man in a kind light.

The Grave Warden they called him. A terrifying man with a reputation for violence far beyond what was called for. It didn’t seem to matter to him who it was, as long as blood could be spilled, Heccarim was likely to be at the center of it. The guard did his best to seem like he was in complete control if for no one other than the two girls he was escorting from the line to their doom.

“I would suggest that you two be on your best behavior.” He said softly, attempting to warn the pair for what was to come. It seemed like such a shame to the young man, a waste even to hand over such prizes to a man that was more likely to kill them in the first night than breed with them. One of the two girls looked like she had a stronger personality, so he felt like she might be able to survive for a little before succumbing… maybe even long enough to impress the man, who could tell? It was the other one he worried for, a small blonde girl whose body he could feel trembling in his hand already. There didn’t seem to be much hope for her, he only prayed that Krenta would take her quickly.

Finally nearing his destination, the guard was quick to bow his head, stammering his way through his predetermined speech.

“H-hello, S-s-sir... ” He started, doing his best to look anywhere but the man’s eyes. It was his hope that if he avoided eye contact, he would be allowed to make it back without injury.

“B-by the glory of the King… M-may they bring y-you many strong ones, er… sons.” The guard gave one final look before simply releasing the girls and hightailing it back into the crowd out of the sight of the beast.



Another more seasoned guard watched with a fair bit of amusement as one of their rookies was charged with delivering brides to a more infamous fellow. He had to stifle his laughter as he watched the poor sap shake his way over to the mysterious man, clearly flustered as he had to address him, and quickly make his retreat with a tail tucked between his legs. If the guard had to be honest he couldn’t blame the kid for abandoning the girls as quickly as possible, the man was truly frightening. He was just glad it wasn’t him who had to deliver the two. Instead he was in charge of a single Gem, a cute little thing that was to be delivered to a married couple who, if what he had been told was accurate, conceived a drakkan-born child on their own. Quite a rarity they were if that was the case.

“I’d say luck is on your side Gem. You could be one of those two unfortunate souls. Such a pity.” He mused out loud, not really speaking to the girl in particular but making sure she was paying attention. Moving her forward, the guard approached the couple, bowing his head to each one in turn as was customary for a pair of their stature.

“By the glory of the King.” The guard spoke, gently guiding the girl forward to present for the couple’s inspection.

“His majesty regrets being unable to greet you in person, however, he has instructed to me to extend his deepest apologies. His majesty Gaelnesh has also heard about the birth of your child, he extends his congratulations along with the hope that this Gem might bear you many more strong children. Good evening to you both.” With a final bow, the guard left the girl in their care giving her not even a second thought as he returned to his usual duties.



Ehkota wasn’t one to let all the others have the fun, as this was one of the greatest opportunities to gather support to his side. Easily swayed was a mind when being showered with compliments and gifts, and if he was going to compete with his brother he was going to have to step up his game just a bit. Having tucked away the Gem he had pulled aside before for safe keeping, the younger prince plucked another Gem from the line and sauntered over to one of the more youthful faces in the lineup.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the famed weapons maker.” The prince looked over the man with an appraising look, eyebrow raised curiously before he broke out into a grin. It seemed that the Reaping had summoned more than a few attractive individuals to the capital, and this man was definitely among them. He looked to be a little younger than the prince himself was, but that wasn’t much of a bother, he just hoped that his nuisance of a niece wasn’t around to interfere this time around.

“I do hope that you’ll be sticking around the capital for a little while longer. I should like to see some of your… wares before long.” Ehkota maintained his smile as he twirled the small Gem around, sending her off in the direction of the youth.

“On behalf of the King, your prize. If you need anything of me feel free to let one of my guards know, they’ll bring you through. See you around.” His words were just shy of a wink as he retreated, feeling as if he had sufficiently gotten his point across and eager to continue handing out the bribes… Or brides rather. Next up would have been an acquaintance of the youth, perhaps even more so, as he waved his guard onward.



Following not too far behind the younger prince was another nameless face in the crowd, one of Ehkota’s personal guards accompanying him with a Gem for another Drakkan. Before he was able to make it to his destination, the guard was held up by the prince as he spoke to the young man. A personal invitation had been extended to the man from the royal, something that he was going to have to commit to memory in case the man really did come calling. He wouldn’t have been surprised, as he was by no means the first, but it was still rather annoying to have to remember so many faces so that they may be seen through in discretion. Nodding his acknowledgements, the guard bowed his head to the young man he recalled to be named Zevi.

The encounter did not last all that long, however, before Ehkota was beckoning him forth to the new owner of the Gem he had been in charge of escorting. This particular man stood in contrast to the other they had spoken too, the first being rather pretty and quite Gem like in certain appearances, the second rather hulking and imposing in his posture. Pure strength seemed to radiate from the man as if he bore too much, his body unable to contain it all. If anyone at the event looked like they belonged, this man certainly qualified.

Ehkota stepped up to do most of the talking for this one, saving the guard from having to expend any extra effort, something he didn’t mind in the least.

“And you must be Vonnath Mors, am I right?” The younger prince feigned slight ignorance, knowing full well who it was who stood before him.

“You’re quite impressive yourself, you know? Rumor has it that you’ve turned Zevi here into a fine young Drakkan worthy of the bride he was just handed. May you bring the power of Drakka into this creature as well.” He cooed, the guard stepping forward on cue to present the Gem bride with a bowed head of his own.

“By the glory of the King.” The guard spoke, relinquishing the girl before returning to Ehkota’s side, following closely behind the prince as he made his way back up to the front of the room.



After having finished delivering a couple of other brides, Gaelnesh returned to the line of Gem brides to pick up a beauty whose very skin appeared to carry the scent of the sea with her. The guard that had accompanied him previously tapped the shoulder of the Gem, a silent order to start moving while the prince led the way. This particular beauty was chosen for a particularly difficult situation that Gaelnesh was hoping to address in good faith.

Kaivor, a man who had displayed incredible strength on and off the battlefield. Even his father was a name that Gaelnesh knew, having been told about the exploits of the war from his father. If he wasn’t mistaken, the man had died during the war with the Anathos but he had left behind quite the legacy. It seemed, however, that the seizing of power by the now King hadn’t sat very well with that said legacy, something they were not so silent about.

Approaching the man, Gaelnesh decided it was best if he bowed his own head rather than waiting for the man across from him to do so. Additionally, he restrained his smile to a less familiar but still friendly expression, tone as neutral as possible.

“I was quite surprised to hear that you would be accepting our invitation to the capital this year, but I am glad that you did so. Now I can properly express my gratitude for all the hard work you’ve put into maintaining Drakka’s borders. It is my hope that you will accept this bride as a token of such gratitude, an everlasting tie between country and crown.” The high prince motioned to the girl to come forth, presenting the bride himself before bowing his head and leaving the man with his toy.



Grabbing two Gem brides from the line rather quickly, and perhaps a little more roughly than intended, one of the guards was quick to usher them forward. Impatient with their lack of speed he resorted to nearly dragging the pair, lifting them up enough so that he was mostly in control of their movements until he made his way to stand before the Drakkan that would be receiving them.

“Beastmaster.” The guard’s voice cut clearly through the ever growing chaos of the room, expression nor tone particularly kind.

“Your father speaks most highly of your accomplishments, says your creatures are the beasts of legends. The royal family is delighted to have you back.” His face twisted into what could only be described as a sneer as he delved into a mock bow. While his words were true enough, the guard just couldn’t wrap his head around how such a man was eligible to show up and hog not one, but two brides. After all, it was to his knowledge that the man had to have his father petition for him, using someone else’s prestige and standing with the royal family in order to reap the benefits. It was a disgrace in his opinion, but he wasn’t a prince and thus had no say in the matter. All he had to do was deliver the brides and be done with it.

“May these creatures bend and behave to your will just as your beasts do.” Without another word the guard shoved the two girls forward with enough force to cause them to stumble, turning on his heel and returning to work he deemed far more important.



“Wilhelm!” Bellowed the voice of one of the more veteran guards as he shuffled a pair of girls from their places in line over to the Drakkan in question. While he could not confidently say they were friends, the guard was more than a little familiar with the man’s antics, having been witness to his fair share of the youth’s duels.

“I see the royals have finally decided to recognize your prowess, a joyous day indeed. The crown has asked if I would extend their gratitude at your continued support and provide to you these beauties as thanks for your service to the crown.” The man grinned as he all but pushed the girls forward toward their new lord and master.

“May these Gems allow you to sire many powerful children to carry on with your impressive legacy. Should you require anything else, you need only ask m’lord.” With a courteous bow, the guard took his leave from the man so that he may become more acquainted the with the two girls that had just been dropped off into his care. What was to become of them was anyone’s guess as none knew how Wilhelm handled his private matters, once they left the capital it wasn’t all that likely that they would ever be seen again but who knew? Perhaps the brides would get to venture father than his regular servants?



Ehkota swept across the room, gathering and leading on the last of the girls through the crowd. Already the ranks of the Drakkan were thinning. A few had chosen to stay behind and indulge in the feast that was prepared for every Reaping, and that had appeared at some point during all of the commotion. It was, however, difficult to ignore how empty the room had become in such a short time. There had been hope that a few more would have stayed, but at the very least it seemed that this year’s harvest had created quite a stir of excitement, plenty of men chomping at the bit to play with their new toys.

The prince came to a stop just a few feet away from the Kinner he had spoken to at the small little shop, just a day or so prior. Stooping down to whisper into the ear of one of the Gems, he watched with a small amount of amusement as her face twisted with confusion before he led her the rest of the way.

“My friend! I trust the tournament was to your liking? I won’t keep you too long as I’m sure you are eager to inspect your prize. It is my hope that you enjoy her and if not, well, you know where to find me.” He waved with a smile before sauntering off once again, taking the remainder of the girls onward, handing one over to a guard before disappearing with the rest.



Having spent the last few minutes staring at Ordic from afar, the particularly short guard finally composed himself enough to guide his charge over to the man. It really was strange to see someone like him at a ceremony such as this, as each of the girls were being handed over as brides. While he had to admit that he didn’t know a whole lot about the order that Ordic hailed from, the guard was fairly certain that it was against their beliefs to take Gems as such. Stepping forward, the man bowed graciously, holding the girl that was to be his prize out in front of him.

“If you’ll pardon my brashness, it is more than a little surprising to have someone from your order requesting a bride. While you deserve nothing less, it does make one wonder what it is that has inspired such a change. Perhaps it is the wisdom that your order cannot regenerate itself as well as it once has?” He stated, giving the man a final look before passing along the brown haired Gem.

“All reasons aside, the crown recognises your importance to Drakka. May this reward help replenish and inspire the rest of your order.” Nodding his head, the guard took his leave having delivered the last of his charges. For his work he would be compensated with a feast, separate from the main one, set up just for the guards who had travelled from Shadow Worth with the brides and their prince.

---

---

“By the glory of the King and the true gods, we take what is rightly ours. Take tonight to enjoy your rewards. We will meet again tomorrow to continue the celebrations!”

Despite everything Zakroti was half disappointed to see that the girls of the court had withdrawn, robbing him of his encounter with Evey. Perhaps he would be fortunate enough to see her again next year, or sooner depending on what the royals had in mind after today. He wondered whether they were in the business of selling if one felt it suitable-

He immediately pushed the thoughts out of his head. Why did he so dwell on her? She was nothing. It would only serve to infuriate Miry and waste his money; while he had the latter in spades, he hardly felt it appropriate. Besides, he was getting another bride today. He glanced down to the ground in a strange mixture of shame and disappointment- and anger. Keregar had been lucky, perhaps, that Zakroti had managed to maintain a mostly cool head throughout their encounter, something he hadn't been sure himself would happen, for he had longed to see red. Still, he Keregar was an old and respected Warlord and ultimately Zakroti preferred to leave an impression on him than to murder him in cold blood in some back alley. In future, perhaps, they might need to work together and in spite of his posturing in their encounter, he knew that the old warlord likely had a few tricks up his sleeve that Zakroti could learn from. He wouldn't burn all his bridges based on nothing more than emotion.

He had missed his opportunity to fight in the arena upon returning, but he knew that there would be time for more duels or sparring later that he could vent his frustration on. He was still pensive in his thoughts when the guardsman approached with his new bride; Zakroti looked up and nodded to him, opening his mouth to speak as he glanced to the girl- but no words came out and his mouth hung open for a few seconds.

He paused. Zakroti turned the same shade as his silver-white armour, his reptilian eyes widening in shock as if he had seen a ghost. Surely it could not be? For a moment he mistook the girl for Kasari herself, she certainly looked close enough. A hint of guilt leapt into his throat as he recalled the events of the previous year, the clashing of Steel and the moment Kasari had been slashed by Aery. A disaster, one which he bore guilt for as well as honour for having defeated Lugft.

"Vivarieiz varlas..." He murmured to exclamation to himself as he looked upon the ghost of his past.

But this girl was not Kasari; he picked out the differences in her appearance; She was a little younger and slightly shorter, for example, her eyes too seemed more vivid. She bore a strong resemblance to be sure, but she was definitely a different person. A relative of some kind, or else astronomical cosmic coincidence. The former was slightly unsettling as a thought; he wondered how many others of her family there were, whether it had now been deprived completely of its next generation or not. He cared not for the fortunes of minor Gem families (nor, for that matter, for many of the major ones), but he did feel that he somewhat owed this family his thoughts for having cost them the lives of one daughter and now the presence of another. He had heard that the Gems treated those who were reaped as being as good as dead, and he could understand such a position. The discomfort turned to disdain as he remembered that even if this was the case, the Gems would be too weak in spirit to try and do anything about, and too weak in body to succeed even if they did.

"Pass the message to his majesty that he has my gratitude and I am awed by his apparent sorcery." Zakroti joked with a thin smile as he approached the girl. In his surprise he reached out to place a hand against her arm, having half expected his hand to phase through her like she was some kind of ghost. But now, she was quite solid. What a replacement indeed... The Prince had done him quite the service, he would have to see it repayed in time. He did not like being indebted. But perhaps that was the point, it was no secret that the King was an old man and his sons may well come to blows at his passing. The influential lords of the realm made good allies and terrible enemies, Gaelnesh was old enough and wise enough to see this.

As the guard backed away Zakroti glanced down towards Miry, then over his shoulders towards his men, their stance steady for a fight- but this was not something that they could protect him from, the sudden difficulty and excitement of encountering someone who so resembled his lost bride. He looked back to the girl who was not Kasari. The expression on her face showed that she had all the same fire burning inside her, however, which he thought was a good thing overall. If looks could kill...

Perhaps he was getting ahead of herself, perhaps she merely looked the part. Was it within reason that the Prince had perhaps seen a girl who had resembled Kasari and had thought that she would make a suitable replacement? No, that didn't make any sense. He seriously doubted the Prince would have known what she had looked like, so no, it was almost a certainty that she was related to Kasari and had been taken based on her name and beauty.

"Let us not delay, for there is much to say. I am Zakroti Unalim, I have the honour of being your new husband." Zakroti said with an inquisitive expression sitting on his face, his brow clocked slightly and his eyes examining her carefully. She glared at him harshly enough as it was, and he hardly expected it to get any better once she learnt precisely who he was. He had ordered that the body sent back to her family, as he recalled, that they might bury her properly according to their own ways and customs and mourn her loss - although in hindsight they were just as likely to have considered such a thing a provocation or mockery as they were to consider it a remorseful gesture- and it hardly made it any better in any case, they likely blamed him all the same for what had happened. At the very least, he was sure that they rightly considered him to bare some of the responsibility for what had happened.

He felt the need to explain himself to her, almost to seek forgiveness from her on behalf of her family. He would very much have liked to get to know Kasari better, she would have been a fine addition to his household and while he had not known her well enough to truly mourn for her passing, he confessed that it had still been something of a blow to him all the same. Perhaps this was an opportunity to right those wrongs, to get to know this Gemmenite better than he had known the one to whom she had a resemblance. He wondered for a moment whether she too could dance- he never had gotten to see that before Kasari had died, and had in truth been looking forward to seeing it. The Drakken were not exactly known for their mastery of art and dance, unless it was the art of war and the dance of death.

He paused for a moment to stop his disorganised and rambling train of thought, and glanced to Miry to gauge her reaction. Then he looked back to the girl before him and asked the question which in truth he was sure he already knew the answer to. "Am I right to take it that you are of the Liesma family? What is your name?"

To say Miry had been glued to Zak's side would have been an understatement. After the.... conversation with the elderly warlord, she had not broken contact with him for more than a few moments for the entire day. Always her hand was on his arm, or sometimes on his thigh, or her arm around his waist- and infuriatingly his attention seemed everywhere but on her.

They had returned to their balcony after the fight, and she'd seen the massive disappointment flick across Zak's face as he realized the whore was no longer there- it was soon replaced by a pensive expression, but she could tell that's what he was thinking of, and it felt as though her heart had justabout dropped out of her throat, leaving her mouth dry and bitter and every inch of her aching. When he took his seat, having missed the opportunity to sign up for a fight, she hopped up into his lap after only a moment's hesitation, snuggling against his chest and drawing some comfort from the fact that he did at least wrap his arm around her, but his attention still seemed quite firmly on the tournament. She willed her tears away, feeling them welling up in her eyes and not wanting them to spill, not letting on how much she was actually hurt by what he'd nearly done and how he was conducting himself now.

In the evening, as the last fights of the day concluded and they were summoned to the palace, Miry's clinginess increased tenfold. She was one of two gem brides who'd been brought back today- she could see the other plain as day even through the crush of lords, filling the room around her with color without even trying - and the realization filled her with dread and panic. There were only two of them here. Was there actually a... refund policy? Was that why he was being so distant? Was he having her taken away after all?

She felt she was going to throw up or pass out, but said nothing, inserting herself under her husband's left arm and wrapping her arm tight about his waist in the hopes that his body would shield her from the drakken lords eagerly eyeing her like a piece of meat, and her touch maybe convince him to not send her off after all.

They said nothing as they waited, Miry fighting to keep her breathing even, looking at the floor and flinching every time someone approached in the mill of the crowd, still half expecting rough hands to seize her and drag her away. Heavy bootsteps, of someone wearing plate armor, approached, and a gruff voice began speaking, pushing- though Miry was still staring quite dutifully at the floor, she saw the hem of the beautiful gown and peered up through her tumbling curls, going mildly slack-jawed at the sight of the girl, the color and shimmer draining from her face.

She peered up at Zak, reassured in some small way by the similar expression on his face. She gave him a small squeeze of reassurance and pulled away, stepping back a half pace so as to not crowd him. All thoughts of being seized were pushed to the back of her mind by the sight of this new girl.

Kasari. She barely managed to stifle a cry of anguish, remembering her shattered sister begging refuge- and in terror murdering her sister bride and then herself. Then, and even now, some part of her wished that dagger had been directed at her, enabling both Aery and Kasari. Beautiful, charismatic Kasari. To have been able to live. To have given Zak his beautiful, confident wife back.

It seemed the prince had managed to do just that, as Zak reached and gently touched the new girl's arm, stepping close to her. In spite of Miry's roiling thoughts the jealousy seeped to the surface, and this time she shoved it away, schooling her features into a serene, tiny smile. She did not speak for the moment, instead observing the new girl. Her features, though soft, were schooled into a scowl, her eyes only for the dwarf lordling, seeming to size him up?

Miry did nothing for the moment, feeling she wasn't important enough at the moment to give an introduction- Zak hadn't introduced her, after all, or really acknowledged her in this whole mess beyond a single glance, and she tried to take her cues from him. So she stood placidly, observing the pair, the same pleasant bland expression that she had always used as a serving-girl plastered onto her face.

There were plenty of interesting fights as far as Ineraz was concerned, but apparently the Princess didn’t agree, as she stepped out into the arena herself and challenged all of them to do better. She just wants some fun herself. Even though he knew better than to be goaded so easily, he couldn’t help feeling that extra rush of drive to fight some more (and kill – if only the tournament were set that way!), to hold nothing back, and thoroughly subjugate a worthy opponent.

The collective shouting of Drakken who wanted to prove her wrong quieted down as the princess was attacked. Ineraz automatically tensed, his hand going to the handle of his weapon, more than ready to cut down the infidels who chose to oppose the royal family with such blatant dishonour. However, there were guards much closer to the princess who could help and it was obvious that she wanted to deal with the threat on her own, so Ineraz relaxed as much as he could in such a circumstance, and enjoyed watching the female Drakkan best three fighters on her own. They weren’t prepared as well as they could be, but the way the princess won was still magnificent, despite the fact that she was also injured during the proceedings, and Ineraz felt a rush of desire arise for her.

As if you could get a wife of royal blood for yourself, idiot boy. Ineraz grimaced sourly as the tone of that thought was much too like his father’s for his own liking, however true it might have been. She would only bring endless inconveniences, I’m sure, he exhaled resignedly, knowing his attempt to convince himself not to lust after her was half-hearted at best. I wonder what kind of a Queen she would make. A sudden image of that possibility appeared in his mind, even more appealing than he might have expected, and Ineraz shook his head to regain his focus. There are more important things to consider here. Such as the fact that someone attempted to kill her, he chided himself. The question was – was it really a sign of an uprising as she suggested? For now, it doesn’t affect me, he concluded, although his thoughts did turn to what his family members would have to say about this event.

The evening arrived, and with it, their prizes. A procession of numerous Gemmenite girls entered after the high prince, most of them emitting some level of disquiet, but collectively they brought a beautiful colourfulness into the room. What a feast for the eyes! Who could say now that Drakken had no sense for the aesthetics?

The current heir to the throne gave a short speech, after which the guards began leading Gems to their new owners. Ineraz observed lazily as group by group was escorted. Several minutes passed before a guard made his way toward Ineraz, and the girls’ escort was obviously displeased at what he had to do. The guard’s mocking tone infuriated him even though Ineraz had been expecting this kind of attitude after his father’s brilliant idea; in fact, the level of disrespect for what would surely be considered unworthiness in the eyes of others had been almost suspiciously non-existent until now. However, Ineraz didn’t let such simple jealousy as the guard exhibited diminish his mood, and simply offered the other male a smug smirk. The tournament was held for precisely this reason – if anyone saw themselves as being worthier of a bride (or two, he eyed the pair happily), they were free to challenge him.

The guard rudely pushed his new property toward him, causing them to stumble. Before either girl could fall, Ineraz stepped forward to stabilize them. For a long moment, he remained there, with a hand on each of the girls’ shoulders, and although his grip was gentle, his possessiveness was evident. The disrespectful guard long forgotten, he gave each female a quick look-over, then stepped back and returned his arms to his sides. The smaller of the two Gems was wintry white, her hair with a silvery sheen over it, her most outstanding characteristic her intensely red eyes. The taller of the pair had a healthier complexion, though she was still relatively pale, the almost dull brown of her eyes contrasted by her wine-red hair.

“Are you both fire Gems then?” Ineraz murmured – they would both hear the question, but it was fairly rhetorical. Surely, there would be future occasions where he could find out what their elements were. It would simply make for a nice set if they were both blessed with fire, considering the similar shade of each female’s most catching feature. He assessed the bodies of each, and found them satisfactory, though the shorter Gem seemed a bit frail. But that was probably just a general Gemmenite trait.

“What are your names?” Ineraz asked this question more clearly, expecting both to answer. Having a proper name to call them by would make things simpler, though if they refused to answer, there were certainly other methods available as well.

After the... excitement of the near-assassination, the tournament quickly returned to its daily grind. Scyrven herself fought in two more battles that day, emerging victorious quickly in both and progressing to the second day of the tournament.

She had quickly scrubbed herself down with a cloth and basin of cool water, provided for likely that exact purpose, channeling cool air through her armor to dry the batting inside while she cleaned up. Thus refreshed, she tucked her helmet away in its pack, bundling away all weapons but her sword, which still hung from her belt. She wore the rest of her armor as they descended into the great room, not so complacent in a room full of hungry, tired, ...frustrated lords. She linked arms with Gwillim, leaning against her mate's side companionably while they waited.

As the guardsman approached, Gem in tow, her eyes went a bit wide, the reality of the situation finally settling over her. A Bride. As far as culture indicated, they were little more than playthings - pets, if one was feeling exceptionally generous. But Scyrven was eager all the same... she vowed to herself that she would not take the bride for her own fun, not until the girl agreed. While many males would force themselves on their wives that very night, as was their right and even ostensibly their duty - the whole purpose of the arrangement was for procreation - she would have only done so for her own pleasure, and she was not so cruel as to do that to a helpless individual. Even if she was desperate... aside from some brief fooling when she was very young and still at her father's court, Scyrven had hardly had time to refine her... tastes, and now the opportunity was tantalizingly close.

Of course, to coax the girl to her bed she would have to woo her. Eyes of molten amber snapped back to focus on the guard, just in time to hear his parting remark of "...bear you more strong children." A faint swell of pride filled her then- yes. Alfhi was strong and lovely already. There would be more children soon, she was certain of it. Especially with the offering of this lass.

Speaking of... Scyrven's eyes narrowed a bit as she inspected the girl, stepping away from her mate's side to reach out. A pretty, demure thing, very soft and gentle looking. She reached out, gently taking one of the girl's hands (dwarfing it in her own long fingers) and bending surprisingly gracefully to place a gentle kiss on the back of her hand, the points of her forward-curling horns just missing the girl's skin, skimming to either side of her fingers. As she straightened, she gently caught the girl's chin with the fingers of her free hand, lightly tilting her head back and slightly gasping, despite herself, as the girl's jade eyes and golden freckles caught the flickering light. Oh, she was pretty. Perhaps not in the same way as the girls who looked to be made of porcelain, the girls being handed out on either side of them, but... still strikingly gorgeous.

She laughed, then, stepping back and tightening her grip on the girl's hand, gently twirling her about once before pulling the small Gem in under her arm and against her side in a rather possessive way, maintaining her hold of her hand. The girl almost certainly could feel the strength in her arms, in her assured way of catching her. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, pretty one. My name is Scyrvensrel Talyrrth, and I have the honor of presenting my - well, I suppose our, husband - Gwillim Gunnvaldr. What is your name, if I may have the honor of knowing it?" Her words came easily, but the inflection was just slightly off, the faint stiffness of her body betraying her uncertainty. She made a (forced, but attempting to be) graceful gesture to Gwillim, only then noticing her husband's piercing scowl, directed at the back of the retreating guardsman.

Upon realizing they were only to be offered the one bride, Gwillim set his mouth in an impassive expression, studying the guard and weighing his words carefully. All around them various lords were being given pairs of brides, and yet they had only been offered the one. Disdainful. Was this really what decades of loyalty and service to the crown had earned them? His mate's prowess in command would have earned any man at least one bride, and his own various... projects and other favours for the crown princes should have - and probably could have, had he gone to inquire - secured promise of one from each.

As he processed what the guard said, however, he relaxed slightly, a faint pride swelling him. No slight was meant by it really, of that he assured himself. It was even intended as a compliment to his mate, perhaps - that she would be able to conceive a son, and this Gem was merely here to smooth the process out.

After considering for a split-second, Gwillim offered a slight dip of the head to the guardsman, speaking quietly. "We are humbled by his majesty's grace and congratulations, and thank him profusely for his generous gift to us." There. Simple, just enough grace and kowtowing to avoid winding up on the wrong end of a blade.

As the guardsman turned away he let out a soft growl, turning away to his mate and putting his arm lightly around her shoulders, loosely sandwiching the Gem girl between them. Scyrven leaned up into his embrace.

"I think we should go to the market after the feast," she murmured to him, loud enough that the Gem could hear. "Find some pretty clothes - such a beautiful thing deserves something more comfortable than a Gemmenite court dress." She shuddered lightly, vividly remembering her own humiliating days of being stuffed into a Gem-shaped corseted gown, and getting a soft chuckle from Gwillim.

Five hundred years had passed. Five hundred years since the Ultair name had walked the streets of Železna Kri. A lifetime ago the Ultair name was revered in the capital, even stretching across certain regions in Drakka. Now, the Ultair name is but an infamous legend feared by those in the furthest corners of the country. Edred Ultair; the Drakkan behind it all. A fearless warrior who challenged many and served relentlessly under King Toran, only later to become known as The Berserker. For decades after Edred’s disappearance he was hunted for his crimes against the nation, constantly raiding the Reaping carriages and slaughtering the many. A rather large bounty was placed on his head, though it would never be claimed as he would never be seen again… until today when a Drakkan bearing an uncanny resemblance to him would appear.

Each step through the streets of Železna Kri met the stone roadway with a heavy stride. The massive figure passed by guards without hesitation, knowing only certain members of the royal family would be able to recognize him as holding the Ultair name. The busyness of the street around him did not draw his attention; his intention of being there was not to purchase the wares from the vendors calling out to him or for the few Drakkan who eyed him up looking for a brawl. He was there for one thing; The Choosing Ceremony.

The Choosing Ceremony would be heavily guarded and almost impossible to penetrate without causing a disturbance, however; all of his favourite people would be there and he wanted to see them. The Drakkan had arrived in Železna Kri long before the ceremony would begin, he had come to learn that a tournament had been held for those who wanted to prove themselves worthy of earning a Prize. He momentarily thought about joining simply to earn himself a spot inside but decided otherwise, knowing that his presence would not be well received in such a large crowd for appearing out of nowhere. The Drakkan decided his best course of action was to sneak in, slither into the shadows and observe from afar until the right moment to say hello presented itself. He spent the rest of his day learning how to get himself inside without drawing too much attention to himself.

Patience was a necessary trait that the Drakkan had learned over the course of his lifetime; a trait that served him well when undergoing endeavours such as crashing a royal party. He was no stranger to waiting for the right moment, and waiting he had done. Nightfall brought with it rain… and the Brides. He had found his way inside, though it brought a swift death to but a couple of guards on his way in. He was careful to choose a path with the least amount of eyes watching it and waited for his opportunity to press forward when less guards were around. Although his presence was massive, he had learned how to conceal himself against those he didn’t want to see him; again, a necessary trait that made carrying on his father’s legacy an easier feat.

He had made it inside, tucked away in the furthest corner of the Ceremony careful to keep quiet as he watched the proceedings. A small grin spread across the Drakkan’s face as he watched the heir to the throne speak to the room; Gaelnesh, if he remembered his father’s teachings correctly. There were a few other royal members there, one Drakkan who didn’t even resemble a Drakkan and was missing his horns had plucked a Gemmenite from the line and left. He could only assume this was Ehkota by the rumours he had learned over the years. What caught his attention the most was the presence of what appeared to be the only female member of the Royal Family. He wasn’t sure of who she was, clearly an addition his father was not aware of; he licked his lips at the sight of her nonetheless, truly an exquisite creature. She would make for a fine wife for many reasons other than just mating.

The Drakkan’s eyes scanned the rest of the room, noting the other female Drakkan there; as always, there were few of them. One of them was awarded a bride alongside her Husband, another was waiting for something, but what he didn’t know. She seemed timid, although his assumption came from afar. It was clear that she held a certain air of beauty to her and was a Drakkan, given her distinctive horns, however; there was something off about her. A grimace overcame his face, understanding what was off about her was most likely a result of impure blood. There were some impure children who were more Drakkan than Gem, they were the lucky ones… but there were others that were nothing more than a disgrace to the bloodline. He would save his judgment for her later on. The fear of extinction had pushed their kind to a dark choice; there had to be another way.

The Drakkan shook his head in light disapproval and watched as the numbers were growing thinner in the Ceremony. His time was coming; the return of the Ultair name.

In a long line of young women, Hestia entered the hall filled with Drakken. She could hardly believe the number of them. And their size! She had seen all of the guards and what have you when they were being trained. However, the sheer number of them made the height so much more intimidating. She decided to keep her eyes downcast and her hands clasped tightly in front of her. The girls were being taken by guards one by one by one and introduced to their new husbands. At last, Hestia was forced forward. The hand that guided her was none too gentle and she hurried to keep up with his pushing.

They stopped in front of a pair. A man and woman. Her jade eyes widened as she tilted her head back to take in the view of them. Hestia was confused. She had assumed that she would be given to a man. Did she belong to both of these people? As if to answer the unspoken question the woman came forth and Hestia quickly averted her gaze. She was terrified she had offended the Drakken. When the woman stopped, Hestia flinched. Instead of the slap she had been anticipating, her hand was delicately lifted and inspected. Hestia had not expected the largeness of the woman's hand or its warmth. She glanced up as the woman bowed to place a chaste kiss on the back of Hestia's hand. Her eyes widened and she wondered briefly if they were in danger of popping out of her head. A flush spread over her cheeks and she could not help but shake like a small terrified dog.

As her face was lifted, Hestia met the woman's gaze for the first time. Her eyes reminded Hestia of caramel. Warm and brown. Hestia offered her a small, embarrassed smile. Apparently, the woman liked what she saw and spun her around. The sudden movement had her stumbling a bit but was immediately steadied with the Drakken's possesive hold on her. She allowed herself to feel safe next to this woman. It was certainly more pleasant to stand like this than in front of the hall with all eyes upon her.

As Scyr spoke to her, Hestia tilted her head back again to look up into her face. It seemed that her new spouses had very hard to pronounce names. She had no idea if she could say them correctly. What if she messed them up? Would she be beaten? Her eyebrows furrowed as she ran the names through her mind repeatedly. Scyrven... Scry... Sky... Oh that certainly wasn't right! Gwil... Gawo... Gills... Oh no. She would have to wait for them to repeat their names. Why did she have to be so stupid?

Realizing she hadn't responded properly, she looked between the pair before speaking. "I am called Hestia. Gristmill." She spoke only slightly above a whisper, her voice bird-like and soft. Which matched her slender, willowy appearance. The biggest thing about Hestia was her frizzy, mouse brown curls after all. Quite suddenly her new husband stood next to her as well and she was smooshed between the warmth of their bodies. While she was terrified and nervous of them, she felt so much better being hidden from view.

Her new wife mentioned buying her some clothing. Hestia glanced down at the green dress she had been given to wear. It was the nicest thing she had ever put on her body and certainly did not suit her. She was a plain little thing after all. What would she do with nice things? "Uhm... It's okay... I can just sew together some leftover cloth... if you have any. Please... I don't want to be any trouble..." She rubbed her hands over each other and shrunk down slightly awaiting to be yelled at or hit. Or perhaps she would get it later and they were just saving face here. Oh... she just shouldn't have spoken.

Kagan Galegar

_{Husband of Aubree Lamay@Ellion
Interacting with Aubree}

Kagan gave a small silent bow as Ehkota retreated back to the vast swath of girls and guards the prince had pulled his bride from. 'And there he goes again...cant help but feel the man has never had a conversation in his life that wasn't wholly one sided....' he thinks, a small twinge of annoyance flashing across his face. Still, he shouldn't complain about being in a princes good graces, even if it was only to suit the mans needs. And given the princesses little dance from earlier with three would be assassins, he should probably count himself lucky that he WAS in the man's good graces. He rubs the annoyance from his temples, gods he was tired. The prince had said something to the girl, he'd have to ask about THAT later. But there was time to bemoan his unwilling involvement in a political coup later. For now, he had something more important to deal with. He sets the mace he'd collected earlier on the floor with a soft thunk, not really having another means of stowing it for the moment.

He looks over his bride...A strange experience, if he were being honest. A few months ago, the idea of owning a gem seemed pleasant, but unlikely. Kinners, for all their worth, were not exactly highly valued martial champions, so a Kinner with a bride were far something of a commodity. He sighs, taking her chin in his hand with a little more care than was probably necessary. “Let's have a look at you then...” He huffs, tilting her gaze up to meet his own.

She was decidedly tall for a Gem, though Kagan still managed to stand a good two feet over her. Lithe and almost pathetically thin, at least when compared to the healthy muscled figure of most Drakken women. He guessed her skin was fair enough, though he'd little context for that assessment. He'd seen few gems without a generous peppering of light bruising. Her eyes were at least familiar enough to be comfortable. “Hazel.” He grunts, “A little too light, but nice either way. Though I'm hardly crazy for the hair...” He grumbles halfheartedly, glancing at the waterfall of red falling around her ears. “I'll have to live with the color but its too long. I suggest you think of how you'd like it cut for when we return home...” He releases his grip on her chin, finally freeing the gem.

“I am Kagan Galegar.” He says firmly, glaring down at the Gem. “Kinner of the Church of Krenta...which probably means painfully little to you, given the theological backwater of Gemmenia. In short, you may think of us as a funeral priest of sorts. In public, you are expected to refer to me as Sir or Kinner Galegar. I will leave private addresses to your discretion.” He bends over, retrieving the mace. “I would have your name Gem. Now. I have neither the ego nor patience to assign you some demeaning moniker.”

Adora was so pleased to have made so many friends. It was magical really. To have comrades in this trying time was a balm to her hurt soul. When Bree took her hand, Adora leaned down to brush her lips delicately against her knuckles, gave Arden a sly glance, and then released the girl. She was about to hop back into the water when a wave of cold rushed over her. She shivered and watched the Drakken enter, speak to the guards, and then demand they all leave. It was time to meet their husbands.

Her breath caught in her throat and a scowl appeared on her face. She stood, gracefully moving her hands in a wiping sort of motion about to remove all the water from her body. It left in long tendrils, gathering at her fingertips before she dropped it onto the stone floor. Grabbing a towel, she wrapped it around buxom figure before grasping Sorrin’s hand. There was no way she was going to let her dear friend get away from her this time.

Once they had all reached their rooms, Adora decided that she should at least look stunning for the man to whom she was to bear children. First impressions were everything. She brushed out and pinned up her lilac hair. A series of loose braids and hair roses crowned her head and a messy bun at the back. She stuck in ornaments of gems to help her bright hair glitter. Tendrils of hair kissed her face and neck, giving her a somewhat ‘just out of bed’ appearance. The gown she chose was one that she was to wear on her first day in court. A day that would never come.

The dress was light grey fading to black and fitted quite nicely over her bust and stomach. It showed off every curve. The sleeves were long and draped down, exposing her forearms and hands. The neckline settled at the edge of her shoulders and showed her tanned collar bone and slim neck. The skirt of the dress was wide and made of a floaty fabric. It was made to look as if monarch butterfly wings fell all around her waist. Each movement caused the black and orange fabric to flutter. As a last ornament, she placed around her waist the same sash that had gotten her into trouble her first day here. Pleased with her appearance, she pulled a warm, grey shawl around her shoulders and grabbed her chest of things – ensuring her most prized possession was buried at the bottom.

Adora made sure that she would share a carriage with Sorrin. She talked lightly and jovially to her dear friend the whole way. She told intricate stories and made jokes. Anything to keep their minds off of the fact they were about to be sold into slavery. She prayed that Sorrin’s husband would be a kind and generous soul. Someone who would love and cherish such a beautiful and sweet girl.

All too soon they were ushered from the carriages and into a bright gleaming hall. She took in the Drakken. Some watched hungrily as they entered. Many were quite ready for their prospective brides. Adora squeezed Sorrin’s hand. Barely had they made the procession in when a hand grabbed her upper arm. She gasped in surprise. The tiny Gem looked up to find a handsome, chiseled man leading her away. She attempted to hold into Sorrin for as long as possible, but their fingers parted, and she was lead into a darkened hallway.

She remained silent, gauging what was going on. Speak too soon and it could end her life. Instead, she obediently followed behind the disgustingly handsome Drakken. The hall they walked down was lit only by torch light every few feet. Shadows crept and changed with the dancing firelight. A feeling of foreboding had attached itself to her throat in a chokehold.

Finally, they reached a room. The Drakken opened the door and pushed her inside. “Wait,” he said, quite simply and left her there. The room was simple and gave nothing of her situation away. Was this her husband? Was she to wait for him until he came back to consummate the marriage? Perhaps he was in some way important and had to see to multiple duties first? This was not at all what she had envisioned. What about all of her other sisters?

She felt more lost and confused than she ever had in her life. Adora sat on the bed and buried her face in her hands, desperate for some sort of meaning. For a moment sobs clawed at her in order to be let free. To wrack her body and dull her mind. But no. She did not have the time for self-pity or sadness. She had to make some sort of a plan. She had to make sure she would be safe. That her life would be good in some way.

Adora stood up from the bed and went to the window. She looked out on the dark, rainy night. Cold air nipped at her nose and threatened to chill her to her bones. She could not see much and so she went about the room looking for any and all available clues. Despite her fantastical dress she crouched to look under the bed. She opened drawers and inspected the empty closet. Nothing. There was nothing to give her a hint of what would be happening. Finally, she settled on the bed once again. She would use the only weapon available to her. Adora decided, if she preformed well enough for this man she could live a life with out terror or abuse. She took slow, deep breaths to prepare herself for the task at hand.

Another journey. It seemed as though ever since arriving in Shadow Worth, the Gemmenites had been transported from one destination to the next, whether that was within the walls of Shadow Worth or outside of them. This journey, however, was different from the others. This journey was to mark the beginning of their new life; this journey was to meet their husbands.

Our husbands? My husband…

After Sera had arrived back in Shadow Worth from the hot springs, she was delivered to her bedroom where she was ordered to “prepare”. When her small body was pushed into the room she found a gown laid out for her on the bed. Sera eyed it from the doorway, as if it were a strange creature lying there.

Maybe it was?

The snow haired gem shook her head, eyes closed tight for a moment and reopened them to find that it really was just a dress. A sigh of relief came next and then a few small steps toward the bed. Sera examined the dress laid out for her; she had never seen something so beautiful in her entire life. She knew what it was though, it was to make her more appealing to her suitor. Her fiery red eyes narrowed as she thought about what it would mean to be someone’s pet.

At least you will finally belong

Her heart skipped a beat.

“Belonging…”

---

The sky was dark and it was raining when the girls were lead into the Ceremony, almost as if Vivari herself was crying for the fate of her children. Sera followed aimlessly, just one Gem in a line of many, her eyes glued to the floor. She had chosen to wear the gown provided for her; the colour of the material created an alluring contrast against her skin. The prince gave a speech but she couldn’t hear him speak, his voice muffled behind her racing thoughts of what came next. Mere seconds passed before the Gems were ripped from the line and delivered to their new mates. The girl’s palms of her hands grew steadily hotter, her mind refusing to calm.

Not here. Not now.

A rough hand took hold of her arm and she snapped back into the present, though it took a couple seconds as she was now being dragged across the room and toward an incredibly tall Drakkan. Although he was rather slender compared to the other Drakkan in the room, he exuded an intimidating aura. Sera’s eyes jutted over to the other Gem who was being delivered alongside her, she was familiar from the hot spring though she wasn’t sure how she felt about sharing in the dark experience with another. A shove came next and a remark that struck her; may these creatures bend and behave to your will just as your beasts do.

Another hand placed itself on her shoulder and as it did, her eyes peered up at the Drakkan before her. If he hadn’t had reached out she would have fallen; she thanked him silently. Her new husband stepped back and as he examined her, she felt a nervousness in her stomach. Nervousness for fear of rejection, nervousness for fear of death, nervousness for fear of…

Serafine

He knew she was a fire gem, an educated guess. Sera simply nodded in response to him, unknowing how to act as a bride. His next question was delivered with a directness; she would have to respond appropriately. Her nerves calmed temporarily and her impassive expression returned.

“My name is Sera Makatza” she replied, neglecting her full name. Sera wanted to know what his name was, the Drakkan guard who delivered her called him a beast master but she had not heard his name. Was it too bold to ask? Was it not like a bride to speak when not spoken to? There were so many unanswered questions that she had but before she could decide what to do, her mouth had already opened again.

“And you, what do we call you other than our husband?”

The hour before leaving Shadow Worth was the first time that Bree felt in her element since the start of the journey. The return walk from the spring quickly sapted any warmth she had acquired. However tempting, she knew that calling upon her element among the drakken would have been unwise, and waited until she was back in her room before calling forth a great fire. Upon entering her tiny room, she was relieved to see her trunk returned to her. She was almost as relieved to see that the grey clothing from earlier had vanished.

Her mother had always taught her to value self care. That appearances, especially first ones, were everything. Those words echoed about her head as she opened the trunk.

At once the room filled with the warm, flowery scent of home. The brilliant colors of the garments within seemed out of place in the plain stone room.

A sharp pain struck her as quickly as the scent, it started right behind the navel and slowly crawled up to her chest. It wasn’t until the tears threatened to spill from her eyes that she was able to name the aching feeling: Despair.

For the first time, she allowed those bitter tears to rolls down her face. To feel the rage and disappointment that came with the whole situation. The unfairness of it all. Nearly a quarter of an hour passed before she was able to pull herself off the floor. Yanking a dress at random and pulling out a small bag, she slammed the trunk shut. The scent lingered for a moment, before being replaced by hard stoney castle scent.

With more care than she had in a long time, she started the process of applying numerous creams, pigments and kohls for her face. Trying to cover the blotchiness that came with a good cry.

Not that much dear, we are accentuating what Vivari gave you, not lying to the poor souls.

Her mother’s voice once again swaying her hand from applying the mask she wanted. The armor she longed to wear to protect, to give her strength. Setting the skin tools aside, she focused instead on her hair. It was nearly dry as she released it from its twist, leaving soft curls in its wake. Most of her long hair she left down, twisting a single lock into a braid, before crossing it over the top of her head and pinning it with a small white flower ornament.

The dress she pulled out was light yellow and flowy. The sleeve hung off the shoulders and left nearly half her back bare. It was one that she had worn in the high heat of summer back home. The material was thin, too thin for early spring, but the dress gave her a warm feeling that soothed the pain in her chest. After dorning the dress, she wrapped a soft cloak over her shoulders and she joined the rest of the gems on their walk to their carriages. Their journey to their husbands.

Husband

---

---

The journey to the capital took far longer than expected. Bree watched as the landscape shifted from bare snow capped peaks and wild evergreen forests to rolling hills of long stalked grassess. Sandstone ridges started forming as the sun set. Casting a fiery glow as all green faded, making way to sand.

The capital was twisting roads of hard pack sand that all seemed to lead haphazardly to the same central point of the city. Or it might have, the drakken guards had shut the curtain on the carriages after the carriages started to gather too much attention from the locals.

The carriages stopped outside of a large building. The night had taken on a chill as the smell of rain threatened those who stood outside and a quick wind started to whip up. The girls were quickly lead into the building by the High Prince.

A gasp drew Bree’s attention as one of the troublesome girls from earlier, Adorabella, was pulled from the line by a very pretty drakken.

Perhaps they... Bree tried to think of a reason for the girls removal. She chose not to finish the thought, as all answers she could come up with lead nowhere good.

The High Prince’s words were lost on her after that. Bree’s eyes darted around the room. Unlike the guards, the drakken in the hall seemed more on edge, more eagar.

As they should be, they actually get to touch what they see, instead of just edging on it.

In what felt like moments, the pretty drakken from before had returned, leading her away this time. For a moment, fear clutched at her heart.

You’ve done nothing wrong. They’ve no reason to single you out. You bowed, you followed the rules Still the worry didn’t fade until the pretty drakkan stopped in front of another.

The pretty drakan stopped the group of gems a few feet away from another drakkan, pulling Bree close, he whispered a message into her ear. Told her to nod if she remembered it. It was a simple message, truly, and seemed like something the drakkan could have easily said himself. Bree felt her face twist in confusion, but nodded anyway.

A breath escaped Bree’s lips has the pretty drakkan released her. Her shoulders relaxed, only to tighten up the second she felt the drakkan’s hand on her face. She had been too stressed out about the fact that she might not be given to a drakkan to have actually looked at the male she was left with.

He was tall, far taller than herself and of a height with even the tallest figures in the room. While she still wasn’t great with guessing ages of drakken, this one seemed young. Aubree felt her face color at his assessment of her. Normally, she could care less about the opinions of others. But all the others before had been Gems, temporary creatures. But this drakken was to be with her for the rest of her life. However long that was.

Bree’s hand took on a mind of its own at the mention of cutting her hair. Her fingers, brushing a few strands her eyes focused on the ends of it. Cutting it happened rarely back home and hardly ever took it shorter than the width of three fingers. Although the drakkan probably expected a lot more than that to be removed. The idea left a vague irritated feeling in the pit of her stomach. She opened her mouth to disagree, but closed it at one.

Not even with him three seconds and you’re already trying to be difficult. Stop being so childish, it is only hair. It’ll grow back

“ My name is Aubree,” ,”she said, proud to hear that her voice came out steady. “ Aubree La-...” She cut short. There were many things she was now, but a Lamay was not one of them. Not wishing to offend her...husband she chose to leave it. Just Aubree, although some call me Bree….Sir,”

There was something about the way that Kagan introduced himself that seemed suspicious. It was well known that only the most important and loyal drakken received Gems. But a Kinner, while she had no idea what a kinner was, certainly didn't sound like a lord. Obviously it was tied up with religion. People of faith were plentiful back home and she could only hope that they played a more valued role here. "You are correct, Kinner Kagan ," she said, tasting the word on her tongue, hoping for a hint of familiarity or hidden meaning. " I don't know what Kinner is. But do know that Krenta is your g---the god of death. The one we all meet in the end,"

Bree's eyes flashed over to some of the gems she had grown familiar with in the past few days. She found Arden quickly and felt her heart lift to see Sorrin standing alongside her. At least they had enough other. Although their husband made her's seem friendly by comparison. She quickly refocused on her own husband, although she couldn’t help but feel a bit of envy. They had each other and she could very well be on her own.

"Am I your first bride?" she asked, her voice coming out a little too quickly in her desperation to know.

Heccarim had put as much pomp into his entrance as he could on his way to meet his new brides; his chains jangled, his mist flowed and his mask stared into the very souls of anyone who looked at him. The guard who escorted his reaped rewards look like he was about to collapse and wet himself as he stammered through his lines. The Grave Warden barely nodded before he had ran as fast he could in the other direction, leaving Heccarim to face down his new brides.

Reading their faces, some initial deductions where made on the brides. Years of analyzing prisoners for torture had found more than one use outside the dungeons. The small blonde one looked frail, young, naive and soft, unfit for much else than being a walking trophy. Heccarim couldn't imagine her being even able to bear a child, let alone deliver it; had he been a more traditional noble he would have appreciated the small one. The taller on the other hand, Heccarim had higher hopes for. She looked more capable than the small blonde (not that it was an especially difficult task) and her eyes had a fire that the other one's lacked. Perhaps she would give Harand Kor its next warden.

Through the simple act of pacing around the pair, the Grave Warden's presence was enough for people to make room or scurry away. Raising his lantern, the ghastly light it gave off further illuminated the gems allowing for an even closer look. Puffing out his chest ever so slightly, Heccarim leaned into and over them, keeping direct eye contact if for nothing but show; if they were to be his brides, then they would have to know what the Warden was all about. With his boots and chains rattling, he opened his beastly maw and spoke, "Fine additions yes... Harand Kor has yet to house Gems... Empty cells and empty graves for the taking..."

Heccarim relished in the opportunity to bring out his persona as he had once again spent most of the day sulking over the lack of interesting events. Again, resorting to scaring children and the occasional guards having deemed fighting out in public to be too "un-Warden like". A pair of shackles appeared in Heccarim's hands from somewhere in his outfit and he already made the motions to shackle their hands together, running his chain links through holes in the shackle to bound them to him; standard process of transporting multiple prisoners by foot. "Names…" the Grave Warden's ethereal voice escaped the maw of the mask once more, "I assume you still cherish them... Pray to whatever gods you wish that you don't… forget them."

By the gods, Heccarim was enjoying using his persona on his new found prizes far more than he should.

Arden Gaothaire

The return to Shadow Worth was a silent one, the news of meeting their husbands had cast a new feeling of despair over the group. Even Arden was silent on the return, not speaking a word to her newfound friend. The reality of her situation had begun to sink in with each minute that pressed toward meeting the Drakkan who would own her life. She looked around at her sisters, her heart aching for their mournful faces; they had already given up. Her gaze drew itself to her feet, she watched as she walked one foot in front of the other.

This is now the path that you walk. Not for me. For them. You cannot let them down.. You have to find a way.



Arden returned to her room without the need to be ushered along or reminded. There was a small fire in in the hearth of the fireplace nestled in the corner. It had been burning for awhile now; was it in preparation of their return? A scoff escaped her at the thought of the Drakkan being kind, though it was pleasant to return to a warm room. Her trunk of belongings had been pulled from the back of the room and placed near the door, ready to be plucked up and carried off along with her when the time came. Her caretakers before the Reaping had packed her trunk for her and it was littered with feminine items. They were truly incessant in pushing the matter on her. Arden was impartial to most of the belongings in the trunk, however, she had grown fond of the dark red pigmented concoction her caretakers had introduced her to when she first arrived in Priseil Aldentine. She pulled it from her trunk and found her way to the mirror in the corner of the room, completely ignoring the clothing laid out for her on the bedding as she passed by. Arden stared at herself for a long while, as if she was memorizing her reflection.

Whatever happens, you cannot let them break you. Do not lose yourself.

Arden’s hands rolled themselves into balls against the small table placed in front of the mirror, her body leaning over it for support. Her expression softened and with a heavy sigh, she let her bravery escape her to allow her tears to freely trickle down her face as she softly weeped.



Železna Kri; the capital of Drakka. She had overheard the name spoken by one of the many guard that aided in their travel there. Železna Kri was a fair distance from Shadow Worth and had to be reached by carriage. Arden was herded into a carriage with a number of unfamiliar faces, all unwilling to speak to each other. Instead the group leered out the window or lost themselves in their own hands as they cried. Arden chose to observe the drastically changing scenery, attempting to ignore the situation for as long as she could.

It wasn’t long before she was forced to observe the others, as the curtains of the carriage were closed once they had entered the capital. One particular Gem had been sobbing heavily for quite some time and the rest of them were either petrified with fear, or solemn faced. She didn’t know what to say to them, but she knew she had to say something.

”Listen to me, ladies. We have already been through a lot but there is so much more that we have to endure. If you want to survive, you have to find strength within yourself to lean on. You cannot let them see you broken… Just because we were taken from our homes, just because we do not have choice here, does not mean we have to lose ourselves. We might be divided, but we are never alone. Your sisters are everywhere, and together we thrive. Remember, they need us. Be strong.”

She spoke with a sense of graceful leadership that oozed an air of confidence. Half the battle of having others listen to you when you spoke was not about what you said, but more about how you said it. As the words flowed from Arden’s mouth with ease, the faces of the Gem in the carriage began to settle and even the sobbing Gem found momentary peace. Her job was done.

The carriage came to a stop and as the doors opened, a cool breeze with the scent of rain rushed in. Arden stepped out of the carriage and peered at the dark sky above her, feeling relief from the rain falling against her face. The moment didn’t last long as the girls were swiftly lead into the building. One foot in front of the other; this is your new path.

Arden’s eyes quickly found their way to Adorabella who was plucked from the line by a hornless Drakkan. She wanted to reach out to the woman but the ache that remained on her abdomen stopped her. A pit grew in her stomach as they were lined up, forced to stare in the faces of the many who were there to claim their prizes.

This is it. This is where everything changes.

Her heart beat so heavily in her chest that she swore she could her its rhythmic melody. A younger looking Drakkan came for her and another; the other Gem was a familiar face from the hot spring. He grabbed them both and walked them toward a rather intimidating looking Drakkan. Before reaching her new husband, the guard aired them a word of caution to behave. Even he was trembling in his own skin. The guard made haste after delivering the two of them to Heccarim.

Arden shifted closer to her sister, noticing that she was overtly afraid. She took the Gem’s hand in her own and squeezed it as a sign of comfort. Her face did not leave that of the Warden’s, her strong eyes meeting his as he examined them. He was ghastly and wore a mask; there was an odd mist that surrounded him and he was covered in chains. He reminded her of the living dead, or more accurately, of a ghost to haunt their souls.

Harand Kor? Empty cells? Are we going to a prison?

Arden’s brow hardened at the appearance of the shackles in her husband’s hands and her own hand tightened against Sorrin’s. “You’re going to chain us up?” Where do you expect us to go from here in a room full of guards.”

Arden’s hand was ripped from Sorrin’s and chained together, linked to the Warden himself. He didn’t even bother to answer her but simply demanded their names. Her face remained stern with disapproval, although her heart raced with a certain fear.

”Arden.” Her response was short as she glared at Heccarim. If Sorrin had not been at her side, she would have not given him her name but she didn’t want to create undue trouble for her sister.

She wanted to look for Bree, but she refused to break her eye contact with the Warden; a sign of strength in a time of darkness. Underneath her defiant exterior she thanked that she was not alone with such a Drakkan. The feeling of loss crept into her throat, realizing she might not see the only piece of home she had left in that place; Bree.

”Stay alive, my friend.” She whispered softly against the wind when the warden turned away from them, hoping it would find its way to Bree

She wanted to throw something, or scream, or seem as though possessed by a ghost and scare them all. Anything to get them to shut up. Having been stuffed unceremoniously into a carriage-cage thing again- by some massive misfortune with all four of the noble girls from the ride to Shadow Worth- was bad enough, but they kept. Talking. Their nervous tittering and hollow idle chatter was clearly meant to distract them from the doom they trundled towards, but it filled the air with its notes of panic and made it increasingly hard for Nenra to think.

They were treating her like she wasn’t there, and that was fine. Even in this… whatever this was. “Trade agreement” as one of the girls, who sounded quite like a rich merchant, kept saying. Even in this, they felt they had to maintain their snooty haughty aloofness, and Nenra would let them.

She leaned back against the wall of the carriage (the other girls had quickly claimed the spaces on the benches, and made no move to let Nenra join them), feeling the cold steel bars press into her back, her bare feet dug firmly into the rough wooden floor, as though trying to draw some assurance from the faint life of the raw wood planks. It was getting steadily hotter as they left the mountains, approaching what she could assume was the Drakkan capital.

Periodically the other girls would gasp, all leaning closer to the bars to look at something in the distance, shielding their eyes delicately. It all meant nothing to Nenra, who focused quite intently at the point where her vision started to blur, just in front of her toes when her legs were drawn up to her chest.

The whimpering started in earnest as they approached the city gates, a shadow falling over them as they passed into the looming walls. She rolled her eyes at the antics of these noble girls (who had, she wryly noted, long forgotten their “noble duty of the highest honor” when they realized that they were going to at best be forced into a cruel man’s bed and split apart by bearing his children.)

Nenra herself decided she was… resigned. Yes, that would be a good way to put it, she thought, as the Drakken guards pulled them out of the carriage and lined them up. She wasn’t pretty, not like these other girls- there was a good chance she wouldn’t even be chosen. Rumor had it that was what happened to Lamry when she was taken. Rumor also had it that the girl at least had a quick death, spanning hours rather than weeks or years as most Brides’ fates did. It was more than most got, at least, and more than the vast majority of Myllendh had gotten, lingering in fevered agony for days or weeks until they’d expired at last from weakness…

She was strangely calm about the prospect of dying, standing rather placidly as other, far more nervous, girls were led or dragged off around her. Though one of the first brought into the room, her carriage having been the second one in line, she was among the very last to be taken away to the warlords scattered around the room, little more than intimidating blobs of ashen skin and dull colors from this distance.

As she was taken by the shoulders, she finally realized two things. One, she wasn’t being kept for later- Lamry’s fate would not be hers. Two, she’d left the nasty pinchy boots in the carriage. Part of her was glad of it, having her feet in contact with the floor (and through it the earth) was remarkably calming, and part of her feared she’d be punished for it.

Thankfully, the skirts she had been given were long enough that her feet were hidden, even while she was being roughly guided to stand before her husband. Her scruffy hair fell forward, and she looked up from under it as calmly and distantly as she could. It likely helped that her eyes could not focus on his face, instead seeing him a looming lump of chiseled ash-toned flesh with stern lines and something- an especially livid, dark scar perhaps? Carved into the side of his face.

She listened intently to what the guardsman said, though it meant nothing to her. And just as quickly as she’d been dragged over, the guard had wandered off, leaving her standing in front of her… she supposed he was to be her husband. A bit awkwardly, she stooped into a shallow curtsy, wobbling and nearly falling. The lesson to bow was still sharply fresh in her mind, the meaty thump of blows striking the other Gems lingering in her mind.

After holding the curtsy for a moment, she spoke quietly- her mostly-unused voice low, breathy, and barely carrying to her husband’s ears. “Nenra Corislen, sire. From the village of Myllendh.” She straightened uncertainly, unsure if she had been supposed to do that – or had even been supposed to provide that much information.

Kagan Galegar

_{Husband of Aubree Lamay@Ellion
Interacting with Aubree}

"You are." Kagan says, brusquely, ignoring the brief sideways glance the gem threw in the direction of the Warden and his brides. To be entirely fair, the man unnerved other Drakken, so he could hardly blame the gem for keeping a cautionary eye on him. The girl was atleast not completely ignorant of her new homes traditions."Kinner’s make their living off of tithes paid to them for culling Drakken unfit to live, either due to illness or deformities of birth. You were payment for a particularly accomplished warlord I recently had the pleasure of easing into Krenta’s embrace.” he says, gently placing a hand on the girls shoulder. ”It’s a rare thing for a Kinner to acquire one of your kind, so take some pride in that Aubree. You’re likely the only gem in this room who has managed to bring honor to a Drakken and didn’t need to fuck them to do so.”

There is a moment of awkward pause as Kagan thinks of what they should do next. Shopping wasn’t really an option. For one, the shops were closed, and for another he simply felt too tired from the days fighting to watch the Gem parade about in fanciful clothing. ”...I’ll...We’ll look at getting you a trinket of some sort in the morning. As a reward I suppose.” He moves to the girls side, taking her arm in his own. It was an awkward gesture. Kagan was many thing, but familiar with physical affection was clearly not one of them. “ For now, if you wish, I have no strong objections to you saying your goodbyes to any companions you’ve in your fellow Gems. As long as you do not disturb their husbands. If not, I think it best we retire for the evening. Tomorrow looks to be busy, and I’ve some notes that I need to prepare.” He says, quietly as he readjusts himself in an attempt to get more comfortable with the contact. There is another pause. ”...among other things.”

Aurora knew that whatever time they would be allowed to soak in the hot springs would be limited, but what she had not been expecting was for them to go back on their word so quickly. When they had been released into the depths, they had been promised the luxury until lunchtime… Yet only a couple of hours into their relaxation did a flustered looking guard make his way down to address the group. While she had no way of knowing what the cause was, Aurora knew that something must have happened to cause such a disruption among the Drakkan. After all, they weren’t just being pulled from the springs early, the girls were being shipped off immediately.

She didn’t put up any sort of resistance as she stood from her seat along the edge of the water, pulling her towel close to her body as she observed the guards that were present. The two that had been guarding the door were whispering to one another, though whether out of agitation or confusion was beyond her simple observations. Keeping her thoughts to herself, Aurora changed back into the wool clothing they were provided and awaited further instructions.

One by one, each of the girls loaded up into the wagons, huddling together to keep some semblance of warmth in the freezing environment. Once all the girls had been packed up they began moving, heading to what many were acting would be their deaths. Aurora couldn’t blame them, there was no telling what would happen between this point and their arrival. Even she was beginning to feel nervous, but she wasn’t about to show it. Not yet anyways. The real danger wasn’t until they were handed over to their so-called husbands. It would be then, and only then that the true game of survival would begin. Some would live to see another day, perhaps even a few more years…. Others would succumb and be tossed aside or sent home to be buried by the family that had just said their goodbyes. She pushed aside the image of her sister’s funeral before her anger could get the better of her, instead focusing on radiating enough heat to keep herself and her travel companions warm along their journey.



The capital seemed like such a difference from the prison they had been training in for the past couple of days. Instead of snow, the land was surrounded by a sea of sand. A desert unlike anything Aurora had ever seen in her life. By this point the skies had grown dark, the occasional tendril of lightning cracking open the heavens, cracks of thunder quick to follow. The smell of rain was thick in the air alerting those outside of shelter to the oncoming storm. Luckily they had all made it inside before the rain came pouring down, certainly a rarity in these parts if she had to guess.

Before being delivered to their new husbands, the girls had been instructed to change their clothes and freshen up from their journey. Just like before, the Drakkan had provided clothing for them to change into, however, such a word was used lightly. Before they had been forced into drab, and frankly, uncomfortable wool to keep warm and assumedly keep the guards from temptation. This time they were being displayed in a way that called for brighter colors, most likely to make up for the lack of actual cloth.

Aurora rolled her eyes as she sat down in front of a mirror, taking the opportunity to brush a few knots out of her hair before she went to changing her clothing. The outfit that had been laid out for her was a bright crimson, and much to her surprise… A rather familiar shape. Donning the garb, she found herself reminiscing over past shows she had participated in having worn similar attire for each.

Her top fit tightly so as not to allow any extra movement underneath, but this was made up for by the various jewels and metallic ornaments designed to catch and reflect light. The bottom was a free flowing skirt that hugged low on her hips but allowed for a wide variety of motions. Attached to the waist piece were jewels and ornaments similar to the top, however there were a few additions of bells that would make sound every time she took a step.

She wasn’t sure how she felt about it at first, torn between hating its intended purpose, and loving it for its familiar feel. Taking a deep breath, Aurora came to the decision that she would wear it proudly and prove their schemes wouldn’t get to her. The first impression had to be good, otherwise she ran the risk of ending up like her sister… She refused to allow her family to re-live such a moment, she would be better… She was going to make it.

It didn’t take long for the Drakkan guards to return for the girls, rushing the final touches on her outfit before she had to head out the door. Due to the burns on her feet, the fire Gem left the shoes behind, instead shifting the weight forward and continuing onward in her bare feet. She wondered if any of the others had chosen similarly or if they were too far lost in the shock of it all to feel the pain. Shaking her head, Aurora lined up and took another deep breath to steady her nerves. This would be it, she could no longer worry about any of the others… though admittedly she had kept them at a distance since the beginning to make this moment easier on herself. She couldn’t care for those she didn’t know. Once again, they were lined up one by one before being marched out into a room that nearly stopped Aurora’s heart.

The place was huge, not to mention filled to the brim with Drakkan. She was surprised to spot more than a couple of females in the crowd, one seeming to keep rather close to the man that had been identified as the high prince of the nation. A couple of others she spotted over with the men that she assumed they were being handed off to, her chest tightening at the entire scene before her. She jumped slightly as the prince began speaking having come to the realization that she had never once heard the man speak before. Aurora found herself silently wishing that he would speak longer as once he had finished they would be given away, but alas her wish was shattered as she realized it was less of a speech and more of an announcement. In all but a few sentences the prince had called her people weak, made themselves out to be selfless heroes, and referred to her and every one of her sisters present as ‘spoils’.

A glare overtaking her features, Aurora was given very little time to gather herself before a guard was stepping forward and pulling her toward her fate. Not once on the journey over did she falter, and neither did her expression. In fact, it seemed only to grow more hostile as she was presented to a rather short Drakkan. She stood silently as the guard addressed the man, somewhat in shock that someone as short as him had been able to earn a bride such as herself… After all, it had been her understanding only the best of their citizens received such prizes. To the Gemmenites this usually came with a description of a hulking monster whose only reason for existence was to shed the blood of others. If it weren’t for the horns and his skin tone, he might have been able to fit into the background of her own country. Something about this though terrified her causing her to look behind the man where another Gemmenite stood staring at her. She assumed the girl to be a bride that he had earned previously, seeing as she wasn’t a face Aurora recognized from the days leading up to this moment.

There was something about her expression that worried her though, almost as if she too was frightened. Perhaps she was being forced to re-live her own Reaping and it was causing her stress, or maybe it was just the fact that she was familiar with how this man was and she was scared for the well-being of the newcomer. This caused Aurora to laugh silently to herself, she didn’t need some weakling to be looking out for her. Exhaling slowly, the fire Gem tuned back into what the guard was saying. She caught the tail end of the address where the guard mentioned something about an incident the year prior, making her out to be some kind of replacement?

Seriously? What did he do? Aurora thought to herself, starting to become truly angered yet still finding herself increasingly apprehensive. The other girl’s fear was starting to make more and more sense, causing the brunette to wonder what exactly it was that she had gotten herself into. Or, that was until she finally looked at the Drakkan referred to as Zakroti to see a similar expression on his face. The man had gone rather pale and was hesitant to approach her, reaching out as if making sure she was really there and sharing glances with the girl behind him as if they shared some mutual secret.

Growing ever more impatient, Aurora opened her mouth to speak but was silenced by the man speaking first. Introducing himself fully and twenty times more polite than Aurora had ever assumed a Drakkan could be. Still though, his attention continued to wander to the woman behind him rather than maintaining a gaze with her. The longer this went on, the more freaked out Aurora became bringing her to the point of lashing out demanding answers. Once again, however, she was cut off by the man’s voice, asking her a question that caused her blood to run ice cold.

“Am I right to take it that you are of the Liesma family? What is your name?” He said, as if having this knowledge were anything but terrifying to her. Had their names been sent ahead to the men that were going to receive them? She thought this unlikely due to how swiftly they had been ushered out, meaning whatever plans they had made had been accelerated so how would they have gathered this information in the first place? Thinking back on it, such an idea made even less sense as she had never actually been asked what her name was by any of the guards. Eyes widened with mixed horror and rage, Aurora ventured to take a shaky step away from the man.

“Pyrus strike you down where you stand. How is that you know that name?” Aurora hissed, though an inner voice told her that she already knew the answer to her question. The shared glances, pale expressions… Neither were terrified for her, they were terrified of her. In their eyes they were seeing a ghost, the ghost of someone she had been told her whole life she resembled quite closely. The ghost of the reason Aurora kept her hair short and did her best, of why she was even here in the first place.

“You’re the reason my sister is dead, aren’t you? Or was it the snivelling child behind you? Difficult to tell which one of you looks guiltier.” She realized that the air around her had begun heating up considerably, something she was certain might be seen as an act of real aggression around these types. Closing her eyes, Aurora balled her hands into tight fists before exhaling anxiously. Attempting to regain whatever composure she could muster, she slowly re-opened her eyes and bowed to her new ‘master’.

“Yes, I am of the Liesma family. Aurora Liesma to be precise. And I would like to get one thing straight with you. I am not, and will not be, a replacement for the sister that you murdered. So much as speak her name and you will feel the consequences of your crime come crashing down upon your short little head faster than you can draw your sword.” Her face remained neutral but her eyes screamed with rage, fire burning brighter than she ever would have thought possible. If she had to be perfectly honest, the way that she felt at that moment was enough to drive her mad. Grief, anger, and fear all wrapped up into one… If she wasn’t careful, she might actually strike out at the man. She would have to find a way to keep herself in check on the off chance her most recent words had not already sealed her fate.

It was loud and smelled horrid. Amalia nearly choked on the thickness of the air. The metallic scent, she realized after a few minutes, was blood.
The Gem women were stood before the rabble like lambs to a slaugther. As each girl was snatched and handed over Amalia held her breath and prayed to Vivari that she would not go to some of the... things she saw. They were more like creatures then men.

The jeers and lewd remarks were more than she could bear. There were multiple slurs about her body and it's parts and various things that could be done with them. Her throat felt like it was closing on her and her vision began to get a tunnel-like quality to it. Was she going to faint? Was it possible to faint from pure fear?
Eventually the words became a garbled roar in her ears. Her hands shook.

She couldn't help the small cry that escaped her when her arm was grabbed. Jerked forward so hard she almost fell, both she and another Earth Gem were presented to their husband.

Amalia had closed her eyes. When she couldn't take the suspense anymore, she opened them and faced her fate.

He had horns.
But he wasn't... horrid looking. He looked clean and well groomed, which was far better then others she saw.
What was she supposed to do? Should she speak? How was she to address him?
Amalia swallowed past a very dry throats and spoke. "Hello Milord. It is a pleasure to meet you," she said timidly, fearing he would strike as the other Drakken had done.

Sorrin hugged her friend back tightly, actually somewhat relieved to have found her. She hadn’t realized how anxious she had become without her by her side. Following her back closer to the others, Sorrin settled in with a shy smile as Adorabella introduced herself to the group. She was prepared to introduce herself as well, however it seemed the one of the girls knew of her already. For a moment she felt bad, panicking at the thought that she had forgotten an acquaintance of some kind from back home, or from their journey to this place.

“We sat next to each other during that delightful presentation on how not to let the drakkan baby rip you to shreds on the way out.” Sorrin had to think back, not recalling much from the day prior. Sifting through what memories she did have, she was surprised to find that she did in fact remember this girl… if only slightly.

“It’s Aubree, isn’t it? I’m sorry for not recognizing you right away, my memories from yesterday are still a little fuzzy.” She smiled apologetically before regaining her usual cheerful expression.

“And yes, my name is Sorrin. It’s a pleasure to meet all of you.” The blonde waved her hand in greeting, She spent a little more time with the small group, keeping close to Adorabella most of the time out of fear of losing her once again. After a little while, however, their attentions were grabbed by the entrance of a Drakkan guard ordering them up and out of the pool. One girl ventured to question the man as to why they were being pulled so early, but it seemed they were not to get a straight answer. All they were told is that they were suddenly being handed over to their new husbands, regardless of whether or not they had actually completed their ‘training’.

Not wishing to be punished for anything else during her stay, Sorrin was immediately up and on her feet, awaiting Adorabella before making their way back up into the main part of the building. Having tasted warmth once again, the cold hit poor little Sorrin harder than it did upon her arrival, the girl shivering the farther they got from the springs. They had been allowed a short amount of time to gather what belongings they had brought with them before they were rounded back up and loaded into carriages for transport. Luckily she was able to load into the same wagon as Adorabella, though it was tough to say whose effort this was the result of. Both girls had maintained a rather tight grip on the other in fear of being separated.



Neither girl let go of the other’s hand, huddled together as the ventured further and further away from home. At some point Sorrin had nodded off, the rocking of the wagon enough to lull her to sleep with her head leaned against her friend’s shoulder. By the time she awoke, the carriages were pulling into the capital city, the sound of thunder startling her awake. Slightly panicked, Sorrin tried to stand as if to flee before Adorabella pulled her back down and held her close. The girl’s presence was comforting, so much so that Sorrin had no idea what she would do without her.

Once they were unloaded from the carriages and shuffled into the building, the girls were ordered to change clothes and freshen up for their new husbands to be. Adorabella had already changed before leaving the place known as Shadow Worth, Sorrin on the other hand was still wearing the rough garbs they had been provided. Ushered into a room, Sorrin was certain to pull Adorabella in after her so that they could stay together without fear of the other disappearing. This earned them a scowl or two, but there wasn’t much the guard was willing to do when it came to contradicting them. The brides had made it to their destination, there was no escape for them now thus there was no harm in allowing these two to remain together for just a few moments longer.

Having not really owned anything acceptable for such an occasion, Sorrin stressed over picking something to wear. Luckily, garbs had been provided for those of the girls like her who did not own acceptable clothing, or for some of the others that might not have had any time to gather belongings before being taken from their homes. Either way, Sorrin was relieved that she didn’t have to go into this event looking so far out of place. The dress she donned was nothing in comparison to the one Adorabella had chosen, but it suited her physic rather well.

The fabric was tealish in color and pretty loose, allowing for unrestricted movement. Leather arm bands and sandals that snaked up her calf were paired with the garment giving her a relaxed, yet regal look. She enlisted the help of her friend to tie her hair up using some of the supplies that had been provided, watching with awe as her look was completely transformed. Sorrin almost didn’t recognize her own reflection, but she didn’t mind as it was a rather good look for her. She only hoped that whatever man they were to be handed off too wouldn’t mind it.

Linking hands with Adorabella, the pair made their way into line as they were paraded out towards a room full of Drakkan. It was certainly a daunting sight for the young blonde, but as long as she was with Adorabella she felt like she would be alright. Unfortunately, such a sentiment was not to last. A tall man, whom Sorrin assumed to be Drakkan despite his lack of horns, approached the line and snatched her friend away. She held fast to the girl’s hand, almost being ripped from the line as well before she was forced to let go, held back by another girl who was witnessing the event. Stifling a cry, Sorrin was ushered on while Adorabella was whisked away without time to say a proper goodbye. She didn’t know why she hadn’t expected this… The girl had believed that if they could just stick together, they would make it. All they had to do was stand side by side and they would get to remain together. Now she was left standing all alone in line, eyes watering as realization and terror began weighing in on her.

Somewhere in the room words were said, pumping up an crowd that needed no help in psyching itself up. It wasn’t until the voice was finished speaking that a guard came for her, another girl she recognized in his other hand. She mustered a small smile to show that she did remember the girl before having her attention pulled to the man escorting them.

He had very little in the way of confidence, Sorrin able to feel the man’s hand shaking on her arm as he guided them forward. The man cautioned them to be on their best behavior, an ominous warning that did nothing for the poor girl’s nerves. Beginning to shake herself, Sorrin glanced wide eyed up at the terrifying man that was labeled as their new husband. She couldn’t see his face as it was hidden behind a mask, but it was more than just not having a face that put her off. The man had some kind of smoke or mist hanging around him, making him appear as some kind of phantom. And is none of that was scary enough, all around his body were chains that rustled every time he made a motion. Clearly it was enough to scare off the guard who essentially dumped the girls and ran, leaving her to face the terror on her own… Or well, nearly on her own.

Sorrin jumped a little as she felt something grab her hand looking over to find that the girl, whose name she remembered to be Arden, was attempting to comfort her. It worked a bit, enough that Sorrin was able to stop trembling for the most part. That wasn’t to last very long either, as the man began his inspection of the pair. Around them he circled, eyeing them up and down as if they were not but livestock. She shivered under his gaze, feeling as if she had somehow failed or disappointed the man. Difficult to tell when he wouldn’t show his face to either of them.

“Fine additions yes… Harand Kor has yet to house Gems… Empty cells and empty graves for the taking…” The sound of his voice sent another chill down Sorrin’s spine, eyes now fully wide in panic.

G-graves?! What does he mean by that? Is he going to kill us? Is this some kind of Drakkan saying, or joke, or...

Her thoughts were interrupted as her hand was torn from Arden’s, the pair of them shackled like some kind of prisoners. She couldn’t understand their purpose as it was clear she wasn’t capable of hurting anyone, and as her companion had pointed out, there was nowhere for them to run to either. Neither question was answered as the man decided to ignore them, demanding their names before he had even provided his own. Fear froze her, trapping her tongue within her throat as she fought not to cry.

Arden was first to answer, giving nothing but her first name. Sorrin wasn’t sure what impressed her more, the gut she was displaying with her attitude, or that she was able to stand in such a situation without breaking down like Sorrin felt like doing. Taking a shaky breath, Sorrin swallowed nervously before speaking up.

“M-my name i-is… My name is Sorrin, sir.” She said, doing her best not to crack under the stress. Glancing to her side, she could tell that Arden was worried about something, realizing she hadn’t seen the other girl she had been hanging with anywhere. She prayed silently for the girl to find herself in a situation better than theirs, not that such a task was all that difficult. Looking back up, Sorrin gathered the strength to speak once again.

“P-please sir… If you don’t mind my asking, may we learn the name of our… keeper?” She wasn’t entirely sure of how to address the man. Certainly they were brought and given out as brides. All they had been taught leading up to this moment was about bearing the children of these monsters as well as various other tasks, however this man gave them no indication that he thought of them as such. To her, it felt more as if they were captives, pets almost. Would it be appropriate to refer to him as husband in such a situation? Or would that just anger him more? She hoped her choice in the word ‘keeper’ would suffice, and that her question would not lead to any trouble.

The princess’ departure left Rya’s face a deep scarlet. Her hands wrapped around her stomach, as though trying to protect the nonexistent life within. Protecting it from the taint that the princess infected everything with.

She'd recognized the female drakkan the moment Azilon left to fight, the woman standing observing the battle between father and son with interest. And after, during her little scene, well, the side Rya was rooting for lost.

When in doubt, defer to your husband judgment.The advice from the year before echoed briefly around her head when she saw the woman approach. Since Azilon had never specifically instructed her what he expected her to do with royalty, she took that to mean do nothing. Which was more than fine by her. Still, she kept her head looking towards the floor, afraid that the princess would somehow see her secret thoughts. The second the woman was out of earshot, Rya's head shot up.

“She’s a self righteous-slagger eating munter,” Rya’s words coming out low, her eyes screaming with her poorly concealed hatred. It took a great effort for her hands to relax and return to her sides.

The princess has made an appearance at Shadow Worth the year before and it wasn't well received.

The air gem sat in the middle of the floor, trying desperately to hold up her dress as the crimson liquid seeped into the grey material. A nameless girl lay beside her, eyes staring into nothing as the stream of red turned into a puddle of anti-life.

“Perhaps the next girl will be a little smarter,”

Standing tall and proud and oh so superior and flocked by suiters too stupid to know better.

They were dead now.

Shaking her head of the rage, her eyes turned back towards the girl. Her….sister.

Tiny, willowy and pale. The girl radiated Gemmenia in a way that all the older gems had lost. Reaching out a hand, Rya rested her hand on the girls face before tossing her arms around the girls waist and pulling her into a crushing hug.

“I’m sorry you’re here,” Rya’s voice keeping a low tone. Her heart filled with pain as she held the girl. Pain that didn't start with the reaping and wouldn't end with it either. With great effort, Rya pulled away, although she still kept a protectively close distance to the girl. “But I hope you’ll find some happiness. I’m Rya,” As few moment passed before she seemed to have a sudden realization. ”Oh...this is Azilon. What are you known by?”