At some point it started raining. Kuki didn't mind the rain much, but was surprised when Vannoth wrapped his cloak around her. It was warm. Her face flushed at the thought of his kindness, though for some reason she doubted he did the act out of the goodness of his heart. When they had arrived, Kuki stopped for a moment and stared at Vannoth's manor. It's, well- a bit bigger than I imagined... It does look alright though, for a Drakkan home. Kuki observed the building closer as Vannoth spoke. "Now... I don't live here, but I do own it, and many of my people are likely inside, in fact many of my trainees will likely be inside. Many will attempt to touch you, maybe even harm you, if you try to leave my side or leave the same room I'm in... Do not be surprised if I have to break one or two of them in front of you for attempting to take or harm you." Okay, note to self: don't be alone. Kuki followed him into the manor, expecting the people Vannoth had mentioned. And sure enough, there was a party. The room had several drakkan in it.

The drakkans looked ready to fight whoever had just walked in the door. They all looked over at Vannoth and paled. Everyone was quiet. Vannoth walked into the room and roared at them to get out. He drew his sword as if he was prepared to make them leave with more... forceful means. Kuki stayed quiet through all this and hid behind Vannoth. Second note to self: Don't get on new husband's bad side. Vannoth sat in his now vacant chair and snapped at one of the drakkans that lingered to bring her a chair and something to eat.

When the drakkan came back, Kuki sat in the chair that was brought for her. She took a deep breath and thanked Vivari for the food in front of her. She started eating. The food was better than Kuki thought it would be. She was quiet up until she finished most of her food. "So, do you have anywhere I could meditate? Like, a quiet, private area?" While she was saying that, Kuki realized too late that what she said could be taken a bit differently than she meant. Her face flushed bright red and she tried to hide it behind her hair. "Ah! Wait, before you think anything, I didn't mean- um... I mean, is there anywhere I could be alone? A garden, perhaps? Or a library?"

"Yes, I think that would be, ah, prudent." The tension was leaving his muscles, albiet slowly. It had been years and years since anything had set him so off-kilter. The Berserker had been something like a bedtime story to him, as a child. Something he'd feared. He'd been young then, sure, not even old enough to hold a blade. He'd long thought himself free of such juvenile fears, but hearing that brute's name had rekindled something within him. He took another breath.

Steady, Kaivor.

"Though, I fear that finding my brother will be-"

"Come on then!" Delleck's shouting was audible over the din of conversation. "Put that pigsticker away and fight me with your hands!" Kaivor cringed involuntarily. It seemed as though his thoroughly drunk brother was picking a fight with some also-drunk minor lordling or another.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Kaivor muttered, looking at Kendra with exasperation before hurriedly moving to keep his brother from getting himself killed.

---

The Igvrius family had a manor in the city, and Kaivor was thankful for that, but he wished that it hadn't gone quite so long without use. The manor, smaller than some of the ones that surrounded it, had clearly been empty for years and years until recently. Despite leaning toward the smaller side, it could have supported more people than Kaivor had brought with him. A handful of servants and guards, and his brother was the extent of his entourage. The manor, clearly designed for the purpose of entertaining guests, seemed empty. Quiet. Delleck tried his best to remedy this.

"Ah, shit to yer caution. I could have taken 'im!" He roared, indignant.

"I'll not have you run through and dead so young because you couldn't hold your drink."

"I'll not have- not have, uh..." He trailed off, persumably having forgotten his witty retort. Kaivor clenched his fist. Were the man not of his own blood...

"Go to bed, Dell."

"You first." Delleck seemed satisfied with getting the last word in, and stumbled off to his room. Kaivor let out a long breath, then turned to his bride.

"It's getting late. I would think we should, ah, retire soon." He cleared his throat. "Would you like a drink, first?" He quirked an eyebrow. "Two, perhaps?"

---

At some point, though Aryll didn't know when, exactly, fear replaced the anger. The standing biterness that had risen in her throat when she met her new husband was replaced with abject terror and a strong self-preservation instinct. The Drakan, her husband, was dead. There was no grief, but in the few moments she had to observe the body, she felt sick. He was scarcely recognizable.

Then the murderer, the one who introduced himself as Höd Ultair, was all over her. She was immobilized, frozen by some primal thought that if she stood still enough he'd leave her alone. It almost worked. The brute seemed done with her, be she was cast off into a crowd of guards, who were all too eager to have her. One grabbed her by the arm, and she wound up with her other arm and slapped him across the face with all of her strength. His head didn't move an inch, the impact of her blow scarcely registering with him. It did, however, seem to surprise him enough for him to loosen his grip on her arm. She twisted as hard and she could, and wormed her way out of his grasp. As she backed away, she tripped over something and fell hard onto her back. As she craned her neck to see what had caused her to fall, she found herself practically sitting on her dead husband's mangled corpse. She let out a squeak of horror and scrambled backward, away from the body and the guards. The body didn't move, of course, but the guards were pacing toward her now. She screamed, practically screeched, desperate.

"Get the fuck away from me!" Her eyes franctically scanned the assembled Drakken. "Help me, please!"

It wasn't long before Ineraz was also rising from slumber along with her in the room. Evidently he was a light sleeper, which made sense. Most hunters were, usually for when they were out on an expedition where an animal may wander into their camp at night. Zel turned at the sound of him rising from the bed, and was treated to quite an eye full in turn. At first she wanted to turn her head away, and she even started to do so. But, she reminded herself, that was entirely pointless; he was her husband, she would most certainly have to handle such things sooner or later, and no amount of modesty would change that. Of course, that didn't mean she had to gaze at it intently. So instead she chose to look at his face. But, if he noticed her hesitation, he made no show of it as he got dressed.

"Good morning," she said in return. When he addressed her again regarding her garments, she took a moment to consider the question. "Some day wear would do I think, my lord. I'd like to keep the dress as clean as possible so I can save it for special occasions. And thank you for the opportunity to explore my new home." It was best, she figured, to be diplomatic.

He left the room with all his weapons in tow, and a bit later one of the guards entered and handed her a stack of clothes. She spent a bit examining them, and then began to slip them on. She had known they wouldn't fit well, being meant for another person entirely of the opposite gender. The shirt proved to be very baggy, which she remedied by pulling the fabric into a bundle at the small of her back and tying it in a knot, and she needed to roll the pant legs up several times to not step on the hem. Then there was the matter of the waist. Zel was by no means an hourglass shaped woman, but she was still thinner than the boy these clothes had been meant for. There was a belt provided, but she doubted it would have a hole that would work. And with her husband having taken anything that could be used to make a new hole, she would have to tie a knot in the belt as well to make sure her pants stayed up.

When she was reasonably sure she could walk around without having a wardrobe malfunction, she smoothed out the wrinkles she could and hoped her appearance wouldn't be too awful looking. Her alterations to make sure it fit had the effect of conforming the outfit to fit her curves a little better, but with no mirror she could only guess at how it looked. Regardless, she took a breath and stepped outside. One of the guards looked at her expectantly. "I'd like to see the kitchen, please," she asked, and with a nod he began to move down the hall. She stepped lightly to keep up, and through some turns and doorways found herself standing in a large cooking chamber. Along one wall were several places for chopping, roasting, stewing, and frying. Along another wall seemed to be the stores of food not freshly caught, alongside some spices most of whose name she didn't recognize, assuming they were labeled at all. And in the back there stood what could only be a carving station, designated for the prepping of fresh kills.

"Are there some eggs and some meat for bacon or sausages available?" she asked the guard who still traced her every move, "I'd like to make some breakfast for my husband. I'm sure his sparring will work up an appetite."

The man helped her find the things she needed, and she set about preparing the meal. This kitchen was unlike anything she'd ever experienced, but there was only so much that could be changed about a kitchen. And, in spite of having to acclimate to tools and utilities she'd never seen, something about stoking, monitoring, and adjusting a fire beneath a pan seemed to put her at ease. The meat proved more gamey than she was used to, and she vaguely wondered what sort of animal it could have come from, but with time she managed to cut it into the right portions and roll it into sausages. Into the pan they went, one for her, two for Ineraz, and as an afterthought one for Sera as well, and soon the scent of cooking meat filled the space. It was a much more pungent smell than she'd anticipated, however, and soon she was picking through the spices on the wall. Finding one that smelled alright to her, she applied it to the meat and watched it carefully as it began to brown.

Perhaps, she dared to think, things might not be so bad...

A stifled grunt was all Adora's explanation of the offending tea received as Kagan stirred the honey in. It was nice to see the girl had some experience with tea though. Saved him the trouble of experimenting with his own mixes or buying from a supposedly reputable dealer, only to be screwed by his own lack of knowledge or the general distaste for the brew in the region. "I'll pass on the cream. Agitates my stomach." He grunts, finally sipping from his mug again, the concoction now sufficiently sweet to his taste. It was still offensively floral for his taste, but she was not lying about it helping push away his remaining grogginess (albeit slowly).

He was about to suggest the gem look through the small package of tea he had picked up earlier in the week before she snatched at his hand, her sister bride mumbling something as the lilac haired gem examined the wound. The Kinner boggled at Adora for a moment, both by her sudden lack of sultriness (which was new), her rapid apology, and her...to him, overreaction to the cut. "Its...Fine Adora." He says lazily as the gem tore through her trunk for a promised salve. "Just a scrape from a gentlemen who tried to cheat me out of the both of you yesterday...Already cleaned it." He stops and sips, thinking for a moment. "Mace is from him too. Trade for my sword. Very thoughtful about the whole exchange that Holg." He adds, grinning into his cup.

Last he saw of the drakken in question, someone had dragged him off the field. Still alive, weirdly. Choking on his own blood and speaking gibberish (well, gargaling gibberish was more accurate), but very much ‘alive'. Kagan almost felt sorry for him. He mostly felt sadistically giddy that the poor bastard was likely not even aware that he didn't even have two coins to rub together for a Kinning, but he also felt almost sorry. His musings on the likely hell he had rained down on the dumb bastard who thought it smart to try and steal a kinner's tithe by Aubree, finally speaking loud enough for him to properly hear her. He stares at her for a second, slightly amused at how nervous she seemed to be. "Between the two of you? Excetionaly well." He says before bitting into a pear.

He took a moment to look over their respective clothing, weighing weather or not he wanted to order them into something fancier. Ultimately, he decided agaisnt it. He really couldn't be ass'd to figure out if what they were currently wearing WAS formal wear for their people, and the sheer tops and crotchless ‘pants' (more like vague collections of silk that were roughly assembled into pants) normally associated with brides of highlords would be a pain in the ass to get a hold of on short notice. Also he always thought the outfits looked more than a little silly.

"We will be getting your collars and brands done first thing. Then I'll take you shopping for a little while before a meeting I need to attend." He says, idly informing the girls of the coming labors of the day. "Depending on how long all this takes, we might be able to be on the road back home before dark."

"So, do you have anywhere I could meditate? Like, a quiet, private area?" there was a moment as she thought about what she said, and began blushing "Ah! Wait, before you think anything, I didn't mean- um... I mean, is there anywhere I could be alone? A garden, perhaps? Or a library?" He looked over and the rage left him for a moment before he nodded and held his shoulder. He put the sword down a bit eagerly and it was easy to see he was in pain. For a moment one of the younger men walked up quickly and was about to say something- the baleful glare and rising heat was enough to discomfort the young one. "I am fine.... but thank you. Spend your time elsewhere, fool." It was clear he was not intentionally this wrathful and actually held some care for those around him, at least for the young warriors anyway. With a short sigh, painful roll of his shoulder, and a grumble, he looked back over "I have a private room, and a small office of sorts... they likely need a good dusting, and maybe some clean up." he stands and starts walking to the far end of the hall, where a large pair of wooden and braced doors stood. He opens a door to reveal the untouched bedroom beyond. "Will this do for now, Kuki....?" The room beyond, while not dusted and untouched, was very well furnished with a massive bed, a few unused stands and a door- presumably leading to a Closet. Not overly cozy, but practical. To finish the room was a window to the open yard.

Adora barely contemplated what her sister said to her regarding her already being a slave. As she saw it, she had more freedom here than she'd had back home as a noblewoman. Though, time could only tell if her ability to do what small things she wished would remain. Besides, there was a difference between subservience to her Drakkan overlords and to a sister bride. No matter how grumpy that girl may be.
---------
It was.... Fine.

Fine?

He wasn't upset or angered by her touch? She paused to glance over her shoulder at him as her fingers touched the salve and wrap in question. She brought them with her back to the table despite his insistence that it had been cleaned. She set the salve and gauze wrap on the table as she knelt at his side. Her fingers reached out and touched the back of his hand, the tips skimming the surface. She could feel the bones beneath his flesh. His skin here was surprising soft compared to the calluses which covered his palm and fingers. When the hand appeared free she took it in her own and raised the palm to her lips where she placed soft kisses along the palm of it. She then pressed her cheek into the palm, looking up into his eyes with worry lacing her own black orbs.

"Despite it having been cleaned, when exposed to outside sources infection is still a possibility. I would feel eternally relieved if you would allow me this small token of affection." Her words came out half whispered as she turned her lips toward the palm again. Once she had his acceptance a bright smile lit up her features. She removed the lid from the salve and as delicately as possible spread it over the gash. The salve had a slight warming property to it and smelled of an earthy wood and mint. Once the cut was properly covered, a layer of white potion so thick the cut could not be seen, she wound the wrap around his palm. Tight enough that it would not move but loose enough to allow him full range of motion. She tied the wrap off and set about putting her medicinal supplies away.

The next thing he said shocked her slightly. As she closed the lid of her trunk a flutter of hope spread its wings in her heart and flitted about her belly. Collars? Brands? Were they mere chattle? She supposed so, though this statement meant, perhaps, he had decided to keep her after all. She wouldn't be killed? Slave to a fairly calm Drakkan was so much better than her death. She did not look forward to the branding, of course. But if it meant she could stay then she was willing to let him put scars all over her face and take her feet. And some light shopping? At least he was offering them something fun, some sort of bribe for their acquiescence. She allowed herself to hope this was not some stab back at the prince when he returned her. That he really did intend to bring her back to his home. That was what he was saying after all. Adora felt lighter than she had that morning. Than even the night before. She would not allow herself relief just yet. But hope was harmless, wasn't it?

"Is it a meeting with the prince?" she inquired, coming back to join the pair. After additional movements of his hand with the wrapping on she did a quick check that it had stayed firmly in place. Once satisfied that it had, she placed a hand on his shoulder and offered him a light kiss on the cheek before wandering off to begin the process of packing things up and tidying the bed. She felt that she was practically walking on air.

As his two brides climbed into the bed next to him, Wilhelm raised his hand and wish a brief swoosh conjured a pair of small breezes to extinguish the torches on the wall, plunging the room into darkness. He felt little need to assert himself upon either of the Gems, not that night. There would be a time and place for all things, and while the time was yet to be truly determined the place would certainly be in his castle where he held his dominion. So he simply laid there, observing the two of them as they drifted off. They both shifted their positions for some time seeking comfort, but at long last they both stopped moving and took on sleeping breaths. Only then, was he was certain they were both soundly dreaming, did Wilhelm close his own eyes for the night.

Many hours later he opened them again as the sunrise's fingertips crept in through the window. Both brides were still in the bed, as he knew they would be, and as he roused himself he moved very carefully so as to not brush either of them out of the bed by accident. He made his way out to the living area of the house, where his servant was already at work preparing the table for breakfast. With naught but a nod of his head Wilhelm moved past him and out to the front. Stationed there was a large enclosed carriage, black in color with the crest of his house on the sides, pulled by a pair of powerful horses. Alongside them was another horse, this one a massive destrier as black as night that dwarfed the horses assigned to the carriage, fully saddled- Wilhelm's personal steed. Another servant greeted him, and for several minutes they discussed the travel plans for the day.

"There's been reports of a landslide blocking Bloodrock Pass," the servant said, "If that's true we'll have to find another way."

"Then we shall take an alternate route through the marsh," Wilhelm responded.

"Would continuing along the highroad not be faster, my lord?"

"It would, but there are always spineless cowards who seek to steal brides away rather than earn them. That a landslide has conveniently blocked a primary point of passage to the south at this time suggests to me that it was no accident," Wilhelm asserted, "And if I'm right the intent will be to drive travelers to the highroad. Open spaces, sparse visitors, plenty of places to stage an ambush. And I am not in the mood to deal with such things. We will travel across the marsh, and that will be that."

"As you wish."

With that dealt with, and another matter to keep his mind occupied, Wilhelm turned and re-entered the abode. The scent of cooking meat filled the air, and based on that he concluded breakfast was not long in coming. Moving swiftly, he opened the bedroom door once more.

"Rouse yourselves," he ordered, his voice growing louder but unchanging in pitch or intent, to his brides, "Breakfast will be ready shortly, and then we will depart."

When Onyx and Amalia came to the living area they would find a square wooden table, laid with three sets of plates and utensils. Wilhelm sat behind one, already slicing into his meal- a side of meat lightly crisped with a chunk of bread off to the side that was mirrored on the remaining two plates.

"Come, sit," Wilhelm said between bites, "While it remains hot."

Ineraz was sitting near the head of the table, though the head seat itself was empty, his brother nowhere in sight. His father still hadn’t arrived. Or he had, and was attending other business. Ineraz had no way of knowing just yet. The other Drakken present made the ambiance quite the rowdy and cheerful one, despite the still early morning. The Evrenarth heir had just begun his meal and was chatting with his nearby companions, when a puzzled looking Drakkan approached with a seemingly disgruntled servant following closely behind. The servant was of a reptilian race and was obviously one of the cooks.

“Heir Ineraz, this servant claims to have found one of your brides in the kitchen,” the male announced to him. He made no attempts to whisper, because even though he was standing right next to Ineraz, they barely heard each other what with the easily flowing conversation in the hall.

“Oh?” Ineraz asked, looking curiously at the reptilian female.

“Yesss, masster,” she hissed, her forked tongue peeking out swiftly between small but sharp teeth. “One of yourss is moving about. But sshe knowss nothin’ bout the sspices!” the female complained with an annoyed flick of her tail.

Apparently, the servants weren’t particularly pleased to have some unknown Gem loitering about. Ineraz sighed and looked at his guard. “Bring her here. And no need to be rough,” he gave him a narrow-eyed glare. Drakken were so quick to act upon a perceived slight, but he wouldn’t have others taking liberties with his property.

The Drakkan guard and the reptilian servant left, and Ineraz enjoyed his meal in peace for several moments. The male Drakkan soon returned with Zeldria in tow. The guard gently pushed the bride into the seat next to Ineraz, while he himself chewed on a sausage contemplatively.

“She made these, boss, wanted to give one to you, I think” he commented. “Not too bad for a foreigner, though I doubt the servants would like hearing that,” he chuckled.

Ineraz raised a brow as he watched the Drakkan continue eating part of a meal that his bride had supposedly made for him. “Oh, and you decided to be my food taster, did you?” he teased the Drakkan, though there was a hint of sharp reproof in his tone as well.

“Uh,” the other swallowed carefully. “Sorry. But there’s more back there,” he nodded towards the kitchen “if you want,” he then shrugged and left. Ineraz snorted as he watched the other walking away swiftly, probably thinking Ineraz wouldn’t act if he disappeared from sight quickly enough. But to Ineraz even a minor transgression such as this was worth a pay cut, at the very least.

Keeping that in mind, Ineraz turned towards Zeldria. He struggled to keep a grimace off his face at seeing her in the poorly fitting Drakkan clothing. As appealing as she was when taken on her own, her current apparel could be described as nothing but horrendous.

“After we eat, we will go shopping. You definitely need better clothes. Sera as well. How come you haven’t brought any with you? I though the Drakken gave you time enough to get some things from home,” he wondered.

He continued with his meal then, and urged Zeldria to eat as well. Sometime during their meal, Ineraz addressed an earlier issue. “I don’t mind if you like cooking,” he said. Truthfully, he thought such things should be left up to the servants, but encouraging his brides to find things they liked doing was not a bad idea. “The servants here just have some pride, you know. Doing well what they do is what keeps them alive and healthy after all,” he explained nonchalantly. “If you want to try again, just say so, and I’ll arrange the servants to leave you to it. They could even tutor you a bit if you wish, though I doubt they’ll be kind about it.”

Varzar stood before his father’s door. His fist a mere inch from the door. Ready to knock. Yet he didn’t. As he stood frozen in place by indecisiveness a myriad of thoughts raged through his head. What would his father say? Or think? What would the punishment be? Doubt and fear was strangling his heart. He almost walked away but the tears of Nadia he saw just a few hours earlier made him turn on his heel again. “Five seconds of courage.” He told himself in his head. “Five seconds, that’s all I need.” More determined than ever he marched straight for the door, knocked and nearly pissed himself when his father immediately answered: “Enter.” All the courage fled him but he couldn’t turn away now. Slowly he opened the door and quickly closed it behind him. His father was writing a letter. It was the most serene thing Varzar had seen his father do. “what do you want, boy?”

“I’m here to talk about my mothers.” Keregar looked up from the parchment. “They’re not your mothers.” He said while dipping his quill in ink and continue writing. “Gems, then.” Varzar corrected himself as he approached the Warlord. “They’re going to die.” Keregar stern but uncaring face did not change. “I mean soon. They’re going to die soon. Neither can survive Drakka. I talked with them and-“ “And you were blinded by your youth.” Keregar dropped the quill in the ink pot and leaned backwards in his chair. “All Gems die. In a year. In five years. Maybe twenty. But they die. Always.” Varzar swallowed deeply. “No I mean… they will die soon. Kieran is already hunting one. The twins can snap them like twigs by accident!” Keregar stilled looked uncaring. “They will die and then.. I will have to-“ Varzar could control himself anymore. He tried to wipe a tear away. “Then I have to bury them- under- under the old tree.” The little Drakkan was sobbing now. “And- And I say my prayer and- and- I just can’t… dad. I can’t. Not again. I already did it. I already buried three mothers. I know they couldn’t help it. I know they broke the rules but- but I still buried them. And I still mourned them.”

Keregar let his son cry for a moment. His face was still icy cold. Though when Varzar, rather ashamed of how he looked before his father, quickly gathered himself again the Warlord spoke: “You love them too much.” Inside he was utterly disgusted. How would one of his blood get so misguided? “They are Gems. Slaves. Brides!” His temper was flaring up now. How could his own son be so stupid? So short-sighted? “You talk as if they are more than just tools. They exist to bare us children. They bore your brothers. They bore you! That is their purpose once chosen! Beyond the delivery of a child they have no use. No reason to live. Of course they die, son. They have to.” Keregar got up from behind his desk. “I may not have taught you that lesson very well. So let me teach it to you again.” Keregar leaned over his desk with both fists resting on it. “You will bury these Gems too. And the ones that come after them and the ones after that. And then, after a few centuries of burying your so-called ‘mothers’ you will bury your first bride. And then another and another. Finally you will start burying the brides of your sons. That’s a lot of deaths. If you love every single one of them, you won’t live another century. But I don’t blame you for that.” Calmer now, Keregar sat back down. “They can be dangerous, venomous creatures. They strike at your heart. Make you care.”

“Father no.” Varzar sat wide-eyed looking at his father. He just made things worse. So much worse. “No, no, no they didn’t do anything! I swear they’re just. They miss home! Like you miss home!”

His son had to learn. But Keregar couldn’t just break the care he had for his new mothers. Besides, it was true that Kieran was already on the prowl. Keregar needed his Gems to live a little longer. He needed his tools to live a little longer. Not that he really wanted another child. But in his old days, the services they provided became increasingly more enjoyable. Maybe it was a gift from Sorrak? Either way, he needed them to survive another few years. “Very well. I will ease their suffering. Maybe give them a few gifts tomorrow, from the markets.” Varzar’s eyes lit up in happiness. “But you… You will have to do something in return.” The light in his eyes vanished quickly. “You will hurt one of them.”

---

When the sun rose from the horizon, the metal clash could be heard from outside. Varzar held his shield high and sword ready as one of the twins was raining down hammer blows. The other two children of Keregar was doing push-ups in the wet mud. All under supervision of the great Warlord. But he could see that his youngest was not paying as much attention as he should. His eyes kept turning to the door towards the house, and the rooms beyond. Kieran, on the other hand, had utter bitterness in his eyes. Something happened last night, everyone could see it. But only Keregar and Kieran knew exactly what had happened. For now Keregar let his gems sleep in. There was no reason to wake them.

The sun shimmered through the curtains hanging over the window, their opaque texture allowing the light to kiss the bedroom. The yellow giant had shone in the room for a number of hours before the snow haired girl’s eyes began to flutter open. Morning had come all too soon, and with it, a mild throbbing in her head. Sera looked around the room from her place on the floor, careful not to move her body until she had assessed her surroundings, ensuring no unwelcome visitors had snuck in the room in the middle of the night. Once the girl had determined it was safe, she pushed herself into a half sitting position amongst her blankets and pillows.

Sera looked to the massive bed in the middle of the room to find that it was empty; no Zeldria, no Ineraz. An inquisitive eyebrow cocked, wondering where the two had managed off to. Her curious thought was rudely interrupted by the throbbing in her head again. The girl rubbed her forehead with the back of her palm, irritated by the unknown feeling. The drink?

With a heavy sigh, Sera managed to her feet. Her hand quickly reached out to find something nearby to steady her as she stumbled over her own shaky legs. One second. Two second. Three. Blurred vision cleared, balance restored, and the young woman finally seemed to have made it up in one piece; the ache in her head was affecting her more than she had realized. Sera walked toward the master bed, running her hand along the silk of the sheets. The material was soft against her skin and for a moment, she lavished in the thought of what it would be to sleep in the bed.

It’s OK to want it…

Crimson eyes widened.

”... want what?”

You already know.

Sera shook the thought away and pulled her hand from the sheets. Her gaze fell to the floor where a lump of clothing lay; it must’ve been her husbands. She picked the cloth off the floor, holding it firmly between both her hands and rubbing her fingers together to test the material. Again her mind wandered to the night before, specifically of Ineraz posturing on the bed… his bare skin teasing to the eye.

Don’t deny your curiousity…

”I… I’m not curious..” a soft voice replied, dropping the tunic from her hands and removing herself from the side of the bed. ”Just shut up!”

~~~

Sera emerged from the bed chambers and was greeted by a Drakkan guard looking at her strangely. He very well could have heard her speaking to Serafine, or maybe he thought she was speaking to herself. The young girl looked at him sharply, almost tauntingly. As quick as the glare came, it disappeared as Sera turned on her heel and began walking down the hallway. The guard followed behind the snow haired girl, not speaking a word.

As Sera explored the manor, her eyes repeatedly shot back to the guard who was following her, rather to the guard who was watching her. She didn’t care for her babysitter and detested being watched. It reminded her too much of home, of the villagers constantly keeping their eyes on her… of people following her…

… of people slaughtering her with cruel names.

In her travels the young girl had managed to make her way outside and was now standing amongst a small green space littered with shrubbery and pathetic looking flowers that had a sweet stench. The guard behind her was speaking words she chose to ignore. Her clear disregard for the Drakkan had provoked him to approach her and place a hand on her shoulder.

FREAK!

Instinctually, a small hand snapped onto the Drakkan’s wrist and heated to a burning temperature rapidly. A smell of burning flesh quickly replaced the sweet aroma of the flowers. Crimson eyes whirled around to look at the Guard who had grabbed her. ”I’M NOT A FREAK!”

THWAP.

A swift hand fell across the Gem’s face in one quick movement, leaving a red mark against the girl’s porcelain like skin. Sera released the Drakkan the moment he struck her and quickly backed away from him. A comforting hand found her stinging cheek and she looked up at her Guard through silvery strands of hair that fell in front of her face. What she noticed was the man’s seared wrist, rather than his angered face. ”I.. I… I’m sorry! I didn’t.. I didn’t mean to!”

~~~

The guard returned to the manor, stopping by another guard on the way with an inquisitive question on where his lord was. The Drakkan made his way to the dining hall and knocked on the large door before entering quietly. The guard crossed the room on light feet and stopped beside Ineraz, not realizing he likely carried the smell of burnt flesh from the fresh wound upon his wrist. He leaned his head down to meet with Ineraz’s ear and whispered quietly to him, ”Your smallest bride has decided to cause some trouble. Would you like me to bring her to you?”

All the reassurance in the world could do little to calm Xaelia. The tears continue to flow freely even as Nadia made every effort to comfort her, which only causes her to sob harder.

“Y-You can’t k-know this is the bottom ,” she said, her voice turning into hiccups as she tried to stop her crying. “T-this is Drakka and I think it goes so much further down”

“Well, maybe…. Maybe it doesn’t?” Nadia started, still kneeling next to her sister-bride on the floor of their shared room. “I know it’s… umm…” She searched her mind for something, anything better to say than that, but after a moment she just sighed.

“Who am I trying to convince? You’ve got it right, we’re as good as dead. But, we aren’t dead yet so… Why don’t we try to put that off as far as we can hm?” She smiled weakly as she reached out to pull Xaelia up. “Come on, let’s try to go to sleep. We can talk more in the morning.”

Reluctantly, Xaelia rose, crawling into the bed. Even that felt unfamiliar. The blankets were rough and heavy, better suited for frigid climates than this desert one, although the rainstorm left her longing for warmth. The scent, while clean and left a strangely metical scent behind instead of a soft, grassy flowery one of the soap used at home.

With a final, shuddering breath, Xae buried her head in her pillow. She was feigning sleep, her ear ever on alert for the lingering threat of Kieran.

She couldn't say for sure when her fake sleep turned into a real one, her exhausted body forcing her unconscious. The room was still as dark as when she fell asleep, darker even, as the fire had long since burned out.

The only other thing that market the passage of time was the ever growing emptiness in her stomach, refusing to let her forget that breakfast of yesterday was the last time that they had had a meal. Yet, even that couldn’t pull her from her bed. At the very least, she sat up, looking over at her sister-bride, waiting for her to awaken.

Nadia watched sadly as Xaelia pulled herself into bed, wondering how she could help her. Everything was bad, and she was right to be sad and scared and…. Nadia walked over to her own bed and lay down on top of the covers. She was too warm to cover up, and if they would have to react quickly to anything in the night… It was best to stay like this. She watched the fire burn out as she faded along with it, falling into a thankfully dreamless slumber.

In the morning when she woke, her first thought was to check on Xaelia and see if she was okay, but as she looked over she
noticed that her sister-bride was already awake, watching her. She got up quickly, stuttering as she stood. “G-good morning Xae. Did you… sleep okay?”

“As well as can be expected I suppose ,” her voice came out gravely, but it carried a muted calm. “Do you think… we are to stay in here?” That would be the safe bet. To wait like obedient pets to be let out by their masters. The choice leaving a sour taste in Xae’s mouth.

“I hope not…” Nadia said, moving to the door. She turned the handle and tried to open it for a good minute before remembering that she locked it. “Oh, the key… I don’t want to just sit around here, even if it means going out and facing those scary kids.” She continued as she found the key and unlocked the door, standing to the side as it opened for Xaelia to go out first. “Besides, we don’t wanna miss breakfast do we?” She added with a smile.

“I suppose you are right. A moment? ” She asked, pulling a fresh tunic and leggings out of the trunk. Off white and brown. She ran a brush through her hair, but otherwise let it be. The slap from Keregar had darkened to a bruise below her eye. A few experimental prods left her wincing. “I guess I am ready as I’ll ever be,” she said, taking a deep breath before stepping out of the room into the bright light of day. There was clanging coming in the direction of the court yard, the only sign of life in the whole house.

“Oh, right.” Nadia said as Xaelia changed. She turned away to give the girl her privacy, also closing the door slightly as she did. She hadn’t even thought to change- all the clothes in the trunk were the same to her, except for her few things, but she didn’t want to wear those now. Dull, plain things that could be worn for anything.. And, was it even expected of her to be proper anymore? To separate bedclothes from dayclothes? As soon as Xaelia said she was ready, Nadia nodded and followed her out into the hallway.

The sounds of fighting were back, and Nadia couldn’t help the thought that that’s all Keregar’s family ever seemed to do. She glanced at Xaelia, wondering how they should go about this. ““So I guess maybe we’ve already missed it? Or Drakkan just don’t eat.”

Xaelia shrugged, her mind unable to think of a response to that. Stopping by the door that lead to the outside, the sound of as even louder here. “I guess all we can do is ask,” she said softly, taking in a deep breath, her hand reaching out as though to open the door, freezing inches from the handle.

As Xaelia froze, Nadia reached out to hold her hand, moving to open the door together. Outside, Keregar stood, watching his sons intently as they exchanged blows. As Nadia stepped out into the morning sun, she pulled Xaelia out with her, keeping a firm grip on her sister-bride’s hand to try and show her that she would stay by her side.

“Good morning, m’lord.” She greeted Keregar once they were close enough to the warlord. Not hesitating at all, she glanced over at the boys fighting and asked, “So, did we miss breakfast then?”

The moment they were out in the courtyard, Xae jerked her hand out of Nadia’s, crossing her arms protectively in front of her. Her eyes drifting over the scene in front of her, the brightness of the morning causing her eyes to tighten into a squint. Xaelia’s eyes narrowed as she saw the twins, little more than a glare, only to soften slightly when they fell on Varzar. She still didn’t trust the child, but he really hadn’t been anything but kind since they arrived. Her entire posture changed the moment she saw Kieran, her shoulders tensed, as though she was about to bolt. With great effort, Xaelia drug her eyes away from the Lord’s children to look at the man himself. In an instant, the hate she felt last night filled her again. But the ache coming from her cheek dimmed it slightly. A reminder that Keregar could and would do whatever he wanted to them. She gave a tight lipped nod in his direction, not trusting herself to speak just yet.









"We will be getting your collars and brands done first thing. Then I'll take you shopping for a little while before a meeting I need to attend. Depending on how long all this takes, we might be able to be on the road back home before dark."

A cough wracked through Bree has the news hit her the same time that she tried to swallow a piece of bread. She took another sip of Adora’s, now cold, bitter tea, “B-branding?” She waited a moment, studying Kagan’s face for any hint of a joke or flicker of uncertainty of his actions. Anything she could use to disway his current mindset. Seeing nothing she scrambled on. “You’d really do that?” The alarm was evident in her voice, but so was a hint of disappointment and disbelief , like a mother finding out their child wasn’t as innocent as they pretended to be. A strategy her own mother used often in her raising. The idea of the collar concerned her significantly less than the brand. It was protection really. Showing that you belong to something stronger than the person attacking you. The brand… that was pain and defigurment.

She also rarely ever felt pain, at least, not from flames. Fire gems didn’t get burned, their affinity preventing most causal burns from stoves and carelessness. But she could only imagine the pain it would cause.

But that wasn’t the most troubling thing.

Leaving now would mean traveling further away from Allie.

“Are you in such a hurry to leave? The capital seems-“ she struggled to find the words to filling the blank. “Nice ” she finished rather lamely. Her eyes flicking over to Adora who was now tidying up the room. Yet another thing Bree had never had to do.

Aurora’s eyes lingered upon the scene before her for a few moments longer before she retreated, following after Zakroti as he led the way from the royal estate. Between her short lord and his fragile bride the pace was far slower than she would have normally preferred, though after such a long journey… such a pace wasn’t so bad. She stifled a yawn as she trailed behind the strange pair, ever aware of the group of what appeared to be soldiers surrounding them. No doubt they had their eyes fixed on her to assure her compliance, which was no real surprise considering her earlier outburst… Though she wondered how dedicated they would be in protecting her. Zakroti seemed like the protective type, but everything she had witnessed thus far, she was not so sure what would happen if someone were to attempt to challenge for ownership over her.

Such a thought only served to anger the girl so she pushed it from her mind, instead allowing her eyes to wander about. There wasn’t much for her to see aside from the bodyguards, just the darkened shapes of various buildings she did not know. The scent of rain was heavy in the air bringing with it a damp chill that sent a shiver through her body. It served only to add to her already growing fatigue, pulling her mind to a dream space where she could lounge in comfort and not worry about any of that which plagued her.

It was almost a relief once they had arrived at their destination, Aurora putting up little resistance as she was led inside. Had it been anyone else, she might have been a bit more wary of the situation knowing that once she entered, she was no longer guaranteed personal safety. Albeit once removed from the homeland her status was that of an object with little to no rights, but somehow she doubted this man would do her any undue harm… At least for the time being. There was no telling what the future held, but he seemed to be making an attempt at giving her space to acclimate to all that had happened leading up to these moments.

She stood quietly as he exchanged words with a servant, though what exactly was said she could not recite. Her eye raised lazily from the floor as it was mentioned their need to speak and a request for food, Aurora somewhat pleased at what looked like the man following through on his promise. This put her mind at ease some, her heart yearning for the opportunity to ask her questions and finally learn what had actually happened to her sister a year prior… but she found herself equally wishing for the bed she now knew to be just down the hall. The hope was that it would be better than the cold prison cell of a room the girls had stayed in before being delivered, but even if it weren’t she would have still been grateful for a place to rest her head.

Zakroti, finally addressing her, offered to postpone their interrogation until the morning over breakfast. She found his comment rather odd but she thought it best not to question it, instead chalking it up to being a Drakkan saying or something of the sort. It mattered little whether he noticed her fatigue or simply offered out of courtesy, as it saved her the trouble of having to ask… especially after the scene she had almost caused at the Reaping.
“If waiting until the morning is not an issue for you, than I agree it might be better. A tired mind is more readily distracted and clouded by emotions. I’ll admit that much and retire for the night. You had better not break your promise to me though, for I will learn what information I want to know one way or another.” Aurora spoke before he linked his arms with the girl who she had learned along the way to be called Miry. It almost sounded like a nickname, shortened for something else, but she cared little for what it might be, after all, the less she had to interact with the girl the better.

The invitation to join the pair was left open should she change her mind, leaving the girl rooted to her spot even after they had disappeared from view. Frame rocked by yet another massive yawn, Aurora made the decision to turn in for the night. Making her way down the hall, she peered into the room with a great deal of hesitation. She wasn’t quite sure what she was expecting when she opened the door, perhaps a darkened torture room of sorts, but it did not stand out as being all that uncomfortable. The decorations were crude, clearly thrown together with some haste, but she didn’t mind such things so late at night. All that mattered was the actual bed standing across the room from her, seeming to beckon her in from her place in the doorway.

Turning to the man who was to be guarding her door, Aurora thought hard for a few moments before choosing to speak. It was clear what his job was, mostly to keep her from wandering off, but she figured she would test the waters a bit to see if he was posted for her benefit as well. Clearing her throat politely to gain his attention, she bowed her head slightly before returning to an upright position.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I had a request if such a thing were allowed. Obviously you cannot refuse the lord of the house entry… But if at all possible, it is his bride I wish to remain outside. Her presence is not welcome around me and I simply wish to acclimate to my new surroundings in peace. I would appreciate it if you would at least consider my plea.” The fire Gem’s request was honest enough, spiteful albeit, but honest all the same. The girl that was to be her sister bride seemed like the sort that would pester for forgiveness, something that Aurora was far from ready to give… At least not until she had learned of the events that took place a year prior.

Bowing her head once again, Aurora let herself back into the room and closed the door behind her with a sigh. All at once the last of her energy disappeared, leaving her to collapse onto the bed with little grace. By this point she was far too exhausted to care about finding something to change into, opting to remove and leave the dirty garments in the middle of the floor. She would see about replacements in the morning… Something that seemed so far away as she quickly drifted off into sleep.

~~~

Her dreams that night were quite vivid and none too pleasant, leaving her tossing in cold sweats well into the morning hours. Even as the sun rose, Aurora did not, caught deep in a world of twisted memories. Her sister’s bright smile haunted her from beyond the grave, showing her a world where she had never been taken away. In such a world she was chained to the shadows of her elder siblings, heard and seen by none around her.
When it came time for the Reapers to choose her sister for the ceremony it was Aurora the town offered up instead, begging that the important sister be left home. Bound by chains and abandoned by all that she knew as home, Aurora was shipped off to a land she knew nothing about to fend for herself against a race of demons.

With a strangled shout Aurora shot straight up in bed, the sheets falling away as she struggled to regain her composure. She strained for a proper breath, beads of sweat rolling down her face and back in an attempt to cool the fevered state. It took her a few moments to come to her senses, attempting to place yet another new location.

The Reaping ceremony had indeed happened, though perhaps not the way it had in her dream, but it had happened all the same. She was no longer under the care of Drakkan who were to train her without damaging the goods, but instead a ‘finished’ product delivered to her new owner. Aurora had been lucky enough to end up with a man who cared for them physically, seeing that she had a proper place to sleep the night away. It was not something she was willing to expect as the norm quite yet though, suspicious that it might be a trap in order to get her comfortable before he attempted to mold her to his will like the other girl seemed to be.

She would not love a monster.

Exhaling slowly, Aurora pushed the rest of the sheets away from her, standing up to her full height next to the bed. Still quite warm from her panicked state, Aurora chose to put off finding clothes for the moment, instead walking to the nearby window to gaze outside. There wasn’t much that interested her outside the walls of her room, but the light emanating from the sky above served to calm her nerves ever so slightly.

Returning to her bed, she set to work making it up carefully though she had no reason to. Part of her wanted to believe that she was saving whatever other servants her husband had from doing any unnecessary work because of her… But the reality was far more likely to be her attempts at stalling. Day had arrived, and with it a new opportunity to learn the truth. It was what she had been waiting for, something that nearly got her into trouble upon meeting the man for the very first time even… But there she stood fixing her bed in the nude putting off joining the rest once again.

Once the bed had been made, and remade, Aurora heaved a sigh. There were few choices left for her, she had to face him sometime. After a short investigation of the room, the girl decided to redress in the garments from the previous night. Flashy as they might have been, there was no reason to let a perfectly good outfit go to waste. After all, they had been fresh upon arrival. There was no reason for to change out of them just yet.

Putting on a brave face, Aurora situated herself and reached for the door handle, Slow to poke her head out into the hallway to survey her surroundings.

Amalia woke from a long hard night plagued by bad dreams. She stayed abed, her eyes closed, wanting to pretend that if she didn't open her eyes morning would not really have arrived yet.
It seemed strange to wake as a married woman. She didn't feel that differently but that could be because her new lord and husband had not taken her or Onyx. She pondered the significance of such restraint. Did he not find them attractive perhaps? She had heard of males who enjoyed the company of other males only. Was Wilhelm perhaps one of these men? If so, mayhap he would find it distasteful to be around the women.
The thought should have brought her happiness, but oddly it didn't. Rather, the Earth Gem found herself secretly hoping that that was not the case. Maybe he was tired? Maybe he didn't like travel? Would things be different once they reached his land?

Land... The word conveyed images of green grass and flowers, teeming with life. How she longed to feel rich earth between her fingers once again. The soft, life-giving soil. It made her heart ache for it. To simply sit in her parent's garden, the sun on her face and warm soft earth in her hands... she would give so much for one more day there.
Was it terrible that she missed the garden more than her parents? They had never been close, always polite but distant to keep themselves from becoming attached to a daughter they would ultimately lose. While Amalia understood their reasoning, it didn't mean she didn't resent it at times. She had once asked her nursemaid if her parents loved her. 'They do not dare,' had been the reply, followed by a muttered 'cowards'.

Lost in her thoughts Amalia was startled by Wilhelm's deep voice telling them to wake. Dressing and fixing her hair to be presentable, Amalia left the room and entered the dining area. She winced slightly at the sight of the meat on the plates. Other gems had seemed to like it. It must just be an acquired taste. Amalia's stomach turned at the smell of it. How long would it take her to get used to this?
The bread was a godsend. Amalia sat and ate delicately, using the perfect table manners she had been taught her entire life. She ate slowly and moved the meat around on the plate, hoping it would look like she was eating more of it than she actually was. To be fair she did try. Amalia winced at the taste. She had to do this. She had to get used to it.
The second bite was worse than the first, now that her mouth knew what was coming and could anticipate it. Swallowing it was like having a stone go down her throat. By the third she was uncertain if she could keep it down.

Through all of this she never complained. Water helped her force the meat down so she drank liberally from the cup provided.
A cramp in her stomach signaled that it had taken it's limit of meat for the moment. Instead she focused on the bread, finding it harder than she was used to but still good. Amalia ate all of the bread on her plate. Who knew when they would be eating again or how long the trip would be?

"Forgive me for questioning milord, but I am curious. How far away is your home?" Amalia asked. "What is it like? I was raised in a coastal area, so I have always wondered what snow is like. Does it ever snow in your land?"
She hoped she wasn't being too inquisitive. But she found asking others about themselves was a good way to get them to talk so she wouldn't be expected to.

Miry’s grip steadily tightened on Zak’s arm as they made the journey back to the city manor. She scarcely noticed the guardsmen following around them, the other bride behind them - she focused with every fiber of her being on being as close to Zak as possible, matching his breathing and his stride (at least, as well as she was able to with her short legs!) By the time they walked into the door, her whole body was trembling, and she very obviously clung to him, flinching away from the serving-girl who greeted them, fully expecting to be told to follow...

“-new bride’s room has been made...”

Miry let go of Zak’s arm for a moment, shock and elation fighting on her face. Was.... was that to mean she hadn’t lost him yet?

She dared not look properly at Aurora, not at the beautiful gown the tall bride wore, the likely ugly sneer that marred her beautiful features. She was too perfect, and she wanted nothing to do with Miry, so Miry would have nothing to do with her, and have to do everything she could to be better. She’d be the kindest, sweetest sister bride imaginable, the most devoted to their husband. She would not lose Zak to someone... like that. Who would put false pride before the notion of fostering love and care.

She pushed the thoughts out of her mind then, melting against his side, pressing against him as he swept her off to the solar. Wasting no time as he settled himself down on one of the large cushions, she kicked off her lightweight boots and all but flung herself into his lap, arms looping around his neck and legs delicately wrapping around his. She pulled herself close to him, pressing her face into his shoulder, feeling the thrumming of his heart and the evenness of his breathing.

Streams of water arced around them from the numerous fountains as Miry adjusted her position, leaning back, blue-violet eyes peering up into Zak’s turquoise ones. She had half a mind to lean up to kiss him, and half a mind to push him back onto the pillow and...please him, as he so clearly craved (at least, judging by his earlier conduct). Though she was acutely aware of the open door, that Narlemaewel or Gaikus or even Aurora would walk by... he had been willing to bed a common whore in front of her and all his guards. Surely it wouldn’t be so wrong for her to do her duty by him now, to make sure he’d stay firmly in her bed, thoroughly exhausted, for the whole night. Right?

As she’d managed to make her mind up, leaning up to kiss him, he spoke. Asking what had been meant by Shattered.

The drops of water she had called up splashed to the floor, quickly sizzling out of existence on the sandstone floors that still held all the sun’s heat. She recoiled, flinching from the word and from his touch, and rested her head lightly against his collarbone, not able to meet his eyes.

“The Gemmenite people are ....proud of their complacency in their suffering. To be honored by being chosen in the Reaping, and to gracefully go but never forget or forgive the horrors inflicted on our people - that is the proudest duty a Gemmenite woman can fulfill.”

She snuggled closer to his chest, eyes unfocusing slightly, arms curling in against her chest and thin fingers reaching for the ivory wyvern clasp at her throat, running her fingers over the contour of it. She hesitated for a moment, finally daring to speak after she collected her thoughts.

“The day I fell in love with you, I ‘Shattered’, as they call it. If I was for some reason to go back to Gemmenia, there would be no place for me. I have committed the worst crime, see- the crime of forgetting. For any Gem, it’s a terrible accusation. But especially for- especially for a daughter of Naia. How can I turn my back on the suffering of so many thousands of women? How can I love one of these monsters?” the pitch of her voice rose and she swallowed sharply, taking in a breath. In a much quieter tone, scarcely more than a whisper, she continued. “Of course, I find that to be rather… convicting a child of the crimes of his parent. You have done no wrong by me, nor by my- nor by my sister. I cannot fault you for the crimes your people have committed. And, if I could do it over- I would still choose to fall in love with you.”

She wiped her eyes, leaning up to kiss him, arms curling tight around him again and pressing him back into the cushion. “But tonight is not a night for such severe conversation. Let us retire to our bed, my love. The morning dawns dreary and far too soon.”

The walk to their bedchamber was quick. Miry looked to the guard posted at the room just down the hall, wondering if Aurora was asleep, wondering how the poor girl was doing. But she put the thought out of her mind – the other bride wanted nothing to do with her, and hadn’t she just assured herself that she would not be the first to apologize?

She stretched up on tiptoe, pulling Zak down to kiss her, guiding his hands to the ribbon that held her tunic cinched at the waist. A thrill of guilt filled her, guilt that she hadn’t done this in so long, but she pushed it down – she could not truly be blamed for her body’s natural changes. What mattered was that she was going to start being better at doing her duty by him. He would never again want for intimacy – he would never have need or want to spend the night with the new bride.

---

When she finally drifted off to sleep, nestled against Zak’s chest, her dreams were quick to seize her. Dreams of once-possible futures filled her mind, some happy – Idyllic days in sunshine and rainbows, herself and Aery and Kasari, contentedly snuggled up against Zak and watching a small horde of children happily playing in the center of the great hall.

She dreamed of the day she could marry him, properly in his peoples’ custom, though the ceremony itself was blurred by the veil of uncertainty – even in their extensive conversations, lessons of history and culture, the idea of marriage had been never even mentioned.

Her dreams turned darker – remembering that evening. Remembering how much blood had been on the floor, being flung down into it by the explosion of steam and boiling water, the skin curling up off her shoulders in blisters and boils.

Remembering what their bodies had looked like. So still and pale and streaked in crimson. Such beautiful lives gone to waste. And she was crying and shaking them and crying. Aery, wake up. Aery. Kasari. Kasari, please, Kasari, not you too, please--

She jolted awake, biting her lip to keep from crying out. A wave of nausea overtook her as her eyes snapped open to the gray light of early morning. Barely, she managed to free herself from Zak’s arms, stumbling and half-crawling to the washing room, coughing and throwing up into the chamber pot. She knelt there for a moment, chest heaving, shaking her head to dispel the lingering panic.

There was a basin of cold water resting on the long counter. She splashed her face, washing the sleep from her eyes and quickly washing her hair, swirling some of the water through it thoroughly before pulling it all out, leaving her dusty-gold locks dry and soft and ready to be styled. The dirty water ended in the chamber pot as well, leaving a clean basin for Zak.

Her long hair was quickly braided, two thin plaits on either side of her head pulled back and woven into the rest of her hair, the woven strand left to trail down her back, tied off with a silk ribbon of a deep lavender hue. After a moment’s consideration she took her small supply of cosmetics – a stick of ground-and-pressed charcoal to line her eyes and darken her eyelashes, and a small container of a lip stain colored with the juice of kiondu fruits and various herbs – and went to work on her face. As she did she wondered why she had suddenly decided to go all-out with her attire and appearance today, and was not willing to admit that she felt she had to compete with Aurora.

Her face applied, she tiptoed through their room, not wanting to disturb Zak’s slumber any more than she already had. She pulled one of her dresses from the closet, probably the flashiest one she had, and tugged it on over her head, careful to not muss the hair or makeup.

The long lavender-and-violet silk skirts skimmed just millimeters above the floor, hugging the curves of her body as they connected into the dark violet bodice, meticulously embroidered with a pair of entwined wyverns along the front. The high collar forced her to keep her head high, though the low neckline showed off a bit more skin than she was comfortable with. The sleeves were tight around half of her arms, and then opened out into sheer lavender silk that skimmed almost to the floor.

This was a dress made for a duchess. She’d never worn it before, but thought it would be fitting to bring. Just in case. And today, given her need for confidence, she thought it was as good a time as any.

She laced the corset in the back, expertly tightening the dress to hug every curve she had. As she did, peering in the silvered mirror at her reflection, she winced. The extra curve of her abdomen was, though slight, definitely there. Her fingers came to rest over the bump, turning slightly to see in the mirror. There was a new life growing inside of her. Such a thought filled her with amazement, fear, and apprehension. But she put it out of her mind. She would have several months to come to terms with such things. In the meantime, she was awake and Zak was not, and so it was a perfect time to practice.

Her musical instruments were still meticulously packed in her saddlebags. Reverently she removed the leather case that contained her flutes, and the slatted wood envelope that held pages upon pages of weathered music, and crossed to the door, slipping out and quietly shutting it behind her.

A salute was offered to the guards who stood beside their door, and Ro’s, and she then made her way to the solar. The room was sufficiently high-ceilinged to have good acoustics, and far enough from their rooms that she shouldn’t disturb anyone. She laid her instrument case down on one of the low tables, setting the folder of music beside it, and quickly going about assembling the two instruments.

They were a mismatched pair. One was a thin ivory transverse flute, clearly of Gemmenite construction, ornately engraved with a pastoral nature scene and covered by intricate golden keywork shaped to be like vines and leaves. Scarcely visible on the body of the flute were thin discolored lines, as though it had been cracked and then fused back together. The other instrument was entirely different, a heavy recorder carved of a wood so dark it was almost black. This instrument was clearly of fine crafting, inlaid with lighter wood in intricate geometric patterns, but it lacked the precise keywork of the Gemmenian instrument and was altogether bulkier and of somewhat cruder lines. A “reed-whistle” (she couldn’t even begin to pronounce the actual name given the instrument) from the far western realm of Kalderas. Zak’s people held an alliance with them, enough of an alliance that Zak had promised they could visit and see all the sights of their capital and their realm.

She picked up the whistle first, blowing a few notes through it to warm up the instrument and get a few drops of water into it. The recorder had a surprisingly deep, warm tone, though a bit breathy. It was likened to the humming that came of the reeds when they vibrated in the mist, or that was what she’d been told.

The lilting melodies of her homeland always sounded so strange when played on the Kalderan recorder. It was at times downright unpleasant, but most of the time could be seen as uniquely haunting. She reasoned that it was a musical metaphor for her own situation – a familiar tune forced to adapt to a strange instrument and a strange environment.

Some countless amount of time passed, Miry remaining fully absorbed in her playing. She was very good at it, barring the unfamiliarity that came with the new instrument – it was clear she hadn’t had it all that long. As she played she worked with the water droplets that collected inside her instrument, moving them in tiny, precise amounts to interfere with the airflow and thus alter the pitches, sometimes splitting the note altogether into two or even three different tones. A skilled air gem could do the same, arguably with much less effort and concentration – after all, they would only need to bend the air! – but it was doable with a water affinity as well. It had just taken her years of lessons, countless hours of practice, and even now took her full focus to maintain complete control over. But it was worth it for the skillset that would have become her profession, had she stayed in Gemmenia.

After rehearsal, she strolled through the house, vaguely intent on waking Zak for breakfast, and stepped into the hallway just as his tall bride happened to poke her head out of her room. Miry froze, composing herself, painting a bland smile on her face before stepping fully around the corner and slightly waving a greeting to the taller Gem.

“Good morning, Aurora. Did you sleep well? I do not believe my lord Zakroti is awake yet, but if you are hungry I can certainly show you to the dining room, there’s bound to be something set out already.” There. That was innocent and bland enough. She hoped she wasn’t going to get her face burned off for this…

“Yes.” He says simply, only barely aware of the dissatisfaction present in Bree’s voice as he let Adora bandage his cut. “You’re a valuable resource for me and the church. Branding you ensures that if you ever get stolen, you’re considerably harder to resale without massive mutilation. Also doubles as proof of ownership if they do resell you with it intact. The collar is just because they look nicer than scars.” He adds, flexing his hand quietly for a moment as Adora finished her work. It was very well done, all things considered. Good to know. Always nice to have someone around who could patch up bodies if a family decided they wished to say goodbye to their loved ones before stripping their flesh. Kagan was many things, but a blessed cosmetic surgeon was not one of them.

He gives the lilaic gem a quick appreciative nod before continuing. “Thankfully I know a professional. Did the burial rights for her husband and son a few years back. So it should be relatively easy on you.” He finishes scarfing down his pear, chewing quietly as his brides mumbled out their respective questions. Adora was at least trying to hide her apprehension, or at least doing a far better job than Bree. He hardly blamed the red head, given a gems comparatively lax life style a little branding probably seemed monumentally horrific. It would be cute if it werent so sad. All that said, he decided to keep a close eye on her for the rest of the day. Gems waiting until the second day, when their husbands guard would be more lax after sex, to try and escape.

“Possibly. Though it may just end up being a brief exchange of thanks for his donation...that would be you.” He grunts, deciding to answer the smaller gem as she pecked his cheek. “As for why I want to leave the capital, I’ve spiritual obligations to my temple in Jerun. As nice as you might think it is, their need for a Kinner supersedes your comfort.” He pauses for a moment, trying to think of something nice for the gem to hear but coming up empty. The fact that he would not have to argue with the brander about not wanting their genitals to bear his name would probably only distress Bree further or possibly start to worry Adora. With little else to say, grunts for them to follow and heads towards the door.

Zakroti groaned as he awoke, turning over in his bed and mumbling something to Miry.

Or at least he thought it was to Miry, when he opened his eyes she was already gone from his bed. He stirred and rose from the bed, peering around the room. She had vanished once or twice before, and now he had been told about the pregnancy he suspected that he was aware of the cause of this.

Then came a loud bang at the door - three bands in fact. Convenient timing, he thought to himself, as he pulled the shirt on over his head and called out for them to enter.

A rather tall and willowish Drakken entered the room, offered him a sealed envelope and package which the Lord took and opened. He grunted once he finished reading it and placed it down on the table side, dismissing the messenger with a wave of his hand and tearing open the packaging around his winnings, the result of several lucky bets with other Lords at the dueling pits. An old silver ring, a sack of gold and a small Ruby were amongst them, but the true centrepiece of this little collection was a golden statuette depicting the duel of Aed and Orbody, swords locked over each other and their faces both twisted into a violent rage.

Yes, it was quite the tale indeed. One he quite enjoyed since he had earned of it, and the irony of it all was palpable. He smiled sadly and ran a hand along the cold metal of the statue murmuring something to the empty air around him.

"Well, you'd have liked this one..." He murmured and set it to rest on the bedside table. With a final glance he turned away. He would have the servants pack it safe for the journey home, and it would have a place amongst his ornaments.

He took a moment to compose himself and with that, he got dressed swiftly and descended from his room on the second floor down to the Great Hall on the first. Once again, the soldiers had cleared away their cots and set out replacing the tables, and there was quite the raucous racket from their antics as they awaited food. Zak sat himself at the raised table before the fresco and with a loud sigh, awaited the arrival of his food and drink. He wondered what was for breakfast today, in fact.

Soon enough, one of the servant girls appeared with a pitcher to pour him a goblet. He examined the liquid within it for a moment and breathed it in before tasting it. Mazjamma. He did quite enjoy Mazjamma.

With a grin he continued to drink from his goblet, sitting back in the chair and awaiting the arrival of Miry and Aurora. Yes, it was time for answers, although he was quite surprised that he had not seen both here yet. Breakfast would be starting soon, after all, though they had a few minutes to be sure.

***

Roftam was brought back to reality by the opening of the door beside him and the emergence of Aurora's head. Stop the other bride entering? He grimaced, it wasn't a task he particularly wanted to incur.

"As you wish, Lady Aurora." He replied in his rough drawl, leaning back against the wall somewhat. At least, until Lord Zakroti wills otherwise, which I dare say he will the Old Castellan thought to himself, though he restricted his tongue from wagging. He half wondered whether he had done something to offend his Lord, for a man of his station to be stood guard g a door. He'd have to redouble his efforts, clearly, he was not particularly enthralled with the idea of guarding this door another night - perhaps he'd have some of his subordinates draw straws. But then, he imagined lord Zakroti and the brides would have left before too long, leaving him the effective Lord of his own little Manor again. Yes, it was good to be castellan.

Come morning, he was in truth half asleep, but once again awoke to the sound of the opening door. He turned to see the head of Aurora poking through to survey the hallway.
"You're finally awake. I'll have the serv-" Roftam stopped mid sentence for he caught glimpse of the freshly made bed through the slit of open door "Seems you've already done that..."

But before Roftam said another word or before Aurora did anything more, along came Lady Aymiria once more - and greeted the new bride. Her words were innocent enough but he sensed more than enough tension between the two of them...

Roftams lips curled slightly into a smirk. Oh, Gods' blood, let there be fireworks coming. He could do with some amusement.

Though his smile faded quickly, for he remembered what he'd been asked to do. If she retreated inside her door he would not only lose his amusement, he would also have to contend with his Lords lover. His face twisted again into a frown. Which God had a grudge against him of late?

With the limp body of the weaker of the two Gems now in his lap, Heccarim lazily shoved her to his side, nearly squishing one of his dancing imps. A sound of disappointment came out of his mask, as if disapproving how quickly Sorrin had caved to such a simple threat. Regardless, Heccarim knew that he had something that neither Gem could ever bare to take: each other's lives. Classic move to any siblings, friends, lover or what have you to ensure loyalty. If someone wanted to go a step farther, he'd have them fight each other to the death to see who would have the right to continue living unless both of them wanted to die in torture together all while being whispered poison about each other. The usual outcome was the two hating each other and more than willing to go at the other once released.

With Sorrin now cared for, the Warden turned to the other Gem and sighed, "That's one of you dealt with for this last leg. Now, if you'll excuse me."

The Drakkan didn't even finish his sentence before he brutally yanked the chain around Arden, pulling her into his lap like he was fishing and closed his claws around her. She tried to spurn this advance, squirming and writhing, but Heccarim had wrestled Drakkan warriors twice her size before and his arms locked around her. On cue, the two Hoblars jumped up on their master's lap and produced a rag coated in some foul smelling liquid.

"This next part will be much easier if the two of you aren't awake to see it." The carriage filled with mist that carried the words of the Warden while the eyes of the Hoblars glowed with unnatural enthusiasm. The second they found that Arden's mouth had opened with enough, they shoved the rag in and one of them clamped down on her nose. It took a few good seconds for the Gem's movement to slow before she too went limp.

With a now silent ride, Heccarim allowed himself a short respite after sending his Hoblars back out into the open. It had been a long day and the gentle bumps of the road was something that always had a calming effect on the mind of the Warden. Simple pleasures which didn't involve someone being maimed. The two Gems where still either out cold or sound asleep when he awoke, giving Heccarim some time to properly inspect his Brides. With a chilled touch, he wrapped his hands around their bodies in various locations to inspect their physical aspects. There was little lust involved even as he reached and inspect their more personal parts; more of an artist inspect statues than anything. As he had expected, Arden seemed better built to handle the rigors of maternity, even having some traces of muscle and strength. Sorrin on the other hand, Heccarim had seen training dummies and dolls with more fortitude than her. He questioned Sorrin's capabilities and wondered if she would be better off serving as a house pet or living decoration.

By the time that he had concluded his inspection and readjusted their dresses, the carriage had already arrived at his ship. He got out and carried both his Brides out and on to stretchers carried by a gaggle of Hoblars. More gentle with Arden than he was with Sorrin, he boarded the ship along with his unconscious brides as the carriage travelled behind them and was lowered below decks by a crane. From here, they would travel up the River Korhal to a dock in Harand Kor. The floorboards rumbled as the slave drives beat their drums and cracked their whips to force the slaves to row against the current.

Heccarim had the two Gems brought to his quarters in the center room of the ship, laying them flat on the ground before sending for food and drink. Leaning over the two bodies, the Warden produced a censor from his person and stuffed a handful of herbs into it before he lit it with the fire from his lantern. A faint fog danced onto the floor and seeped between the cracks until a window was opened. The herbs were surprisingly fragrant and even Hecarrim was surprised by how pleasant they smelled. Although there isn't much that smelled worse than a decrepit dungeon complex full of rotting bodies and mold. Such a concoction was made from plants bought from Gemenia, gifted to the Warden by a merchant prince of sorts.

Sorrin was the first to wake, having passed out of her own accord instead of being drugged. She look flustered as everything rushed to her brain at once. Several questions poured out of her like a waterfall with Heccarim ignoring most of them as a group of Hoblars struggled to push a cart into the room with meat and plants. The Warden thought about telling them where the meat came from to torment them but ultimately decided against it; he didn't want to have them puking all over his floors, they had just been cleaned.

"Feast." the Warden commanded, "You are aboard a ship headed towards Harand Kor. The only mistake you have made is being weak; if you wish to make it up to me, become stronger and grant me a heir to Harand Kor. Less you wish to become a house pet or a wall ornament."

Time seemed to accelerate as Zel worked in the kitchen. The cooking was challenging, both due to her inexperience with the game and the incessant hissing behind her back as the servants made their disapproval known. The first few times she'd turned and asked if she'd done something wrong, but when her question was ignored repeatedly she determined that they simply didn't like her. Oh well, she thought, it was something she'd have to get used to around here. And so she continued working. She'd just about finished when one of the guards, different from the one who had brought her here, came up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder. Initially his hand had closed like clasped irons and caused her to wince, but he quickly loosened his grip and simply held her.

"Lord Ineraz wishes to see you," he told her.

"Very well," she replied, "Your timing is fair, I just finished making these for him."

A short time later she was sat down next to him at the table while the guard explained things to him. After dismissing his man, Ineraz looked at her and scowled, his eyes clearly traveling up and down her body in the ill-fitting clothes. Zel breathed in sharply as she realized what he was displeased by, but she maintained her composure. She would stop wilting in fear, she told herself. She would have to.

“After we eat, we will go shopping. You definitely need better clothes. Sera as well," he said, confirming her suspicions. "How come you haven’t brought any with you? I though the Drakken gave you time enough to get some things from home,”

"That would have been the case," she replied hesitantly, "Had it been an ordinary Reaping."

She looked down at the table, not out of fear of him but from reliving that day. She shook her head quickly to clear it, and then looked up at Ineraz again. She looked him in the eye, as much as it terrified her, and told him what had happened.

"My village... well, village is a strong word, we were more a small community in the countryside. So small, in fact, that the Reaping wouldn't come upon us for many years. But they came anyway. They said the village to the north which they were supposed to reap had somehow evaded them, though they never said how. So, they came to us instead, lest they return to Drakka empty-handed. The leaders of my settlement protested, of course, and were met with threats to burn everything we'd built to the ground. I was the only girl of a reaping age there at the time, and when they were shouting I was corralling the younger children. And when I looked down at them, as soon as they heard that we might lose everything..."

She paused for a moment as the memory swam in her mind. She saw the children looking up at her, their eyes wet with tears as even at a young age they understood what was about to happen. "Zel," one of them had asked, her little voice trembling, "Are we all going to die?"

"No," she'd said, a somber smile on her face, "None of you will."

"I made a choice," she continued, a small amount of determination now coming into her speech, "And after I'd made it I was seized before I had time to reconsider. Nothing save the clothes on my back, and I can't say I know what became of them."

The two of them ate for a little while before Ineraz addressed her again. “I don’t mind if you like cooking, the servants here just have some pride, you know. Doing well what they do is what keeps them alive and healthy after all,” he explained nonchalantly. “If you want to try again, just say so, and I’ll arrange the servants to leave you to it. They could even tutor you a bit if you wish, though I doubt they’ll be kind about it.”

"I apologize. In my settlement, it's customary for the wi- the bride," she corrected herself hastily. That had been one of Shadow Worth's lessons; they were NOT wives. "to prepare breakfast for their husband in the mornings. I'm not accustomed to the presence of servants and so I did not consider it. But I may do so, if you'll allow it. I know almost nothing of an actual hunt, but I helped dress and carve the game in Gemmenia, as well as cook. If that is how I can be of use to the estate, it would help me feel at home."

Ineraz enjoyed the last of his meal as he listened to Zeldria’s story. He imagined that what she described was something that happened in Gemmenia often. After all, rolling over and begging for mercy seemed to be the collective gemmenite strategy when faced with an adversary. Ineraz could not honestly understand or empathize with such a position. As a Drakkan, he was proud to claim that he would rather fight to the bitter end than even think of giving up as the Gems, and Zeldria specifically, seemed to have. Were Gems truly destined to be weak, then? To be nothing more than prey? He certainly hoped that it was possible to strengthen them. He had designs on having his first brides live as long as they could, and frailty wouldn’t be conducive to that goal.

“You saved them from slaughter,” he observed calmly and continued in a similarly light tone “One would think that having made such a commitment, you would be willing, perhaps even eager to fit into the role of a bride fully…” he trailed off, looking up and down her body pointedly. “Not that I intend to force you,” he reiterated, holding her gaze with earnest intentness. “But is your reluctance simply because you see us as monsters?” he wondered honestly. If he could gain some insight into her reasoning, he might be able to convince her more easily…eventually.

After that, they both finished off their breakfast before continuing another conversation line. “If you have supervision, which should ensure you don’t attempt to poison us all, you may cook. I’ll arrange it,” he confirmed. And the allusion he made to her trying to kill them wasn’t even a humorous one. He believed fully that such a thing was a distinct possibility. Trying to murder what was basically one’s jailer was certainly a valid tactic, though it was unlikely to save any Gem who attempted it. Ineraz was considering how the Gem’s seemingly docile nature could lead her to consider killing anyone over a cup of wine when a guard approached him.

“Your smallest bride has decided to cause some trouble. Would you like me to bring her to you?” the Drakkan whispered. Ineraz smelled burned flesh on him and a quick glance confirmed him to be injured. With lightning speed, he whirled on the other male, stood up directly next to him and grabbed him by the throat with his right hand. His left descended purposefully to the hilt of his dagger, which was currently one of the only two weapons on him, his other ones still in the outside training area.

Ineraz was barely holding back his sudden rage, an explosive response to the conclusion he had jumped to. “And what precisely did you do to make her burn you?” He flexed his right hand and practically hissed out his next accusation. “Did you touch my bride inappropriately?”

“No!” The other Drakkan seemed torn between defending himself physically and apologizing and explaining verbally. “I wouldn’t, you must know that,” he gritted out. “If I were that untrustworthy, I wouldn’t have ended up as a guard here,” now he seemed insulted.

Ineraz was not willing to release him just yet, though he lightened his grip and demeanour. “Then explain what happened,” he demanded.

The Drakkan guard straightened. “She was heading outside and would have left the estate if I hadn’t stopped her,” he kept his gaze on Ineraz’s earnestly, and had done so all the while. Ineraz believed that the guard was truthful and finally released him, though he was not entirely placated.

“And where is she now? Hopefully, not alone and unsupervised?” he stressed icily. This seemed to perturb the guard almost more than Ineraz grabbing him by the neck had.

The guard shifted uncomfortably and admitted “I left her in the hall leading to the front entrance. She should be supervised enough,” he sounded a bit too doubtful for Ineraz’s taste, but he simply narrowed his eyes at the guard for now.

“Don’t think I won’t confirm what happened with her,” Ineraz warned, the hint of threat still present in his tone and posture. “Come along then,” he looked from the guard to Zeldria, wanting for them both to follow.

The trio headed towards the manor’s entrance, and found Sera wandering a corridor, seemingly distressed. Ineraz faced her sternly, but threw a quick glare at the guard once he saw the red slap mark on her cheek. Nonetheless, he kept up his austere front as he refocused on Sera.

“You burned one of my guards?” he drawled the question, not giving away the fact that it was the guard he found fault with rather than her just yet. He desired for her to be honest when retelling her side of the event and if he appeared too sympathetic from the get go, she would surely use that in her favour.

The hall was still, and unlike the rest of the manor, rather under decorated. There were a number of potted plants lining the walls and the occasional small painting, but nothing like what Sera had seen on the upper level. The most eye catching piece in the room was the rug that ran the length of the hall. Shimmers of gold stitching reflected off of the material as the sunlight shining through the strewn drapery danced over it.

About halfway from the entrance way to the next sitting room was a bench and sitting on it was a petite young woman; Sera. She sat patiently, her hands clasped together in her lap as her eyes fixed on the shadow puppets moving across the golden stitched shimmering rug. She had been left there by the guard who had brought his hand to her; the guard that she had burnt. He had obviously gone to find her lord and tell him what had happened. The thought of running crossed her mind, but she wouldn’t get far with two guards standing by at the door.

Unless you burn the whole place down.

Terror should have been the response to the situation, given that she was nothing more than property and she had harmed a Drakkan, but it was not terror for what would happen next. She was scared to be feared again. To be forgotten. To become nothing more than a living ghost. Sera’s eyes softened as her brow furrowed and a lump formed in her throat.

”I don’t want to be alone again…”
Truly pathetic.

The sound of footsteps echoing throughout the manor had Sera rise to her feet and face the direction they were coming from. The girl was still wearing the clothing that was given to her yesterday; an oversized tunic that was baggy in the shoulders and arms. It hung off of her like a wet rag and stopped just shy of her knee. At some point she had gathered her hair together in a rather loose ponytail midway up her head; there were strands of hair falling out of the knot she had created with twine that she had found somewhere in her Husband’s bedroom before venturing out.

Sera’s heart began to pound a little harder as the steps grew closer until finally, Ineraz came into view. Behind him was the guard who had struck her and her sister bride, Zeldria. A curious question shot through her; why were the two of them there?
To mock us, to stare… to do what people do best; to judge us.

Her lord Husband advanced to her quickly and without little warning, posed a loaded a question; “You burned one of my guards?”

The question pierced her like a knife lodging itself into her skin. Sera stood for a moment, resembling a frightened animal as she simply stared at Ineraz, unable to respond. A feeling of shame replaced fear as her thoughts caught up with her feelings; she had done it again. How many times had she, no, had Serafine burnt something or someone? Sera looked up at Ineraz, hints of guilt in her eyes.

It wasn’t me.
It was you….
And you did nothing wrong.

Scarlet eyes widened with shock, or was it a realization? Sera shot a look toward the guard behind Ineraz, rage in her eyes. Serafine was right, she did nothing wrong. Her entire life she was blamed simply because of who she was but the demons of her past did not live in this place; at least not all of them. Her gaze returned back to Ineraz, though it was softer than when she had looked at the guard.

”I did burn him.” Sera began, her voice steady with resolute. ”I went for a walk outside and stopped by a garden I found. I was daydreaming when he put his hand on me; I was startled and burned him. He hit me across the face and I apologized.”

It was the first time she had ever admitted to something Serafine had done.

”The guard already punished me… but will you be doing so too?” She asked blankly, no emotion behind her words. Not one of fear or sorrow, just simply a statement. If she was going to be punished, she wanted it over with quickly.