Sister-wife of Kalani Solle, Bride of Krone the Scream Taker. Former betrothed of Ridian Anarin.
As Krone spoke to her, Kaelira all but forgot about the Drakken bitch seated beside her. She did not flinch even as Krone slapped her, but rather glared right into his eyes the whole time. Her rage rose up in her, not hot like most people's, but rather cold and clear, but endlessly deep. Like a mountain spring, like the river that ran beside Ridian's house. The river that held so many promises, so many memories, and so many feelings.
Her rage and anguish threatened to overwhelm her, but she did not let it. For if she let it the water would leak out of her eyes and shame her and make her a liar.
It took all of her self-control to not bite Krone's lips as he kissed her so viciously. It took even more self-control to not jump on him at his threats. But somehow she found the discipline to purr a response.
"I look forward to it." Inside, she was repulsed and afraid. But she wouldn't--no, couldn't let it show.
As Krone's attention was taken away by the captain of his guard, Kai contrived to inadvertently knock her plate, and consequently her silverware, to the floor. Blushing at her own "clumsiness", she scrambled to the floor. Her actions hidden by the tablecloth, she took her shellfish fork and tucked it into the sleeve of her dress. There were so many forks and spoons on her plate (though no knives, she noticed) that she highly doubted anyone would be counting. Besides, it was the smallest one that would be missing; it could have easily been lost under the folds of skirts and tablecloths, or it could have even fallen between the floorboards. But she had chosen wisely; it had the longest, sharpest tines of any of the forks. Perfect for her intention.
As she straightened up her place-setting, she didn't even hear what Krone was saying, so focused on her plan was she. Perhaps she might have changed her plan, if she had heard, but the effect was lost on her. While the crowd was going crazy (surely whatever he'd said had been important?) she made her escape, mumbling something about looking for the lavatory.
Krone had threatened to take her first, had he? Well, she'd let him do exactly that. But first she'd awaken his desire, so much that he would have her dress half-off of her the moment they got back into their bedchambers. He certainly wouldn't be thinking well enough to check for sharp metal spikes before he "tested his knowledge" on her.
She walked quickly back into the banquet hall, every step causing the handle of the fork to rub in a most painfully pleasurable way. She resumed her seat, although she had to bite back a cry of pain as she poked herself with the two-tined fork. It was very, very sharp. But then, that was perfect for what she intended.
As she slid back into her seat, she looked almost-seductively at Krone, sliding her hand over his leg.
"My lord, I was considering what you told me... I've decided I'd quite enjoy something of the sort. Ridian never was one who was terribly... intelligent, and I'm sure a man of your... skills would be most... satisfying."Naia save her, what was happening?! Maybe it was just the touch of the fork there, but something had awakened a long-dormant desire in her. Ridian had never been one to enjoy carnal pleasures. He'd only kissed her after they'd been seriously dating for four years, for crying out loud! Despite her pressures on him, he kept turning down her overtures, asking her to "wait until marriage".
Well, she had, hadn't she?
Aymiria Cassiel and Astaelin Cassiel
Sister-wife of Amaryllis Stone; Bride of Zakroti Unalim.
Sister-wife of Atallia Faeron; Bride of Edokaluriconus NordiereWhen Zakroti touched Miry’s hands, she didn’t flush. Instead all of the blood drained from her face and she very nearly fainted.
“I-I’m s-s-sorry, m-y l-lord… I sw-wear I d-did-dn’t m-mea-an a-any h-harm…” She was filled with fear, convinced he might snap her neck or do something worse, thinking he thought she was guilty.
As soon as she registered what he was saying, her terror fled, replaced by confusion, and then relief and… was that love? For she realized that she did, love him, that is. He was kind and gentle, and just. And he was small, for a Drakken at least. And small people have to band together, don’t they?
“I-it’s a-an h-honor t-to s-serve you, m-my lord…” she said quietly. She lightly tucked the bruised wrist behind her back so that no one could see.
The burly Drakken got down on his knees in front of her and apologized. Wait. What? A drakken warlord… apologizing to… her. She knew there would probably be hell to pay, based on the humiliated shade of the Drakken’s face and the reluctance in his voice.
It was far easier to look at Zakroti’s kind face than his guard’s hard one.
”Y-yes… M-my lord, I f-forg-give him. B-but… I-if I may make a r-request? P-please don’t make a-anyone kn-kneel bef-fore me, e-ever ag-gain. I-I’m not w-worthy o-of it.” The tiny girl took a few steps forward until she was inches from the enormous, kneeling Drakken.
“P-please stand.” She reached out and took the Drakken’s hand, though it dwarfed both of hers, and helped him to his feet. Then she flushed and retreated to stand close to Zakroti, embarrassed by her own childish actions.
At about that time, she noticed someone with a booming voice… mentioning something about a goat? She glanced over nervously, and then froze. A powerful, tall Drakken, with two brides on chain leashes. One short, with brown hair and gold eyes that Miry could see, even from here, and… Astaelin, her face drawn with pain and flushed from humiliation. For she was humiliated, being dragged around on a leash like some cur dog.
She didn’t even realize she was moving until she pulled away from Zakroti, half-stumbling, half-running across the hall to tackle her sister. Weeping as she fastened her arms around Asta, she realized half of the hall would probably be staring but didn’t much care.
Asta yelped, flinching from Miry’s touch, and put her arms around her sister somewhat more gingerly.
”Careful, Miry… My back’s a little sore.””W-what…?” Miry was terribly confused.
”It doesn’t matter. Are you alright, Miry?” Asta searched her for any injury, her violet eyes snapping as she found the bruised wrist. She looked up towards Zakroti and glared.
Miry saw the direction the glare was in and shook her head.
“N-no, A-Asta. He’s n-nice. H-his g-guard-d and I j-just h-had a m-misu-underst-tanding. I-it’s all b-better n-now… I-it doesn’t h-hurt. Y-you k-know how e-easil-ly I b-bruise!” She couldn’t bear the thought of Asta getting hurt by Zakroti.
“Well… Alright… but you shouldn’t be over here, Miry. Go stand by your husband. I love you. Stay safe, alright?” Asta kept looking over her shoulder at her husband, who was apparently still prattling about goats.
“A-alright… I l-love you, A-Asta…” But before Miry could move, another imposing voice boomed out, telling of how this was the last peaceful Reaping. She looked in horror at Asta, who’s eyes were dead with the realization.
“We have to warn them. Somehow. If we can get warning back to the Stars they’ll be able to do something, anything. Ridel and Idasu can mobilize them… and Ridian can get word to the ones in the palace. Our rebels aren’t many, but they’re all fighters.” Asta hugged Miry so tightly that Miry thought she might be squished into oblivion.
“I c-can…. I c-c-can a-ask Z-zakrot-ti…” Miry kept her voice barely above a whisper.
“He s-seems, symp-pathet-tic, a-at l-least. He m-might h-help-p u-us.” “In any case. You should go back, before the chaos dies down. I love you, Miry. Forever.” Asta pushed her away, and she stumbled, but went obediently back to Zakroti, sitting down close to his side and trying to act as though nothing was amiss, though the tears streaking down her cheeks told a very different tale.
”M-my l-l-lord? I h-hav-ve a q-question, t-that might b-be bet-ter a-asked in p-privat-te…” she spoke quietly, though she was sure he’d hear her sad, soft voice.
Asta, meanwhile, stood stoically beside Edoric, not paying him any mind, her thoughts far away, at a long-ago meeting in a far-away land.
The clubhouse was packed for the Nebula session of Kaelira Isrilen and Ridian Anarin, from the personal service of Princess Annaveya. Many long-time members had returned to see their initiation.
“What do you offer to our union?”
“We offer connections to a hundred serving-folk in the palace, and with it the hidden ears and sneaky hands that come with such folk. We offer supplies and accommodations, for our Princess is a just young woman who would not turn away even a few dozen hungry travelers.” The boy spoke softly from his place kneeling by Astaelin’s feet.
“We offer the wisdom that comes with the blessing of Naia.” The girl said quietly.
“Do you promise to uphold loyalty to our kingdom, until your final breath?”
“I do.”
“I do.”
“Then rise and join our ranks as Seekers.”