Desire Has It's Price

Welcome to the Realm of the Fates. Mods :: Ultima and Xell Accent Color : Requiem

[askthefates-blog]

A Little Piece Of Heaven

Word Count : 18389

“Open the gates!”

The voice was booming, boisterous over the pouring rain that pounded against her skin. It had come from nowhere though, so it was enough to make her jump, her body instantly regretting the small little action. She was so tired. There was a not so subtle power that resonated in the tone though. One that exuded a sort of pride and demanded a respect that Bub just was not willing to give.

Bu that was just fine, because it was not as if the man had offered her any sort of respect when he had dropped on her outside of the pub, just the night before. He had not shown any respect when his hand had muffled her screams and the petty little knife had dug into the flesh of her neck. It was just enough pressure that she could feel the skin splitting underneath, feel that little trickle of blood as it found its way down her neck. He hadn’t shown her any respect when he had blindfolded her and gagged her. Tied her up like a goddamn animal to throw her haphazardly into the back of whatever the hell it was she was in.

The man had not even had the respect enough to cover her once the storm started, the winds whipping across her frozen. Making the droplet of rain feel like shredded glass pouring over her. She was shaking, trembling. Her teeth chattering against the freeze that found its way working over her body.

This absolutely had to be the worse predicament she had ever found herself in. And she was stuck with a person who had no regard for human life apparently .

That didn’t seem to matter to the guards of the,... wherever they were though either. There was a single whistle, one that bellowed through the air, loud even over the weather. And then there was a metallic groaning, wood stretching and breathing as the gates opened up in front of them.

The assumption was that the gates were huge, which more than likely meant they were at some sort of hold right? A warden or jailer probably, that had accidentally called out her name. A misunderstanding that would get fixed. Or maybe it was a trick, a silly little trick that some of the school boys decided to pull on some of the girls in town. But why would they have used the knife? She wasn’t the only person in here, she knew that. Had felt there flesh against hers. There was even a point during their long journey where Bub had found herself pressing against the soft skin just so that they might share some sort of warmth.

And it worked for a while, at least until the person had been yanked away from her. Pulled off into some unknown direction. And while she was generally fine on her own, the thought of being so totally isolated on this day made the ice sink that much further into her. There was no comfort. There was no one to share the confusion and terror with. It was just her.

Ultimately, that was what had her cowering. That was what had those tears welling underneath the slip that covered her eyes. It was what had her heart shuttering and the boulder in her throat.

Bub tried though, tried to calm the racing heart in her chest, tried to settle her breathing, slow, controlling as she blew out into the wet air around them. But the second she heard the horses hooves again it stopped, her breath catching in her lungs. There were people surrounding them. People talking, whispering, some of them were laughing. Others scoffed, their boots clanking against the stone floor underneath their feet.

“Are we supposed to just take them in then?”

There was that voice again. This time softer, but still enough to be heard over the winds.

“Eh. I couldn’t really tell ya. That’s what Magnus and Varga did. I know they are with the king now.”

The new voice was moving, originally it sat right behind her, then beside her and the just a little ways infront of her, and this was all as he spoke. He was moving around whatever it was they had found themselves in. There was a noise, a small snarl almost as he moved, then she felt the fingers on her chin and she could only assume why. They were wet, but warm against her. And they tilted her, forcing her ‘look’ up at whoever the hell they were.

‘King? He said king. We’re being brought to King Philip?’

It took a moment, a confused second for Bub to yank away. To pull from the man's fingers with a small huff of her own. It only earned her an earnest chuckle, one that resonated. But he was speaking again, turning his back to her so he might speak to her captor she supposed.

“At least the Wiecoa tarts are an attractive looking bunch this time around.”

The words were laughed out, blurring through the rain as he moved further away.

“I’d just take them with the others that are waiting on the king.”

“Fair Enough.”

The voice said again, before falling silent and the sound of footsteps could be heard. They sounded like they were moving away,, but the feeling of her world buckling under her slightly spoke more of a presence then sounds of footfalls ever could. Hands found her from, reaching out to pull her from her place with a non to gentle hold, a roughness about it that had her stumbling and giving a muffled snap against the bit that clung to her mouth. The only reason she got was a slight schoff of laughter, before he heard the sound of foot falls again, this time light, quicker, before a voice snapped out once more.

“I warned you guys about tightening the reins so hard. Arelene hates when the bit is too tight.” His voice was soft, almost pleasant, if it wasn’t for that tone that resounded in it. Pride, and something harsher, something stale and dead locked in a frame of the living. He sounded repulsed, by what,s he could not tell, but the lingering not made her pull away from the voice before she felt laughter spilling from her own captors hold.

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing we have you to calm her, isn’t it stable boy?”

She was pulled then, the sounds of indignation fading away as she was yanked finally out of the water spilling over her in waves. There was a shift as hands moved away from her, a shift as she felt herself for one moment be gloriously and hideously alone, before a yank on her neck made her stumble forward. There was more voices now, sound of whispers and the sting of warmth as she heard fire cracking in the distance, her head moving as she tried to grasp  her thoughts and attempted to see past the physical boundaries that blocked her now.

It was just as well, he supposed. A determined peasant was an entertaining one….

It was almost entertaining to watch, Rygnar mused as he moved down the stairs, his hands falling to his pants and armour as he made his way toward the man dragging the captives into place. Thumbs hooked on his belt as he made to pause just in the middle f the grand staircase, watchful Blue eyes  flickering between the face covered with a sadistic grin as they yanked on the girl following, to the bound and gagged prisoners that filed in, one by one as they guards under hsi commanded  settled in after their conquest. They all seemed… pleased with themselves. Patting one another on the shoulder as they laughed and started to pour themselves ale and mead and pass out treats. The sight of it was familiar, he too having joined in such festivities before and he supposed that most the time it was warranted, earned… but there was something settling into his chest as he felt his lips pull downward into a soft from, his eyes narrowing on the bunch as they yanked on the neck chains of the ‘guests of honor’

‘“I trust you found some entertaining ones… the ones brought by the princes have hardly uttered a word since arrival. The king will be displeased if he does not receive entertainment.”

Ragnar's voice was muffled by the mask that adored his face, but the sound of it was more than enough to stop the man in his tracks. There was a small hesitation as they caught it, their attention diverting right back to their captain. The man in front swallowed thickly, his gaze diverting under the heavy bearing look that Rygnar had perfected. They seemed to settle now, the cold winds of reality setting in. If the king was displease it was no secret he would cry it out on his subjects, the man a tyrant, a monster, every rumor and tale far more pleasant than the actual man himself. To displease the king was the worst offence, and there was a heavy laying chance that they would fall under the kings displeasure if he was  not suitably entertained.

His gaze moved over them, taking them in one by one.

He would see to it they all fell under the Mad King’s hand before his gaze ever fell to him.

And they knew it.

“We got a feisty one right here…” the words were hurried, rushed out of his mouth in almost a jumble as he pushed forward, yanking on the chain of the girl who was nearly right before him so that he could see her more clearly.

And His breath stilled.

He couldn’t really see her, cloth covering her face and hair falling around her in waves, but what he could see made his heart still and his chest clench holly. It was gone in passing moment, a skip of a heartbeat as he  looked he river, over the bruises that decorated her face and skin and the blood that mingle din her  shirt. She was small, a tiny little thing, her stance held still even as she was yanked forward. He watched her as she straightened,  her eyes trying to find them but unable to see past the cloth. There's something about her, something that pulled the fire but crested like the  ocean waves, and before he could stop himself he found himself reaching out for the chain that still rested the guards hand.

“Hand her over. I’ll see to her arrival in the hall.”

There was no arguing, though he could see the desire to fight fill the features of the man. He reached out, dripping it in his hand as he turned away stiffly, harshly. Rygnar knew that there would be talk about this later, how he had stolen the glory of finding the most entertaining prisoner but really, Rygnar could not find it in him to care. When you worked under the king, you found any reason to keep yourself in good graces, formed very few bonds with anyone.

“Come.”

It's the only word he spoke to her, and he pulled gently in the chain, to lead her up the stairs.

The trip was short, the hall not to far from the entrance. He moved her into place, moving her toward the glass wall and cell that decorated the sides, placing her in so that she could be place and displaced like the possession she had become. His eyes never left her, watching her as he settled her in.

“It’ll be over soon.”

He didn’t know why he said iit, why he felt the need to say something to her as he placed her in here, but the words fell from him, unbidden before he turned to leave.

God he needed a drink.

Those weren’t words of comfort, they weren’t meant to be. And if they were the man had a weird way of letting her know that her death was coming soon. She shuttered, tried to shake the feeling that freezing her veins. But it seemed like nothing was going to help, not with her, fates knew where and by who. Obviously besides the king.

‘This is it.’

This was where she was going to die. The end of the road for her. There was no coming back.

She would never see her mother or her father again, she would never see her brother. Her neighbors or even the butcher down the road. She’d never walk down the grassy foot hills or see the little stream that played right behind her home again. There was no more church in the early morning of sunday. She didn’t even know if she would make it to this sunday. All of it was lost to her.

But there was only one person she could truly say she regretted disappearing on. Regretted the hurt that she would ultimately feel over the loss. Tears sprang to her eyes at the thought of her sun kissed best friend.

The thought of Skip enough to pull the little facade that she had been playing to shambles. She tried to muffle the cry that creeped into her chest, but she could feel the tears burning just behind her eyes. She could hear the whimper as she thought about the loss of that multi colored gaze.

Fates what she would not have gave to see her just one more time, to tell her that she had found herself in some sort of trouble. But Bub was not stupid either, she knew Skip. Knew that she would have tried everything in her power to save her, much like Bub would have for her.

Another muffled sob left her, those tears that she had held onto so valiantly split, seeping into the cloth covering her eyes.

Everything was so cold here, devoid of any human sort of comfort. It was wet and terrible. The rain beat against the panels of glass, winds roaring to life in the background.

It only added to the ambiance of her loss to be honest.

And she wanted nothing more than to curl in on herself and cry.

The sounds of quiet sobbing won't unusual.

She could hear the rain, the sound of everlasting storms playing against the thick glass planes that decorated the room she was in. It was loud, thunderous, almost overwhelming as voices intermingled in it, soft tones that muttered praise, soft voices just that too far away for her to really hear, a hair's breadth away from her being able to grasp it. There was moment, of that she  was sure, all around her, and despite the rain having soaked her clothing through to the bone, the air here was warm, hinted with something much softer, more heated then the ice of the storm that raged.

She couldn’t see it, the blindfold placed on her eyes secure enough to completely block out her vision, but she could hear it, the steady pour of raindrops pattering away, ticking seconds of her life as she bit harder into her gag. Everything around her was like a strange sort of song, alluring and terrifying all at once. Skip shivered, not entirely from the cold that clung to her clothes as she felt someone move their hand along her shoulder, the motion seeming almost dismissive as the touch left just as soon as it had appeared. Everything felt warm, the room, the air, her lungs, but she shook in her place, unmoving as she felt her mind run a thousand miles per minute.

Her night had started out so simple.

Today had been a late one. That much was true. Today had been her day to stay late at her family's little shop, dealing with inventory and locking up and deep cleaning. Her hands clenched, fingers aching for release as she shifted on her knees, still feeling the rag in her hand that had made her fingers raw, ice building in her skin as she tried to starve off the water droplets that rolled down her back. She had known, what with how much cleaning she was going to have, as her siblings never wanted to do any work and often just left the mess until their father grew tired of seeing it and she ended up having to clean it, that she was going to be there until late into the morning, probably just after day began to break over the mountains. She had almost been looking forward to it, as she had planned to grab a biscuit and a scone and maybe something a little warm and strong before she watched the sunrise and passed back out so she didn’t have to work that day. She Had planned to pull bub into bed with her, to pull her into her blankets and lock themselves away under them so she could give in to all the rampant thoughts that played in her mind, her hands finding her best friend to slip into sleep and pull her down with her.

But now, she didn't even know if she was going to make it to that sunrise.

She wanted to ask where she was. Wanted to ask what it was they wanted with her but the words would not form, the cloth in her mouth pulled to harshly into her to allow anything other than mumbled gargles to slip past her. It is humiliating, the way they bound her, her hands clasped behind her back and a heavy metal collar decorating her neck like a priceless necklace. The gag made her mouth part, drool spilling over parted lips as she struggled to breath against the blooming bruises in her skin, the black and purples that spread like new found containers on a sea of darkened skin. Ink black hair fell to frame her face, strands dancing over her cheeks like the familiar hands of Bub, soothing  her in her imagination as she realized she may never see her pretty girl again.

The thought was painful, ripped through her like barbed wire. She felt it as it appeared in her mind, a poison that's seeped trough weekend temperament.

She was never gonna see Bub again, and Skip was probably going to die if this wasn’t some stupid prank.

It’s a little far, to be a prank.

Logic was a force to be reckoned with, a powerful force that ripped her will from under her and sent her toppling into depression the words in her mind sprung only form such clause to bring to life the fear she was so desperately trying to keep at bay. If she was going to be perfectly honest, she didn’t really want to think about what was about to happen to her, she didn't want to see what is beyond this blindfold. But the longer she sat her, the longer she was left to kneel here the longer she had to think, and things were starting to stack up, and the odds were not in her favor.

Where the fuck was she? What did they want?

She wanted to scream it, to scream at them for what they had done but they had done a good job in tying her up. She couldn’t even remember what it was that had really happened, her memory almost to faded with fear to remember anything other than a swift knock on her door before the lights had been blown out in a  strange draft of wind that had ripped through the store. She could remember looking out the store front, and when she saw nothing but pitch black, nothing but inky black waves as far as the eye could see, she had stepped out, just for a moment....

That had been her mistake.

Skip shifted now, straightening her back to try and relieve some of the pain that was building.

It was like they wanted to torture her first…

It was a lot like torture actually. Easy enough to say that. It was cruel and not so unusual for how the people here treated the common folk of their enemy kingdom.

She was left alone in a cell, never released from the bonds that kept her so placent. She was like a wild animal in the little cell. A muse to watch and gawk over, to laugh at and chuckle little nasty bit about to one another before turning their noses up at her and moving on to the next best thing. Everyone able to see the small girl that sat shaken and lonely in the room. But just out of reach. Just enough to tease them with the mysteries that was a Wiecoa woman. There was a thick glass panel between the two worlds.

Brown eyes flickered over her frail form, over the shakes that seemed to ravage her body. Taking in the flecks of freckles and the bruises that littered her supple skin. His eyes crawled over the metal band encasing her neck, took in the damped strip of cloth that rested just between pretty lips.

Wiecoa woman or not, she was a sight to be seen. A wonder that kept him entranced for a moment longer than he really would have thought to be.

This girls  world was a dark and lonely one right now, while the world that surrounded Newlyn could only be described as the utmost lavish life he could imagine. Games and dancing circled the room. Food and wine decorated the tables, there were men and women dressed up to the nines and then there were those who were under training. They were on their knees, each of them clad to the room. Their chins high in a show of their own nobility, though it did not matter too much here. Candles and fire roared, keeping the place toasty and a much welcome comfort from the storms that brew just outside the world around them. It was barely audible from this side of the glass. The storm just a dull hum in the background of the music that echoed through the ballroom.

And at the very end of it all, was Chaos. The king. The man that controlled every aspect of this so called ‘mad’ kingdom. His fingers ran over his lips as Wade leaned in speaking god knew what into the King's ear. There was a smile on those lips, a gleam in those eyes that never meant anything good. Things Newlyn knew all too well for his years in service to the king himself.

Newlyn found himself turning to the pair, watching them wistfully as the king shook his head just lightly, his own words flowing as his eyes caught onto Newlyn. There was a quirk to the man’s lips, one that he found himself responding to almost immediately. His own lips cocking. But Chaos was moving, shifting from his slumped position to one that looked more like a Kings.

Newlyn found himself straightening, his body turning fully from the little window so that he could address his King with the utmost respect. Though it was just a motion he waited on, just a little flick of his wrist that needed to be seen. And it was so quick that most people barely even noticed it, none of them stopping there conversations or laughter. None of them pulling away from the plates full of food. It was a sign, just for Newlyn and the two guards sitting just outside the little cell.

He made his own motion, turning to the guards at his side.

“Bring her out. Leave the bonds.”

The words were low, spoken specifically for the guards who moved without another mention. Only a light little head nod before they were pushing through the doors and grabbing hold of the girl. Their hands a little too heavy for his liking.

He let his knuckles knock lightly on the back of the glass, getting their attention for the split second he needed it. He made it seem dismissive, made the action seem almost uncaring, but he just wagged a quick finger to them before, making a come motion with it. The hint was taken easily, though he would admit that they still handled her a bit harsher than need be.

She was a tiny little thing after all.

He could hear the muffled cries before she even made it out, her whine playing like a beautiful melody on his ears. In the same moment, the King stood in the background, grabbing the court's attention. The room falling to a quieted hush around him. But he didn’t flinch, the smile on his lips still warm and welcoming to the petite little thing. Not that she could see it.

“There, there, mon cher. It’s just beginning, no need to cry yet.”

His fingers were moving tendrils of wet hair back, pushing them behind her ears, before letting his fingers fall to wipe at the lone tear that seemed to run down her cheek. Skip could feel it, his hands on her frame, a soft touch that grazed over her skin to brush some of the wetness away. It was… oddly soothing, though skip supposed that any comfort at this point would  be met with this strange pull in her gut.

“Now, i’m sure you were taught how to act in front of royalty.”

She was. Of course she had been. It was practically a core lesson in any home on how to properly at in front of Royals, taught  to them from infancy well into adulthood. Though she was only seventeen, the rules had been engraved in her mind for years now. Don’t try, never look them in they eye unless commanded, do not speak unless spoken to. It was all standard stuff really, things that most people would do even if not told the appropriate actions. Skip hesitated for all of a moment, her body shivering before she nodded.

She knew what was expected out of her, and being kidnapped did not seem to change it at all.

His voice was soft, accented lightly with a language she did not know but could recognize, a velvet purr that rippled over her mind as she moved to listen to his unspoken commands. Her mother’s words echoed in her head, past the screams that she was a failure, past the taunts that this exact scenario was where she would end up if she didn’t act right, to the lessons she taught her, moments she had forced her to listen as she told her exactly what to do should she ever meet a royal.

The likelihood that a peasant like her would ever meet royalty was so small it was almost laughable, but nonetheless her mother had been insistent on her learning. Her mother had fanciful dreams that their blood was more valuable than their status, that they were descended from lines of royalty and luxury and she had been isn't on her knowing just how to meet her kind. Back then, Skip had scoffed at her, had laughed of the notion because her family was nothing more than bottom dwelling peasants. They had no royalty in their blood, nothing but merchants and shopkeepers and gamblers who lost any fortune they might have had. She had laughed at her but like a good daughter she had listened and if nothing else, she was grateful for that and that alone.

But now she had to face the reality that manners would not save her here.

She wanted to scream. There was  part of her, a very large part, that wanted to kick, to scream, to fight. These People… they were royalty, they had to be such unpleasantness saves solely for those of higher status, the elite who sold their own good conscious for luxury or fame. She felt his hands on her, the heavy feeling of someone's touch almost over bearing as she shuffled slightly on her feet. The feeling of rebellion seemed to bubble under her skin, her teeth sinking into the fabric in her mouth for just that moment longer as she hissed her displeasure.

But she obeyed, and to the best of her ability, she curtsied to the unseen man.

She heard the whispers as they sprung to life, sneering laughter as she stumbled and nearly fell over with the movement. There was a sudden surge, a roar in her ears as she heard them, the people around her starting to laugh at her clumsy display and before she could stop herself she could feel her head turn, a growl slipping past her lips as she gritted her teeth, bared fangs where none grew. She shook now, not entirely from the cold, her skin feeling hot, a welcome change from the ever present ice that had started to creep inside her skin. Her blood circled, filled her cheeks with a  light dust of pink her darkened skin did not readily show, as her head swam with anger, burned with indignation.

If she could have cursed them out she would have. If she had known there was anything to throw she would have.

She was going to die. That much  Skip could gather. No one was ever just kidnapped and let go by royalty. What was a little outburst in the face of death?

Skip turned back around, breathing in deeply.

She had only one regret…. and that was that she would not be able to see bub when she finally kicked it.

“There’s a girl.”

The smile that painted his lips was one of pure pride. A joy at seeing the small wonder obey so easily, without a real struggle. Beside the one to stay on her feet, but that was nothing out of the normal. She was bound. It couldn’t have been easy on the poor thing.

But she at least gave it a try. And at the end of the day that was what really counted. At least to him. To the King, probably not so much. But there was nothing he could truly do when it came to the rule of what people called the ‘Mad’ king. He was but a humble servant, faithful in his way to the rightful heir of the kingdoms throne.

“Now just remember that when the king is addressing you. And you should not have much trouble.”

Newlyn let his eyes shift to the guard that held the reign of the girl tightly, making sure that this hold was secure. A motion he noted as he watched those burly hands flex over the thick chain that connected to this darling girls neck brace. He was bigger than him, much bigger. His appearance more intimidating. Much like what you would expect out of the kingsguard. Someone that you would rip terror into heart with  just a look at on the street.

He let that smile flicker for a moment, contemplation encasing him as he watched the guards eyes take him in. The motion almost challenging. Like he dared Newlyn to say something on the way he was holding onto her, or the way he was looking at the kings priest. There was no fear though, no room for the emotion from a man that Newlyn knew damn well would be on his knees if he so much as snapped a damn finger.

And so that little smile returned, placed perfectly right back onto his lips as he pulled his hand out, palm up in wait.

Much like what he knew, the guard moved, dropping the heavy chain into his hand without too much thought behind the action. The sound of it dropping into his head felt like the toll of a bell, the church ringing the ascension of another as her death was handed from one man to another without her even being able to see the face of either one. She felt her body tense as the chain moved, her head following the sound.

“Thank you,... come, come, cherie. The king is waiting.”

His motion was light, the pull on the chain probably the lightest she had yet to feel since being in the castle. A sad occasion for such a pretty little thing. But he was sure he would get his taste, and he was more than sure that he knew just how to treat a delicacy such as herself.

The walk wasn’t too long. Only a couple of feet away, and the crowds were already silencing, parting for the prisoners to be brought through the large room. Brought to be displayed out in front of them all. Where more than a couple of the Wiecoa common folk had met there ends and some had wished they had. Where this girl was more than likely to meet a similar fate as the rest.

And the thought shouldn’t have provoked any sort of emotion, but he could feel the surge of something rising up.

“On your knees now,  love.”

She didn't move for a moment. Even the slightest motions felt like a slap, her chest tight a she swallowed thickly around the lump that had formed in her throat.  For all of a moment, she thought about fighting. For all of a moments he thought about fighting back against the order, thought about turning and swinging and making a run for it. There was  something in her, a monster, a beast that clawed at the cage of her ribs and demanded she fight, demanded she  take her chance. There was no doubt in her, no doubt in her mind that this would be the ned for her, so why take it lying down?

But what would be the point in fighting?

Skip was no fool. She knew she had no chance at escape, no chance she would make it out of here even with the Fates granting her luck. She just.. Wasn’t strong enough, fast enough, clever enough to know what to do to make it out of here alive. She knew she could fight it, the will still in her and thriving under her heavy heartbeats, but to fight would lead right back to the path she had tried to avoid.

Just with more pain.

She wasn’t exactly a fan of pain, and hopeless despair rose in her throat as her legs bent, knees buckling as she slid along the floor to settle on her knees. She knew it was useless to run, knew it was useless to try and take off… she had nothing left.

Fates… please let someone break the news to Bud lightly.

It was her only wish. Bub wasn’t the most open of girls. She hid herself behind a wall of aggressive teasing and outlandish pride, a personality, a mask that hid the soft tender heart that beat in her ets friend’s chest. Bub was a soft girl with harsh tongue and quick mind, and she one what the knees of what happened to her was going to absolutely destroy her. She knew that Bub is going to break, scream cry because she knew how she would act if she were to lose Bub.  she could practically feel the empty twin of pain blooming in her heart, the sting of loss as she realized she would never see her again.

Bub, i’m  so sorry.

Her sobs made laughter spill from the crowd, and Skip’s body shook with repressed rage.

If she could only talk.

“Silence.”

There was a hum, a low bubble words that fell as the word dropped from the abyss around her. The words were soft, spoken with a low burn and bubble of disinterest decorating the words as she heard someone shift beside her.

“Do not tell me this is all we managed, Newlyn…”

There was an expectant silence that fell through the crowd at the kings words. One that most would have heard and coward. But Newlyn simply stepped forward, took the spot right next to the girl so he could present himself more fully to his king. He allowed himself to bow, to lower his head and bend right at his hips for a moment before speaking loudly. Loud enough to echo around the room.

“From my end sire. This was all Volker brought to me. But I heard that Magnus and Varga brought in some as well. It seemed the trip gave them just a little bit of trouble.”

His fingers ran through the wet strands of silk that laid just with in his reach. There was no rush, no forced movements. It was just a motion, almost as if he were running his fingers over a dear pet. But he didn’t move his eyes away. Didn’t dare let them stray from the king.

“Rygner has one I heard.”

“Does he now?”

The purr bubbled, and she could practically hear smirk as it bleed through his tone…

“Bring them forward then, Rygnar.”

It was heartbreaking to watch her.

Rygnar didn’t stray far from the room. It was as if his eyes were locked on her, drawn to her even as he pulled himself from her cell. It was easy enough to keep tabs on her, the glass between them clear and cleaned, the scratched from the prisoners in the past that blurred the image of her as he reached out to take a pint form the hands of a laughing Royal. Kingsguard Weren't’ supposed to drink on the job, but something about this sat as well with him as thirteen day old steak and rotten milk. It bubbled like bile in his chest, coating his tongue in sour despair as he watched her fall into herself, watched her as she started to sob, silently, behind that thick sheet of glass.

Crying women did not affect Rygnar. Hell, he was one of the few who had had married and still did not have children, his wife’s sobs and pleas reaching deaf ears as he threw himself into his job for the King. Chaos was a man that required constant help, constant and diligent attention or else one might face the consequences of displeasing the king. Rygnar knew, that if nothing else, he was good at his job, he was the one who they all looked to, the one seen as harsh and hardened, jaded from years under the king's rule.

And he was. Rygnar could say without a shadow of a doubt that he was jaded, a hardened man made of more jagged edges then soft curves, the kind that no woman ever cooed about or gushed over. He was a knife, a man of command… but something about this just sat so wrong in his chest.

It was like watching his heartbreak before him, and not being able to do a thing about it, watching her cry beyond that glass.

Newlyn was talking now, presenting someone to the king. This was something that Rygnar usually found pleasure in, watching the people they captured on display and taking stock of what other kingdoms had to offer. He loved to see, loved to observe but this time was different. This time he couldn’t even muster up the interest to turn his gaze, to pay attention to the priest who spoke in soft muted accents, hushed whispers of lust and divinity.

He moved his hand, lifting it to that he might placed his palm flat against it. There was something here, something in his bones that was a twin to anger that sizzled into existence as he moved closer again. He drank, deeply, from his mug, downing it’s contents to obtain another and repeat the process. He didn’t look away, hardly ever acknowledged anyone else until he heard it, the sound of his King’s command.

He pulled his eyes away, flicking up to the king.

“Yes, My King.”

It was a guards duty to obtain prisoners. Rygnar moved as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He could see them, The kingsguard that moved in response to Chaos command, the ones who pulled golden keys from their pockets so that they could open the wooden door that separates him from the pretty, sad little figure. He moved easily, his hand out in command, not question, heterochromic eyes flicking up to them, the demand unspoken, unvoiced but there, holding steady over their heads.

He couldn’t explain why, but he could not allow another guard in that room.

The door opened loudly, creaking hinges screaming in the wet cold as Rygnar took in a breath. She sat there, crumpled on the floor, her little soft whimpers filling the room, aching to be heard as they ripped through his being, his mind, the sound of them pulling something from deep within him to the surface. His hands were out, moving to grace over her shoulders, her skin, as she gently moved to guide her where he need to be.

“Come Now, Easy does it, Darling…”

This had to be a trick. All of it, the man’s voice so calmly speaking to her. Trying to exude that calm onto her, like if he spoke low enough the pure unadulterated horror that was exuding in her body was going to suddenly disappear. And she couldn't admit, there was a sort of comfort that came off his words, a sort of false hope that was forced to bubble under her skin. But she had no grande ideas that this man was going to save her. He just wanted her to be a little bit easier to get to her death she was about to meet.

She felt her the goosebumps rise over her skin as he touched her. She felt the thump of her heart beat and the small little gasp that escaped her at his touch. It isn't rough, but it was forceful, pulling her up when she wanted to lay down. Or fight. Or scream. Anything other than what was happening.

But she had no way to win, no way to get through this. Her only hope lied truly with King Philip.

He had always been a kind king. A king of the commoners most people called him. Willing to give most anyone a chance, and she just truly had to wait for her opportunity to get through this. To actually speak to him and explain away the confusion.

She could hear the whispers and little tilts of laughter as she left the windy room. Warmth filled her in almost an instance. Her new area was quieter than before, the roar of the winds and rain dying as they went through what she assumed was doors. At least they swung and shut like they were. But as comforting as the new room was she was still shaking, still stumbling over herself to try and keep up as the chain was pulled into directions.

The voices were overwhelming. Trying to hear every word, trying to piece sentence together. None of them seemed nice, none of them seemed friendly. They sounded like snooty royals looking down on the peasant girl that had found herself in front of the kings court.

And that was far from what she had expected from the king's court.

They came to a stop, a sudden stop if you asked her, and it took only seconds for her to feel a strong hand on her shoulder, pressure forcing her to comply. She went to hers knee’s refusing to put up too much a fight, definitely when she might of had a chance of getting out of this hell hole she was finding herself in.  Her Quiet Obedience was expected, but pleasant, a low hum building in Rygnar throat as he watched her lower herself to her knees in response to him, his hand never moving from her shoulder as he pressed her down in front of the king. His other hand held her chain, fingers tightening around it as he rose his gaze to the dull burning gaze of his king.

King Chaos was not a man to be underestimated. Though he sat, his body slumped and his head resting against hand to keep himself propped up, Rygnar knew that with even the slightest of impulses this man could take out forces far stronger than the ones gathered her today in a matter of minutes. His blood ran with something that called beyond this realm, something that sang of power and might nad to seem in in battle was something that made legends. He was a powerful king, the rightful king, and his gaze held the weight of the world and more. Feeling ot on him,Rygnar tensed, his shoulders squaring like he might be able to shield it from the girl at his side, but he watched as that gaze moved, slowly, too slowly, a languid shift toward the small tiny little thing that was kneeling at his side.

Her sobs had stopped now, dried tears staining her cheeks ash the king took her in.  In Front of him now rested three bodies, each one more different than the last but no less charming, he was sure, in their own special way.  He couldn’t see them well, the hall lit by brightly burning fire that did nothing to help him see through their bonds. Their faces were mostly covered, their mouth wrapped and their hair falling around them. They Were crowded in on themselves, shrunken in like  could just turn in on themselves and disappear. The fear in their stance was evident, a sight that please Chaos. Their fear was a drug, sugar on his tongue that made him lick his lips as he watched them settle into place before him, presented as the true prizes they were.

The first who had been brought out sat alone, her golden hair falling around her in matted waves as she kept quiet and still, like that was going to keep his attentions away from her. The next had Newlyn standing guard, his eyes on him, trained, like a good subject but his hands had found their way to the hair of  the girl next to him, soothing it back like one might a impatient and untrained dog.  Newlyn was calm, sure of himself, the confidence in his stance matched only by the blaze of glory that existed in his eyes, the flames of perfections that he managed to cradle in his chest. Newlyn didn’t seem rushed, didn’t seem to be in any hurry to impress him and that was what so often soothe the king when matters seem to grow.

Newlyn saw him more for the man he was then the king he had become.

But he wasn't the only friend he held here in this court. Chaos watched her as she moved away from his hand, just slightly, and the smirk played almost unseen on his lips before his eyes shifted toward Rygnar. The golden haired boy was standing tall, his knight gazing at him with mismatched blue eyes, the lights of a thousand stars flashing behind them. There was trust there, a burning blaze of blue fire that threatened death to those who would before the bodyguard. Chaos had seen this look a thousand times and had seen the end result of trying such a thing, and it wasn’t something you wished upon even your worst of enemies. Rygnar stood now, however, opposite of him, his hand on the frame of the little girl he had brought forward, the little tiny thing that shook and trembled as she tried to piece together what is going on.

Interesting.

He stood now, rising to his full glory as he allowed the decorative capes to fall off his shoulders, leaving only the half ruined on that drape over one. His furs settled against his skin,shifting only as he moved, a steady pace down the stairs that lead to his throne, his wicked gaze never moving from the ones who had suddenly found themselves part of his empire.

“I can always count on you all to please me.”

There it was, that praise that all his kingdom sought to here. Even now, Rygnar couldn’t help the lift of his lips  as he heard it, the sound pleasing, soft. When the king was happy, all were happy, and it seems that despite the low numbers, the king found some amusement in their selections.

“Bring her forward.”

He pointed now, lifting his hand to gesture lightly at Newlyn and his chosen prize. His gaze moved, never staying on the young girl for too long, like his attentions could not be bothered to stay on her at all.

“And unblind the others. I want them to see.”

And there it was, the sinking reality that this was happening.

It was odd, and odd feeling that washed over Newlyn at the kings words. Something he could never put an actual word to, not in this moment in the least. It was heavy and honestly probably the first time he had ever felt an actual distress over any ‘subject’ being brought forward to the hands of the ‘Mad’ king.

“Up now then.”

But he knew better than to show it, knew better than to allow any sort of differentiation on his expression. The smile stood steady, strong in his current challenge. Much like his motions, they were soft. Softer than they really had to be and he knew that. His fingers smoothed through the strands one last time, before pulling away to find themselves moving. Lifting her underneath her arm to help get her better supported onto her feet.

Even that motion made him feel sick, like he should have been moving together out of the wrath that the King's eyes bore. He should have been doing something, anything other than this. But this was Chaos. And he would not take no for an answer and more than likely Newlyn would find himself in more trouble than she would have. And he wasn’t much help that way, now was he? Skip would never admit it, not aloud, but she was thankful to the hands that now moved along her. More Than the fact they helped to steady a fear filled mind and helped anchor her thoughts through true human interaction, they also offered comfort in the what she was sure would be her last moments.

She didn’t seem to fight, didn’t truly pull away from him. Only shifted, stumbled slightly over her own feet as she lifted. But Newlyn left his hand, letting the one that was carrying the chain touch the small of her back. Just to help the little one onto her feet.

“Don’t make a fuss now. He has a temper.”

Though he shouldn’t have, he pressed his cheek lightly against the girls, whispering the words to her so that she alone could hear them. His body moved, making the motion seem fluid and controlled, and it was barely a second. Changing quickly as he pressed her forward, forcing her to walk or stumble.

On this one it was her choice.

Chaos watched, the crowd around him silent as the grave as the girl made her way to him. Sh stumbled, only slightly,. Newlyn leading her to him with the grace he expected of his court holy man, the priest, the wolf in delicate clothing. Oh he knew of Newlyns temptations and to see the man move was a grace, a show all on it’s own, but his attentions were locked, left on the tanned girl with thin arms and a shrunken in face. She looked fragile, like she would break with even the smallest touch, and Chaos’s expression betrayed nothing as  he watched the make their way to him.

She stood before him, hardly even coming up to his chest as she shivered, soaked hair frizzing as it slowly dried in the heat of his fires. His eyes moved over her, taking her in, his hands moving, arms crossing over his chest to allow fingers to run along his chapped lips, thumb brushing over his beard and  scars as the silence became most deafening.

The resounding silence seemed to rage, every breath heard as he kept his eyes on the girl. It was a moment, before he looked to Newlyn, his hands moving forward only to flick toward the blindfold that still rested on her face.

“Remove it.”

It was a command this time, not a suggestion.

There was a hesitation, a moment when no one moved. Chaos watched them, watched as his commands settled through, the uncertainty weighing on them but the knowledge that they knew better then to inquire his intentions keeping them from making a tragic mistake. He watched as they moved, a guard shifting form the wall to move toward the third of his prizes, Rygnar’s hands moving swiftly to reach into thick curls of hair to find the knot that held the cloth together. He watched as they untied them, watch the cloth fall away and litter the stone under them as they blinked at the sudden light.

Oh fates the world around her burned, the low lights from the fires scorching her eyes. Enough to force them closed, force Bub to turn her head into her shoulder if just to get away from the burning world around her.  She should have reacted, should have tried to straighten up, to see exactly where it was that she was at. But she couldn’t the sting in her eye too much in the light of the room.

It took a second, a moment longer than she would have liked, but she wiped away the tears that stung her eyes. Pressing her shoulders against her skin as best she could, though the manacle around her neck dug just that much deeper. But she moved, lifting her gaze to the blonde guard that still kept a steady hand on her shoulder. Though it was soft, she knew already that testing it would prove pretty futile. Her eyes flicked back to the front of her, where she expected King Philip. She expected the well trimmed withering man that everyone in her kingdom had grew to love. But found something that shocked an muffled gasp from her. A flinch that she could not get a handle on.

Not until she saw the familiar head of dark locks.

Which seemed to work wonders on clamping that need to back up, the need to turn tail and run. If she even could. It was Skip. She knew. Knew the girl anywhere. And she soon found that she was glued to the spot, refusing to move her eyes away from them.

Chaos gaze moved back toward the one before him, watched as her eyes flickered, blinked rapidly before they settle down him.

Watching recognition spill into her features was like watching blood on skin. It a smooth, delicate, and their was a beauty about it that could not be matched. He could almost hear it as her heart stopped in her chest, watched her breathing hitched as she nearly forgot how it was she was even supposed to breathe. Her eyes, mismatched, dual colored, widened, and unconsciously she took a step back, deeper into the hands of the holy man beside her.

A mistake. It was foolhardy to think Newlyn would be any better than he was.

“Do You know why you were brought here?”

He kept his voice soft, but there was something to it, something dark that rumbled under his tones and mingled with the fear that had already found home in her chest, her bones. She had felt it, the terror that threatened to pull her under, the dread that ached in her like old memories or heated embers. She looked to him, her eyes never closing, never wavering, as she heard the roar of a thousand heartbeats racing in the rears, the scream of the brown blood rushing through her body. Everything seemed heated, small, narrowed down to only a point. she didn’t dare look, didn’t dare speak a word, but she shook her head, slowly, purposefully, as to not anger the man before her.

The Mad King. King Chaos.

Oh she had no doubts about where she was now. There had been rumors, reports of people being kidnapped late at night and being returned only in pieces and in memories, but she had not thought such things would have reached her tiny little town. She had never expected to meet this man, only heard about him in pubs and dark alleys, or in the shops as young girls whispered about his foul and evil deeds. She didn’t look away, too terrified to actually look to see whosel might be there and if she we going to be perfectly honest she had forgotten there even was other people.

Chaos looked the picture perfect sculpture of a king, his old name of black hair  decorated with ornaments and streaks of what looked to be leather entangled in braids. She's swallowed, thickly, her heart hammering, hurting, his eyes locked on her as she watched his shoulder move with each breath. He was regal, presented as the king he was and she had never been more scared in her life.

“You were brought here For my pleasure, my amusement...What are you? Speak.”

The last word was barked out, harshly, and Skip jumped as she blinked at the sound. She was shaking, unsure ifs he was even able to speak, but at the command her lips parted to allow her voice to tremble out, shaken and weak but there.

“I’m… I’m just a merchant, Sir. I’m only a peasant.”

It was what she had been trained to do. Her mother's voice drifted through her mind, warning her of being too bold, to gaudy. To over sell yourself to a king was often a fatal mistake, and so she lowered her eyes and near bowed, as one did when you wished to be respectful.

She did not see the smile that moved along his lips at the sight, at her words.

She heard his steps if her jumps and little twitches were anything to go off of. He moved closer, moving so that he was just before her, Newlyan just at her side, so close Chaos could feel his heat from even where he was standing. He said nothing, his hand moving lifting slowly before he cupped her chin, lifting it light, a soft pressure that guided her gaze back up. Her eyes moved, slowly moving along his body, taking their time as they rolled over this armor, the leather, the fur, her head already shift up for a good few seconds before her eyes moved back to his, terror rippling over her features as she saw the wicked grin that graced him, the one that threatened to pull feather as he took his hand away.

And promptly backhanded her.

The sound of flesh on flesh rang through the silence, and her gasp sent a ripple of lust straight through him. Her pain brought forth his desire, a low groan bubbling into a growl as he watched her fall to the floor. There was a loud slip of air as his moved, lifting his foot to drop back down, colliding with her back as he pressed, just lightly, enough to make her call out in pain once more.

Bub’s reaction was almost instantaneous. Her body boiling with an intensity she didn’t know she even had the capability to feel. She was moving lifting onto her feet and out from under the man’s hand before he could fully get his grip steady on her. Audible gasp played through and they were only meet with a muffled scream ripping past her mouth as she tried to yank her way through the metal that graced her neck. It was meet with what anybody would have expected, a hard pull forcing her backwards, back onto the floor. Tears came unbidden, a light daze covering her as she shifted over the stone floor, tried to pull her body back up and instead found herself curling in on herself, but her gaze fell right back to her soft little Skip. Her poor girl.

She could see the shimmers of tears in Skips eyes. See the red blooming over delicate flesh and she could feel the sob of desperation pooling in her chest as the king moved forward again. Bub couldn’t help it, couldn’t help the cries, the muffled screams of Skips name escaping her. If only to give her girl some sort of comfort. To try and tell her she was here, try and grab some sort of her gaze.

She needed it. The desperation sitting heavy on her bones, as she tried to move to drag herself back up again.

“You are part of MY kingdom now, and you will be whoever I wish you to be.”

Skip could feel… nothing but pain. She gasped, the sting in her eyes over welling into full on tears as her face ached like she had slapped it into a wall. God his hand had been open but she felt like she had been punched, her head ringing as she struggled to breath under the weight of his foot. She tried to get up, really, she did, but she felt him move, twist and shove at her so that her body dropped against the filthy ground again.

“You are… what I say you are. A maid, a cook, a jester… Or maybe even….” He trailed off, his voice slipping deeper into that growl. Something lingered in his voice, something heavy, darker, and infinitely more terrifying.

“A whore.”

“STAHP IT! STAPH URTIN ER YOU UCKIN ASTARD!”

She was sobbing now, biting through the bit of cloth in her mouth to get her point across. Bub was fighting, fighting the hands that were trying to pull at her, fighting the chain that was yanking back too harshly on her. She tried, tried to move closer to Skip.

Wanted nothing more than too soothe her, to run her fingers through her hair, and press soft kisses to the red flare that was sure to leave a bruise on her pretty skin. She was so small, so fragile. She had always been, and Bub had found herself always on the other end of this situation. Always being the one needing protecting, but not this time. And as desperate as she was to get to the sun kissed best friend as bad as she wanted to protect her, she could do nothing.

Nothing but scream and kick, and fight and try every single one of the bloody bastards of this fates for forsaken kingdom. The panic bled into his veins as Rygnar moved,  pulling on the chain as she watched her try and get up again. His hands were on her, but she was moving, screaming, thrashing under his hands. His only hope to keep her in place was  the chain wrapped around his wrist, so tightly the metal dug into him and cut into the flesh there. He moved the instant he had seen her jerk, the instant he had seen something more than terror rip through her, but he hadn’t been fast enough to catch her, her shoulder ripping from him. She was a fast little thing, and honestly too had caught him off guard just how quickly she had responded.

There was a flurry of moment, a snap that reverberate in his chest when he saw the bodies of the KingSguard moving. They Were doing what they were trained to do, what he himself had trained them to do, moving forward as the threat made its way to their king. The burst of adrenaline, of hot lava spilling through frozen veins made him move, pushed him forward to wrap his hands around her, his eyes snapping toward their bodies as she tried to encompass he ran his hands, away from them, away from what he had trained these people to do.

They knew each other. That much clear in the desperate way her body moved. She was tied bound, only the blindfold being pulled away from her. While the dark haired girl had her gag and blindfold cleared. The way she looked at her… Rygnar was fascinated, the life that sparked in her eyes the brilliance of the sun, burning, blazing as she struggled and reached for the girl on the floor. And It wasn’t just her. At the sound of her voice, The figure under the king's boot seemed to drive, a bloom of life that had previously started to die, one that moved, head turning so that she could look for the sound of the voice shouting out. It was easy to see, the moment that recognition hit her, because she started to move, her features twisting into something just that more fearful, that more terrorized then they ever had been before. He didn’t know if it was conscious, if they realized what they were doing, but then tried to move, reaching for each other the only way bound hands knew how, though screaming thoughts and desperate please. He could hardly hear it, hardly hear what they were saying but there was the fear building in his own throat, the knowledge that he had to get them to stop…. Or…

Or what, Rygnar? They die?

His mind cooed the words at him, a vicious sound to his own thoughts.

What does that matter? What do you care? People die all the time here…. You never bat an eye. These girls are foolish… what does it matter to you if they get punished?

It didn’t. He told himself it didn’t. Why did it matter to him if the kings prizes acted like fools. This wasn’t something that was especially in common. Sometimes it happened, they got people that were close and they acted out, or people tried to escape or bargen or plea with the king for their freedom. To who spoke out of turn were punished, and the severity was based on what had happened more more largely based on the kings mood.

But the thought of it happening to her… It boiled, bubbled in his stomach like rotten meat.

He choose not to think on what that might mean.

Rygnar pulled the chain, yanking her back as she screamed again, pulling her frame up against his body. She struggled wildly, trying to reach the smaller girl as she squirmed under the kings feet. The realization of the other must have revived their will to live, must have spurred to like that last feverish kick of desperation that humanity was so fond of. He felt her struggle, felt the vibrations of her screams under her hands. Her back pressed against his chest, and he spoke low, mask just by her ears so she might hear the whisper even hidden behind the mask that made its home on his face.

“Stop, You won’t do her any good riling the kings temper.”

“No No…. let her speak.”

Chaos had watched this all with a slowly growing grin, the split of his lips baring a glint of white as he pressed harder into the spine of the one writhing beneath him. Rygnar was a vicious man, one who he had seen slit throats of children, woman, elderly alike and never even bat an eye. Rygnar never lost sleep over those he had lost, carefully detached from all those besides his king. It made him a valuable assets, the kind who had no problems executing closed loved ones for the sheer amusement of his charge. Rygnar was someone who placed his whole being into what he did, and to watch him now, see him move to attempt to protect with hands that had only ever attacked, was a sight that made Chaos even more curious than before.

Chaos was a patient man. People liked to paint him like he wasn’t and sure, he was known to lose his temper more than a few times. However, he found himself to extraordinarily patient with the few that had managed to worm their way past this barrier he had created for himself, worm their way under his kingly facade. People like Rygnar. He was a very patient man. He didn’t even  snap when Rygnar looked at him, staring at him with a moment’s hesitation before his hands moved, sliding over the girls frame, to reach her curly hair and tug at the bit in her mouth. It fell away slowly, like the unwrapping of a ribbon on a gift. His heel grinding into the dark one’s spine to pull a scream from her.

“GET OFF OF HER! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

The words left her as she tried to yank forward again, tried to get from the man’s hands, but he was quicker this time, catching onto her easily before she could even make a step forward.

“Bold language… from someone so small. Tell me, is this girl important to you?”

His words were cooed, soft and almost affectionate.

The opportunity was upon her, the same opportunity she had just thought she would be able to have with a compassionate king. The same opportunity that she would have spent on a man that might have actually listened to her words, a man that would never treat his followers as cattle. Or whores as the Mad king had so delicately put it.

And though it seemed like the opportunity to actually come out of this unscathed was gone, she could still have the opportunity to save Skip. To try and help her, to try and get her at least out from underneath the King’s boot. She had always been so strong, the one who had wanted to explore and challenge the local boys in joust that she knew damn well that she wasn’t going to win.There were times when she would pretend to fight the Mad king himself, her brother and their friends roaring in laughter as Skip made a fool of herself. It was all in good fun, just a bunch of kids playing games that would never actually come true.

Or at least they didn’t think that it would.

Now, here they were. Scared and thrown around like rag dolls and brought to their knees in front of a king that was finding every second of their lives being completely torn amusing. Like it was a sick games that he was hurting an actual person. Like Skip wasn’t crying out from underneath the pressure he was putting on her.

Make sure you curtsy. You were never to lift your chin to a King. Never look him in the eyes, keep your head down and be humble. Only speak when spoken to. Make sure to show the utmost respect. No matter to what royal.

All words that ran through her head, her mother's voice playing softly. Spoken in hushed whispers to a young Bub.

Bub glared, green eyes boring into purple without a hesitation.

“She’s not a dog. Get off of her.”

Her words sent a shocked silence over the gathering, the crowd around watching with bated breath and wide eyes as they stood, stock still, waiting for the king to respond. He didn’t say anything for a few moments, his eyes locked on her, brilliant dancing green the burst with life and looked like galaxies trapped in a night sky embrace. She was heavenly, this little girl made of stardust and passion and fire, her movements  pulling at strong hands as she attempted to push herself forward. There was no qualms in her, nothing of real fear, only a true and boisterous need that thrummed through her like lightning, the heady scent of it mingling in the air, making night more alive with only a breath of the spice she bled.

Chaos’s smile was toothy, wide and bright like that of a child's. He felt his cheeks burn as he took her in fully, messed up hair and ruined clothes doing nothing to hide the beauty of a girl filled with desire and spark. The look of her was something he would not forget, his mind already burning the image of her into his brain so that her snarl would appear behind his lid when he blinked or when he shut his eyes for the night. The flashing of poison green eyes would haunt his dreams, and he could feel it when his thoughts twisted, turned from the mundane girl under his foot to the brilliance of a star in human form before him. What would it be like, to take that frame. What would it be like to drink from her lips, taste wine and fruits and all the luxuries his life enabled him? What would it be like to taste the heat of her anger on his lips, to feel that passion that rushed like rivers through her? He imagined it would feel like… salvation, the rush of eternity.

He wanted it.

And he wanted it now.

“I don’t think your in any position to be demanding things, Critya.”

He spoke, finally, into the void of silence that had fallen into the air around him. He watched as people breathed again, his words soothing though they were colored in harsh tones. They were only at ease when his attentions were not on them.

Chaos moved, taking his foot off the girl under him. He heard her wince, her breathing a wheeze that's he could hardly draw in before he was bending, fingers wrapping in her hair to yank her to her feet. Her cry was strangled, like she was trying to keep herself from screaming, and the glare she bore we missed entirely as his gaze remained on the face of beauty before him, a little piece of Heaven locked in a contest of wills as she battled him with her stare.

“Stop,.. Stop. You’re hurting her.”

The words were strangled, barely audible as the desperation hit home in her chest again.

She was going to be sick, the pit in her stomach growing and raging as she watched Skip drag along the stone floor to find her way up again. She couldn’t help it, the challenging gaze turning to Skip just to mellow into a sort of frantic fury.

She couldn’t move, couldn’t get to her sooner. But it didn’t seem asif she was going anywhere soon, strong hand kept her grounded. There were eyes on her in every corner, guards and people the like watching the ‘show’ that the so called King was holding. But Bub didn’t care, didn’t really even notice them now, her focus on the small girl and the demon that disguised himself as a King. She let her eyes move to the dark skin man standing off just a little to the side, his own gaze drawn away from the spectacle. Almost as if he couldn’t bare to watch it, his lips turned in a frown.

He didn’t move, however disgusted he might have been. Didn’t dare try and stop the show, probably knowing full well that there wasn’t much he could do.

Bub knew the same. Difference being, where could she go from this? No point in not speaking her mind.

“Do You know where you are?”

He asked calmly, like he didn’t have his hand wrapped around the hair of the girl before him, her body being forced on her tiptoes from the force and strength he used to almost hold her off the floor.  His free hand lifted, the smile on his face pleasant but gleaming danger as he moved to grab her chin, turning her to her valiant friend.

“Do you know who i am?”

The words were intimidating, she would admit. Much like the King himself was. A powerhouse that everyone was too scared to challenge. A pinnacle for worships to their Fates. HE was what made this Kingdom the most traitorous in all of the lands. He was what made it dangerous to walk alone in the streets. He alone was the man that single handedly brought kingdoms down without a single blink of his lashes.

“You’re no King of mine. You may have sway over your land and your people. But i’m not yours. Neither is she. No words or actions that you take are going to change that.”

Bub wanted to go off, wanted to tell him he was a monster. That he didn’t deserve the power he had. She wanted to tell him exactly where it was he could fuck off to. Instead though she just brought gaze back to him, a shutter running through her body as she watched those lips, smiling so deviously at her.

This was his game, and she was giving him exactly what he wanted. But it was like there was no filter, no stopping the overwhelming emotions that were racking her. It worked out just as well for him,her words bringing forth a sort of bubble of elation that had been missing just a few minutes earlier.

“No king of yours? “ He repeated, tasting the words on his tongue like he was stating something exotic, foreign.  Something moved through him, a cool rush of adrenaline and something else mingling in his blood. It was golden, light, but icy and chilled, milking his skin tingle with elation. His hand clenched, tightened on her chin as he turned her face again, making the mismatched eyes move toward the warrior in tiny human skin.

“It’s bold of you, to assume that I’m not creative enough to make you change your mind. What do you think, Vallya?” He said, turning violet eyes toward the girl in his hands

“How creative do you think I can be?”

Skip didn’t answer. If she was going to be honest she wasn’t even really paying attention to the king before her. Here yes drifted, moving back toward where Bub was, her heart hammering, dropping in her chest as she heard her talk back to the king. She couldn’t say she was surprised, couldn’t say that she hadn’t expected such words out of Bub.

Bub wasn’t exactly known for keeping her head level… not when it came to each other. Bub was a relatively reasonable girl, the kind of girl who knew how to get out of situations with a silver tongue and a lie or two that would stop people away from the truth. She was clever, she was smart, exactly opposite of what Skip herself was. Skip was vibrant idiotic fire, the kind that sparked in the slightest of provotication, and it was always, always just so much worse when it came to Bub. Bub was the kind of girl who spoke her mind, who said what's he thought and often times, much like this it wasn’t the best thing to say in that sort of situation. She was clever but straightforward, and the Mad king only seemed to be amused by her words.

“Not enough.”

Skips only response was two words and fire in her eyes, her heart steady, beating fast but her mind was made up, determined. Bub had a way of getting under people’s skin but pure insult dug deeper.

“There isn’t enough creativity in your body to change her mind.”

Chaos paused, blinking at er words.

Before he felt it. The start of laughter that bubbled into his throat and spilled ast his lips, over flowing, overwhelming him as he struggled to hold himself together, struggled to hold onto any manager.

“How wonderful.”

Proving people wrong was a pastime of may benefits. It soothed his ego, barrages of insults often taking little chips off where he had built his fortress of psyche, as well as reaffirming in the people's mind that he was right where he was meant to be, the king willing, and able, to do anything to keep him throne. He knew that changing their minds was nothing more than an inevitability…. But they had simply made it much more painful then it had to be.

Without warning, Chaos moved, dripping to his knee as he brought the girl down. His hand followed after her head, slamming her to the ground to force her to cry out again, loudly, painful screams filling the silence around him. He lifted her again, giving her no time to rest in between, watching as red ran down her face from a broken nose a split lip.

“SKIP! NO! No, no no no!”

The scream was shrill, high pitched. Something echoed even over the loud gasp and audible little screams of surprise from the king’s ‘humble’ guest.

She was thrashing again, bucking against the hands that held her so forcefully now. Digging into her skin with a strength she should have known the guard would possess. Almost all the niceties were gone, gone with each wild thrash, with each desperate cry for Skip. The hand that was holding onto her so tight shifted, moved to wrap around her waist now. Yanking her back not just by the chain but her whole body. It didn’t make a difference, she was like a wild animal now, desperate sobs escaping her as she heard Skips low whines of pain. And she saw that blood drip off her body.

“Now that's not such a pretty sight… Is it Critya?”

He lifted her to her knees, the dark girl gasping as she tried to gather herself from the pain that made her head ring with bells and the room spin like she had drank to much with her brother and friends again. She felt sick, nauseous, her body shaking as this feeling started to ripple through her frame. It was  a moment as she thought that this was not normal, this was not what pain should feel like, but it was lost in the waves of her blood she tasted spilling from her nose.

Bub was going to be sick.

Her own tears sprung to life again, welling and spilling without so much of a fight. Her lips quivered in the same instance that her knees began to tremble, her body racked with a seed of regret. She never let her eyes drift too far from her fragile and broke Skip. Not even when the darker toned man moved forward. He didn’t do too much, just let his body gravitate towards the King and Skip. His hands finding their ways to his side, clenched as he watched the blood drip down Skips features. If Bub wasn’t mistaken or too wrapped up in the pain that Skip must have felt she would have swore that it was an unease. That he was uncomfortable with every bit of the situation.

Chaos watched her for a moment, a hum on his lips before he turned back to the girl.

“Look at this. Your only hurting her more. I guess she really doesn't mean that much to you.”

“I’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry. SKip i’m so sorry….. Let her go,... please. Please just let her go.”

She could feel her fingers clenching, her nails digging brutally into her own flesh as she tried to turn away from the sight. Sobs spilled uncontrolled from her lips. Her entire body shook, her back leaning heavier into the bodyguards. Heavier into the only thing that felt real right in this very moment.

She had done it, sure Skip had made a remark, one that the King didn’t like but Bub had started it. And that by itself meant that she had been the reason why tears were crawling down those cheeks to mingle with the blood. Bub couldn’t look, not anymore. Her eyes closed tightly as she turned her head again.

“Please, … PLEASE! Let her go, just let her go. She hasn’t done anything. We’re merchants! What kind of value could we have to you?”

“Value?”

His words came out, a tinge of confusion blooming on his tongue was he turned his head slightly,tilted it in something akin to childlike wonder. His eyes locked on hers, nothing of malice or violence in his gaze, a direct juxtaposition to the blood spear that bloomed along the floor at his feet. Skip heard him, heard his soft little chuckle as  he moved to make a stand. Skip felt the tug as he started to rise, the pull on her scalp more gentle then she would have expected after such a attack. Her head was ringing, mind spinning but she moved with the  motion, rising back to her feet as his fingers fell from her hair to grasp the metal color at her neck.

Fear rumbled over her skin, cold, aching fear that sent shivers down her spine. She could still feel the pain, felt it reverberating in her skull with enough of a warning to feel the trepidation of his hands on her body. There was something to him… something Skip could not describe. To be at his mercy was to be in the jaws of a trickster god, unknowing if he would just let you go or if he would bring down his judgment upon you. He was terrifying, unpredictable, and the wicked look in his eyes spelled only horror for them both.

Chaos kept his gaze steady on her, on the little figure that still rested on the ground. Her brown hair spilled over her shoulders, green eyes wide, almost pleading if it was not for that spark of war that gave itself left behind her eyes. He watched her as she near sobbed, her eyes locked on the tan little thing in his hands.

“Your king calls you equal and you rejoice in his reign.  And Yet you still hold yourself to a lower standard…”

 His words were quite, almost muted against the resounding silence within the hall. He moved, a step forward, Skip’s body moving to follow his movements unconsciously. Her body trembled as he spoke again, words gaining foire, heat, absolute command radiating from him.

 He looked every bit the mad king they all made him out to be.

 “You spit on my Kingdom, my kind, my people and yet it is not your precious Phillip, your impostor king who holds his citizens unbounded loyalty. In my kingdom, I grant the true equality, the ability to become more then your station at any given point in your life. He offers it in marriage, and still demands you give into his precious rock solid class system and you all blindly follow him to the edge of the cliff.”

 He scoffed, turning his gaze away to look around him. All around him, he could see the sea of people, their eyes blinking in cresting waves, the signs of wrapped attention locked on him as he spoke. They listened to him, watch him as he moved and he felt the bated breath as he continued.

 “The very fact you claim that you have no value shows the faults in your empire, and this... this is why it will fall…”

 “In my kingdom… there is only one separation. Look around you, see the people here, as my command. See them watch as you bemoan their good fortune by casting it off as luck.” He waved his hand, gesturing to the crowd as his eyes finally found home on her skin, his eyes trying to take in more of her as his hand tightened around the metal in his hands.

 “ In there is merchants and commoners, just like you, but among them is future kings and queens of your beloved city states. They come here to learn, come here to better themselves because they know that my kingdom is the last of the divine, and that in my reign they will taste true freedom, true nobility, as is the Fate given right off all my subjects.”

Skip gasped as he moved her forward. His smile was monstrous, wide, toothy, and the feel of it spilled something like fear and desire into the hearts of near all that's aw it. Skip’s boy feel, her hands shooting out to catch her as he dropped her at his feet, his foot coming up once again to crush down, this time on her hand. Pain rippled through her, a scream biting out through gnashed teeth and gritting jaw, her eyes wide and filling with tears as she hissed and struggle to pull away her hand. He moved his foot only after she yanked three times, each time more desperate than the last, her other hand moving to cradle it as she pulled it to her chest, pulling herself into a pall so that she might make herself smaller.

 She just wanted to disappear. Her head was filled with pain, and all she wanted was for it to be over.

 “I am the future of this land. I am the one true king. I bring equality, Freedom, the likes of which your precious king would not accept, for he fears the possibility of losing his throne to one more worthy. I have no such fear, for if I am dethroned it is only to someone born of higher divinity the eye, the fates decree my only need.. . People here live knowing they may choose to rise above their station at any time…”

 A grand gesture, his arms moving from his sides to spread before him, laughter spilling into his voice as he spoke.

 “All who work here are expected to hold to the same standards ...Mine. To do so is to be rewarded... to fight…”

 He trailed off, his eyes falling to the bloody sobbing girl at his feet. She was cradled into herself, her hand to her chest as ink black hair fell in her face, hiding her features form the rest of them. She was sobbing, murmuring something over and over, a word ‘bub’ on her tongue like a chant, a mantra that would save her from the pain that he was sure still wracked her body. He Felt nothing for it, his interest in her minor at best but the sight of it was enough to cause at least two people distress… and that was enough to make him grin wider.

 “Humility is a virtue, one earned, Critya. And You will start by swearing yourself to my Kingdom. Your pride brought you here, gave her these wounds… how far will that pride take you? Listen to me… and you will obtain everything you have ever desired.”

 The scene played like a well written play, one that the people of this kingdom would have paid a good penny to see. A play that starred the mad king though, they would sell their lands and children to see. There would be lines backed through the streets, crowds fighting, ripping each others hair out just to get a peek at the King. At the ruler that they so blindly trusted. At the King that made girls swoon and made boys scrap for a chance to be one of his warriors. Part of his guard, or his court. For any opportunity to be closer to the man.

Wade himself had fought, had clawed his way into the position he had found himself in. And there was not a single lick of regret.

There never had been.

Chaos was eccentric, egotistical. Driven by pure lust and need for a total control that he most certainly obtained. And easily at that. He used his power to the best of his abilities, made sure to show the world who he was and how it was he got there. And that being by never changing up a single thing the kingdom gripped onto, for years. Sure, he picked up a few things here and there, sure he made sure to keep the people around him on his toes, unpredictable in his nature, but he rarely, if ever, changed routines up.

And here he was being the unpredictable current that not a single person in this room had expected.

The scene unfolded beautifully.

Like a freshly bloomed flower just ripe for the plucking, and Wade, for the life of him could not turn his gaze. Could not hide the smile that was flickering over his lips or hide the wide eyes of wonder as he watched his King move through the foyer. Watched him raise his arms in grade gestures and watched as every person's heart in the room swooned, his own included. He watched the king sweep and throw his hands, watched as the words spilled from him like the poetry he was.

Wade swallowed thickly, his golden gaze never swaying, never pulling from his King. He barely noticed the girls, barely noticed how pain filled the scene had become. Or bloody. He could only see his King in the rapturous energy that exuded.

There was a hum of his own energy playing though his bones, sparking a life that only seemed to happen when Chaos moved or spoke with the world in his hands. As it should have, as it was supposed to be so rightfully.

He could hear both girls sobs, hear the little mantra on the girls tongue as she cradled into herself. He heard the distressed whine as it passed Newlyns lips,but he barely saw the man moving. Barely recognized him as he shifted forward, right to Wade's side.

He was entranced and nothing less.

“Okay, okay! I’ll swear myself to you, to your kingdom, just please let her go… please… I’m begging you, please.”

The words spilled from her lips, her tears uncontrolled as she watched Skip Write on the floor. Watched her best friend cling to herself, with he name on her lips. And there was nothing that she could do. Bound and chained still, held in place when all she wanted to do was get her hands on the small being. To protect her with her own body from the cruelty of this world.

She wanted to take it all, take the pain that she felt, take the terror and suffering that ran rampant in Skip. She would suffer the world for her, if only she could.

But for now, all she could do was suck up her pride. Suck up the deep clench of hot anger that bubbled in her chest as she sobbed the words to a King who wouldn’t care within the next hour what happened to these girls. They were expendable. And she knew that. No amount of fanciful words would change that.

But she would cater to the mad king's needs, give him exactly what it was he was asking for if it meant getting Skip to some sort of safety.   At her words, Chaos seemed to freeze, his motions pausing as her words made his eye light up, flickering as he took in the sight of her. On her knees, sobbing, desperate, it was more than enough to stir in him the darker working of the monster in his mind, the beast that he hardly kept chained awakened by the sound of her pleas. He won’t lie and say this had been what he expected. If he was going to be honest he expected he would have to force the matter a little more, play with her pride as she acted out in rage and in retaliation he would inflict more pain on the girl he had by his feet.  At her surrender, however, the cusp of her turmoil and  the sudden crashing of her pride in pieces  around her, he felt something he had never felt, an oddity, a rippling painful emotion he had never courted before.

Regret.

Oh Chaos loved tears. He loved to watch as prideful people came to his kingdom and tried to withhold their pride as they made their way through their time here. Her pride would have been suited best in a prince or prince, someone of power who thought the world owed them more then it would give. Oh those were his favorites to break, the ones with a chip on their shoulder and a kingdom to prove, but it all ended the exact same way, with them bowing, giving in to his commands and following the flow of fate as a great king or queen should. But breaking them had never enticed anything other than absolute emotion in him, his heart swelling as watched them fall into place within the fates plan.

But watching her… It left a dull ache in his heart and a sour taste in his mouth.

He showed nothing of it, his small slipping from manic to  something more genuine. His eyes grew softer, his hands lowering as he watched her son and shake and plea.

“You’ll take her place?”

It was asked, more a statement then a question but the affliction was still there. He didn’t really give her a chance to answer, instead almost immediately turn into the priest at his side, dark skin man who had been whimpering and whining his way through the events that had unfolded before him, something that had gained his attention but he had not addressed. Now, violet eyes locked on his form, watching him as he practically twitched with anticipation. His eyes moved, dropping from the respectful gaze on his king to the girl that still sobbed at his feet, his hands clenching against his sides as he tensed slightly at the sight. It was interesting to watch, to see such emotion run through his trusted friend, to see him care, even so slightly about anyone else besides his own desires. He might have made it  known, might have addressed it there in refraction of what he had done and what was expected of him, but Chaos found himself far more lenient with his friends then he would be anyone else.

Newlyn hadn’t interrupted him, hadn't done anything at all except watch as he had abused this girl, though his desires were painted clearly across his face. He had played his part, and played it well, and chaos rewarded people who followed their cues.

“Newlyn,” Chaos moved, stepping forward as his hands reached out toward the man. His fingers found him, tracing over his cheeks, moving along dark skin so that he might tilt his head up, even just that slight bit more that is needed. His eyes fell to him, taking in his features, his expression, pushing past the air of calm that he radiated to look into the depths of his emotions, his mind pen and pure and always so ready to be brushed. He could feel something in him, something that burned, not like hatred but close, something undirected at him but burned in close proximity. He couldn’t tell you what it was, as Chaos would admit he was unversed in such things, emotions a fleeting art he was not privy to, but the feeling of it played over his skin, the emotion making his fingers move, pulling the man closer as he traced patterns over his cheeks, his jaw, run fingers through his hair.

“My precious Destan...This wore on you.”

It was not a question this time, the comment more of a spoken fact than anything else. Violet eyes searched him, flicked over his features to take him in as he breathed, taking in the scent of heady nights lost in divinity, of holy spells and touches of magic that flowed through his veins.

“You did so well…” He practically purred, thumb moving along his cheek, his jaw, to his lips as he watched them under his touch. He leaned closer, eyes hooded and heavy as he breath in again, too close, bumping his forehead against his as he spoke, nuzzling closer to him as he pulled down lightly on his lip, parting it softly with one finger as the rest rested under his chin.

“And You will be rewarded… name your price, and i will grant it.”

It was a comfort that knew no bounds, the feel of his Kings skin against his own. A gift that each of his brotherhood knew well at this point, but still gave retribution with each touch. His fingers wiped away the sore emotions that sparked through his blood stream, ebbing away some of the grief that flooded his senses with just a sweep of his thumb and a soft word. Not a single bit of it new, the man had always had the ability to soothe, when he saw fit. Too play soft emotions over his fellow brothers when the time came. And it was something all of them appreciated.

Newlyn found himself leaning into the touch, his own forehead resting easily against Chaos, his own eyes shutting against the light of the fires for just a moment. There was a sigh that escaped him as the calm began to take over. It would be a lie if he said he didn’t think it was going to get worse. He had thought they would be stubborn. Thought that she would fight Chaos harder, thought that the mess of a girl on the floor would have been worse. But he couldn’t complain either. He didn’t know how much more he could have taken honestly.

But relief swarmed him now, his eyes lifting to catch onto the royal purple hues of his eyes.

“She needs to be healed, I can take her with me. Heal her properly, if you would allow.”

He let his hands come up to meet Chaos’s, his own fingers brushing over his skin as he let his eyes drop back down to the girl on the floor.

She was still crying, still cradling herself, her words softly spoken against the floor. It tore at him, tore this heart strings and made him almost desperate to dip down. To soothe his fingers through the tangles of her hair. To make sure that he could get to safety in the confines of his arms.

Where he would be able to get her taken care of, where he could take the pain and suffering away from with ease.  His wants were written all over his face, his features pulling even as he looked to his king. Chaos had always placed these men above their station, beyond what they were because they held something of him, something that lingered in his bones as he watched them, often from afar, his own class system keeping them from being at his side at all times, The members of his brotherhood breathed the very life into his being, their hearts beating right in time with his, a certainty he knew without any doubt. He felt the sincerity of the bond in him now, the unease that colored Newlyn and painted his gut black with something close to despair, and he could only find it in him to nod, slightly, before he moved forward to close the gap between them for all of a moment, a connection to his brother that offered comfort and assurance.

Newlyn tasted like The heavens, the breath of the fade that clung to his skin.

“She’s yours. Take her with you, but know this. She has insulted your king… and she must atone for her sins.”

He spoke loudly now, outward, pulling away from Newlyn to that he could step over the body of the girl, his eyes moving away as he spoke, words heavy with meaning and saying fare more with that then he ever could with just a simple command. He had no doubts that Newlyn would make her pay for the momentary burst of defiance she had, but his attentions were no longer on her, no longer on the girl with raven hair and eyes chipped of different stones… instead, his attention turned to the girl on the ground who had now swearerd her loyalty to him, who had swore herself to his kingdom with only slight press of persuasion from him.

His chest rumbled with a unspilled growl, a purr that had his whole body practically vibrating.

Rygnar watched him, watched the king move, all grace and predator rolled into one as he made his way toward the sobbing girl in his hands. Chaos was a unpredictable king, the only constant the old ways which were devised by the fates, the decree of ancient beings his only set of moral codes that ran through his mind any any decision. He didn’t think that he had ever really seen a man as Devoted to their gods as Chaos was, but he supposed that was why he had been brought to them as a king, and he was the one to hold them together, gather them in a protected place to be themselves without fear of the pyre. Tyganr knew that chaos was capable of anything, and his hands tightened on the girl in his hold as he watched him draw nearer to her.

“My Liege, she’s distressed. I don’t think she can handle much more.”

The words fell from Rygnar lips as he watched him, mismatched blue flicking over him as he rested on one knee, his other leg flat against the ground, stone digging into the plated metal as he keeled before him. He licked his lips, unsure of how to continue, but to leave it as was was to be foolish and incur his wrath.

Which would be far more pleasant then what had happened to the girl, but still, not something he wished to partake in.

“I will handle her, for I feel she has learned her lesson in what you expect.... With your permission I request I take her and get her settled into her place…. I think there is something else… that requires your attention.”

Rygnar trailed off, on hand resting over his lifted knee as his head bowed, his other hand clutching tightly onto the girl next to him. Chaos paused, his eyes on him, the weight of them more than enough to to make it feel as if he had a storm hanging over his shoulders, the weight of all the king's thoughts pulling his head down.

But he was not wrong. That much, Chaos knew for a fact.

“Very well…. Take her. But i want her close, so place her near my studies and chambers.  Take her and go but assure that she does not cause any more problems.”

He brushed this off now, turning finally, to his last problem of the night.

“Wade.” Chaos spoke his name, the word falling off his tongue in easy flow as he watched Rygnar. He is right, however much the king disliked it, and his attentions had to turn to the last and final being that rested on her knees before him. Funny, how she had been the first, and he had been sure she would be the one to gather his attention, but he had near forgotten about her presence in the wake of the storm of the little one who now belong to him.

“Tell me more… about her.”

Wade moved at the call of his name, following and latching onto Chaos words like a damned puppy. There was no hesitation, his hands lifting from the the side of Chaos’s throne with a growing smile on his lips, it only faded as he caught the small movement of his other brother. His eyes flickered to Newlyn as he passed, who was already bent over the crying girl, his hands already on her to bring her up to her feet. He couldn’t her the words the man spoke but he heard the tone, the soft whispers and little encouragements that he pressed into the girls dark hair. Though most of Newlyn’s clothes were in the way. Practically covering her from his vision. Not that Wade found this any sort of loss, he’d see the trouble maker sooner or later he was sure. If he even really remembered the moments happening to begin with at all. But they moved quickly from his dark blood brother anyhow, instead taking up his King again. The smile reappearing on his lips as he made his way to his side.

He had a sort of strange elation that played through him, knowing that he was something beyond useful to Chaos. Knowing that he brought the King some sort of gain that no one else in his brotherhood, let alone his Realm could possibly image giving. Only in their wildest dreams could they imagine being quiet as useful as Wade was to Chaos.

Okay, maybe that was a little bit of an exaggeration. Each of them had their own abilities. Their own ways little habits that they specialized in it seemed. The whole brotherhood was a talented bunch. Each of them unique on by their own.

Maybe more of what he meant was that his king would never be able to find his equal, Wade would make sure of that with every breath he took. With every step he took beside the king. There would never be an opportunity to squeeze between him and the brotherhood.

And there was no sort of doubt to this fact as he stepped down the stairs from the high throne that the king needed him, and people saw that. Respected it. People were already moving, already piling into the area to get the best view of the scene they believed was about to unfold in front of them. They though they were going to see this little blonde thing be ruined, that they were going to see tears, and screams. Moans, and sighs. A glimpse as the King took of his coats.

But Wade paused, just a few feet back the way. His eyes glancing over the girl. Taking her in for exactly what she was.. He watched intently as the guard went to remove the blindfold from her eyes at a wave of Chaos’s hand. Watched as sharp brown eyes blinked, trying to get used to the blinding light of the room.Before they adjusted and began to flip through the faces that were swiftly gathering around her.

And he could feel it, the warmth radiating off of her. The pure energy tat she exuded with just her very presence. HE expected the gasp, he knew they were coming the second that everyone saw her. He expected the awe that took over the crowd.

“Perhaps, my liege. This one is better suited for a more,... private audience?”