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Khan's Bride || ƒeral x rosita red

ƒeral

ƒeral

𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓭 𝕚𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕧𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕤
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Sep 9, 2015
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ʙᴀ ᴅᴜᴍ 𝙩𝙨𝙨
Salyn'tuya Khojin, a name like its owner. Tall as the stalwart oak at 6'1'', the Tol'vari Khan was the very image of power and valor. Her shoulders were broad and arms strong, lean muscles rippling beneath soft fur. Not bulky - her build indicating equal time spent training strength and agility, and though the sheet of sinews lining her limbs marked her status as an accomplished fighter, her figure still retained a softer, feminine edge. As per her people's customs, the Khan clad herself no differently from any of her warriors. Boiled leather, intricately carved, was fashioned into a strappy bustier and a cross between a skirt and loincloth. Her armor, if it could be called such, left practically everything on display, vulnerable, and the lack of visible scarring beyond a single diagonal gash stretching her white-furred abs only highlighted her prowess in combat.

Raven locks were pulled into various braids, decorating with tokens of affection from her wives and symbols of her status and deeds. A pair of alert ears parted the rivers of black, twitching at the slightest sound. Her jaw was angular and strong, her features remarkably feline despite its similarities to the fur-less race. Her wide muzzle a frosty white, fading to a tan before abruptly erupting into flames of orange and gold. Black stripes lined either sides of her face, relatively symmetrical but not perfectly identical; the mark of king upon her forehead broad and pronounced, denoting her proud lineage. The stripes continued down the cords of her throat, her chest, arms and legs and even a thickly furred tail. Her eyes shone, gleamed, intelligent molten gold surrounding a single speck of black, pupils notably smaller in the bright sunlight.

But of course, those were details only a Tol'var would appreciate, the Furless seemingly incapable of distinguishing the Tol'vari from one another, seeing only sharp claws and features foreign and frightening. And they should fear her. Behind her was the might of twelve clans merged into one, the dominant Tigris bloodline having absorbed all the other similar races until only the unified Tol'var remained. Her people numbered in the tens of thousands - a fraction of what the Furless boasted, but unlike those pink-fleshed ones, every single Tol'vir from the newly weened pup to the aging elderly knew how to ride and to kill.

The Khan wasted no time making idle preparations for this peculiar meeting, though the corner of her lips did curl in amusement at the thought of a elven princess brave enough to request her presence. She was dressed as she always did, mobile and agile in leather, handsome and fearsome astride her war kodo. The great beasts, though lumbering and clumsy looking, were anything but. And at nearly 1.5 times the size of a warhorse and armed with horns and toughened hides, they were a awe-inspiring sight in their own right. Hers, in particular, was terrifying. Larger than the average kodo and tar black instead of grey, its abnormality was accompanied by a foul temper and razor sharp horns. It huffed and snorted as it made its way up the hill, hoovesprints reshaping the earth below.

In a show of cordiality, the Khan rode unarmed, though the glimpses of fang as she smiled called to question whether she needed weaponry at all. Behind her, her Bloodsworn rode, four warriors armed to the teeth, expressions steely. While the Furless always seemed fond of grand processions and fanciful entrances, she only tipped her head at one of her Bloodsworn as she rode closer to the summit, who promptly announced her arrival with a Kodo-horn carved trumpet. This was the meeting spot that they had agreed upon, and her scout, a female Tol'var, should already be at the summit. It would be perhaps a minute or so before the khan's party came into view.
 
Aylia, princess of the kingdom sat quietly in her hastily constructed unmarked tent. Since she had left the palace without her father's approval, there had not been a royal procession, no added guards from their already thin ranks of defenders. Thus meaning there is no royal standard to announce her presence, or servants to attend to her... Her own preparations to journey out had been harried and hurried, rushing to put together deals what would get supplies the Tol'vari would find valuable. Some of the best of the kingdom's steel and horses, for instance. Steel could be hard to come by out on the plains, with the grass roots going so deep getting to where metals used for it are hard to find.


Once the khan's scout had arrived, she had been offered food and drink from the caravan's supplies, still keeping with some formalities. Aylia had ordered no weapons to be shown, restricting those around for the meeting to short knives that she knows if it comes to combat wouldn't do much good against the fierce fighters.

She rose from the simple folding chair that the captain of the caravan had provided her upon hearing the kodo's horn being blown. Her first step had been sending a message with khan's scout, dangling the carrot so to speak. She had mostly keep her traveling clothes on, changing only a few things to give herself a more boost her appearance. She had down up her mid back length, golden wheat hair into a tight braid laced with ribbon that ends in small bun. Although her clothing is sturdy, it still hugs to her frame, helping to highlight the feminine curves of her body. Practical leather and cotton clothing in blues and brown high light her pale skin, a striking difference to their guests that are about to arrive. Eyes the color of the finest peridots peer out from a delicate, almost girlish face, with high cheek bones and and a small pointed nose. Thin pale pink lips complete her visage, the one thing that she dislikes the most about her face.

More food had been prepared for herself and the khan, always a good idea to start off no matter what the circumstances. The others in the caravan shifted nervously around the make shift camp, having only a small wooden travel table and a couple chairs to offer for such an important event. Now comes the time to put all that she knows about the nomads to use, which isn't much, truth be told. The fate of her kingdom rests on their assistance, so she can only go forward. She squared her shoulders and lifted her head, waiting for the khan to arrive.
 
It was perhaps another minute before thick Kodo trunks came into view, all five beasts pulling to a stop a distance away from the make-shift camp. The Khan herself wore a casual grin, form relaxed and at ease as she gracefully leapt off her kodo, landing softly on the pads of her backpaws. Behind her, her Bloodsworn remained mounted, still as statues and silent as stone. They didn't snarl, but their mere visages and the great beasts they rode were enough to send any nearby horses into a whiny. The Tol'var did not have any particularly strong smell, at least, not to an elven nose, but animals instinctively knew to flee before superior predators.

"Hello, Princess," she greeted easily, striding up with chin held high and tail swishing side to side in curiosity. "I am Salyn'tuya Khojin," a small laugh as she realized her Tol'vair name would have been nearly impossible for a Furless to pronounce, "but you can call me Salyn. What's your name?" As it were, the "l" was a curious mix between an "l" and an "r" and yet not quite either, the bestial way Salyn purred the sound difficult to replicate. She towered over Aylia, auric orbs gleaming with a mixture of interest and amusement. Not a single look was spared at the other Furless ones; their trembling lacked novelty, and their scents weren't nearly as appealing.

Although Salyn was not the one to initiate this meeting, she was quick to make herself right at home, pulling out a chair and sitting with lackadaisical grace. The chair looked almost too small beneath the tall Tol'var, and her tail curled around one of its legs, idly flickering to and fro. At such close proximity, the light only highlighted their differences. Her fur rolling plains of flame, the lethal grace with which she moved, the fangs revealed by an easy smile... Salyn helped herself to the food and drink, watching with a half-amused, half-curious simper for the princess to elucidate the reason for this meeting. Oh, she had a good guess of course. But there was power in making the elf say it.
 
Aylia heard the horses of the caravan whiny and fret behind her, not a bad reaction considering the mammoth beasts that gotten so close to them. Elves had always preferred horses for their size and grace, though the kodos may came in handy against the invaders with their natural defenses and tough hides. Horses, although beautiful, are prone to things such as spears and arrows that tear their soft flesh. She ignored them for now, as well as the blood riders that hadn't dismounted. Her focus is entirely on the impressive khan.

At first sight, she is rather taken with the way that the khan moves. So fluid and naturally gracefully... Among the races, the elves are known to be quite graceful themselves; the khan surpassed even that easily. Aylia is quite relieved when Salyn gave a name that she could say in her tongue correctly. She had met few individuals of high rank that didn't mind their names being mispronounced. "I am Princess Aylia of the kingdom of Felomere," she says evenly, well used to making the introduction. She took note of the khan's manner, making special note that the other leader did not take her eyes off her. Aylia added a formal but still loose bow at her waist, keeping her people's traditions for formal greetings before taking her own seat. With her own small frame, several grains shorter then the khan, the chair seems a bit more suited for Aylia and also a bit more comfortable.

The food provided might be a bit meager by both their standards. A loaf of hearty bread, some hard cheese and salted beef had been laid out on the few chipped plates belong to the wives of the caravan. Now the verbal dance begins, the stakes all laid out for Aylia. "Great Khan Salyn," Aylia began after a moment, using the level voice that she had perfected during her schooling, one that had served her well ever since. "You may have heard rumor of invaders troubling the northern borders of the realm. The invaders fear nothing; they feel no pain from the slash of blades or the sting of arrows. Attempts to stop them are swatted aside like a horse swatting aside the annoyance of fly." She paused there for a moment, letting that sink in. Here she had thought that her speech craft lessons would never be used; oh how she dreads having to use those lessons for a reason such as this.

"Your warriors are fierce and many in number, easily able to repeal those threatening our homeland. the invaders will stop at nothing, including laying the glorious plains spread out before us to waste. They wish to see the sky filled with smoke from leagues of fire, they fine grazing grounds for many herds of animals reduced to nothing but ash blown about by the wind. To save from this fate, I propose a deal. I offer ten wagons of the finest Felomere steel, twenty of the finest mares and stallions each." She raised a hand for emphasis, her apparently delicate fingers all held together. "As a final sign of alliance, I offer my hand in marriage." Those watching from the caravan gasped; she hold them of offering horses and steel, but not her hand in marriage. She the lone the child of the king, the lone heir to the throne. Although more open minded then most, it's still considered preposterous for her to marry another woman, never mind a barbarian from another race of being.
 
"Mhm," Salyn murmured idly even as Aylia launched into her proposal, the furred ears peeking out of her hair twitched, but whether with impatience or attention was impossible to tell. As the princess talked, the khan occupied herself with the food, a brow bone raising as she fingered the chips of the plate, the claw tipping her digit catching the sun, glinting ominously. She didn't stuff her face with it, as the elves would have liked to think that barbarians did. Instead, she sliced the loaf of bread straight through the middle. But not with knives, a single clean swipe of her claw sufficing, demonstrating just how sharp they were. The princess continued to talk, but Salyn seemed to pay more attention to the food than her, a lack of eye contact that would have easily fazed a lesser being. A thin piece of cheese cut in a similar fashion. Shredded strips of beef. She seemed to be showing off her razorsharp claws on purpose, even, and there was a telltale smirk gracing her visage as she caught an elven caravan-woman shuddering. She should be afraid in the presence of the khan.

Salyn kept silence the entire time Aylia spoke, neither nodding nor shaking her head, impassive eyes betraying nothing. It was not until the princess finished with her sudden proposal, that Salyn raised a brow and looked genuinely taken aback. The Tol'var gave the young elf a double take, raking her gaze up and down the young woman's face and torso, showing no subtlety whatsoever as her gaze paused briefly on the swell of chest and the pretty face. And she smiled, as if taken by her beauty, as if indicating her agreement. Her claws tapped the wooden table thoughtfully, and then she spoke.

"Aylia, right?" She grinned, a mask of friendliness. "I wonder...do your father even know you are here?" Her gaze fell to the chipped plate, to the rather meager food, staring it pointedly before pulling up to pin the princess with her gaze. "And that's a nice story, you know. Burning plains and dying livestock. What a grim and vivid picture you paint." She commented, nonchalantly, tail flickering to and fro and shoulders altogether too relaxed, as if it was not her plains and her herds in question. "And I suppose that's one way to look at it." She offered, noncommittally. That was the problem with elves. And humans. And all of the Furless races as far as Salyn was concerned. They thought themselves so superior with their steel weapons and stone walls, so secure and safe in their luxurious lifestyles. She wondered what the princess thought of her, of the proposed deal. To marry a barbarian...how preposterous. And that just made her grin wider. She loved this game of cat and mouse - the mouse never realized that beneath rippling muscles and fluid strides, the cat had a wit to match.

"But there are also other ways to consider it no?" She grinned then, eyes narrowing, the thin slits mere pinpricks under the intense sunlight, staring the princess down with predatory zeal. "I have warriors, yes, and they are strong. And I could fend off these northern invaders for you...or." Her friendly tone took a turn, and she purred the rest of the words, the threat hardly veiled. "I could allow them to raze your castles, your lands, slay your defenders and your people. And only when they are nice and wary from breaking down your stalwart walls, will my warriors and I take to the field..." Salyn grinned. "Do not threaten me, princess, with your pretty picture-words, "the Tol'vari are not chess pieces for your grand political games." She sat back in the chair, crossed her arms, and grinned still.

"I'm right, aren't I? Your father have no idea what you are up to." Her gaze surveyed the caravans then, her grin bloodthirsty. "In fact...there's nothing that prevent me from taking all of your goods and you right now...isn't that what a savage would do, mm? After all, I thought elves considered the Tol'vari nothing but barbarians?"
 
The lack of eye contact didn't fool Aylia into believing for a moment that the khan isn't paying attention to her. She had seen many cats around the palace do the same thing, their eyes on one thing and their ears on quite another. The khan is just like those cats, the key things their ears and tails to tell their moods. Her motions are watched closely as well, the use of gleaming claws for cutlery. Though it might spook a less educated person, Aylia knows exactly what game that Salyn is attempting to play with her. Cat and mouse indeed. She is no mouse, and will not start being one now. She did feel a twinge of pride as the prideful khan let a moment of surprise onto her face, catching her off guard.

Aylia waited as the khan looked her over, familiar with that motion as well. Many potential suitors had done it before, looking her over like a side of beef or a new horse to be added to a herd. Just like Salyn's body language, she knows that her tone is a trap as well, waiting for her real message. She kept her silence to the question about her father, both knowing that she had come without her father's knowledge. No point in admitting it out loud. Aylia watched the khan's tail, hinting at the gaming rouse that she's playing at currently. Still she doesn't waver from the other's gaze, meeting it levelly.

When hers narrowed is when Aylia began to worry. Their game had gone from a relatively minor game of cat and mouse to an apex predator thinking through if something that might be prey is worth the time and effort. If she thinks that option of the nomads turning against them hadn't been considered, she is quite wrong. If the khan wanted to figuratively and literally play the part of a cat, then Aylia could well play a snake waiting to strike in tall grass.

Although rushed, she had chosen her clothing well. She drew out a small, crushed blue flower from a pocket of her jerkin. "You're aware what this is called, yes? I'm told the plains have a rich mixture of plants, though there a few that are quite rare. Particularly this one." She rubbed her fingers together, the petals giving off a spicy scent that carried a strange twinge to it. "I know full well your people have a glut of knowledge at their command, including the knowledge that cat's bane is quite poisonous and most cases fatal to Tol'vari, especially if it enters the blood stream. Without ways to properly make it flourish, it's quite rare out here. But say, in the cities where it can be reduced to it's oil essence, or dried for powder, it becomes quite common." Aylia's own eyes glittered as she answered the blood thirsty grin on the khan's face. She tucked it back into her pocket, fingers of her one hand now coated with residue from the flower. No need to mention that she may have been out right weapons, but said nothing about keeping bags of dried petals, seeds and pollen on their persons just in case. "Oh, and the fact that yew berries will make a grown kodo overwhelming sick if consumed in large numbers," Aylia added in almost joking tone, giving away that she had read one of the few written works of the plains nomads. Most of their traditions and histories are kept orally, making it harder for outsiders to learn about.

"Works of Aras aside, this is not a game. I may have not yet taken the throne, but even I know that food and water must come from somewhere. Never have I seen a leader make starvation scream. Now tell me, what do nomads think about having ash for dinner," Aylia challenged, bringing the conversation back to her point. She may have had to give earlier, but she will not wavier and let the khan totally direct the conversation. The invaders will come, and they will bring destruction upon the lands like nothing that is known." She paused for a long moment, her tone changing. "Now, we can do this with pretty words, or you can do this with your own warriors weak and falling off their mounts. Which do you prefer?" She rested her other hand on the table, the one that hadn't touched the flower. Now that the game of political chess begins.
 
Salyn's grin faltered, withering away until only an impassive look remained. Her ears had flattened against black mane the second Aylia pulled her stunt, her pupils constricting sharply, the already intimidating black slits so narrow that the gold of her eyes was nearly all that was visible. The soft fur on the back of her neck stood on ends as she positively bristled, glaring venom at the plant until the elven princess stashed it away. Cat's Bane - poison, despoiler of life, to be destroyed on sight. Every Tol'var was taught to despise the plant at a young age, and Salyn was no different. Even a small amount was enough to bring a proud warrior to his knees, and at a large dosage, entirely lethal, destroying the Tol'vari organs from inside out. Not a clean death either, something about the plant ate away at the membrane protecting the stomach. A small dosage enough to cause a hell of a heartburn and upset stomach. A large dosage... Salyn had only seen one Tol'var die of Cat's Bane, a child at that. A foolish little pup that had not paid attention during his lessons and ingested the plant. It was hard to forget the way he died, stomach acid destroying everything on the inside. Her father had been the one to slay him, an act of mercy from an unavoidable, painful death.

She raised a paw, or a hand, it was hard to tell with the Tol'vari. There were five distinct digits, but her palm was padded and her nails replaced with claws. The sunlight caught the steely tips, glinting ominously.

"How fast can you duck, princess," she asked, unblinking and wearing no expression whatsoever, but the fact that she had switched from Aylia's name to title was telling. She gestured with her chin for Aylia to look further behind herself. While she had ridden to the summit alone, her armed Blood Riders had not. Behind her, nearly a hundred meters away, her ever vigilant riders had heeded her signal and drawn their hunting bows full mast. "The average elf has a reaction speed of about .25 seconds." She continued in complete tranquility, as if discussing something as tame as riding and not at all of arrows piercing flesh. "I confess I'm curious if one of royal blood might beat the average. Do you think you can get even a speck of that cursed plant on me before my warriors turned you into a porcupine?" She sneered then, eyeing that pretty face with malice, her look that of an apex predator staring down her prey. "And are you prepared for the consequences? Are your people not ready for a two-front war?" She continued, carrying her thought to its logical conclusion. "Never threaten me again, princess, considering yourself warned."

And then she lowered her hand. Slowly, calmly, and her riders lowered their weapons.

She stood, taking a step away before tossing Aylia a look over her shoulder. "Well, wife, what are you waiting for?" There was no humor in her tone, but her words practically dripped with sarcasm. "A Khan does not ride without her decision already made. Despite your...lacking presentation, I accept your proposal." She didn't turn back after that, satisfied that she had gotten the last say. In truth, Aylia's words had their desired effect. Salyn was the great khan of all the plains, and one never threaten a Tol'var without expecting retribution. But yet the elf stood, unriddled with holes. She had won, in her own way, but Salyn would never admit it. The khan herself strode away, the tension of her spine betraying her fuming anger. She mounted and, without another word, began to ride toward camp.

 
The elven princess is rather pleased that the grin faltered on the khan's face. Even at the most threatening, Aylia didn't dare flinch away. The bristle of the fur tells her that she had struck a nerve, a major one at that. She had played her hand, now she waits for the reaction that she knows is coming.

She expected the reaction of having weapons pointed at her. True, she had spent some time doing some combat training, but she has no hope of dodging all the arrows from the khan's blood riders. Still, she wonders how fast the terrified traders could get out the cat's bane pollen into the air. She watched fascinated as Salyn raised a hand... So very different from her own kind. Her green eyes followed as the hand was lowered after the speech. Aylia kept her own face impassive, biting back a sight of relief as the other woman stood and called her wife. Now for a whole new set of challenges...

She turned her attention back towards the caravan. "Carry a letter back to my father. I have prepared it explaining what has happened. Ready my horse," she commanded, her heart starting to race. She doesn't know for sure exactly what she had given herself to, only that it would be vastly different from all that she had ever known. After a few moments of the members of the caravan starting at her in shock, Aylia snapped "Now, if you please," which got them moving.

A few minutes later she set out on top of her own mount, a steady grey coated gelding with white spots on his flank, her packs of belongings hung around his saddle. She resisted the urge to look back, instead giving the gelding an urging on with her heels. She doubts that the khan and her guards could have gotten far, especially since kodos are quite visible. She had a guess where the main camp of the Tol'vari had been located currently, but out in the stretching plains away from the trade routes she could be lost for days.
 
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