Burned and Blackened Blood (G23 & loneiysong)

[Greeneyed23]

During the ages unknown, the mountains of Nethis, greatest land on the planet, had been volcanic.

Born of violent upheavals from the earth, and burned into a blackness so dark they were called the Night Peaks, these mountains had grown and risen until they towered above all else. Until the time of the Unsettling.

A war.

What else could trigger such powers?

A war between all the races of the world. Orcs, Elves, Fae, Hakr, Were-kind, Human and so many others all fought one another for dominance. And the Dragons.

The Dragons were the eldest of Nethis. They had long dwelt in the very fires of the Night Peaks, using the great heat to incubate their eggs and give birth to generations of their mighty race.

But the War of Unsettling, a conflict that had begun over a simple land dispute changed all things. Magics unheard of were created in the hearts and minds of those that fought, and flung upon their foes, all of them trying to win the favor and attention of the Dragons.

The Dragons, wise in their age had refused to take part, but also knew that their very bodies could give advantage to the fighters. So they drew away, destroying their own nests. The Night Peaks began to crumble, their fires gone, until only one, the greatest of all, remained.

It was on this mountain's plains that the final battle of the War of Unsettling took place. The races fought each other for days until the mountain erupted in rage at their abuse. The rage of the planet shook and burned them, threatening them all. And the cry for aid was deafening. Then the Dragons flew forth.

Their thunder flew into the fire of the last of their former homes and as one they drew away it's rage and fire. And the races were grateful and made peace. And there they also created a city. The greatest city in Nethis. Tiashin, the City of Peace.

It was built into the massive hollow created by the volcano's explosion, and soon filled the whole of the innards of the great mountain, it's central palace built directly into the remaining spine of the mountain's peak. Naturally walled higher than any other city in history it was the first of many to become home to all of the races. And the first to be blessed and visited by the Dragons.

This peace and this blessing was marked by the symbol of the city, an infinite looping series of interlocking rings, each a different color to mark the races within. Black, white, green, blue, red, yellow, pink, purple, brown, orange, and on and on and on. It resembled a chain mail more than anything, and had inspired the Color Guard, the city's guardians and watchers, made up of all but one race, to bear multi colored mail and armor in their duties. Dragons had no need of armor, and even their Little Dragons, the Dragon Souled, eschewed such garments, but they had supplied the greatest gem of the city and the Color Guard.

High within the Palace of Bone, named such because, despite the blackness of the mountain around it, it was bleached bone white as was the rest of the city, lay the Throne of Gems. It was a massive affair, made up of a single massive Dragon's skeleton, but coated every inch in gemstones of immense size and value. The throne's base was the Dragon's coiled tail, while all four paws were raised up to create the central, the palms of the forepaws tight together to form the actual seat, the fourth and fifth taloned fingers curled down to make arms for the chair, while the thumbs were hooked together to make the seat back and the first second and third fingers stood straight up, talons still gleaming, and the rear paw's legs made the ten steps from the ten made by the coiled tail. The thumbs of these paws curled on either side of the seat the talons pointing down before the throne, and many a monarch had learned to keep his or her legs away from the still sharp edges. The coiled tail hid the spine of the body, while the long neck stretched up into the air to the skull.

The whole throne sat more than twenty feet in the air, but the skull, still filled with gleaming teeth, hung above, gazing down at those who came before it's inhabitant, the empty eyes still able to drive those who dared to meet it's eternal gaze mad. The skull was fifteen long from neck to snout and the horns gave it another nine feet. It measured nine feet across at it's thickest point, and two at it's thinnest, the snout. The Dragon's name had be Furad, named after the very mountain in which she now sat, eternal monarch as the rulers of Nethis came and went.

Her bones were so old now that the steps on her fingers, the seat of her palms, the arms of her talons, and the coils of her tail had become smoothed by the countless soles that had pressed upon them. And while the stains of time and age did not remain, her bones did seem to tell of the long history she had witnessed.

Her throne had been the first creation of the city of Tiashin. It had begun far below on a field of ash, and had been elevated to this place, where her second gifts alone were alone to sit astride her first. Those that bore the various Crowns of Gems and they alone were permitted to mount her stairs. Many unworthy had tried only to learn to their cost that even dead a Dragon is still deadly. Many a would be usurper's blood had run down her mighty tail. This magic had been sealed by the dying Dragon as a blood pact between all the races. Only the truly chosen monarch could mount her Throne, and only the same could bear any of the Crowns of Gems.

And since that time the family line of kings and queens had not been broken. There had been more wars. And uprisings. Rebellions. Not all who had ruled from Furad's throne had been just, kind, or wise, but they had been the rightful heirs and she would take no part in such matters. Her sole duty was to protect the rule of the land, and support the rightful ruler until their end, however it might come.

The various races had seen the wisdom of this then, and many times again when would be tyrants had tried to lay claim to Furad's Throne as it was commonly known. This more than anything had given the chosen family, honorable nobles, great distinction amongst all the races. And had garnered them loyalty, wealth, power, prestige, and an expectation of behavior that they had, despite some troubles, had risen to exceptionally. Beloved and adored by the peoples of Nethis, the royal family had been protected even during the most troubling times and returned to the throne to much pomp and ceremony.

But without the Dragons.

Sometime after Furad's gift, but before the next war, the Dragons began to withdraw. They did maintain an citadel within the city, in high caves of the Night's Peak, but fewer and fewer of their kind were seen, and the Dragon Souled grew less and less visible. None knew why. None could explain. But within ten generations of their great act of protection, the Dragons were all but gone from the one city that had so thrived upon and desired their presences.

The wars that were fought were often blamed on the Dragons, but though they were occasionally glimpsed flying about, and the Dragon Souled were known to deliver messages of great import to nobles and monarchs, the race seemed to be vanishing.

Now more than ten thousand years after Furad's gifting of her bones to the races, Nethis was more prosperous than ever before. All four coasts brought great wealth over great distances to the central city, and for once the peace seemed to be truly holding. For the last three hundred years there had been no sign of rebellion or insurrection. Likely because the current crop of monarchs did not strive to gain more for themselves, but instead to increase in the health and safety of their people, but who can speak to the heart of individuals. Still the peace held and all were happy.

Dragons had nearly become stuff of legend, myth, and bard song, and no one living had seen a Dragon Souled. Arguments still roared about when the full Thunder had flown forth last, but none could be sure. The elves were certain it had been nearly a thousand years previous when a mad wizard had managed to steal one of their young and use the child to power his devasting magics. The orcs said but twenty years before the turn of the last century when they had been called to the Council of Scales, though even they could not supply what this Council had been about or where. The Hakr, the elementals of the land held that the Dragons flew forth constantly, but so high none could see them not even the hawks. And on and on.

The stories of the Souled were if anything, even more wild and varied.

Descriptions ranged from the monstrous to the preposterous.

But one thing was known. The Souled, however they might appear, were 'normal' beings born of any of the races, with the eyes of Dragons.

Cults and religions had prayed, sacrificed, and even murdered to imbue their young with this great gift. But none had come. The last known Souled had visited the Royal Family but once, locked the only accessible doors to the stronghold of the Dragons within the city, then had vanished without a trace. Stories abounded about him, or her. Or it. But all were certain. That had been the last sign of the eldest race of Nethis.

Today was the first day of the 11,123 year of the continued rule of the city of Tiashin. The Royal Family was expected to make a grand entrance, with all of the extended members riding through the Broken Gate, the massive gate made out of the wall of the mountain itself, after descending in great pomp and ceremony from the Palace of Bones.

The Royal Family's butler, Hodgkiss, a distant relative whose ancestor had attempted a coup, was currently in the throne room, sitting before Furad's throne, and polishing the Crowns of Gems. There were several dozen of them. They were marvelous items. Each made of a single stone, or massive ingot of a precious metal and crown with yet more stones, they actually grew or shrank according to the wearer, and were known to choose their wearers at times. They also could grow in elegance and design seemingly at will and Hodgkiss could not help but wonder how the races had imbued them with such powerful magics. Even the dwarves and elves could not claim such cleverness in their creations.

Currently the Jade Crown was the King's, while his bride and Queen wore the Sapphire Crown. Their children each had their own, and the Prince and Princesses Royal, as well as the Queen Mother did as well. Hodgkiss was polishing the crown for the Queen Mother currently. His own great aunt three times removed she had refused the throne for herself when still a teenager, and since then she and her chosen crown, the Ebony Crown had seemed to grow more beautiful every day. Now the crown itself stood over a foot tall with dozens of designs intricately showing throughout it's surface that no craftsman could ever hope to match. He did not truly need to polish the crowns, but they seemed... brighter after time in the throne room and under the hands of one of the family. Hodgkiss was greatly honored to be selected, his pointed ears twitching happily as he worked.

His mother had been an elf noble, which was why he had been the family's butler for more than 500 years already and showed no signs of aging or desire to depart. He only wondered what the Crowns might change to by his 600th year.

He chuckled at the thought, humming a song his mother had taught him about Furad herself, while he carefully drew a soft brush along the designs in the Ebony Crown, marveling at how it gleamed brighter and brighter in the predawn light.

The throne was fully enclosed but due to Furad's decorations a little light became a shining day, thus many of her larger gems were blocked from light entirely, and all light sources were covered to prevent blinding occupants. Especially on days like today.

Hodgkiss continued to hum, his back to Furad, unconcerned about her silent and empty gaze. Unlike many he had always been comfortable here, and he cast his yellow but very normal eyes up to the main doors and smiled. he could hear his cousins waking and wondered would it be the children or the parents who entered the room first. Queen Mother would be last of course. No surprise there. She was a hundred and fifteen this spring, and her hip had only just healed after that riding accident last fall. He chuckled to himself and kept to his work.

 

[loneiysong]

The King Balroc had been a happy man when he had been given his wife on their wedding day. She had been the most beautiful woman that he had ever laid eyes on and the most loyal and caring creature that he had ever heard in tale or book, fictional or historical. Her hair was the color of fine gold and her eyes the color of the ocean. Her spirit was calm and gentle like the calm spring breeze. She was not quick to rage or anger. A smile and a kind word were always on her lips. She had born the King 7 healthy sons, each more handsome and bold than the last. Then one day she became sick. Many feared she was possessed of an evil spirit.

Many healers and magicians were called in a frenzy to heal the queen. But it was soon realized she was pregnant with another child. The kingdom didn't know how to react. The queen was indeed sick and was not her usual self. Some feared it was a devil, others feared it would be a horrible omen, yet the king feared that the child would take the queens life with it. Praying to whatever god would listen, the king remained as vigilant as any sentinel by his wife.

When Tirana, the 8th and final child of the king was born, the kingdom held its breath. They would not breath a word of what they thought of the baby to the king and queen. The queen loved the child while the king frowned in disappointment. A girl? While all the children had been blonde haired and perfect like his wife, this girl was raven haired and had one blue eye and one green eye. And bore a birth mark along her back. He never let his wife suspect what lurked in his heart. As Tirana grew, she was wild and carefree. She would shirk the duties of that expected of a girl her age, perferring the company of the stable hands and the kennel tendees or simply sitting in silence in the throne room.

There were some rumors that went around that she talked to Furad and often prayed to her. Many feared Tirana. But as she aged, she became quiet. Kept herself secluded. But there was a darkness that lurked beneath her eyes. Something akin to a storm that brewed over an open sea, or a tiger that was in a cage that was ill built. Something was waiting to break.
----

Flying....flying through the sky. She was free. Once again she was free. She took in a deep breath and trumpeted to the sky, to the gods her sweet rapture. Her roar was rapturous. She felt it through her whole powerful body. She felt every muscle stretch. She sighed and saw the skeleton of Furad snake up from a cloud and look at her.

"Precious one..." Came the voice from a toungeless jaw. "You need to awake...."

She leapt up and gasped panting. She looked around. She was alone again. Running her hands through her hair, she panted hard and shivered. Stilling her rapidly beating heart, she took fist fulls of hair trying to quell the anxiety of her flesh. It was ok. She muttered to herself. Quite alright. It will pass. No it will not. The panic in her roared. Nothing will pass we are caged. She felt like everything was too tight, her skin, the walls, her skull. She got out of bed and walked to the window and took a deep breath of air feeling the air and the space.

Tirana had turned into a beautiful if not mysterious woman. Many rumors circulated around about her. But she didn't care. She smiled and then saw the tents going up for the festival of the new year. "Furad, a new year, please keep me safe as you have, keep me safe in your maternal gaze and care... my control...." She bit her lip and shook herself of thoughts. She walked to her closet and began to dress for the day. She didn't like the maids because the maids touched her with fear, she could smell it, and it annoyed her. She pulled out a light yellow dress for the festival and began to brush her black hair braiding it over her shoulder. Dressing, she went to the throne room to take solace in the company of Furad even for a while.

Walking in, she blushed to see Hodgkiss. She saw him there a bit, but never really talked to him. She always figured he would be afraid of her too. Walking to her stone, Tigers eye. Her crown was very delicate and had shaped itself to be the most intricate of designs. If anyone cared to look closely, they would see that the crown bore small dragons in the design, not something that escaped Tiranas notice.

 

[Greeneyed23]

Hodgkiss was one of the few beings in the city of Tiashin who did not fear the Princess. She reminded him of his own mother.

When she entered he stood and bowed respectfully. "Good morning Your Grace."

Furad seemed to shimmer as the woman neared.

Hodgkiss might not fear the princess, but he did respect her. He lay her crown on a small table near her for her to put into place in her raven hair when she was ready, then resumed working on her grandmother's crown. He did dare to speak again. "I offer my compliments Your Grace. You look quite lovely. I am certain the men of the court will be quite smitten with you." He offered a polite but friendly smile to the young woman, hoping to give her some measure of happiness. He did not like how her father spoke of the girl, nor how her brothers acted around her or teased her.

But he did enjoy one family's member's way of talking to the girl. Rowena.

"Tirana!!" The old voice cracked as her grandmother stalked into the throne room, leaning heavily on her cane. She might be a hundred and fifteen but she was still a tall, stately and surprisingly attractive woman. Her long silken hair was stark white, and her green eyes burned with fire as she moved to her grand daughter. She poked the girl rather roughly and growled.

"You left your books out in the library again. You know your father will be most angry at you." She smiled a loving smile and kissed the girl's temple. "You look lovely my dear. I trust you slept well? Good morning Hodgkiss."

"Good Morning Your Grace. May i have the honor of assisting you with your crown?"

She sighed and nodded. She was in a dark blue gown. It was so dark in fact that many would assume it was black until it shimmered. She had not been ravaged by time enough to force modesty upon her, but she had ensured that the gown was proper to a lady of her vintage. Elegant, stately and modest, yet beautifully cut and woven, the woman was the very epitome of feminine grace, while her gaze and strength reminded everyone that she also was the very picture of feminine strength even now.

Hodgkiss moved forward and gently settled the crown onto her head, helping set the barbs that hooked it into her hair, then bowed as he stepped back. She nodded and smiled. "Welcome back old friend."

She turned back to her granddaughter and studied the girl's face. She leaned close, smelling of flowers, the soft yet warm fragrance of age, as always baked bread, and a flash of something that could only be called life. She cocked her head and her softly wrinkled face curved into a smile. "You've had a dream again. Will you tell me this time dear one?"

She gestured toward Furad. "Or is she alone to share your secrets?"

 

[loneiysong]

Tirana cast her gaze downward and nodded back as if she didn't deserve the respect. She didn't feel like she deserved it. Probably because the years of heckling made her believe that she didn't. "Good morning." She said back. Tirana smiled and longed to bow to Furad the true ruler seeing the shimmer. True she knew that it was just a shell of the once great creature, but she knew the spirit was still with all who believed. She bit her lip. The fear growing inside her was growing too much. As a child she thought how great it would be to let loose, but then she heard tales, read stories, and knew the true fear and panic that others had of dragons. She herself loved the creatures, and watched the skies, dreamed of falling in love with a little dragon. But, those were all dreams of a little princess. She ran her fingertips along the cool stone watching it shift and shimmer in the light begging to be put atop her head. Then she heard the voice of her old friend.

"Gramma." She smiled and turned to the woman and chuckled as she was poked. "I left the library because my brothers were about to singe my hair." She shook her head and then bit her lip and nodded. "But I will return them." She had been reading about the dragons and dragon riders. She had learned that there were a few weres who had bread with little dragons and it was an odd occurance and very rare, but it did happen. She meant to take the book back to her room but her brothers had distracted her. "I can never hope to look as lovely as you." She kissed her mothers cheek loving the comforting smell of her matriarch.

When the state of her sleep was mentioned, Tirana looked down and bit her lip. She helped her grandmother to Hodgkiss and watched him with her two toned eyes and down at her crown. She looked at her and sighed. "Grandmother, if you knew of my dreams, and you knew how often...then I fear that you would fear me as much as the others do." She said and then stiffened her spine as if to ready herself to take on all her burdens by herself and whispered for Furad to give her courage and strength and placed the crown on her head. Feeling the inner dragon seeth and rage at once again being forced into submission, she looked at her grandmother and decided to try.

"I dream....of being...a dragon....." She swallowed hard. "And its as natural as one of my brothers dreaming of courting a woman or winning a deul..." She rubs her eyes. "Sometimes I am hunting, sometimes I am in a large dragon council, but most of the time....I am flying..." She felt tears spring to her eyes. It was such a feeling of loss, like her wings were taken from her forever. She bit her lip and tried to be strong. Knowing she was being the fool and shrugged. "I am sorry I know it sounds stupid." She chuckled gently. She ran an unadorned hand over her face and sighed gently.

 

[Greeneyed23]

Hodgkiss blushed. he could not help it.

To hear such wonderful dreams but to know she feared them. his heart wanted to break for the Princess.

Rowena would have none of it.

"Nonsense child. The only thing stupid about your dreams is that you attempt to disregard them." She cupped the girl's chin softly, but her eyes flashed. "You listen to me dear one. No one has any right to make you feel less than you are. And no one has a right to dismiss or dishonor your dreams. if you wish to dream of flying do so my love. Would that i could help you fly." She sighed softly and nodded toward Hodgkiss.

"But even that one has not seen a Dragon in his lifetime. But the time may yet come my darling. You have faith. Furad will not abandon you."

She smiled and wiped the girl's tears away, and whispered. "i pray to her too." She kissed the girl's forehead then touched the crown softly. "An excellent job Hodgkiss."

"Thank you Your Grace."

She nodded then looked down at her granddaughter. "And I put the books away for you not to worry. After i deliver a beating to your brothers for damaging those shelves." Even Tirana's father did not cross Rowena, but she kept to her station in all things. Save the protection and preservation of her family, and of the palace. She had been born her, lived here all her life, and had she been willing could be the Queen Ruler. But she had forgone the honor for reasons she had never shared, and had taken it upon herself to see to the Palace's upkeep and improvement. And none could deny her results.

She sighed softly. "Tell me something Tirana." Her voice had lost it's gentle touch as more footsteps could be heard, and the old woman leaned heavily on the girl, giving them both an excuse to stay together, and to prevent the boys from tormenting Tirana, though they wouldn't dare before the gaze of their grandmother.

As they began to file in she drew Tirana aside and pointed up at Furad's skull with her cane. "Do you see that gleam just behind her last upper fang?" She began to deliver an oratory on the sliver of blade that was there was storied to be the poisoned blade that had lead to the great Dragon's death. No one knew for sure, but it was an interesting story.

Rowena continued to chatter aimlessly, not minding if the girl's mind wandered, just trying to give her some time and privacy in their family where such things were nigh impossible.

As evidenced when Rowena five younger children entered with their own families. Her twin uncles Hiram and Namath, handsome, regal, and frustratingly superior, but very tender in their own way. And gay.

Rowena sniffed as they arrived with their latest boy toys. She truly could not care less who her children slept with, but she knew her sons to be better than these sycophantic fools they allowed to attach themselves to. Hiram of course insisted on the Coral Crown, bright pink, because it irritated Tirana's father, while Namath took the Violet Crown, a crown made of a lovely violet stone called kunzite, for the same reason. Their paramours were barely noble let alone royal, so they stayed back but simpered and oohed at the sight.

Rowena rolled her eyes but endured the greetings from her sons, but refused to be touched by the boytoys.

Tirana's two aunts were less...pleasant. They were usually very kind, and even now respectful in the Throne Room and before their mother, but they had gotten into a dreadful row over their children and were not speaking to each other. Agatha and Aretha were lovely ladies, young versions of their mother, though Agatha had gained platinum blonde hair, while somehow Aretha had come out a strawberry blonde, whose hair grew redder every day. Agatha swept to Hodgkiss and was silent as he placed her Pearl Crown upon her head, then she watched as her children were given their crowns. She had four children, three girls and her youngest a son and she doted on them, but also kept them strictly in line. She had learned much from her mother. Their father was away from the city on business for the Throne, but that seemed only to make them more polite.

Especially when once they had their soft red, green, blue, and yellow crowns she lead them to their grandmother. She gave a stately curtsy, then kissed her mother's cheek, and bowed to the Crown Princess politely, then kissed Tirana's cheek as well. "You both look lovely."

The children curtsied, and bowed, to their grandmother and their cousin, but it was clear they were afraid of the latter. The boy, Thomas, hesitated but a sharp look from his mother made him give the proper respect quickly.

Aretha meanwhile was fighting with her only current child. The girl, Bethenar, was only 2 and truly very sweet, but today she was cranky. And Aretha's husband was not helping. He kept bumping into his bride as he tried to hide from Rowena's cold gaze, and thus kept upsetting his daughter and his very pregnant wife.

Hodgkiss moved quickly and crowned Aretha with the Firestone Crown, while her husband was given a colorless Clear Crown. No one ever commented on that. Bethenar was given the small but very bright Star Crown, made from a single Star Ruby.

Aretha waddled over, carrying the fidgeting Bethenar and flinching when her husband's need to hide resulting in him kicking her heels as they walked. She finally dug angry nails into his arm and forced him to present himself to Rowena.

He bowed. Rowena did not nod or give any sign of respect, but she did speak. "Sir Tarris." He gulped and bowed quickly to Tirana then scurried away. Aretha moved to her mother and sighed. "I know mother. Please. Don't say anything. i;m embarrassed enough."

Tarris had once been the apple of the kingdom's eye. The bravest knight and greatest warrior and all that. Until the first time he had had to fight a real opponent. He had shamed the whole kingdom by wetting himself and fleeing from a tournament. Aretha had already married him by this point and was already pregnant, so a divorce was out of the question. But his cowardice had only grown, as had the stories of his other flaws and failures. It was rumored that Aretha had begun sleeping with his brother because he could no longer perform in the bedroom, and whether true or not, no one blamed her. The fool was the family's shame and he was endured but little more.

Rowena nodded, then leaned forward as Bethenar, or Beth, rubbed her eyes and scowled at Tirana. The girl actually liked her cousin, but even she didn't dare glare at Rowena.

The Queen Mother raised an elegant white eyebrow. "Feeling tempestous my dear Bethenar?" Her inflection on the last syllable caught the girl's attention and she looked at her grandmother, then her mother and wriggled down. Shestraightened her dress as she delivered a perfect curtsy, then without delay hugger her grandmother's leg. She spoke softly. "He got drunk last night. He threatened to hit Mommy."

Aretha blanched and Rowena's eyes darkened. Aretha spoke quickly. "He did not strike me Mother." Rowena nodded and patted the child's head. "it will be alright dear one."

Aretha moved in to kiss her mother, careful to do so sideway so her prodigious belly would not bump the old woman, while Beth moved to Tirana. She curtsied then hugged her cousin, glaring spitefully toward her father. "You should beat him up Tirana. He's not a good Daddy."

Aretha smiled apologetically at Tirana and ushered the child away, keeping well away from Agatha, and her husband, who seemed to be trying to find someone to hide behind.

For good reason.

Marcus, Rowena's youngest child, came lumbering in as always, seeming more like a great elephant than a man. And trailed by thirteen children. They marched in order, ranging in age from 15 to 2 and all of them were simply beautiful, both boys and girls. Marcus had wed an fae princess, and the two had produce a child a year until she had been killed during a visit to her parents the year before while yet again pregnant. The maelstrom had never been understood or sourced, and Marcus had been a different man since.

Still a loving and loved father, he had lost much of the laughter and playfulness that had been his way and had so attracted his bride. His children were his world now, but he had grown ever so protective of his family. And he despised Tarris.

He would do nothing here, but his grey eyes burned as he glared at the little man.

The children each received their crowns, and Marcus submitted to his Sunstone Crown, and by special dispensation, his wife's deep lovely brown Jasper Crown, while his children had every color of the rainbow.

They swarmed their grandmother, respectfully, but they could not help excitedly hugging and kissing her, and though they did fear Tirana, they were very polite and kissed her cheek as well, then marched off as Marcus gave a slight break in protcol by hugging his mother then kissing her. His eyes were bloodshot. The anniversary of his bride's death was oncoming.

Rowena cupped his cheek, no mean feat considering his size. he stood nearly seven feet tall, and was built like an elephant. Marcus the Monster they had called him in his youth. But for all his strength and many skills and abilties, his gentleness was ever present. He kissed his mother's wrist, then bent to hug and kiss Tirana. He smiled at her as he stepped back. "you are a vision dear one." His voice was quiet, nearly a whisper, but powerfully masculine. He was his brother's Commanding General and his calloused hands told stories of his many victories.

He studied his neice's face for a long moment, but said nothing else, kissing her forehead before going over to his children who gathered about him for a hug.

A trumpet blared and Rowena sighed rolling her eyes again. "And here come your brothers."

 

[loneiysong]

Tirana immediately felt better when her grandmother consoled her. She sighed and nodded and held her wrist. She wished she could tell her about the voice deep inside her that only grew louder and more insistent. The voice that was separate and apart from her conscience. Deep down she knew it was the dragon. The one that would split free. The one that was what everyone feared. Tirana carefully built a cage around the dragon, but everyone knew that no cage kept a dragon. No matter how well built, no matter how carefully plotted, every dragon broke free.

Tirana walked with her grandmother as she spoke of Furad's skull. Alas there were many stories of that glint in her mouth. The one that she loved most of all was when Furads lover died, the little dragon, she became so distraught when their children began bickering over his prized sword, that she took it and drove it into her own mouth and flew into the skies to mourn his death. But there were so many stories abut Furad and every little gemstone on her body that it was told that if the seas were ink and the skies were parchment that it wouldn't begin to tell half of the stories. She grinned and held her grandmothers hand and laughed and kissed her cheek. "Grandmother, it is always such a treat to hear that story from you." She whispered before they were swarmed with the family.

The antics of her uncles always made her laugh deep within herself. Granted they angered her father, were the end of her brothers jokes (whether they knew it or not), there was a freedom in all of their actions that she loved and adored secretly. She bowed and nodded to her uncles and then to the aunts and returned kisses on the cheeks.

When she leaned down to hug her sweet niece Beth, she heard the whisper and blushed. She was already hearing the stories and letting the fear get to her. Soon she would not hug her, soon it would be a thing of the past. Only the children were the ones who didn't listen to instincts, who let themselves come close. And those who were old believers of the dragon. But they usually didn't know and just roamed too close to her without knowing. She grinned letting Beth go back and stood up letting the child go.

Soon her favorite uncle, and the only one that she kept in contact with came in. She saw the pain and exhaustion in his eyes and knew. She had felt it in the ravens. The longing. She could see him in several past lives sitting in on many dragon councils, the few rare trusted humans on dragon councils. Strong and brave. Trusting the balance of head and heart. She wrapped her arms around Marcus and sighed hugging him tightly and frowned.

"My favored uncle, my heart wept at your loss and continues still, I wish there was something I could do to help mend your heart." She whispered softly to him as she pressed her face into his chest and shut her eyes tighter letting her words be only heard by him and then she looked up at him and frowned. She held his arm. Tirana could feel him studying her face, and she allowed him, she didn't shy away like she would normally, but allowed the man to find what he would. Baring herself.

Tirana watched him go and then swallowed hard and took an unconscious step back as the trumpet blared. The true heirs and next in line were coming. The true tormentors in her life. They were to enter the room. The dragon in her coiled and growled.

"Please. Furad" She whispered quietly. "Please, keep me from their gaze."

The eldest of the brothers, and the ring leaders burst from the open doors. Damien. Just entering the room he sent a cold chill all around the room. He was dressed in a dark purple robe and looked around. He caught the eyes of Tirana and grinned. He had something planned. In those cold blue eyes, he grinned. He strode towards his crown his chin raised high and his gaze forward. He walked forward like he already had claim to the throne. He met the dragon skulls gaze full on. One no one had the gall to do. Soon the next boys, twins, Fen and Tarwin, came bustling in playing tug of war with each others robes and rough housing. Stopping in midstride, he glared at the boys and turned and walked to them.

"If you insist on acting like the insufferable fool uncles, Hiram and Namath, I will tie you upside down by your toes from my window of my room and pour hot oil on you. Do you understand." His voice was a low growl. Damien was a muscled man. Girls fawned over him and he had many a maidens heart. But he was very cruel. The twins looked up and nodded. The twins were thin and bean pole shaped boys who looked down. Damien being assured they learned their lesson, turned and went to the crowns and smiled.

"Hello Hogs Kiss." He sniffed petulantly at the servant. Looking down at his Red Diamond crown, he smiled widely. His crown was thick and resembled flames. Raising it, he placed it on his head and smiled to Hogs Kiss. Turning, he went to the Queen mother and knelt low showing her the finest respect. True he was cruel he never did anything that could warrant her to punish him. And he was always mothers boy. The two twin boys both went up not saying anything to Hodgkiss, and placed on their crowns. Fen had a dark emerald crown while Tarwin had a lighter emerald. They went to go pay their respect to Rowena.

Meanwhile, Damien stood beside Tirana and grinned wickedly.
"I don't believe we got to finish what we started last night." He hissed.
"Leave me alone." She said simply.
"I am the future prince you have to listen to what I say, cow, or I will tell."

She sighed and grit her teeth the dragon in her growling. She glared ahead.

"Meet me tonight before the fireworks. No one else, or you will be sorry." He said simply and moved away waiting for the queen to come in so he could stand beside her.

 

[Greeneyed23]

Damien was jerked to a stop by his grandmother's cane.

Rowena was not in the mood for this nonsense and this fool was disrespecting the whole of the family and her Palace.

Her strength had not lessened. If anything she still bore the strength that has so amazed her teachers as a teenager. She yanked Damien back and snagged his ear. "Speak to your sister in such a way again and I will bestow beatings even before your father whelp. Show some respect for the name you bear if you cannot summon any for yourself."

She twisted his ear. "And if you touch Tirana again this day i will strip your hide as i did when you were a boy."

Try as he might he could not wrench free.

His brothers were snickering at him until her eye fell on them. They clammed up quickly. She turned back to Damien. "You think yourself worthy to sit upon that revered throne boy? You are not nearly ready, and will never be worthy. Now be silent and hide behind your mother's skirts." She pushed him away, knowing he would be enraged and cry to his mother but she did not care.

The others had gone silent at Rowena's rage and her daring. To lay hands on the Crown Prince?

Rowena ignored them and touched her granddaughter's arm. "Restraint my dear."

The other four came bustling in. They were less wild. Gregory, Nathan, Binoch, and finally Verys.

Gregory was even bigger than Damien, nearly as big as Marcus, but he lacked Marcus' kindness. He was not truly cruel, but thinking and considering were not amongst his abilities. He was a ponderous thinker, but a brilliant fighter. he was entirely in Damien's thrall though, and tended to serve as the eldest' muscle. His crown was a very light tuquiose called the Sea Crown. His one true gift was sailing and ships. He was already a master ship builder, and had designed many, and gone on many voyages, the tales of his achievements impressive.

Rowena was not so cold with Gregory. A lout occasionally but a truly bad boy. He smiled at Tirana and spoke in his deep gravely voice. "you look pretty Tirana." He did pick on his sister but he had gone to the levels of torment others had, always thinking she was just a smaller brother apparently.

Rowena sighed as he lumber away his small crown looking even smaller on his large head. "I worry about that boy."

Nathan she ignored entirely. He was nothing like his older brothers. He reminded Rowena a lot of her own brothers, all long since passed on. Tricky, devious, opportunistic, and often cruelly cowardly bullies. Nathan seemed to possess a number of those traits. And his attempt to get her sent to the sea manor after her injury had not been forgotten. Nor forgiven. His bright yellow lemon quartz crown, the Sun Crown, was much too large for him. Like his ego.

He sauntered by Rowena and his sister, pausing just long enough to bow politely, but did not bother to come speak to them.

Binoch was again very different. he was a warrior born. But not in the muscled form of his uncle or his older brothers. he was a fencing prodigy, and his whole body was as thin as the dueling blades he was so skilled with. He was very quiet and preferred to practice and show off more than anything else. He had begun to develop a sadistic side, enjoying his superiority far too much. But still his lovely Amethyst Crown glowed with it's own special gleam.

He did come and bow and greet his grandmother and sister, but did not speak. They were of no importance to the master.

Verys was the youngest and smallest of the boys, but his eyes were the same deadly green of his grandmother's. He had been given the Emerald crown, and he bore it proudly. He moved to his grandmother and hugged her, then to his sister, kissing her cheek before bowing to them both. "Greetings ladies. You look magnificent."

Rowena called Verys the politician. he always was in the right place at the right time, with the right words, and always had the right look on his face, and he did everything right. And no one knew what he wanted or had planned.

Rowena heaved a sigh of relief. "Now just your parents." Their respective crowns waited on two small tables for their own staff, while Hodgkiss closed the case with the others and pushed them away, including the dreaded Blood Crown, the ruby crown that was said to be cursed. That had not been worn in millenia if the stories were true.

 

[loneiysong]

Damien growled low in his throat as his hand flew up and caught the wrist of the old hag. He looked up at her and snarled. He had called this woman an old hag before only to have her wash his mouth out and swatting him ferociously. He decided that today, would be a day of reckoning. He would make the world come down, tremble and quake. All the while getting rid of all his problems. He gripped the woman's wrist as pain shot through him. His ear was hurting, but she would be sorry. The ones who didn't kneel and respect him would be sorry. Tirana stepped back seeing the rage in his eyes.

Tirana felt dread. Her brother would do no good. Her palms had become sweaty and clammy. Her heart was racing. The dragon within was pacing and every hair on her body stood on end. She knew that nobody knew of her dreams, or the voices within her. Not even her father or mother. But if Damien did find out. Her heart constricted at the thought. If he found a way to make her angry enough, to make her loose control. The last of her brother's came in and she jerked as another thunderous fanfare trumpet roared through the castle announcing the queen.

Willow came in. She was wearing a very light golden gown that made her look like an angel descended from up on high. Her hair, once golden, had only brightened with age and was now a white gold. It was pulled back and decorated for her crown. She smiled and nodded to everyone, kissing the cheek of everyone that she met on the way to the crowns. She couldn't help it, she had to make sure her "little flock" as she called them were in order. Stopping to talk to Damien, he leaned in close and whispered in her ear. She smiled and kissed his cheek running her fingers consolingly through his hair and then moved along.

She came to a stop and smiled to her mother. "Good morning mother." She said in her voice that always seemed to want to break into a song. She wrapped her arms around her mother and kissed her cheek. She never interfered with what she thought her mother thought best. She loved her mother. No matter how much Damien begged, pissed, or moaned, she would not give on the issue. She looked at Tirana and sighed. "Tirana, my heart, can you not instigate a fight with your brother today? Please?" She asked very gently. Tirana cast her gaze down. Nodding quickly, the queen smiled and gave her a brisk kiss on the cheek and moved to the crowns and placed her own on her head and smiled moving beside the throne to await her king. She smiled looking ahead.

 

[Greeneyed23]

When Balroc entered in all his stately majesty everyone went still and silent. Even Rowena.

He placed his own crown upon his head, ignoring those about him, moved to his bride, knelt kissing her hand, then rose and kissed her cheek before mounting his throne.

He settled beneath the Dragon's skull and surveyed his family. As one they intoned. "Good Morning Your Majesty. Long Live King Balroc."

He studied them silently, then intoned. "Good Morning. May the gods bless all of you. And Furad keep you."

His eyes surveyed them once more, then he looked to his staff. "Are we prepared to depart?"

"Not as of yet Your Majesty. The large carriage is meant to hold all of your family and the horses are especially excited today. So a slight delay while they are run to calm themselves."

He grunted thoughtfully, stroking his thick beard over his barrel like chest.

 

[loneiysong]

Willow smiled and looked down to him. Every time he entered the room her heart fluttered. It was special. She always made a point of telling him both verbally and little ways how madly and deeply in love with him she was. And truly she was. She smiled and gave him her hand. She then leaned in close. Willow in turn kissed his cheek as well. She moved forward and sank her hand into his and smiled. Anyone watching would know that they were two halves of a complete circle.

When he entered, Tirana looked down as if sorry for even being in the room. She tried to make herself as non existant as possible. She loved her father and her mother, but she knew that she was the black sheep even though she tried hard to fit in. Sometimes one was just not meant to fit. She looked at her gay uncles and smiled gently. She took in a large breath and tried to calm herself.

As they greeted the king and said wished him a long life in unison, she looked down as she heard Damien shouting as if rallying for his favored knight at the jousts. It was not uncommon for him to even ball his fist and raise it in honor of his father upon the "Long live King Balroc" When report of the horses were fidgety, Tirana shifted a bit wondering what had happened.

 

[Greeneyed23]

Rowena touched Tirana's arm, reminding her that she was there.

Balroc also was concerned about the horses. "Is there a problem with the horses?"

"No Your Majesty. They are just excited with all the festivities and people. They were not violently upset, just...eager."

It had been Rowena's favorite word for the children when they were small and overflowing with wild energy. Balroc smiled understanding. "I see. Very well. how long?"

"They were out running even before you rose Your Majesty. i doubt it will be much longer."

 

[loneiysong]

Tirana didn't want to be in the same vacinity any longer than she had to with her brothers. The dragon was starting to make her neck and head hurt. The low growling began. She needed air. Swallowing, she rubbed her temple and moved closer to her grandmother and leaned in as if listening to her. Her arm was warm to the touch, much warmer than the room itself. It would be bad form to leave the room early, and it would make her brothers take notice. She would be as helpless as a doe on hunting season. Reaching into a hidden pocket of her skirts, she ran her fingers through some rocks she had polished and designed look like the magic rune stones in her dream of Furad. It was a long time ago but Furad had taught her how to read them.

Last time she did was when her brothers came to hurt her, it was very accurate. It scared her so much that she didn't want to again, but the presence and the heaviness they had brought comfort so she held them close whenever she went out. They were held together by a cord when not in use. She waited patiently feeling the cool in them and swallowed once again feeling the whole room begin to shrink on her.

 

[Greeneyed23]

Rowena pressed against the girl and began to hum a lullaby she had sung to Tirana when the girl was still only minutes old, then hundreds of times since.

Rowena did not know what troubled her favorite granddaughter, not specifically anyway, but she had seen and heard enough. Steps would be taken.

Balroc sprang to his feet when he got a nod from his staff. "Let's go. Boys follow your mother." He looked toward Tirana and his own mother and nodded, then descended the stairs taking Willow's hand and moving toward the lifts.

The sheer height of the palace made it both beautiful and impressive, but also troublesome to mount. There were stairs and other ways of reaching it, but long ago the engineers had developed a large lift system based on pulley systems and weights and counterweights, and the strength of a small but powerful spring they had found beneath the earth, creating one of the many wonders of Tiashin and the Palace of Bone.

The lift car was just as grand and elegant as the rest of the palace, and large enough to carry the Royal family.

There were actually nine cars for the lift. No one had a reason for that number. Two were large, the largest being officially reserved for the Royal Family. The other seven grew smaller in size until the King's lift, a four person lift that ran along the spine of the Palace, dedicated solely to the current monarch. The ninth had not been opened for millenia. The Dragon's lift. No one remembered it's size, and no one had any clue as to what powered it. It was not connected to the system of others, but it also only went from the floor of the Throne Room and Royal Living Quarters to the Scaled Citadel upon the peak.

Rowena found a pair of seats near the cut out window, and smiled as she prodded the glass, sniffing in her 'unimpressed' way. "A marvelous invention. Allows one to see but without fear of falling. But I am not sure if it is wise."

The entire shaft of the lift had been altered to allow the placement of such windows along it's length, allowing the riders to see the whole of Tiashina and the plains surrounding from the most spectacular view possible.

The work had only ended a few months before and everyone was still growing accustomed to the sight. The Color Guard was on full display and from above the city and the festivities looked like a living rainbow. Like the rustling scales of a Dragon.

The young children moved to the window, which was several inches thick and well seated in it's frame and gazed in wonder as if by magic they fell into the city.

Below the people saw first the flag raised atop the Palace itself, indicating that the King was not currently in residence, then they saw the lift moving through the window. They began to wave and cheer, and soon the whole of Tiashin was voicing their delight at the imminent arrival of the Royal Family, who would lead them through the streets and through the Broken Gate to the New Year's festival. Games, contests, food and drink, singing, dancing, jousts, duels, and all sorts of other wonders awaited. The people were very excited. A new year of peace and prosperity. Time to bring it in proper.

 

[loneiysong]

Tirana heard the song. But it felt as if it was a million miles away. Anyone who was sensitive enough or knew what to feel for could almost feel the dragon magic rolling off of her. The dragon could not be contained much longer. She was nearing an age where she was just too inexperienced. She leaned against her grandmother and unconsciously curled an arm around her. Her grandmother was her rock that always anchored her to her human form. But Furad help her, only she could do so much.

Damien watched this and grinned. Everything was going to plan. Moving to Gregory, he leaned to his ear and told him of news that a dragon threatened to come and destroy their festivities and lay claim to their kingdom. He knew that Gregory would not think twice to sign up for the chance to be a true knight of valor under the cause of his banner. Damien drooled over the chance to purge the world of every foul creature of the world. That included the weres, the sprites, and even his gay uncles who sought to belittle the family name. For too long he had to watch the shame on his father and mothers face as they watched them be paraded around like the fools they were. Well, he was going to step up and be the hero he was. He was going to bring them the head of a terror and show them that he was ready to start taking on bigger responsibilities. Taking out one two big problems at once. He told Gregory they must be very quiet about it lest they worry all the family about it and made him take a solemn knights oath.

Tirana had calmed herself when they had begun to walk. She supported her grandmothers arm as she walked behind her parents. She watched her parents walk hand in hand and wondered if there would be anyone in her life that loved her that much. Probably not. Her father had already tried to marry her off, but all of her suitors had heard her name and laughed at the father and lied about already being engaged. When they got into the lift, she saw to it that her grandmother was comfortably seated and laughed softly at her comment. Moving to sit beside her grandmother, she brought the stones out and held them in her hands rolling them between her fingers. It felt good to be in the air, but being in even tighter confines made her bones feel odd.

Images of past dreams began to flash before her eyes. Furad in all of her glory soaring before her, teaching her to fly, flying on her own, a shadowed figure reaching out to her. She blinked and looked down at the colored guard as the children pointed them out and squealed excitedly.

 

[Greeneyed23]

The lift came to a rest and the attendant looked to the King for which door to open.

Balroc considered then gestured toward the crowd.

The attendant obeyed and pulled a lever and the entire wall facing the city opened up as the staff moved away.

Balroc lead his family out to the adulation of the crowd. The people cheered their names, even Tirana's, and oohed and aahhed over the crowns and their fine clothing, and the sweet children who waved and smiled. Marcus was holding his youngest, and she was clutching his collar and waving shyly. Normally she might have her free hand in her mouth, but she was with her Daddy and she knew she was safe. No one would touch her with him around.

The carriage pulled into view. It was really just a wheeled platform with seats. Rowena was given the right to sit first, so she drew Tirana with her to the very front where only two seats were and settled herself, waving at the people, and leaning more heavily on Tirana than necessary to help the girl settle herself. Once seated she pointed her cane at Hodgkiss, who had joined them in the lift, and quickly came to stand by her chair. He was the butler for the whole of the Family, but he and Rowena had known each all her life and had been friend throughout.

He smiled sweetly. "how may i serve you Your Grace?"

"Find yourself a chair and sit with me and my lovely scamp of a granddaughter."

"But Your Grace I-"

Her eyes flashed and he bowed. The others took their seats, Damien sitting just below the highest platform and the others extending down before him. Marcus sat beside Damien, not pleased by it, but his high station, and his need for a large number of seats for his children, but none of them would sit near Damien. But his other uncles would. They were under no illusions about how Damien felt about them, and gloried in aggravating him as best they could, blowing loud kisses to the people, and leaning on him to intentionally annoy him.

Tarris was place in a seat in the middle, almost out of sight, and once there he did not move, speak, or look about, while his wife and her daughter sat behind Rowena and Tirana. Bethenar was less troubled now, too excited by all the fun, and as soon as her mother was seated she moved forward and leaned against Tirana. "Tira? Will you take me to see the wrestling matches? Mommy says she can't."

Rowena arched an eyebrow but said nothing, watching as some footmen carefully placed the extra chair for Hodgkiss while Agatha took her place and the Princes kept jumping off to greet old friends who had come to visit.

The child pointed at the clear blue sky and spoke the first lines of a poem about Furad. "First Lady of the Sky, wings aloft she does fly..." She blinked. "What does aloft mean?"

Rowena laughed at that and the girl giggled, her eyes bright as she studied her cousin's face. She might never fear Tirana. She was too like her mother. but she was fascinated by Tirana's bi-colored eyes.

Finally Agatha and the rest were seated, so now came Balroc and Willow. They had not moved from the lift, chatting about their own private matters, but now they strode is stately silence up a set of stairs to the high platform where two throne seats awaited them. Balroc helped her sit, waved to the crowd, smiling as they roared "LONG LIVE THE KING!!!!" Then sat.

The stewards moved away as Hodgkiss quickly sat and the sides of the carriage were raised and locked into place, allowing the occupants to lean on the waist high wall and wave, and keeping the smaller children from tumbling out.

Bethenar kept her place with Tirana, and Rowena stole a glance at the girl's mother then nudged Tirana. Aretha had settled into the corner of her chair and though her hand was raised and a bright smile plastered on her face, she was clearly sleeping.

Rowena laughed. "i remember those days myself....Tirana you have good young eyes. What is that before us?"

On the road ahead was a large wooden construction currently covered by long white sheets.

As they neared it the sheets caught aflame and the crowd gasped, then cheered as the construction exploded upward into a massive display of fireworks. Despite the bright day the colors of the display marveled them all and music and singing could now be heard coming from the festival grounds. The crowd was falling in behind the Royals, cheering louder and louder, wishing one and alkl a Happy New Year.

The Broken Gate had been forged from the very wall of the mountain itself, begun by a crack, which still made up it's right hand side, it's great hinges hidden within. it had been modified and strengthened, but when it opened it was still an entire mountainside opening to disgorge it's innards. The top of the gate was more than a three hundred feet above the Royal carriage, but the Color Guard atop it and the wall ringing the crater of the mountain all snapped to attention and saluted, fists to their chests as the Royal Family rolled through their gate.

The carriage went straight to the largest tent, a rainbow affair, where many more chairs and lounging areas had been prepared for the Royal Family, along with a massive breakfast feast.

Rowena shooed Bethenar to wake her mother, then leaned on Tirana again, going straight to the food tables, but allowed Hodgkiss to collect her selections for herself and the girl, and at her order himself. She then sat at a lower table but with an excellent view of the events as before the tent in the main pavilion a rush of dancers, acrobats, jugglers, magicians, and even animals came in to a grand rush of music. A circus, A Royal Command Performance.

The people filled the stands and seats surrounding the pavilion and cheered as the show began, laughing at made up funnymen, oohing as men and women flipped through the air, stunned as a massive orc woman lifted a full grown ox off the ground on her shoulders. An troupe of elves were dancing in wild abandon, while severl Hakr were throwing fire, water, earth, metal and other elemants at each other in a simulated battle of great intensity.

Two dwarves rode the backs of wolfs taller than Tirana, circling the pavilion looking for all the world as if they would like nothing more to devour all they say. A herd of great cats, and their trainers, cat-men, their brushy ears and fluffy tails looking very fine in the morning sun, all performed a astonishing feats. Three lions dove in and out of fires, weaved through burning snare lines, and chased down simulated prey. Tigers climbed false trees and roared before pushing over other false trees, panthers gleamed in the daylight and leered menacingly at the watchers as they showed their incredible climbing ability on piled boulders. They seemed to find a way to mount the hillocks from places with no possible escape, and were even seen climbing sheer rock faces with their talons.

The crowd cheered. Then fell silent as the cats were lead way and the elephants came.

Large, lumbering, yet impossibly graceful, these magnificent creatures hurled the boulders, cleaned the tree's remains, and created a pyramid with their bodies higher than even the Royal tent. The clownish funnymen howled with mock terror, feigned soiling and wetting themselves, and rushed to bath. The people laughed as the show went on to much applause.

Bethenar and the other children were in a specially sealed off platform. They could see everything up close, but nothing could reach them, and they would not leave it and risk missing anything of the show.

Rowena smiled watching a horde of men and women rush in. "This should be a treat."

The still running monster wolves suddenly paused and howled, and the horde froze, then as one they lurched, buckled, and then transformed into wolves, tigers, lions, bears, monkeys and every other sort of creature. Then they began to race about in a mock hunt of the large wolves. Then the dwarves and their wolves would chase the were.

The excitement was building to a crescendo.

The acrobats were now high above. One man was standing on his head on an impossibly thin cable, while a woman was whirling her body again and again and again while hanging from one arm, while about them others were flipping and only narrowly being saved from plummeting to the ground.

The crowd could not decide what to focus on so simply did not try, cheering for everything and trying to watch it all at once.

Rowena leaned back in her chair sipping her coffee and biting into a pastry while Hodgkiss quietly ate his breakfast, his eyes following the circus, but not truly focused on anything specific.

Rowena nudged Tirana. "You must eat dear one. And try to enjoy yourself."

 

[loneiysong]

Tirana smiled as she was coaxed into the seat by her grandmother. She watched as Hodgkiss sat down beside them and smiled as her grandmother pointed out the great tent before them. Her grandmother never let her miss anything. Smiling she saw it and then leaned back only to feel the little hand of her niece on her shoulder.

Looking back, she smiled. "Of course little one. I will take you to the wrestling matches if that is what you desire."

Hearing her grandmother speak she laughed seeing the tent go up in a blaze of glory all of her cares melting away. "Grandmother, you should know as well as I do, that is the great tent." She smiled unable to keep the excitement out of her voice. Try as she might, Tirana was many ways a child at heart and did love a good show. She loved seeing the performers and the circus. It was like sweets for the eyes. As she contemplated this, little Beth made her request known.

Damien exited the lift snarling and dusting off invisible dirt and trying to press out wrinkles that weren't there. He mumbled about crude unwashed peasants. Soon several women of court came up and began to fawn over him. He smiled and was soon whisked away into their care and touched their faces and grinned.

She went into the tent and sat with her grandmother and was enjoying the show, but then the hunt started. Something began to whisper. "They are coming. They are coming. They are going to find you. They are going to hunt you down." She shivered watching the weres feign death under the dwarves wolves. She went pale. Her hands gripped the table clothes. She knew the voice. It was the the messenger of Furad. She had never heard his voice before but she knew it just as she knew the voice of her grandmother. She felt ill. She looked at her grandmother. Her tongue felt too large for her mouth. It was hard to swallow. Her back where her birthmark stood was tingling. She nodded and began to eat the whole of the finale making her dizzy and head hurt.

The circus being concluded the family got up and began to file out. Damien would be whisked away by the girls to the more adult themed tents which were the pleasure areas. When he became of age, he all too often frequented these tents. The crier came through the tents announcing the morning events which would start with the first rounds of jousting.

As the stragglers were finishing their breakfast, a beautiful fae woman was walking through the crowd reading each persons runes. She was lite and spritely and dressed in opal dress that shimmered and changed as she moved. She wore a moon necklace that changed phases. She smiled as she went along offering and stopped to Hodgkiss and grinned broadly. "Hello there handsome fellow, might you like your runes foretold?" She smiled her bright spring green eyes flashing. "You have an air of destiny around you."

 

[Greeneyed23]

He laughed. "No thank you dear lady. My destiny was told me long ago. But you might wish to ask the Crown Princess. it might bring her some peace."

The central tent was to be the place where the Royal's view everything.

Balroc and Willow had not left their places, still eating as the pavilion was cleared and quickly prepared for the jousts. The tournament was so large that despite the fact the festival would be lasting a full week they had to have multiple points for the more than five thousand knights who were to joust for the honor of the kingdom of Nethis.

The other contests were beginning and Tirana's aunts and uncles made their way to where their children, or lovers wanted to go. Except Aretha. She had found a couch, curled up and was deeply asleep again.

Rowena smiled and nudged Tirana. "You should go with Bethenar. keep her out of trouble." It was unclear which of her grand daughters she was speaking to.

Beth hung on Tirana's hand wanting to see everything. Last year she had only just learned to walk and had not been allowed out of the Royal tent. This year she would allowed to go anywhere she wished. provided she had an escort from a family member.

She paused at a puppet show where the puppets were not on strings or sticks but somehow floated above a flat board and actually seemed to talk while a mysteriously cloaked dwarf sat behind the board, her eyes closed, her hands tucked into the arms of her robe, her legs crossed beneath her.

Beth whispered. "Tira how do they move like that?"

 

[loneiysong]

"Are you sure? Your aura tells me it is more than what you think it is." She smiled and winked mysteriously to him. She ran her hand over and looked at the princess who cast her gaze down quickly. "And the Crown Princess...fair hearted...but your body and your shadow do not match. This is very rare and you already hold your destiny in your own hands. May I see?" She smiled. Tirana blushed and held out her stones and the fae girl gasped and held them. "Dragon stones...I have never seen these." She ran them over in her hands and lifted them to her lips and kissed them respectfully and then bowed before Tirana. "Forgive me." Taking a fae blessed silk she wrapped them up and continued on and didn't say another word.

She was oddly drawn to Marcus.

Tirana laughed and shrugged and stood up taking Beth's hand and walked with her. "Magic little one...magic." She whispered into her ear. "Never doubt that magic exists in this realm." She smiled and stroked her hair. She thought she saw the movement of something out of the corner of her eye but she shrugged it off. She smiled at the fanciful wares of the vendors. Stopping, she saw a monk selling all sorts of dragon novels. She saw one that she had never read and was written in a language that she had never seen but one that somehow, she thought she knew.

"Sir, what language is this?" She picked up the book as if one her age might pick up an orphaned babe. She ran her fingers along the spine and along the pages not daring to open it yet. She looked at the friars and the scribes chatting amongst the other costumers of the store.

 

[Greeneyed23]

While the monk answered her, the rest of her family had scattered to their own interests, save Beth who watched her cousin, the scribbles on the book only gibberish to her.

Far too the north of Tiashin lays a desert. It is not hot like the sands of the Nesrati to the southwest, nor not the spectacular blood red of the Quati on the shores of the eastern sea, but it is a bleach white and cold. Colder than ice. It is called the Nameless Plain.

It is said that the wars before the creation of Tiashin caused the desolation of this place. The poisoned sands, the lifeless depths. No water falls upon it, and not even insects can live within. Curses untold lay within it's borders, and bones in numbers uncounted lay scattered throughout it's wastes.

Yet at the moment Tirana asked the question of the monk, a figure, dressed much like that selfsame monk, stepped out of the barren waste, spilling the white sands about the feet. The hood was raised, hands hidden in the arms of the overlong robe. The face was masked, and the figure moved both silently and in silence, and though sand dispelled as it stepped, there were no footprints or other sign of movement.

The figure began to walk south, toward Tiashin, the posture not changing, and still leaving no sign of passage. None saw it.

 

[loneiysong]

"Ohh that my lady? No one knows. We believe it is the strange lunatic ramblings from long ago. No ancient language references it. We just put it out in display in case anyone would like to add it to their library." He blushed and chuckled softly.

Tirana ran her fingers along it. The dragon purred within her. This book was very old and bound with old shed dragon scales. Something about it smacked of dragon. She smiled and then paid for it and had it wrapped. She held it close. She did not know that in her hand she held one of the only books that Furad herself ever wrote in an ancient language that had died with the dragons. A language so sweet and melodical that many thought it was the dragons mating call.

Tirana held Beths hand and smiled. "Is there anything else you wish to see?"

 

[Greeneyed23]

Another monk spoke softly. "We would be honored to give it to you as a gift Your Grace."

Beth looked on very confused, then pointed toward a wooden platform hidden behind some games where several beings were waiting while two others grappled. "The wrestling matches Tira. you said you'd take me to see the wrestling."

The monks smiled, and the one who had offered the book leaned down to speak to Beth. "You should find a large orc with a series of black tatoos. His name is Sharpfang. He's the reigning champ. And most likely to win again."

beth's eyes got really big. "is he really good?"

"One of the best ever."

Beth looked back to her cousin. "Come on Tira let's go!" She began to tug on Tirana's arm.

 

[loneiysong]

"Well, I will take it as a gift then as you would take my money as a donation to your church for all the good you do." She smiled and placed it in their hand knowing that they fed the poor and those that couldn't provide for themselves. She smiled to him and laughed and nodded. "Yes, yes I will I did promise." She laughed and then looked at Beth then to the monk.

"You and wrestling." She laughed to Beth. She sighed shaking her head and smiled and nodded once more to the monk and then walked with Beth and smiled. They continued to walk to the wooden platforms and continued to look and search until they found the large orc. She smiled and raised Beth up in her arms so she could the orc. She chuckled and looked at Beth.

"You see him, there he is." She grinned looking out to the orc named Sharpfang.

 

[Greeneyed23]

The orc was sitting behind a large bench and eating hungrily. he was massively built, his green skin stretched tight over layers and layers of rock hard muscle. Even sitting he had to be more than a foot taller than Marcus.

Beth stared in awe, then turned to her cousin. "He's amazing! Can we meet him?"

One of the others nearby, a very hairy older man laughed. "Actually yes. Just Don't mess with his vegetable stew."

Beth immediately turned huge pleading eyes on her cousin. "Please Tira? Pretty pretty please?"

 

[loneiysong]

She laughed and nodded and set her down gently. "Yes, but mind your manners and don't ask him to throttle your father." She laughed winking to her and nodded for her to go that she was right behind. She turned and began to walk behind Beth holding her hand and looked over the impressive creature. He was indeed very impressive. She had seen many impressive orcs, but non as impressive as him. He was just way too much. Then the thought struck her.

Vegetable stew? An orc? How odd. Tirana smiled and looked at him and smiled. "Greetings Sir Sharpfang, my little Niece Princess Bethenar is a huge fan of wrestling and was very much interested in meeting you if that was alright with you." She smiled and did a gentle curtsy as if he was a member of the court. Tirana was well known to treat everyone with equal respect.

 

[Greeneyed23]

Sharpfang bowed to them both but did not speak. As his head raised his empty jaw minus one large fang was revealed. He bowed again then touched his mouth and shook his head.

His blood red eyes were bright, and he gave a gentle smile to Beth.

She moved a bit closer. "Why don't you talk?"

He raised his chin and revealed a large ugly scar on his throat. He then touched his tattoo, then snapped his clawed fingers at a nearby fellow. His claws were another marvel. Orcs were very natural beings and though fully civilized they tended to have dirty or damaged claws. His were clean and cut short.

The man he had snapped at looked up, then moved over and bowed. he was shrimpy little fellow, almost as short as a dwarf. "Your Graces, Sharpfang is a fully honored member of the Ares Clan, who won his mark of honor fending off a whole army of would be murderers, where he also lost his teeth, and sustained the wound to his throat, which ruined his voicebox and his tongue. Which is why he eats stew, though I should tell you as i know he would want me too that orcs are omnivores. He has his own system of communicating. I'm Wallace by the way. i'm the manager of these wrestling events."

Sharpfang bowed to the ladies again, then touched his chest respectfully. "He says he is honored to meet you both ladies."