The "Prince" &"Princess"

"You didn't even say goodbye!?" Kara cried as Crow stood by the tall obelisk at the top of the hill, Mystery grunting greedily as she fed her a Carrot.

Arthur looked down past the wide open plains of snow and green grass to Uld, and closed his eyes "When this calamity is over. We will dance and sing and drink with the Uld without worry of dragonfire or bloodshed."

Kara bit at her lip as she bent back down to check her Stallion's shoes, the great beast grunting restlessly as Arthur's eyes wondered to his lovers curvaceous rump.

His chest thumped, the allure of her body was more... distracting than he suspected. The feeling rose and fell, making each breath heavy and his focus waver.

At least until a cold gust made his Mousey hair whip into his eyes. The Slayer kissed his tongue to the roof of his mouth and reached into his satchel, under his thick black cloak of Ignix hide, the material sheltering any sensation of cold as it radiated with warmth.

Pulling a black ribbon free, the Slayer tied up his wavy locks loosely behind his head, and shrouded himself in the shadow of his hood; burying his face in the soft material of Lee's Scarf.

Hoisting himself dexterously into Mystery's snug saddle; a dark figure on a dark mare.

"Focus. Keep your horse on it's path, and it will carry you the way."

A reminder, from the high house of the West, the wings that paint the lands evergreen: The Noble House of Tawny. Perhaps, he may even see Cousin Percy again, his Aunt Eloise may grace him with her stories of honour... Maybe he would see his mother again.

Crow and Kara mounted their charges and the trio set off into the wide plains of the Southern territories of the Norne, on the Warm road where the Cobblestone path melted 'under Hilmar's gaze' when in reality it would be the natural hot springs that gushed under the cobble-path that warmed the shoes of their charges, on their trek toward Mawgyn; the city of chains.

---

The Sky was scarred a the wind blew through her feathered fingers, the winds screamed past her as she dipped and dived through tall hills and fields of desolated earth. She loved to fly, to climb the rolling gales up above the clouds and dart back through the trees to grasp at mice.

Their flesh was so warm and sweet as it slid down her throat. All of it made her so exited, so hungry for more, the comfort of her predatory nature provided her with a freedom unparalleled.

But the Eagle wasn't the only predator that flew in the sky and quicker than the feather could carry her, came the bitter shriek of a serpent roar, and the painful crushing death of a lizard's claw: crushing hollow bones ending it all in a well of pain quickly driven into death.

But no death was as heavy, as the iron hand that clutched at her collar and squeezed.

"Not your fault."

"Muhhhhuuuhuuuh." She awoke, suddenly, violently, buckets of sweat sliding down her forehead, kissing her sharply toned button nose, weighing down the damp locks of cocoa brown which stuck to her forehead and cheeks.

But her exhaustion was the biggest of her concerns and so laid back down, drawing away the thick bedding that had suffocated her in the night, leaving her lean and tall body, covered poorly by her silken nightwear, so that her pores might breathe in the Mid-Morning Air.

The Light of the Luncheon Sun gleamed through the tall stainglass windows of her chamber, tinted with a hue of grass so that it painted her bedchambers in emerald luminance.

Her eyes, that of a calm dawn, where the light of the sun shot impressions of subtle gold on the horizon, gazed up at the green above and knew that she had once again, felt the sting of a nightmare in yet another restless sleep.

But it would be more than nightmares that kept the Princess awake that day.

Heavy feet stomped towards the doors and a thick voice, explosive and booming, the mere sound of it made the Princess roll her eyes and cover her ears.

There was no escape however, not from Royalty and certainly not from the cruel wrath of High Chamberlain Mont.

"Move out of my way you meandering fool, before I unleash ten score of my rage on thee as well for allowing the Princess to sleep into Noon! well, are you deaf!? Get thee gone!" She roared to poor Sir Marquis, who afforded the princess a small kindness.

The doors opened violently and in marched heavy booted feet, and an ill temper. "Princess Evangeline? what time do you call this then? Do you truly wish to shame us all?"

The Princess merely grunted out in belligerence "You may not like the answer to that question." She grumbled still half in sleep.

"Her Majesty has requested that you attend to your duties concerning the Council, forthwith and without delay."

Angie did not move, she did not even stir from the warmth of her comfortable bed, the pan at the foot; packed with hot coals warmed her toes. "Please inform Her Majesty that her Request was wholly ignored."

Mont growled in her Blacklander way, moving closer to the bed as she seethed with anger "Evangeline, you must-"

"Please note that Your requests Shall also be wholly ignored." She shot back.

Chamberlain Mont did not in fact burst into flames, but huffed out her anger in one long breath and came over, sitting at Evangeline's bedside. "Your Highness, have you been up late in the night again? *Sigh* you know that you need your beauty sleep, you aren't as Young as You were. "

Angie sat up and looked at the Chamberlain with narrowed golden eyes... as the tall, broad and dark haired Chamberlain smiled back maliciously.

"Ready my gown." Angie said, wisping quickly and elegantly out of bed.

"As you command, Your Highness." Said Lady Mont, clearly very happy with herself.

"Not as Young as I was, bloody shrew." She thought.

The Princess did not usually choose her gowns on the day, instead she would select a course of handcrafted royal gowns made of only the finest of Ptumirian silks, Wickland wool and engraved with Powdered gold; jewels of Emerald.

But today the Princess felt more than a little rebellious. Angie waved off the Chamberlain as she went to call in the servantry. "I will dress myself. Ready my Riding clothes."

Lady Mont grimaced "Tis hardly the Wear for a council meeting."

Angie, standing in her night gown that held unto her tall, buxom loosely, shining in hues of sage and sunny gold, fixed eyes with the elder chamberlain. "Banter is one thing, Lady Mont, but insolence is another." Henrietta may have been craven, but she never disobeyed her Princess. Angie missed her dearly, and Sir Randal, even Black-Crow, eerie as she was. But this was her life now, and the Regis did not bend to the will of lesser men.

Lady Mont bowed "It will be done, at once, Your Highness." and off she went.

After setting out her clothing for her, Lady Mont lowered her head speaking only a quick "Your Highness." Before slipping out of the door, Angie say Sir Marquis poke his grey head in, gleaming in his gilded armour, etched with the image of the golden dragon. He shrugged and cringed, but Evangeline smiled at him as He closed the doors to restore her privacy.