[i]Annaveya[/i] - [u]The Price of Royalty[/u]

[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vPjaXu6g1Xk]Theme~[/url]

Slowly, the Princess' eyes closed as a barrel-chested Drakken mockingly bowed to her. Even caged like a canary, she refused to sing for him or play his games. Prideful of her blood, and the surety of her cause, she stood strongly without the unnecessary spice and verve that others had shown to possess. She was above that, above the physical violence and transgressions, a symbol of regal nobility as she had always been trained to be. Quietly, the canary's breadth remained steady and smooth, as the bared collarbone of her dress betrayed the tranquility she contained. Beautifully, so beautiful that even other Drakken paused in their breath, she simply smiled slightly.

It were the first hint of any sort of emotion that rose from the Princess, and it simply seemed extraordinary. Just like her father and mother had taught her, the stillest waters oft run the deepest, disguising the extraordinary tempest within. 

Unflinching as other girls were paraded in, the Princess simply stood in wait. Not even recognizing the eyes that hungrily strayed over her form. Above them was she, and the regality that lingered within her consciousness refused to collapse to the savagery that the Drakken possessed. Even from a female, there was a hint of interest, but Annaveya cared little. Royalty is what she had been born into, and royalty she would forever remain; whether the one who chose her liked the choice or not. 

Yet the air stilled as a Drakken arrived late to the party. Even as she heard heavy footsteps echo past the sounds of mixed defiance and struggle, she remained utterly passive. This was not the moment for spitefulness or hatred, at least the Princess understood it that way. Closer the steps drew, until they paused. Whomever it was had certainly stopped to observe the various treasures that lay before them as the aquamarine beset upon her choker seemed to glisten in the fickle torchlight. Above the struggle of her people, she finally spoke.

[color=bc8dbf]"Sisters, each of you are to me."[/color] She softly uttered with clarity, dignity, and purpose. Though quiet, her beautiful but melancholy voice carried through the air so vividly; enchanting any ears that would hear her. [color=bc8dbf]"Fighting now will resolve little, you know this. Execution on your first night seems not the wisest notion to partake, and I do not wish to see any bloodshed here. Please, make your peace now, but do not break before those who stand above us. These Lords and Ladies are the protectors of our home, fighting against them will only mean the deaths of thousands more, the sacrifice we make tonight will not ever be forgotten. Take solace in that."[/color]

Yet even then, her wondrous eyes only partly opened to see a towering Lord stand before her. By over a foot, he loomed over the Princess. However, his hand possessed a chilling caress that brushed stray strands of hair from her pale cheek. Resiliently, she did not break from his studious gaze as her eyes proudly met his. She was not a lesser being before him, at least in her thoughts and heart. Whether he liked it or not, or whomever had her hand as a bride at the night's end, she would forever believe herself never beneath anyone; nor above them.

[color=9e0039]"Exquisite."[/color]

Was the only word that rumbled forth from the Drakken Lord who towered above her. She knew all too well who he was, having heard nightmarish tales of fire and smoke upon the battlefield. Not long after, he offered his hand to her and she slowly curtsied before him. Collectively, a sigh of disappointment rippled through the lordly Drakken as her slender fingertips rose to be held tightly by his digits. 

Perhaps in a show of dominance, he smoothly swung her about. The ivory Gemminite dress liquidly flaring about her, beautiful, natural moving, and full of fiery splendor much unlike the tighter, primal Drakken Garb the other girls had been fitted into. In the moonlight that cast a pale spotlight, she shone brilliantly as if the pale orb in the heavens celebrated her exquisite beauty. The spin he had cast her into caused he to be extended just to his fingertips as she was spun back into his form, the magnificent dress she wore flaring about in a flurry of fiery crimsons beset in purest white.

She remained close then, her back just inches away from his front as the Lord's fingertips traced a thin line along the beautiful and unspoiled curvature of her neck. Swaying subtly to the light music that had been played since the Brides had begun to enter by musicians settled at the front of the room beside candlelight. 

Possessively then, the Lord's hand seized her waist with his much larger hand, and her own settled softly atop it as he drew her into him. Holding her close, her head turned and tilted ever lightly so that her lips were millimeters away from the corner where his neck found his shoulders. Still proud and regal as ever, she spoke a subtly taunting challenge to the other Lords who stood and watched, some amorously, some enviously, others hungrily like wolves.

[color=bc8dbf]"Will I be his? Or do all Drakken Lords and Ladies falter before an opponent that might trouble them? If so, why do you defend my homeland?"[/color]

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