[i][color=f6989d]Princess Annaveya[/color][/i] - [u]The Price of Royalty[/u]

She was a [i]Queen[/i] among [i]Pawns[/i], each of them easily infuriated, easily manipulated and brought to fervor. Marvelous it was, how easily just a few simply uttered phrases could rile up so many and infuriate even many more. It was not arrogance that had been uttered forth from her lips, but simple known [i][color=f6989d]truths[/color][/i]. Facts by which enraged weakened minds and wrathful wills.

They would soon learn the price they were to pay if war was to be made on Gemminite Soil.  

Yet the unveiling of this came at a price for her. In the midst of her little jab against Drakken egos, her breath left her. As fragile as a flower, her hand swiftly rose to lightly touch her collarbone while she collapsed to her knees. Her price for sewing the seeds of discord was pain, her lungs bit at her and ached. Barely in time her hand caught her fall as she still fell forward. Panic arose above her conscious will as she vainly tried to take in the sustenance to continue living. 

Never was she one for combat or strife, it had always been her weakness. Like her mother, she had an aversion to steel and harsh actions. It was always so cold, so calculatingly cruel and precise; just as precise as the chilling fingertips that dug into the softened skin of her shoulder. Once he [i][color=f6989d]touched[/color][/i] her, once he [i][color=f6989d]took control[/color][/i] of his beautiful flower, Anna could steal snippets of air. Even still, an insidious whisper came from him directly to her ears.

It held no direct malice or anger, rather it held a stern threat to her. This Drakken that had chosen her to be his wife had proven one point by the settled calm that he possessed. This one was not easily goaded or brought to use force, of course one such as that would have chosen her to be his bride. 

For the first time in her life as her eyes met his, she came to know fear. For a moment as she struggled, his tight grip upon her shoulder made her flinch while she returned to a stand.

A reprieve however, came in the challenge from the Prince. Young and wrathful, prideful and impulsive he seemed to be. Even in her moment of terror, the Princess still took note. Even fearful, her cognition still caught vestiges of weakness disguised as strength. Once her mind had honed upon this thought, the she regained the enigmatic poise expected of her as a Princess while she rose back to a stand. Defiantly as always her fists clenched, and she stood back while the battle took place.

Meticulously she watched on while the two fought. Secretly hoping for the death of the Younger through some grave accident as the death of a Prince would certainly cause great divides in the Drakken Nobles. Never was she one to be impressed by violence, and this display left her equally nonplussed. Even when it came to a spectacular finish, the Flower watched on quietly as the terms to the end were discussed. Apparently the girl standing beside her was to remain Wilhelm's property, as well as her handmaiden. 

Wilhelm then beckoned for his new bride and her handmaiden to follow, and silently she followed. From the corner of her eye however, she cast a gaze to both the Prince and Lugft; it spoke of little more than a belief. A thought that she was looking down upon them both; the thought that she a Gem was of a [i][color=f6989d]higher[/color][/i], more enlightened being than those of Drakken blood. 

He sat, and she gracefully slid to a seat down in front of him. Not asking for permission or anything of the sort, she was sure that this Lord would forget her presence soon enough once he returned to his other wives. At least she hoped.

It mattered little, the seeds of discord had been sewn. Now all she had to do was survive long enough to simply water the little sapling enough to bring it to truly root. 

He then questioned his two prizes if they themselves had any inquiries.

For a moment, Anna was simply stunned. It was a gesture of courtesy, a sharp sudden change from the controlling measure he had forced her so painfully through just moments before. It didn't matter, what he had done before had more than proven the content of his character. This one was not above force to achieve the means to his ends, even if that force was so subtle as to steal the very air from her lungs to take away her ability to talk.

He was willing to [b][color=f6989d]take[/color][/b] the [i][color=f6989d]very thing[/color][/i] that [color=f6989d][b]made[/b][/color] her who she was, her [color=f6989d]words[/color]. This one, with all his vicious predation wished for a Princess to be his puppet. Sullenly, she would not oblige him. Stubbornly, she would not play his game of only a few words uttered from her lips like a slave to a master. 

If this one wanted to keep her, if he wanted to continue to have her, he would soon find that the only way to do such would be to treat her as his equal. Not as the timid puppet or nervous wreck that many of the other brides had become.

It would be foolish of him to think that she wouldn't think of a way to depart if she found the means.

So instead of questioning him like he [i][color=f6989d]wanted[/color][/i] her to, like he had almost [i][color=f6989d]ordered[/color][/i] her to, the Princess would not utter a single word. Even in spite of his show of power, her resolve hadn't faded; her resilience even greater as a result of his actions. This one was a coward who used force to get his way, rather than reason; she would not give him the satisfaction of her fear, doubt, or worries. Wilhelm would not know them, she would not tremble before him, she might now be his wife but she refuted the very idea of slavery. 

Instead, she paid him little heed if at all while her eyes and focus attentively remained upon the last of the claiming. There were only a few left, it would all be over soon. 

The eve of her wedding night was near.

[@ Saltwater Thief]
[@ agentmanatee]
[@ NarcissisticPotato]