She had been next in line. The heir apparent, set to assume her mother's throne once the old bat had finally succumb to the millennia. It had all gone according to plan; one by one, tragedy by tragedy, her siblings had fallen until she, a mere fifth born daughter, was next to be Archoness of a grand kingdom of proud elven conquerors. Now what was she? The illustrious Aurelia Yllithian, an exile left to drift these damnable seas with what loyal retainers she could gather while hellfire consumed the great black spires of her beloved homeland. What horrors befell mighty Faelron she could not know; some among the ship's inhabitants claimed the Dark One herself had grown unsatisfied with them, the contentedness of her mother's rule, the decadence of success. Spiteful as she was mercurial, they said the great goddess plunged the entire city into ruin as punishment.

Perhaps it would have been more merciful to have accepted that fate, and perished with the city state she called home. It would've saved her from this fate; sailing blindly in the hold of a great cog in the hopes of finding land again, the horrible winds caused by the inferno having sent them farther into the ocean than the navigator had any means of knowing. Provisions were beginning to run low, so long had they sailed, and the withering of the poor fools who had followed Aurelia was apparent to the noble whenever she ceased brooding long enough to leave the captain's cabin. Men, women and children would soon starve within this wooden prison, and nary a thing was there she could do to stop it.

Perhaps it was best to end things now. Before rations were so low that she needed sip common liquor instead of the fine casks of wine she had insisted be loaded up. A few drops of poison and a final cup, a fitting fate for one who had condemned so many of her kin to a similar fate. She was sure Drazhar would understand her decision, perhaps even join her in death. He was always so sentimental like that...

Ruminations of suicide soon turned to surprise, as chaos consumed the deck outside. Shouting, clattering, had they mutineed against her already? Rising from the finery of her chair, Aurelia had scarce the time to reach for a makeshift club in the form of a candle holder before the door flung open, and she flung it at the dark figure within the frame, though expert reflexes saw the attack swatted aside with very little effort. She was thankful regardless, for it was none other than her 'beloved', Drazhar who had so thoughtfully charged in, a warrior among warriors who one day was meant to sit beside her as Archon of Faelron. It would've been bad to injure that pretty face.

"They've spotted land, far on the horizon. The men have already begun navigating its way, come, you must see." If he was annoyed by the candle holder, the highborn elf showed little of it as he disappeared once again, leaving the cacophony on deck to drift through an open door. Land... Land! They'd found something, hope at last, a chance of survival at last!

A chance at once again becoming an Archoness, at last...