Building Anew

[Igraine]

Igraine blinked as she woke. She sat up in bed and looked around her room, clutching the sheet to her chest. Thorin was long gone, but the impression of his body was still next to her. He had held her for a long time after their love making. He was changing, and probably not for the better, but he still loved her more than anything. It showed in the way the coverlet was bunched and crowded around her. He even made sure to push the blankets closer so she wouldn't realize he had left. He was getting entirely too good at leaving and it made her a little sad on the inside. Igraine glanced around self conciously at the darkest areas of her room, knowing and hoping he would be there, watching over her. At least he came to her in the dark of night, he might eventually stop coming to her at all -- but she hoped not. She liked his arms around her.

"My lady. You are up quite late." Blackburn stepped into the room and sending maids to her bedside. He turned his back to her so that she could slip into a heavy silk robe of a soft lavender shade. At the sound of her voice he turned back around and offered her a roll of parchment with a bow.

"Oh, you have the documents for Master D'Angelo? Good. You'll need my signature before you send it to him?" At his nod, Igraine leaned over a small desk in her room and pulled her pen out of it's inkwell. With a flourish she signed her name and sanded the ink so it wouldn't smear. She turned and handed the documents to Blackburn. "Make sure all is well with Master D'Angelo. See that he wants for nothing."

Blackburn nodded and escorted Igraine into her sitting room. She took a seat near the window as the maids pulled the curtains back. The brilliant morning sun warmed her cold skin and she tilted her head back with her eyes closed to drink in the bone deep warmth, letting it soak away her aches and her worries. Blackburn watched her, worrying only slightly at the quickly fading red mark on her neck and the almost invisible bruises on her wrists. Thorin was a rough lover with his new powers. Something else was bothering her too, and Blackburn made to step forward but thought better of disrupting her during her quiet time.

"I'll see that he gets the documents, Majesty. Do you require anything else?" Blackburn asked as he walked toward the door.

"I would like to see the Water Mage again. He is quite fascinating and there is something about him that makes me curious. If D'Angelo will humor me I would like to see him as well. I do believe that Thorin is lurking about as well. Let's have everyone meet in the dining hall. It wouldn't do well to have them meeting me in nothing but a robe, now would it?" Igraine laughed as she looked over her shoulder at Blackburn.

Gavin Blackburn backed out of the Queen's rooms and turned immediately to D'Angelo's door. He knocked heartily so that the man would be able to hear him and waited patiently for him to answer the door. It was well past time for the Queen's personal guard's training so there was no where else he could be, well unless he had other business but Blackburn was certain he would be in his rooms.

He caught a maid leaving the Queen's rooms with a basket of laundry and told her to set aside her load to inquire after the Water Mage. He paid her for her troubles and set her off.

The girl was hardly older than twenty and she hurried quickly to where the Master Blackburn had said the odd new mage friend of the Queen's was. She made it there quickly, knowing all the backways of servants. She hurried to his doorway and knocked on it. When, and if, he opened the door she would curtsey low and say: "The Queen Igraine requests your presence in the dining hall as soon as you're ready. I reckon she'll be ready by the time you're dressed and in the hall M'Lord."

The girl spoke without ever looking up, not wanting to offend a man from a culture she had never seen before.

[Thorin]

Thorin watched her sign the papers, keeping himself shielded from Blackburn's peering eyes. Even though he was in her bed regularly, it was more out of seething lust, than surreal passion. She might declare him her lover, even to someone like Blackburn, or the rest of her servants- but he merely felt like a distraction. Females could be stubborn, he had learned that much by being with her even momentarily.

When he had left her side that morning, he had abandoned his wedding ring on her pillow. She might not have noticed the object, her mind worried over her duties for the day. Thorin let his ego mask his emotions of resentment.

His gaze narrowed, watching her dismiss Blackburn. Thorin would emerge then, but he wouldn't caress her as he normally did. The thin robe covering her satin skin, wouldn't entice him like it had in the past. They had to stop dancing in madness, this act of theirs could be more damaging than good- for a lot of reasons. Her kingdom might see him as her equal, but he hadn't been the same man when they had met either.

Their eyes would meet and that seething anger would erupt. Maybe that was why he was rough with her when they were together...he wanted to remind her that she was his for that time. However, he knew that he would never have her as a wife and he couldn't remain in denial. He had promised his sword to her and companionship, but that was all he could offer for now. If she continued to thwart his proposals, there was no point in giving in to the pursuit of her hand.

“I will make sure that Master D'Angelo's entrance is secured.” Thorin didn't know who the new man was, but he knew that he was very much a human. His senses had gone nearly mad, trying to understand D'Angelo's new position here. He hadn't been informed by Igraine and Thorin wasn't one who took to secrets.

Thorin bowed to her, his eyes sharp with a new kind of dark mood. If the new guest was smart, he wouldn't cross his paths lightly. Turning, he headed toward the dining hall, for once, looking forward to Slyail's company.

[Igraine]

Igraine stiffened when she saw Thorin and heard him speak. He couldn't have done anything more hurtful than to assume she cared nothing more for him than as a man to warm her bed. She stared at the ring on her hand for a moment and sighed heavily as the door closed behind Thorin.

She got to her feet and stepped into the hallway. She wanted nothing more than to throw something at the back of his head. He brought out the anger in her that no one else was capable of. She raised her hand to call him back, but as the sleeve of her robe fell around her elbow and she saw the fading bruises. It startled her for a moment. Without saying anything she turned back into her room and motioned a startled maid into the room with her to dress her.

"My green dress, Beth. I want my eyes to sparkle, even if my heart continues to break around Master Thorin." The maid hastened to pick out the deep emerald green gown with elbow length sleeves and pretty lace fringe around the square cut neckline and the hem of the sleeves. As she sat down in front of her dressing mirror, Beth came up behind her and began to brush her hair out. As she made to braid her hair, Igraine shook her head and shook her wavy wheat blonde hair out around her shoulders.

"I want to hide the bite on my neck as much as possible. He might love me but he treats me rough, whether I carry his child or not." Beth looked as if she sympathized with her Queen and bowed when she stood. Igraine touched the top of the girl's head and smiled gently. "It will be alright, Beth. Thank you for dressing me. Run an errand for me, Beth. I want the seamstress here by tonight to plan a wardrobe that will be conducive to my soon to be growing belly."

Igraine gathered her skirts and walked out the doors to her rooms and toward the dining hall. She would be the last to join the trio that was waiting her, and she would make a stunning entrance with her still slender silhouette. She wasn't into the huge skirts that most women sported these days, she liked a simpler gown, one with less skirt to fit through a door. With her soft blonde hair falling in waves over her shoulders and down her back, she would make an enticing sight for Thorin -- though she would be enticing for many of the courtiers that were ever present, waiting for her patiently to acknowledge them.

[Shin]

The night had gone rather uneventfully for D’Angelo, he had finished inspecting the room for mundane traps and then with the aid of one of his magical weapons on his hip he was also able to inspect for magical and other supernatural means. His search had turned up nothing, and so after the long investigation he had gone about rearranging the room, all the rooms actually.

Blackburns rough rap at the door brought Nicoli out of his reverie and the young looking sell-sword slowly rose from his kneeling position, blew out the lavender scented candles, grabbed a simple leather vest and put it on before opening the door. “Good morning.” Nicoli said with a nod, fully opening the door, revealing that the hand behind the door had been gripping his gray, curved blade.

“Please come in. You are here for me to review the papers, yes?” Nicoli asked as he walked into the living area, from which all the previous possessions had been removed and instead was transformed into a small warriors haven. Centermost was a wooden pedestal that was made to hold two blades, both of which he was currently strapping to his waist. Several daggers were laid out as well, those were being slid into easy to access but well hidden spots about his person.

The morning had come early for Nicoli, one he spent training and sparring with whomever he could. Though, the majority of it had been spent practicing his forms and going through the ritualistic ‘katas’ that formed up many of the maneuvers’ he had learned. “Please come in and have a seat, I set a stool to the side for visitors. Water is in the basin if you are thirsty.”

Nicoli opted to not where his cape this day, and instead put on a white silk shirt to contrast the black leather jerkin he wore over it. Black, whites, and grays, those were D’Angelo’s preferred colors, all of which were very simple, and elegant if done properly.

[Herald_of_Fate]

His foray into the waters that bordered and ran through the estate was sucessful, if uneventful could be a measure of success. The spell was not a simple one, though most Merrow knew at least a simplistic form of the enchantment. It linked one's consciousness with the waters of a certain area, bonding to the waterways and the myriad of creatures that gathered there. The amount of energy required was substantial, dependent on whether one intended to be awake or asleep while processing the blurring speed-of-thought surveillance this spell was designed around. Of course, a single mind could only cope with such a wide net of sensory information for so long before the mental fatigue drove them insane. So, when the maid knocked on the door and Slyail answered, it was a small wonder that he could, unless one knew a bit of Merrow living habits. The people of the Deep Kingdom, like many of their undersea brethren, do not sleep. Instead, Merrow pass the dreams of their never sleeping minds onto their familiars, granting them their shapeshifting abilities and often contrary natures. So it was Alleste that slept, her consciousness gazing outward like a spotlight. They would switch every twelve hours, so the web never went unwatched, Slyail suspended in a nearly unbreakable meditative state during the night while the palace slept, the Ouphe sleeping during the day and watching, her waking being the alarm. It also allowed Slyail the ability to be mobile and watch the castle interior during the day.

The Water Mage hesistated at the door to his chambers, questioning whether to reassume his glamour. He looked at Alleste, curled into a ball on the low bed, softly snoring and chittering. She'd agreed to the plan, knowing that it could not proceed without her consent or support. No, he thought, if the Queen of the Fae doesn't hide who she is, then my cause, my nature begs of me to come out of hiding. I suspect that war will soon be upon us and I will not stand on that field masked by glamours. If I am to be a Reejerey my people will follow, then I must be willing to stand before any and all of my allies in my own skin.

Opening the door, he looked down at the young woman as she spoke, intrigued by the formality and nervousness of her behavior. His recent departure form the depths was one of the first times he'd truly interacted with humans. The differences in the way humans behaved and other Fae he'd encountered behaved always brought a smile to his face. "Thank you for the invitation. As soon as I change into something more fitting, I'll be along." he intoned with a half smile. "You needn't be so nervous, my dear, and you can look at me. I'm sure the palace gossip has made the rounds already." It was a simple truth that the servants knew more of the happenings within a palace's walls than anyone else, a fact he took advantage of in his own castle. He figured that he had a moment before the Queen would be ready and the azure blue robes he wore were his only clothing, kept clean by magic by a being who spent most of his time in water. True, he smelled of seasalt but not to an offensive level. But he figured a few minutes' conversation wouldn't hurt.

[Thorin]

Igraine would feel someone place a simple cloak around her shoulders. In her mind, she might assume it was a maid, but it would be Thorin. The cloak was something taken from Igraine's own closet- the color would simply compliment her gown. If she refused the gesture, he would show her how stubborn he could be.

Thorin watched her stunned reaction, knowing that she wasn't counting on him to interact with her. He placed a hand on her arm, only strong enough to make her pay attention. The grip would be tense, a warning that his mood hadn't suddenly lifted, since his departure from her room. He had been waiting in the hallway for her, while his mood turned into a brooding fester. Spinning her on her heels, he forced her to push against the wall of the hallway. Thankfully, no one else would be present. The gown she wore, had been meant to entice the other men, or fill his head with jealousy- Thorin knew that much. It was a tool she often used against him- something his clouded mind had been focusing on, as of late.

Igraine would feel the strength responsible for her distressing marks on her porcelain-like skin. He wanted her to feel fear for a moment, to acknowledge that his presence was very real. His breath would be hot down her neck, his words slicing through their tension. She would never be free of him and this might be the moment of that realization. He gave her very little room to even consider a defense, or way of an escape. His form would shadow over her, his eyes piercing into her own shocked glare.

“You will walk with me and I will be your escort. I know how much you care about your appearance and impression on the court. From now on, you will inform me of any new arrivals and the position you rank them with. I am your personal guard, am I not? I need to know everything, or my sword will be useless in protecting you.” Thorin sighed. He didn't enjoy this, even if she thought she could argue that. Just then, her eyes looked like they belonged to a frightened child.

This was not behavior that Thorin was proud of, but her servants had already started rumors of him relentlessly beating her. Even her own guards were beginning to belittle him.“I don't like vital information being kept from me.” He paused, letting the words slowly register with her. “The damn maid knew more about this man than I did and I'm your goddamn guardian!” Thorin yelled, slamming his fist against the wall. The noise wouldn't help negate rumors, or the action associated with it. The wall would be cracked from the force, enough to make a normal woman cower. If a servant passed by, more rumors would start like wild fire. She hadn't complained about his roughness when they were together- women were such spiteful creatures.

Thorin moved away from her then, his fists clenched from a surreal anger. His temperament had been getting the better of him lately and he knew it was something more. He didn't understand their tension, or why he felt distant from her, but it was like she had put an emotional barrier between them. If she wanted him to just act like another servant, than that was what he would be for her- he was giving up on reasoning. Thorin knew that it might complicate things if they made a scene. He could see it in the way her body tensed. Igraine was more worried about someone walking down the hall, than the logical point he was trying to make with her.

“Walk with me...I won't say a word to your new guest, or Slyail.” Thorin said, knowing it would be hard keeping that part of the bargain. Master D'Angelo, must hold some grandeur importance, if she even kept information from him. He held out his hand, for once, unable to predict her actions. “I will move on like this never happened...provided you don't lie to me again.” Thorin said, hinting at a threat. Igraine could be just as stubborn as he was and that didn't help their situation in understanding one another. He wanted to protect her, but there were times when it felt secondary, as if she threw herself in dangers way.

Hopefully her guest wouldn't hear of the rumors, or be concerned with petty gossip. Given that she was going to readily expose the proof, he had to admire her choice of actions against him. Thorin never imagined that she would go that far with him. His reputation had hardly mattered in the past, but now he realized he would have to redeem himself in her world.

Thorin muttered, while he attempted to coax her into walking with him. “I don't recall tying you up, or flogging you until you passed out. From what I remember, you enjoyed it.” he said, impressed by how the servants could gossip and fabricate rumors so quickly. “It will take time, but I suppose I can work at redeeming myself.” Thorin stood by her, beginning to see the humor in some of it, but he doubted her mood would mirror his.

[Igraine]

Igraine's eyes went wide when Thorin pushed her tight against the wall, pinning her there with reckless abandon. He was hurting her but she didn't let that show in her eyes. She was afraid of him now, only because of the child growing inside her. She didn't move a fraction of an inch when his fist crashed into the wall just inches from her face. Most of her guard were already in the dining hall or walking among the soldiers and training them. None of them were worried that she would be hurt.

For the briefest second she thought she would be. Igraine knew that his hands were leaving fresh marks on her soft skin just as harsh as they had been fresh the night before. Thorin had obviously draped the cloak over her shoulders in an effort to hide his new tense feelings for her.

Igraine's face was devoid of emotion, though the fear that he smelled on her was true. She was afraid of him, afraid of what he was becoming, afraid of how he was so accustomed to treating her like nothing more than a bag to be tossed about. She said nothing for a while, letting his yell echo down the hall. She knew that Blackburn and D'Angelo were just down the hall, just a few doors away.

"I am sorry for your lack of patience. I can't very well wave about that I have someone new in my employ. Especially one very capable of being an assassin for hire." Igraine hissed. Her eyes were almost aglow with her anger as she wrenched her body away from Thorin and placed a hand on the wall with her back to him. He would see the fresh marks, everyone would. They weren't in a place you could readily hide, now were they.

She spun to face him once she'd caught her breath and her anger. She put a hand on Thorin's chest and did her best not to haul back and punch his jaw. In the mood she was in she could foresee breaking his jaw and that would be an awkward way of showing anyone their relationship.

"I don't have to tell you my feelings, you already seem to know them." Igraine curled her fingers into the fabric of Thorin's shirt and pulled herself close to him. It could be considered an intimate gesture, but there was a thread of danger about Igraine that no one could really place. There was something about her, that if she was pushed too far...it was like she could snap. Looking deep into Thorin's chaotic milky blue eyes Igraine despaired of ever truely knowing if he did love her. She knew once. Now she figured that he might just enjoy the sex and controlling the one thing in the world he had power to control: her.

For the thousandth time since meeting him, Igraine felt her heart break just that much more. Her lips were so close to his, her face was so close to his, hell her body was barely an inch from his -- everything in her screamed to kiss him, but she didn't. Igraine let Thorin go and took his extended arm. There was no way of hiding the new bruises along her wrists and forearms from his rough hands. The servants assumed he beat her, and they were right -- it was just emotional abuse and not literal physical abuse. He was right, she liked him being in her bed, but she didn't mind a few bruises. If he got any rougher with her she would call their whole affair off. She couldn't afford to lose the baby now that she had felt her essence growing inside her.

-------------------------------

Blackburn offered D'Angelo the papers, not put off at the sight of all of his weapons. He was the man that brought swords to hire to the Queen after all. He was entirely too used to seeing countless blades.

"Oh, the Queen would like your presence at breakfast by the way, Master D'Angelo." Blackburn smiled and tousled his mousy brown hair as he waited for D'Angelo to sign the papers. It would be just after the papers were read through and signed that Thorin's fist shook D'Angelo's wall. The sound of his yell startled Blackburn and he muttered an excuse before bursting into the hallway. He saw Igraine on Thorin's arm and fresh bruises on her wrist. He also saw the fist sized dent in the wall with cracks radiating up toward the ceiling.

"Your Majesty..." Blackburn knew, without a doubt, that Thorin had man handled her. He could see the anger simmering beneath the Queen's smiling surface. He knew her too well, but what he didn't know was why she let Thorin get away with this.

"This has gone far enough." Blackburn straightened his back as he stepped out into the hallway. "She may not reprimand you because you're her lover and her guardian -- but I will. You can't just treat a woman that way! Not even your lover. You should be ashamed of yourself for making her feel like she can't even walk down the hallway without you bombarding her. I know you don't beat her. Heaven alone knows that she would send you packing if you even attempted to beat her. You can't treat her like this, Thorin. You simply can't. Think of what you're doing to your child every time you put her into this enraged distress!" Blackburn spoke low and he spoke quickly. No one would hear his words, except maybe D'Angelo if he stepped out into the hallway to survey the strange scene.

-----------------------------

The maid straightened and looked at Slyail and smiled. She was a sweet young girl with a rather plain looking face compared to most that Slyail would meet. She had long brown hair pulled back into a single long braid and she had soft brown eyes. It was obvious that she saw much, being a maid of the Queen.

Just then an errand boy ran past her, pausing just long enough to whisper words only the girl could hear, and then run off again on his errand. The girl paled and looked up at Slyail like he might be able to help.

"I'm not supposed to tell you this, court gossip and all, but you seem ever so nice." The girl was wringing the front of her apron in her hands and she bit her bottom lip. "It's just that it's so sudden and we see the marks on her skin when we dress her..." She looked incredibly distressed trying to talk to a man from a culture she knew nothing about. She just had to tell someone whether they chastised her for her open mouth or not.

"It's been rumored that the Queen's lover has beat her again. In public this time, just outside her rooms!" She blurted it out and curtseyed low as if she could erase the pain in her voice in that one movement. As if the pain she was feeling for her Queen could be passed on to this man to make it disappear.

Of course the information was false. The Queen had simply been manhandled, with Thorin losing his temper on the wall and not her. The maid simply hoped that Slyail, looking as magnificent as he did, would be able to help. She knew that he knew how to get to the Queen's rooms, and she would navigate for him if he forgot before melting into the background and running off to do her duties.

One of which, obviously, was gossiping.

[Shin]

Once his weapons were secure and Nicoli thought he looked presentable enough, a bit rough and a little wear on his face. He wasn’t as young as he used to be, he reminded himself with a chuckle before looking over the documents that Blackburn brought to him, taking a sip of his own water.

“If I’ve learned one thing, it is that a simple piece of paper can ruin your life… I’ll have to tell you about the time I accidentally joined the army of a foreign nation claiming war against the country I was already a soldier of….” The way Nicoli spoke left room to be interpreted, was it a joke? Was he serious? He gave no hints as he bent down, dipping his ink pen once, before signing with a flourish of the pen.

“There…the Queen should be…” When a males voice echoed down the hall, the sound of a fist punching into a wall also struck D’Angelo’s keen hearing. Stepping outside the hall on Blackburns heels the smell of fear, a very distinct and sickly thing, struck D’Angelo then. The Queen was afraid.

With the grace of a great hunting cat D’Angelo stalked into the room behind Blackburn, orbs of pure darkness darting to the man that Blackburn was reprimanding. So, this was the Queens lover? Not yet a King Nicoli noted, turning his attention to the Queen, her bruises, and most importantly the smell of fear on her and the fast pace of heart beat.

With his enhanced hearing Nicoli could hear every word Blackburn spoke, but he pretended that he did not and instead, acting on his newly signed contract, which was folded and in his hand, he investigated the Queens injury. Extending his own hand so he could look at her wrist. Even if she did not comply he would give her a faint smile to try and lighten the mood. “Boys will be boys, no?” He turned his back on the Queens lover and continued to speak in a low whisper. “There are herbs in your garden that can greatly aid the healing process of a bruise, as well ones you can take that aid in the pregnancy, and prevent….the sickness that comes in the mornings. All common enough, I have seeds for some, which will needed to be planted.”

He spoke, trying to take her mind off of what just happened all while gesturing towards the door. “But, not until after breakfast, I insist.”

[Thorin]

Thorin looked calm, but he was a mess on the inside. He would never go against Blackburn, but right now he didn't want to be lectured, or pushed away. Even when Igraine had pushed herself up against him, he had been surprised by her energy- even when she showed her fear against his actions. She was not a weak woman and maybe that was what had attracted him to her. Smirking, he watched her servant lecture about her safety. They didn't know a damn thing about keeping their Queen safe. They had let anyone and all enter.

Unsheathing his weapon, it might appear as an obvious threat to Blackburn. He waved the blade over his head in one swift motion, and let the Fey blade pierce the floor in front of Blackburn. The blade was just inches from going through the man's foot if he had desired. Even though he acted unbothered by Blackburn's words, it was infuriating. He had been trying to protect Igraine, but she seemed to have different ideas.

“Harm our child? Our child is already harmed with my blood in her veins...it's little late to save her, Blackburn. She's already damned. She might be better off dead either way.” Thorin didn't give his child a name, instead he treated her as an after thought. They were the harshest words he had given Igraine out of anger. He turned to the assassin, having heard his brief movement motivated by curiosity. Humans were always amusing, but some could be down right irritating. “Why don't you take to the blade? You seem to collect these things.” Thorin motioned toward the blades equiped on Master D'Angel's person.

Turning toward Igraine, he no longer acknowledged the blade she had forged for him. “I'll be going to a place where you can't reach me- I'm sure you would die if you tried stepping foot on our land.” Thorin spoke of the Vuri sanctuary, a place borne from Vylrath's power. It was like their private dwelling, a place that Thorin felt he needed to visit immediately.

“I relieve myself of you and my title. “ Thorin said briefly, not wanting to be there a moment longer. If he was going to protect her, he would do it by his own accord. The place had been suffocating him- mentally and physically. Blackburn was only standing up for Igraine, which he silently admired, but it wasn't something he needed to hear then.

Without another word, he left her with only the blade as his memory. He would return when he had his thoughts and powers under control. Thorin quickly sent a telepathic message to Caela, warning him of his arrival. Right then, he looked forward to seeing Caela's face, but he was sure he would receive a tense welcome.

[Igraine]

It was as if someone had punched her through the stomach. Igraine physically staggered back a step and into Nicoli. For the span of time it took Thorin to say the hard words he said and disappear, Igraine couldn't breathe. She couldn't force her lungs to work. This...this creature had walked into her life and stolen her heart and gotten her pregnant...and now he was just walking away?

When Thorin was gone it was as if air rushed back into the room. Igraine sucked in a breath and her hand tightened painfully on Nicoli's forearm. She didn't even register his presence, her eyes fixated on the spot from which Thorin had vanished into the shadows. Somewhere inside her she felt something crack, but it was as if someone else was watching. There were no tears -- she had shed too many for him.

Igraine instinctively looked down and felt her chest with her free hand. It was freezing cold and she realized that she was shaking and looking for the hole that should be punched through her chest. She was expecting something raw, with blackened jagged edges, something that could have completely obliterated her heart. She was whole, however, much to her disappointment. She looked at Blackburn with a stunned expression on her face before her legs started to give way beneath her.

She was pregnant. What in the nine levels of hell was she going to do now? She tried to keep her feet but her legs were betraying her, and she wasn't sure if it was because she was shivering so badly from shock or what her bodies problem was. Her hand was still on Nicoli's arm in a death grip as she sank to the floor in a puddle of emerald green skirts. She was deathly pale and shaking, but she didn't cry. Her eyes didn't even tear up as she looked up at D'Angelo.

Igraine wasn't sure if she could make her voice work, but she tried as she looked up at D'Angelo with her wide emerald green eyes, mirroring the silk dress she was sitting on the floor in.

"I..." Igraine swallowed hard and pressed her hand to her throat as if willing her nerves to calm, but they wouldn't. "Herbs. Perhaps we should go to the place where I keep my herbs." Her voice was hollow, but not pitiful. There was a shake to it, a tremor that mirrored her whole body trembling. Nicoli would feel it, he couldn't help but feel it with her hand clamped down on his arm. He would probably be losing blood to the appendage at this point and it might be going numb, but she just couldn't make herself let him go.

Blackburn was squatting next to her, rubbing her free hand with his own trying to warm her up. He glanced up at D'Angelo and shook his head, his eyes hard. Obviously plenty of love had been lost between the advisor and the ex lover. Who would treat such an amazing woman so cruelly?

"I think that is a good idea, your majesty. Perhaps a nice walk in the gardens with Master D'Angelo will warm you up and it would be good for the baby." Blackburn looked up at D'Angelo with an almost pleading look in his soft brown eyes, imploring him to help with something he knew nothing about. Blackburn doubted D'Angelo knew any better -- but at least he knew things that could distract the Queen.

[Shin]

As charming as D’Angelo could be, he was not an emotional or even empathetic person. Emotions were not a luxury he had been afforded growing up, and even now as a man nearing his fifties, though he didn’t physically show it, they were not something he understood very well. He knew the Queens lovers words to be harsh, quick, full of jealous, and anger, but beyond that they meant nothing to D’Angelo.

That obviously wasn’t true for the Queen, who wore he reaction on her face as much as she reacted to it physically. The way she collapsed it was as if she had been struck in the chest and left to drop to her knees. D’Angelo could feel her vice like grip on his arm, though other than that he didn’t react right away. What could he do? This was his employer and she had been assaulted verbally, not physically, there was nothing he could do for that, short of drugging the women up to help forget the emotional trauma.

D’Angelo looked down at the women on the floor, his dark black eyes incapable of showing emotion, he only stared blankly. Even with Arthur by her side, a man that obviously cared so much, D’Angelo merely stared, as if awaiting an order, though in truth he was just confused.

“Yes, a walk.” He repeated, raising the arm that the Queen was gripping, the move seemed effortless, like she was a child dangling on his arm. Though, the action would bring her to her feet. “If we make it in time I do believe you can see some of your flowers bloom under rising sun. A fresh start to a new day, no?”

Once the queen was on her feet D’Angelo would allow her to continue to grip his arm if need be and then as quickly as the Queen dared walk he would escort her to her garden, a place where she would be able to clear her head and sort her thoughts, besides, D’Angelo wouldn’t mind standing guard in that beautiful place.

--

“Yes Rayn, it does seem rather uneventful this morning.” Kal’en Drasco spoke to the blue tipped hawk on his left shoulder.

The middle-age man, dressed in fine leather riding gear befitting a king, an azure medallion with a dragons talon clutching a flame with notes of music around it’s edge hung down to the center of his chest, three symbols merged as one. Might and magic guided by wisdom, it was what the symbols meant, they also depicted him as a Dragon Rider, the color also had a meaning, blue, royal blue to be exact. This man was an advisor to royalty.

He carried no weapons on his person, but if one understood the symbol than that wasn’t entirely too shocking. What was shocking was the current posture of the man, sitting atop a dining table picking at the different fruits, vegetables, and meats around him.

“This is really very good. You should try it.” He picked up a small piece of chicken and offered it to the hawk.

‘Do not insult me Kal. I am not your pet.’ It answered back, speaking directly to Kal’s mind, which only made the older man laugh heartedly.

“No, of course not. I would have your wings clipped if you were….” He gave the bird a sly look, to which the bird let out an audible screech that was equivalent to laughing.

Someone would be here soon, of that Kal was sure, it was common place for a man to just waltz into the dining hall, sit on the table and begin eating the Queens food, then again, Kal’en Drasco was anything but ordinary. As he waited he pulled the lute he carried over his shoulder and began to strum a high-tempo, energized song, ignoring the looks of the servants as they kept their birth from the strange man.

[Igraine]

Igraine was pulled up by the human man as if she weighed almost nothing. In fact, she was pretty light so it wasn't a chore. It took her a moment to register the talking and she nodded, clearing her throat and letting go of D'Angelo. She glanced down at his arm, seeing a perfect red mark of her hand. She grimaced and looked at him.

"I'm sorry..." She turned and walked with her back ramrod straight. Igraine was gaining some of her strength back and wearing the shock like a mantle over the cloak. When she reached the bottom of the stairs she realized she was still wearing the cloak and ripped it off of her shoulders and hurled it onto a brazier that was burning merrily in the hallway. It caught flame and several servants crowded around it trying to put it out. That was when Igraine heard the music filtering in through the great hall. With a soft frown of confusion on her face, Igraine began walking toward the sound, forgetting momentarily about the walk in the garden meant to cleanse her shattered sense of mind.

When she stepped into the room she instantly spotted the strange man sitting with a beautiful hawk on his shoulder. Her attention was riveted on the hawk more than the man, feeling that there was something about it that she should...understand. With her fractured mind trying to grasp things she shook herself mentally and physically.

She still looked exquisite, if pale and drawn, and she walked over to the man eating and smiled despite her inner turmoil.

"Hello, Sir. I don't believe I've been made aware of your arrival. Might I add that your hawk is simply amazing. I'm afraid you've caught me at a rather difficult time if you're looking to see me." Igraine realized that the man might not recognize her and she held out her hand across the table. "I'm High Queen Igraine Lothair of Ulster. What might your name be?"

Blackburn was standing behind his Queen. Watching her carefully, ready to catch her should her resolve crumble. However, it didn't look as if she was going to crack -- that she was going to give Thorin the pleasure of cracking her. The display of emotion that he and D'Angelo had witnessed was something that would not be repeated. They might be lucky to see any such display again in the future for the Queen was a private woman.

"I do apologize, Majesty. I was not aware that a visitor was present with all of the excitement this morning." Blackburn bowed from behind her and glanced at D'Angelo and shrugged. Perhaps they would have breakfast after all. She had to be starving with the baby growing.

[Shin]

D’Angelo ignored the mark the women left on his arm, instead he focused on making sure that she wasn’t going to suddenly collapse. He hadn’t known the queen for very long at all, not even twenty four hours yet, yet he got the distinct impression that she was incredibly strong willed. Probably not willing to ask for help even if she knew she needed it.

D’Angelo could make out the first strums of the lute, though to him that could have been an everyday occurrence around here. Certainly beautiful music had its place in a castle of this sort. What caught the warrior unaware was how quickly the Queen removed her cloak and sent it aflame on a brazier. That was a rash act! But then again D’Angelo wondered if he should be surprised… the whole ordeal with her lover would likely cause her to act and think different for a while, even if she didn’t realize it or admit it.

He let the Queen lead towards the music, obviously she was being drawn to it. A foreign sound then? Something the Queen wasn’t expecting? He gave Blackburn a troubled look and stopped a half step behind her as she introduced herself to the strange older looking gentlemen with the beautiful bird on his shoulder.

--

Kal continued to pluck at the strings, sending the fast paced notes echoing down the halls, carried on an invisible wind. It was a song of excitement and danger! The tone suggested a grand adventure of sorts, even those servants around him couldn’t help but be enamored by the display of skill the old man showed, Rayn was even bopping her head to the music, completely clueless as to how ridiculous she looked on his shoulder bopping up and down.

The last note ended just as the Queen entered the dining hall, the old man was on his feet, holding his lute out wide with one hand and his cape out with the other, showing he was not armed. “Ahh, yes, well I am here on behalf of my Queen.” He said with the tilt of his head, though he kept his hypnotic sky blue eyes locked onto Igraines own. “I am Kal’en Drasco, personal advisor to THE Queen, Master Mage, and an Elder Rider among the Dragon Riders. This here,” He said accepting the Queens hand with one hand and gesturing towards the Hawk with the other. Its cat like eyes that were even bluer and deeper then Kal’en’s and they gazed intently, even hard, at Igraine with a deep understanding and intellect that betrayed her true nature. “, is my better half, the Azure Dragon, Rayne.”

With that the blue tipped hawk gave a slight nod of its head, but nothing more, no grand display of power and instead it continued to watch Igraine with an above average interest.

“I am here….as a gift…” The word gift sounded strange coming out of the Riders mouth. “…you are going through rough times it would seem. And it was thought that you could benefit from the council of someone a little more …aged.” Again, Kal’s mouth twisted around the word aged, it was a very undignified thing to call yourself.

“No need to apologies. I wished to forgo the formalities and let myself into the castle. There was no way of knowing that I was here any sooner than that.” The older man gave a warming smile and popped another grape into his mouth. “Wha…ahh yes, Rayne says congratulations.” He nodded towards her stomach. “I had no idea, but then again Rayne is much more in tune with these sorts of things.”

[Igraine]

Igraine's eyes went wide when man identified himself as a Dragon Rider and revealed the hawk as a Dragon. An Azure Dragon no less! Igraine was filled with a sense of awe for a moment before she felt the excitement start in her toes and tingle all through her awareness.

"Oh my. Oh, if I had only known you were coming!" Igraine squeezed the man's hand and smiled brilliantly. She had no reason why the Queen would allow her one of her most prized advisors, but she was happy that he was here. When he and his dragon congratulated her on her pregnancy she blushed and pressed her hands along her flat belly.

"She will be called Morgana." Igraine looked at the hawk and tipped her head. The dragon didn't need to show off her power for Igraine to feel it. Their power wrapped around them in a mantle that felt so much like home. For a moment Igraine felt homesick for the Fae realm and she smiled sadly.

Igraine grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and motioned a servant away that had the idea of bringing her something heavier to eat. Her stomach was in knots and she felt nauseated. With a frown she realized this must be the "sickness" that came in the mornings. Either that or Thorin's leaving had upset the baby too. Then again he had wished her dead, so what little awareness the life growing in her had probably didn't like that.

"Rayne, if I may call you that, you are beautiful. Master Drasco, you don't look a day over twenty five. Wisdom is something that is earned and age doesn't always have to be a benefactor." Igraine winked at the Dragon Rider and took a bite of the apple so everyone around her could see that she wasn't denying herself or the baby. She chewed the bite and swallowed before speaking again.

"I was just going to spend time in my personal garden with Master D'Angelo as a guard. He really knows so many fascinating things about human plants and herbs. He also knows stories about humans that you might find enchanting. Would you like to come with me and keep us company? I know that Blackburn has work to get back to and can't follow me around. As much as he might wish to at this time." Igraine glanced back at Blackburn and nodded with a smile. The man bowed again and looked at D'Angelo.

As Blackburn turned to leave he leaned close to D'Angelo and spoke quietly to him.

"Don't let that bastard Thorin near her. Don't kill him, but don't let him torture her either. This has gone far enough." Blackburn knew he couldn't really be there constantly, but he could at least give Thorin pause and speak for the Queen if needed. He doubted that if she was in the company of some Dragon Rider Thorin would press to see her anyway, should he return.

"I have heard so much of your travels and adventures, Master Drasco." Igraine said and smiled. This man and his dragon might be the one thing that kept her glued together. Everyone standing and moving about the room could see that she had a firm grasp on herself, even if it was just because she was entertaining a new person.

[Herald_of_Fate]

His arrival into the dining hall was slightly behind that of the Queen and her entourage, silent save for the swishing of his robes. As such, he'd some time to surmise that something had changed gravelly, a fact only confirmed by the lack of Thorin's presence with Igraine so close to a stranger, a pair in fact. Slyail paused at the threshold, feeling the strange, primal power radiating from the odd man seated on the dining room table, or rather the masterful bird seated on the man's shoulder. He raised a brow, slightly impressed that someone had managed to slip beneath the surveillance spell he and Alleste had woven over the castle and surrounding lands. To escape notice from the spell, one either had to travel between the Fae realm and this one or avoid every living, sentient creature in the myriad of waterways around as well as the actual waterways themselves. In either case, quite a feat.

Instantly he noted the difference in the Queen, the way her voice trembled, the elevated pulse that spoke of her seeking to calm herself. He approached her slowly, nodding to the man on the table respectfully. He blinked at the bird twice as if trying to cllear his vision. The shapeshift was very nearly seamless, brilliantly done. Even someone of his training would only detect such a powerful display if they stared long enough. What lay beneath such a spell? His curiousity was checked only by his concern for the Queen who'd shown him such kindness.

"I apologize for my tardiness, your Highness, and for Alleste's absence. We've spent much of the night, mapping out the area and laying a series of enchantments that allow us to keep it under constant surveillance," he explained. He thought to question her guardian's absence, however, it was a potential security risk. "Where has your consort gone? Should I expect his return?" It seemed obvious that he was the reason for her current state. If he attempted to return, unless Igraine said otherwise, Slyail would treat him as an enemy of the Crown. This also affected his view on how the Unseelie might make an attempt of the Queen. "There are some matters I feel will require your attentions..." he paused, considering her state and the relative swiftness of events. "whenever you are ready." He would not push her to act now, but there were signs of the Unseelie keeping an eye on the castle.

"in any case, I suppose the business portion of this gathering could wait until after breakfast, eh? Wouldn't you agree, gentlemen?"


------

He moaned as he dragged himself forward, the jagged, cold stone of the cave floor digging and biting at his bare flesh. The merchant had no real clue where he was or how he'd come to be in this dimly lit cavern, his ruby red tunic torn to rags, his breeches stained with all manner of mud and mire. Dirt caked in his unkempt hair and his body seemed emaciated and starved. None of it mattered to him, his mind fever mad and filled with a single desire. Wild-eyed, he tortured himself with his slow progress, seeking only the briefest glimspe , the soft whisper of her breath. Her laughter echoed through the cave, soft, lilting, almost musical if not for the unmistakable note of cruelty and malicious glee. He could no more distinguish if the sound he heard was real or only a figment of his imagination, created by his ravaged state.

"Do you want me, Bernard...?" the voice questioned softly, almost in a purr.

"Yes! Yes!! A thousand times, yes!" he screamed, whipping his head about, searching for the face in his mind.


Oh that face...he thought. He'd bedded nearly a hundred women in ports the world over and never seen one that set him afire like she did. Her skin was cream colored by the softest of rose petals, her eyes newborn stars radiating with light, and her hair was a raven's wing, dark and shining beneath a pale moon. She was a goddess in the flesh, her sensual curves too beautiful to have been the creation of Man. To see her was to want her, to touch would be a gift he'd sell his soul for, smiling the entire time. Bernad was merely a vessel for drinking in her presence.

"Do you love me, Bernard? Would you give your life, your very soul for me....?" the voice crooned, pleading and seductive.

"Yes, my love...my soul for you!!!" he cried, his voice a shriek of sheer and utter insanity.

"Very well, Bernard....very well." She said, her voice a winter wind with the promise of snow, a icy blizzard bearing down.

Bernard never even saw her, denied even in death his glimpse at the center of his world. She descended like a hawk onto a rabbit, launching herself from the cave's ceiling and landing with a wet snap between the man's shoulder, severing his spine like a twig. She breathed in, her smile warm and satisfied, the face of a true predator. As she drank in the last of his essence, she looked at he reflection in a puddle with the cave, the dim light revealing her to be nude, a Venus staring back at her. She was desire, temptation, lust.
She had toppled the rule of kings, made loyal men into traitors, caused the killings of wives and husbands, and usually without such deliberate action as this. And she had a task ahead for which the Unseelie King had chosen her personally: to destroy the bonds between Igraine and her defenders. To sow doubt and discord. To do what she did best. Her name was Helena and she was a Siren, a prodigy of her kind. If the mere sight of her could not sway you, her voice was like the fall of a headsman's axe. Deception, lust, and death were her business and business was about to pick up...soon.