Parley

[Igraine]

The trek to get to the Unseelie Realm had been short and uneventful. The very first sight that Igraine got of the Unseelie King's compound brought her up short. It wasn't as dark as she expected, but the creatures milling about were dark enough to make her want to wrinkle her nose in disgust. It seemed that these creatures were gathered in order to see her small party walk by for the Parley. So, they knew she was coming? Fantastic.

Igraine kept her head high as she walked through these creatures into the compound. There was a strange twisting of the hallways as they were lead toward the King's throne room. She swore that they were being lead in a circles on purpose so that they wouldn't find their own way out again. Igraine glanced at Caela who looked calm and stoic as she walked, knowing her children were somewhere in this compound -- and that they could be dead.

After some time they were brought before two old carved wooden doors. Igraine thought the wood might be ash, but she couldn't be sure. The creatures guarding the door looked menacing at best and she wondered if they would follow them into the room just to keep Vylrath in line. A smile cracked her lips at that thought. The creatures allowed them to walk past, obviously advised to do so, because she knew that it would not be easy to get past these two without causing an undue amount of noise to alert anyone in the immediate area.

Killing the King in his own domain would have been an extremely ill advised move.

Once they were in the room Igraine twitched her skirt into place and stepped closer to her sister. Caela smiled at her and dipped her head in acknowledgement of the closeness. They clasped hands in silent support of one another, the gesture hidden in the folds of their skirts.

"I'm here, King Pendaran." Igraine said, not seeing the Unseelie King at first glance.

[Thorin]

Sebilla's voice followed after him, but her words wouldn't pull on any heart strings. Shadows jutted from his form, the dark tendrils shaping around the marbled floor and walls of the hallway. There was a presence that needed immediate addressing. The shadows provided a gateway for travel. While the creatures guarded most entryways, they might only feel a small disturbance in the atmosphere.

There were Vuri present..more than just one. Vylrath and Caela had finally entered the Unseelie realm and he knew that Igraine must be with them. He made his movements swift, not wanting the King to greet them before he could see her.

What would he say to her? It would be awkward enough, having to explain why he was here in the first place. He had been lured by another woman, which was something he didn't want to readily admit. They had split up from distrust, but maybe he could talk to her before she found everything out.

His body moved swiftly, almost blending completely with the shadow. Thorin's body would appear like a faint flicker of an apparition. Since their departure, he didn't know that Igraine had the ability to see his form.

Upon seeing her form, with her familiar wheat-blonde hair and emerald green eyes shining, he felt weak. Slowly, his form materialized in front of her. They might think it was the King making his appearance, but unfortunately it would only be him.

His words stammered, catching in his throat. Vylrath was present, even more alarmingly, Caela. Her essence felt different and that's when he saw the chaos sword. He would have to find out about that later, but his eyes reverted back to Igraine.

“I need to have a discussion with you, before you see the King.” Thorin said to Igraine, literally wanting to speak with her. “I have news about Trydian and Sebilla.” He looked to his father, but there was little time to have a confrontation- especially if he was going to be on their side. Once he and Igraine were speaking alone, he could finally tell her about the Bocan and ask why Caela possessed the chaos sword.

[Paroxysm]

The reception hall - a large, extravagant dining hall - that awaited Igraine and her party was grand, indeed; it could obviously double for a great many, similar occasions, too. There was a dais on the far side of the room, on which sat a small dining table, a chair placed so that its occupant could see out over the room and the guests, and, likewise, two more, similar, though larger, tables were situated in the middle of the room, separate from one another. Food, countless dishes from different cultures and nations, all fit for mortal consumption, covered the surface of the tables, the various scents and smells mingling with one another without even the slightest trace of confliction.

A great deal many guests were in the room, too. Far more than the incoming diplomatic party was probably expecting. The Sidhe in attendance all bore the trappings of the Winter nobility; it was such trappings that marked them for what they were: Powerful, influential members of King Pendaran's court. In equal attendance with the noble Fae, however, was the servitor races of the Unseelie lands: Playful pixies and haunting banshees, trolls and goblins, and even a few more nightmarish things that rarely, if ever, managed to comfortably transition into the mortal world.

Music traditionally of Xexoria drifted lazily through the room, though its origin appeared to be from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Orso walked into the room and grunted before leveling a hard, heavy stare at Thorin. The fool was seriously pushing his luck if he was thinking it smart to do anything that might slight the king. That would cost everyone.

The lumen stepped closer, his lips curving until he showed a polite smile, though the expression was underlined with all but obvious threat, and then he mouthed Pendaran’s name, never taking his eyes off of Thorin.

“It would be quite rude for a guest such as yourself to so spoil the surprise of his host,” Orso said, his voice prim, if not gentle, “Abusing that position while under the king’s care would be ... unfortunate,” Orso shrugged, “But perhaps I should consult the king first. It would take only another mention of his name to call him to us. Or perhaps you will realize your place and wait until the proper time comes. Like. A. Good. Guest.”

Orso’s smile never wavered.

“Otherwise you take the lives of your family in hand,” he bowed his head, “You’ve been here long enough to know how he treats guests who do not mind themselves, I think. Especially one who is not specifically under the protection afforded by Queen Igraine‘s temporary compact.”

There was a bit of bite to Orso’s words. A bit of it inspired by self-preservation, really; he was not going to suffer the consequences of being within earshot of Thorin Xanathi when the man divulged something so ... early.

“M’am,” Orso said, disregarding Thorin entirely now, “I have no problem if you wish to converse with your,” he paused with a frown and then thought to recall a word, “lover, the king is patient enough, but it should not be on a subject that might anger him,” he shrugged. "The king will call for his other guests when the time comes."

In fact, Orso hoped Thorin's sudden appearance wouldn't' be taken as an insult by Pendaran as it was. Usually, VIP residents, even if only temporary, didn't enter until they were formally announced and introduced by the host to all gathered...

This was already making the lumen nervous.

[Igraine]

Igraine shook her head imperciptibly at Thorin, her heart hammering in her chest to see him alive and well. She had been so worried that he would be dead. How would she get through this parley with the father of her daughter dead? If she had to make a deal with Pendaran she wanted to be able to give her daughter to Kahlan or Isabella and have Thorin around to keep an eye on her. If he were dead she wouldn't be able to do that and the child would be parentless.

"It's good to see you alive, Thorin." She smiled at him and then looked to Orso, the ringlets of her hair brushing against her slender neck. She looked like the Queen she was in her sky blue and gold gown that clung to her figure. There was a hint that she might be pregnant because the gown had no corset or bodice, but her belly was still flat -- though softer than it used to be. The fact that she was going to have a child would not be lost on Pendaran. The child's presence was strong, even at two weeks old. She had no coherent cohesive thoughts but she would allow her awareness to surge forward in curiosity if someone happened to use their power to look for her.

"I'm curious as to what he's talking about, Orso. However, I'll hold my tongue for now and wait for his entrance. He is coming, isn't he Orso?" Igraine looked around, noticing a grey creature toward the back of the crowd. It had amber eyes and it was watching her intently. Those sharp teeth made her frown and she shook her head. The creature was heavily pregnant, likely to give birth any day now, and the malice rolling off of her was stunning. Igraine hadn't done anything, that she knew of, to the creature. She shrugged a little in her heavy gown and figured the creature might be a friend of the now dead Siren.

Igraine had been under contract not to carry weapons, however Caela and Vylrath had not. They both had weapons, but Caela seemed to bristle more -- despite seeming incredibly calm and collected. In their respective sheaths were Darkness and Chaos, and there was another tucked into her boot -- a stranger magic surrounding it's makeup. The Vuri dagger had a blood red blade with intricate gold design along the blade and hilt. It was a gorgeous piece of workmanship but it was made for use and not decoration.

"Thorin, be a dear and sit before you get us all killed." Caela looked vastly different than he would remember her. She had tan skin, long blood red hair, and dark violet eyes -- where before she had long platinum blond hair, midnight blue eyes, and pale porcelain skin. She smiled, her eyes narrowed slightly at her brother.

You're going to get us all killed. You need to calm down, there will be plenty of time for discussion later. Caela spoke directly to Thorin's mind through the Vuri link. He would notice that Vylrath didn't seem to draw him as a leader as much as he used to -- no, Caela did. What on earth had Vylrath done, or what had Caela done to wrest control from him?

[Vylrath]

Vylrath entered with Igraine cautiously, finding it hard to relax. Seeing the image of Thorin, made him stop in his steps. He knew his son's were dumb, but not this idiotic. This King needed to be treated with a respect and Thorin was acting too nonchalant. Vylrath had dealt with King's before, but mostly human King's who could be easily overthrown. King Pendaran's realm, stirred something unsettling in the old Vuri warrior.

For once, he agreed with Orso. The man had been trying and even a nuisance, but he agreed with his words. Vylrath didn't envy the man's job. He had been silent the entire journey to the Unseelie realm, but he could no longer hold in his patience. The insolence from Thorin had finally brought out the worst in him. If Thorin wanted to jeopardize himself, than that was fine, but he would not let his arrogance risk Igraine.

Stepping forward, he made sure that Igraine was behind him when he briefly drew his sword. Still silent, he simply brought the blunt of the blade's hilt and smacked it against Thorin's head. The force would be enough to make the man dizzy, but not render him useless. Grabbing his arm, he dug his claws and forced Thorin to sit at a nearby table. Sheathing his sword, he only nodded at Orso and sat by his son. Thorin would need to be watched, especially with his mouth. The words of Caela came into his mind and he quickly agreed with her.

You will mind your new leader...I have gifted her with the chaos blade. You will be at her every whim, whether you like it or not. Your actions are putting Igraine and your child at risk! I know my place here, you will learn yours. I will not help you, if you cause your own death....

There was a strange assortment of creatures gathered, but it did little to startle Vylrath. However, one creature stood out, but he only noticed her when Igraine eyed her. The cocky Bocan did little to hide her presence, in fact, she flaunted herself. Nothing annoyed Vylrath more, than someone who was even more arrogant than himself.

The magic in the Bocan didn't make him wonder, but rather what she carried in her. He had the ability to sense other Vuri, but the child in her had very little influence of their power. Glaring toward Thorin, he didn't say a word, but quickly guessed why she had such hostility toward Igraine. He decided to let fate play itself out.

“I'll watch over Thorin and make sure that he doesn't unravel everything.”

[Paroxysm]

"That would be for the best, I am sure," Orso responded before surveying the room.

The pale-skinned man shook his head, "Would you gather the whole of your nobility and not show? I will speed matters along, however," he said and then gave one more polite smile, bowed a bit more deeply to Vylrath than he would have when he first met the man, and then excused himself with a wave of a gloved hand.

Even amongst the Fae, Orso was outlandish, a foreigner in the court, and as he walked out into the open, amongst the various Unseelie nobility and their servants, he did so with a strong, confident stride; he moved with purpose and authority.

“Orso, Arbiter and Fist of the Unseelie,” his voice was loud, louder than should have been possible, “Has returned, Your Majesty, King Pendaran, and I have brought with me Queen Igraine of Ulster, Vylrath Xanathi, and . . . Caela Rivenfelde-Xanathi.”

He winced inwardly at the last name he had to announce. Under normal circumstances, Orso was sure Pendaran would never have cared, but with so many gathered and how politically volatile the situation was, the lumen just could not know for sure.

“You are heard, transient,” a voice from nowhere spoke, and when it did, the music in the background faded into silence.

A swirl of invisible air congealed into a figure that immediately began to descend the dais.

This night, King Pendaran wore the stages of water. His upper body was clothed in a swallow tailed dress coat, its fabric a hazy white that produced a misty air around it. His trousers were ice - obviously solid, but bending flexibly underneath the king’s will - and a cloak of pure, clear water with a tear drop of blood dotting it just below his neck. Pendaran’s hair, black and dark as pitch, was braided down the length of his black, and he had done away with the usual adornments, the various poisonous flowers and crystals; in their stead, sitting atop individual braids, were dewdrop sized pixies that shone in alternating colors of purple, blue, and green.

“I bid the Queen of Ulster and her party welcome to my court,” the king bowed in an elegant and slow motion.

[Igraine]

Igraine dipped low in a curtsey to show similar respect. She almost seemed to glow in comparison to King Pendaran's icy nature. She was softer of features where Pendaren seemed to be more angular. She glowed like a flame even among her own bretheren.

"I thank the King of the Unseelie for his generosity toward me and my retinue." Igraine said, her voice strong as she lifted her brilliant emerald eyes to look into King Pendaran's. "Please, call me Igraine." It was a gesture of respect and some miniscule trust -- showing those around them that she trusted King Pendaran to keep his word in all that had transpired.

Igraine gestured behind and to her left where Caela was standing a short distance away.

"My sister would thank you for your hospitality toward her children during their stay in your Kingdom." Igraine's eyes never left Pendaran and she smiled, it took an effort but it looked very genuine.

There was a laundry list of what could be said between them, one needle after another, piercing their otherwise composed exterior. Igraine chose to take the higher ground and remain neutral in a potential battle of wills. Caela's presence though was one that King Pendaran might not expect, and he might not even recognize her after her recent change, but he would be able to read the signs if not smell the faintest taint of Siren on her. It was a scent that was fading fast over time, but she obviously carried some of the latent power of the creature. She was an anomaly considering that she was very strongly Vuri, and very obviously the leader of the four existing Vuri -- due to the recent relinquishing of power by Vylrath Xanathi.

"I do hope you approve of my retinue, King Pendaran." Igraine looked demure, but there was a solidness within her, a natural power that leaned toward her mother's influence. That was, as far as Igraine was considered, the crux of the problem. King Pendaran hated Kahlan Lothair for lending her aide in imprisoning him and his people in a separate plane from where they originally belonged -- the Fae Realm.

How better to seek revenge than ensnare her daughter?

Igraine looked up at King Pendaran once again, waiting patiently for his next move in the game that he had begun.

[Thorin]

“Lovers? We're hardly lovers anymore...” Thorin said, but not with a harsh tone. It was true. They hadn't actually been affectionate for some time now and they acted more like close comrades. He still loved her, but it would take a little more to bring them back together.

Thorin watched the man descend, but it wasn't what he had been expecting. His head still hurt from Vylrath's assault, but he was sure it wasn't his vision playing tricks on him. The man was more than a little flamboyant and he could see Igraine tense in his presence. Thorin's confidence had been wavering, only by the rumors of the man's strength and hold on Igraine and her mother, but the man seemed less threatening in his suit.

Speaking to Igraine privately, he made sure that other avenues in her mind were closed. THIS is the guy? Should I really be worried? Thorin asked her, almost smugly. When she stood next to Pendaran, they did appear to belong together, but he wouldn't let that happen unless they had no other option.

Do what you have to do...I'll just be waiting for your orders. Thorin was gaining too much confidence, even though he had always been taught not to underestimate his enemies. Even though King Pendaran appeared to be less of a threat, he held an unbelievable amount of power.

When he spied the Bocan in the room, his body froze, almost instantly. How could he explain that mess to Igraine? She had already noticed the woman and even Vylrath had acknowledged her. Was she being used as some bargaining tool? Thorin wouldn't doubt it, but he didn't hold any love for her, or the child she carried- it would be a fruitless attempt. Thorin could feel Vuri in the child she carried and he knew that the other Vuri felt it too. Looking toward Caela, he tried to show his concern for the situation. However, he doubted she would take pity on him for that predicament.

[Paroxysm]

"It has been my pleasure," Pendaran replied instantly, directing his attention to Caela with a brief nod of his head, "and it is nice to meet her," he said, "though it is a shame that the - monk, was it? - could not make it. I was quite curious about him."

“Indeed I do,” Pendaran admitted, “I believe her children will be delighted that she came.”

For all of the Unseelie King’s jollity, there was an undeniably heavy atmosphere in the hall and each of the Fae present were focused intently on Igraine and her entourage. More than a few of the Unseelie in attendance would have liked nothing more than to entrap, ensorcelled, or otherwise involve themselves with the newcomers. They also knew that had they attempted any such thing they would not have lived for very long after.

“Yes,” Pendaran agreed with himself, “it is very good that you brought your sister to my realm. She will very much take interest in my announcement, I believe.”

A murmur ran through the crowd like electricity.

Pendaran raised a hand to silence the crowd, “After my announcement,” he said, “I trust that you will be willing to discuss the future of our two people in private, Queen Igraine?”

[Igraine]

Igraine didn't like the sound of the murmurs floating through the electrically charged air. The very idea of being in Pendaran's court made her skin crawl. She was a patron of the Summer Court, a Seelie woman to the core. How was she ever going to manage this ridiculous quest to get her family free -- when all she wanted was to run and hide. She knew that Pendaran had been watching her for a long time, watching her grow up.

"An announcement? I'm sure we will all be pleased to know what you have to say, King Pendaran." It was difficult to focus, to seem civil, with Thorin's words echoing through her skull. She wanted to slap him and tell him to shut up, to let her work, but he felt more like an incessant buzzing fly. Igraine managed to sound pleasant and not strangled, it sounded as if she were genuinely curious about any aspect of Unseelie life.

"I would like to speak in private, yes. It seems fitting to our stations that we discuss...these matters in private. Thank you." Igraine glanced back at her sister and smiled. Caela was standing quietly behind her, not taking her eyes off of Pendaran, but also keeping her senses open for any wayward Unseelie that might come and try to kill her.

Truely, Caela knew what it was like to be a stranger in a strange court. Even moreso she knew that no one else here but Igraine was Seelie. She stood the greatest chance of being attacked, though Caela doubted that King Pendaran would allow something so dire to occur. She kept quiet, her posture one of ease, as she stared into the King's eyes. He was a strange sort of handsome, one that hurt if you looked at him too long. If Caela had been here for any other reason, brought before him for any reason other than her children -- she might be tempted to stranger persuits. As it was, she watched Pendaran -- reveling in the sharp keening pain that lanced through her body every so often.

Caela had suffered worse at the hands of far less beautiful creatures.

"I would very much like to hear your announcement, My Lord." Caela spoke, her voice clear and calm. She was a fountain of strength for the Vuri -- and purely Vuri she was indeed. She just hoped that her children weren't dead. If they were, she would die too -- in her attempt to slice King Pendaran's throat and make him bleed out. Then she would force Thorin to eat his corpse. Yes...that would be very helpful for her grief.

A smile graced Caela's lips, but it was in response to her thoughts, not any good will that she had toward the current King or the situation at hand.

[Vylrath]

Vylrath snarled, albeit softly to himself. Thorin and Caela would feel his fury and maybe even King Pendaran himself. If it didn't jeopardize everything, his sword would have been at the man's throat by now. He had other ways of handling things, but he always went the quickest route first. This bastard was something else though and if it didn't involve his kids, he might have admired him for it.

What could he have possibly done to Caela's children? Trydian was his son, but he didn't hold a place for him. However, he had promised Caela that he would bring them back in one piece. The King was making sure that his family went by his terms. He was proud that Caela wasn't showing her true emotions, but he wondered how her true reaction would be when her children showed up. Shaking his head, he began to regret getting with Kahlan, knowing that the entire mess stemmed from their love affair.

Their daughter was suffering for it and now the rest of his clan.

Why did the King want his daughter so badly, that he had to lure her into his realm? Vylrath never understood politics and he was just barely understanding the history with Kahlan and King Pendaran. He found better use behind the sword and he couldn't wait for the moment to use his against King Pendaran's throat.

The King was going to speak to his daughter in private and possibly Caela. There was little he could do to protect them and the King was making sure he had the upper hand at all times. They could have use Ryuku, especially with his powers, but there was little they could do about that now.

Do not let him gain control of your emotions. He is going to use our children against you and try to break your spirit. Whatever condition they appear in, do not let it change you.

Vylrath spoke in Caela's mind, feeling her fear and tension instantly. His voice would sound flat, as if it belonged to another being entirely. He had a history of letting his children die at the hands of his enemy, but he wasn't about to let that happen with Igraine or her siblings.

He prepared for the worst. If Caela broke down in front of the King, there would be little hope for her to regain composure and strength. While he believed in Caela's strength and had seen it first hand, little could prepare a mother for seeing her children in such a state- whatever state that may be.


It was difficult sitting idle and watching your entire family crumble at the hands of a suave tyrant.

[Paroxysm]

Well now, that was a surprising answer if ever there had been one. Pendaran had half-expected Igraine, contaminated by mortal insecurities and other such nonsense, to immediately reject the idea of being alone with the Unseelie king. Her response worked in both their favors, fortunately; it would not have done to upset his court with any overt distrust of their king. Such a political misstep in this situation could very well have been damning, in the long term.

"You do me great honor," Pendaran said, bowing with a bit of a flourish, a show of teeth, but his eyes hardened, honing in on Vylrath and the raw, emotional fury radiating off of him.

When Pendaran straightened, he jabbed a hand out, cut the air with a swift gesture, and then dispersed the ferocious emotion where it was most concentrated, banishing it and limiting it from spreading anywhere but within Vylrath's immediate vicinity. He spared only a contemptuous glare before spreading his arms, turning around, and then about-facing once more, inhaling and then speaking with a loud, booming voice:

“I,” Pendaran announced, “King of Winter’s Court, of the Unseelie, have called you all for a very special reason,” the king said, clapping his hands together once; the sound they emitted resonated throughout the room, through the walls and floor, spreading outward with unfathomable power and intent, though harmless enough, “indeed, a special occasion,” he clapped again, this one subtly less powerful than before, “and one that does not happen nearly as often as it should.”

Silence filled the hall as the Fae nobility waited patiently for the king to continue, their eyes full of anticipation.

“Today,” Pendaran said, “we welcome a new sister to our court,” he added an odd amount of emphasis to the familial designation, “one that bridgest he gap between we, the sidhe, and mankind,” he spoke each word with measured pride, as though he were an artist revealing his most recent masterpiece, one that he was quite proud of, too, “who can freely cross borderst hat we cannot, regardless of time or restraint, who is bound by word, by pact, and by nature. A mortal-born sidhe,” Pendaran cut his eyes to Igraine, then to Caela, gliding his tongue over his lips, an expression that was more predatory than anything, “my-our-Voice. Ladies and gentlemen,” he gestured, wide, to his peers, and then nodded to Igraine and her family, “honored guests,” Pendaran clapped for the third time, the sound faint, barely audible, “it is my pleasure to introduce Sebilla Rivenfelde.”

With each clap, Pendaran’s words had been carried to Sebilla and with his words, too, had his will been carried, colliding with the recently reborn woman like a runaway freight train. It did not matter in the least what Sebilla had been doing or who she was with, or what she was wearing for that matter; she could change her clothing as easily as Pendaran, himself, if she was of mind. Regardless, when Pendaran’s words and intent reached Sebilla, she would feel an irresistible pull, an urge to go to the Unseelie king, to make her appearance and present herself to her brothers and sisters of the realm - and to her mortal self’s family, as well, of course, and, similarly, if Trydian was near enough to Sebilla, he, too, would feel that very same pull, though less powerful and intense.

[Sebilla]

The words reached her before the punch of power hit her chest. The compulsion to move was so great that she jumped up out of the chair she was sitting in. Her eyes went wide and she looked at Trydian before bolting from the room. She was quick, small as she was, and incredibly fast because of the power infusing her limbs.

On the way to the reception hall Sebilla's clothing seemed to melt, contort, and become something else. She had inadvertantly chosen a long white lace gown with black accents. It dipped low along her bustline, veering into a deep v that went past her belly button. It was held together by small jeweled spiders. Her feet had pale silk slippers on, muffling her footsteps to be almost non-existant.

She burst through the door at the very moment that King Pendaran introduced her. There was no doubt in the light of the reception hall that she had been changed. Her skin was very pale, almost translucent, and her lips were a pale pale blue. It looked as if she had been out in the cold for far too long. Her hair was still a long luxurious raven's wing black, and it draped beautifully down her back, past her waist to her hips.

The white gown fluttered like a wraith as she moved with a purpose. She took her cue wisely and stepped close to King Pendaran, standing near him and facing the crowd without looking at the gathered crowd too closely. She turned her attention to Igraine, and she smiled softly. The sight of her mother shocked her and she gave her a sad little smile, she raised one hand and tapped over her heart with two fingers before letting her hand fall discreetly. It was something she had done since she was a small child when she talked to her mother. It was a sign for Caela, that this creature she had become was still Sebilla, her daughter.

"My King, you called?" Sebilla said, her voice permeating the room without effort. She commanded attention like he did, but hers was more subtle, more driven by her presence than by her prowess or power.

[Igraine]

To their credit, the Xanathi women hid their shock well. Igraine turned to look at Caela, her eyes wide for a brief second, before turning back to watch Sebilla stand next to King Pendaran. She looked the same, and yet incredibly different. Everything about her screamed contained power, Unseelie influence, and barely contained energy.

For a brief surge of a moment, without the emotion showing on her face, King Pendaran would feel a wave of anger. He was supposed to protect her, not break her, not make her in his image. Igraine looked at Sebilla for another moment or two and then turned her attention on King Pendaran. Her brilliant emerald eyes were ice cold, an emotion he would be better suited to handle she wagered.

"I see Sebilla is doing well. No harm has come to her I suspect." Her eyes, so like her mother's in their intensity, were pinned on King Pendaran. There was a hint of warning in her voice. If anything had happened to Sebilla, if she had suffered at all, there would be some deal breaking.

Caela's reaction was mixed. The sight of her daughter brought incredible joy, but what had been done to her brought an earth shattering rage that she barely contained. As it was she was a beacon of the emotion, though she controlled it with a finesse that Vylrath didn't have. Pendaran wouldn't have to use his magic in order to keep her contained. As it were, he might have to protect himself. He was incredibly lucky that her daughter went to stand next to him.

It wasn't until Sebilla tapped her chest in the well known fashion that was purely her, that Caela relaxed. Her muscles had been screaming at her in protest of the rigid stance she had taken. No matter what she looked like, no matter what she was now, Caela knew that it was Sebilla in that body. It was her daughter and she wasn't going to abandon her. Caela tapped her chest with three fingers and smiled at her daughter, eyes only for her.

"What a surprise. My daughter looks very well taken care of, King Pendaran. Thank you for looking after her." Caela managed. She wasn't going to lose her head here, now, when her daughter stood so close to the King of the Unseelie. Chances were what he had wrought he could undo. Such a full body change could mean unravelling the very threads of Sebilla's soul and casting them into the wind. She would lose her daughter if she made a move against Pendaran now.

"Yes, thank you. She looks healthy and well taken care of. We all appreciate your hospitality." Igraine said, her back straight and her head held high. "Would you care to retire now and discuss other matters? I'm sure Sebilla and her mother would love a chance to catch up."

Igraine kept her gaze on Pendaran, his physical beauty didn't hurt her. In fact, the effects of their physical beauty seemed to cancel each other out.

[Trydian]

“Sebilla--” Trydian called to her, but felt the pull in his chest. It wasn't strong, but enough to make him very aware of the King Pendaran's presence. With darkened eyes, Trydian followed close behind her, but his step wasn't as quick to the call. They were both under the whim of King Pendaran and he would have to face his family soon. The hallway seemed longer, his thoughts more complicated. His family would see him as a traitor, but he convinced himself that it had been for Sebilla.

The sword had been sheathed, its power dulled from his current state of mind. Trydian was in a deep haze, forcing himself to gain composure about facing his mother. He didn't pay attention to the grandeur of the room, or the extravagant clothing that King Pendaran and his sister adorned. Trydian was more focused on who was present: Vylrath, Thorin, Igraine and his mother were in one room together. It was rare they all gathered together and this was the moment he had been fearing.

Caela might feel that he was different, or see his changes physically. His features had become harsher, his energy much more abrasive. When he looked to the King, he never looked him in the eyes. Trydian acted like someone enslaved.

His eyes looked troubled when he rested them on Caela, as if he might regret his words or reaction. In the King's presence, he knew how to appear calm and relaxed. Trydian had become too accustomed to this apathetic feeling. This place was practically his home now, since he and Sebilla were inevitably “bound”, though not by a blood pact.

Bowing deeply, he knew how to address the King and he knew to stand only a few feet way from Sebilla. Trydian didn't need to speak, his sister having asked the question before he could. Being near Sebilla, kept his nerves calm and his thoughts at peace, but he didn't know how long those peaceful thoughts would last.

If he had to attack his family members, he knew who he would kill first: Vylrath. His eyes rested on the man for a moment, practically glaring daggers at him. It wasn't the first time that they had had a confrontation, or expressed their hate for one another. His uncle wouldn't be an exception either. The only one he would restrain from attacking would be his mother- he could never bring himself to harm to her. The King would have to command him, in order to go forward with a strike against her.