"CRASH!"
Croix sneered at the sound of the shattered glass. He really didn't want the first mistake he made to be in the beginning of the day.

"Boy, don't just STAND there gazing at the dishware! It's not going to pick itself up!"
"Sorry Ma'am...!" Croix replied to the woman that was in charge of the kitchen. He rushed to the other end of the room, picking up a washcloth and running back to the scene of the accident. He knelt down to the floor and tried to pick up the pieces with his bare hands, not aware of the hazards.
"Croix, Croix, Croix! You don't pick up broken glass with you fingers!" The woman shrieked, practically throwing a broom at him. Croix took the broom and began to sweep the remainder of the dishes up without a word. "Honestly Croix...every day you break at least something. I don't know what to do with you - the horse keeper doesn't want you, the blacksmith wont even let me mention your name, you destroy all the dishes in the house, spill the water while cleaning, what are you good for?!"

Croix hung his head at her words. "Do I even know myself? Has there ever been a time I was good at something?" He thought to himself sympathetically. You could see that his broom strokes got slower as he thought about his own worth. The woman stared at him for a few seconds, then sighed with a loud exhale. "Listen Croix, how about you leave this to me. The royal family is about to wake up and we have to hurry, so how about you just get some fresh air." You could hear the hesitation in the womans' voice, but something had to be done. Almost before she could finish saying anything else, Croix looked up at her with the most radiant smile, handed her the broom, and ran out of the kitchen. The woman watched him for a second, then turned back to the kitchen and directed the rest of the cooks in it. "Really, that boy is something else." She smirked while shaking her head.

Croix was heading outside where he always liked to visit, the patch by the small pond and the willow. As childish as one may think, Croix sometimes swung on the old and tattered swing that was hung on the old tree. But most of all, in the night he liked to gaze at the stars in the area. When he was here, he felt so free and calm. Before Croix could even begin to think about anything, he sat down on a soft patch of grass and lay silently. Then he started thinking.

Azure had been up for a while - since sunrise - riding around the outskirts of the village on her horse. "Shh Dawn. Slow down," she muttered to the animal while she rode it onto the path that would take her directly to the castle she called home. She hated it because she didn't enjoy being royalty; I=it was just another stick she would have to shove up her ass. But it was worth the moments when she could take Midnight Dawn out for a ride in the cool morning air before everything began.

She loved her horse; loved the fact that she was pure white of skin but had a pitch black mane and tail. It made Dawn unique just like Azure; they were both misfits in the Earth Nation. Azure didn't think there was anyway either of them would want it any other way.

Her sea foam green eyes were drawn to the small pond with its willow tree that she passed by any morning she went out and was surprised to see a new addition. That clumsy little worker who seemed to be able to do nothing right. She didn't see that as a problem though because doing things wrong meant a chance for improvement. He could only get better and better was really good. It was this thought that drew her to turn her horse towards him and jump down just before she got near him as to not scare him with her horse; she knew he didn't like them too much.

"Morning.... Porter?" she said as she brought Dawn to the pond a ways away from him and turned to smile at him. "Lovely morning isn't it?"

Croix heard the clamping of a horses' hooves but didn't think much of it, at first. It wasn't until he recognized his name being called. He turned his head to surprise and saw a girl standing a few feet away from him, along with a beautiful pale horse. He bent his body slightly upwards, making it easier for him to speak. "Good morning." He smiled, and raised a hand to wave, but it didn't go up very far. "It really is a beautiful day, I'm happy I got to take a break out here..." As he trailed off, he took a closer look at the girl...and realized that it was the princess! Immediately, Croix stood up and attempted to make a bow of what energy he had left. "S-sorry, I didn't see you," he laughed awkwardly. "If I did, I would have payed my respects sooner." He doubted that the princess would entirely be angry with him for not bowing, but as a servant, he had to show his gratitude for the royals. Especially considering the horrible predicaments he finds himself in.

Siris sat silently in the crook of her window high above the fields where the roses grew beautifully in peace. It was nearly dawn, the sun barely peaking over the soft horizon and reflecting of the many waters surrounding the village. Sometime in the night Siris had crawled out of bed and dragged herself to the small nook of her window and surrounded herself with the pillows filled with goose feathers. It was a thing she had always enjoyed to do since she was a child. At times of sickness, common with her, she would sit there for days, staring out at the fields or playing her flutes. Now she sat there waiting for the day to arrive, her pale forehead pressed against the glass while her breath fogged in front of her lips.
Today she was expecting a visit from the healer. A checkup, examination, and a new poultice - a monthly thing. She had always been frail but her mother, never her father, always had a maid hand ushering her somewhere and watching every step she made. It was tiring to her, but she never would falter or deny her queen's orders. She had a duty as the princess and she would follow all that she could. Sighing, Siris brushed back her short cropped hair and tucked it behind her ear.

Oliver roamed trough the halls of the palace, his eyes peering into every open door. Eventually he reached the end of the hall, an arched door in front of him. Oliver gave a light tap on its wood before opening it up carefully. Oliver entered to see his adopted sister at the window, as she often was in the early hours. "Morning sister," Oliver said as he walked in the room slowly. "Have you seen father this morning? I was supposed to have tea with him at lunch but I really must cancel there's a bit of a situation with one of the kitchen girls I must see too and I suspect it may take up most of my morning."

Oliver paused, realizing his greeting was slightly impersonal. "What are you doing?" He added at the realization. "Have the healers come yet to give you your medicine? Or are you waiting for them?"

Veta crouches on the ground, surrounded by an array of flowers - red roses. She is humming a tune to herself, oblivious to the dirt under her fingernails and the slight wind blowing her jet black hair around her face. This is somewhat of a tradition to the princess. She rises dutifully every morning at the break of dawn to work on her garden. Today happens to be planting day. Steadily, Veta turns the soil over, loosening it before she scoops it out in a neat hole just large enough for her to put her plants in. She started growing the roses in pots, enjoying their beauty each morning when she arose. It is time to let her children go, now, letting them grow freely into the earth that she loves so very much. With a satisfied pat, she plants the last of the flowers, whispering to them, "Grow tall and strong and beautiful."

Rising up, she gathers her skirts about her, brushing off her dirty hands. Her mother and father do not think it is dignified for a young princess such as herself to do a gardener's job, but her love for nature and planting overrides her desire to please her parents. "Apollo!" Veta calls, releasing a sharp whistle. Almost immediately, a rather large, light brown dog comes bounding around the corner, his lips turned up at the sides almost as if he is smiling. "It's time to go wash up," she says, patting him lovingly between the ears. "We wouldn't want to miss breakfast, would we?" Apollo just looks at her with that same near-smiling face that seems to hint at a higher intelligence than dogs are usually accredited with. The duo bounds off, heading back to the large, stone castle that they call home.

"Come over here, and I'll paint your picture!" A young girl calls out, a cigarette hanging out of her mouth. Though it is rather early in the morning there are quite a few people out and about, doing some morning shopping. They look on at the scene the girl is making, staring in wonderment at her energy and wondering why she looks so familiar. She jumps up, ushering people to sit in funny poses on a bench, her eyes lighting up as she laughs in merriment. "Come on, then!" she calls, daring people with a sly smile. "What harm could it do? Just think, you'll forever be immortalized in a beautiful painting that everyone can have a good laugh over. What's so wrong about that?" She is winning people over, she can tell. Though her appearance is a little strange - blonde and bright red dread locks, a nose and lip piercing - her personality is like honey, drawing all the flies to her with little effort.

"How about you?" she calls to a shy woman who looks to be in her mid-thirties. "You can give it to that man at the book store you've been eying for weeks. Free of charge!" The woman blushes, trying to look offended at the young girl's audacity, but her smile is peeking through. "Come on, then. I'll make you look really pretty." Hesitantly, the woman nods, taking a seat on the bench in front of the girl's art supplies. "Oh, wonderful! Just sit there and hold really still, okay?" Her hand flies across the canvas, painting in sure, steady strokes.

"Do you like it?" she asks, turning the finished product around for the woman to see. Her hands fly to her blushing cheeks, her eyes lighting up in wonderment.
"Oh, that's beautiful!" she cries, smiling a genuine smile for the artist. "Is it alright if I refer some of my friends to you? What's your name?"

"That'd be great!" the girl exclaims, beaming. "I'm Orchid. Orchid Dalca." The woman's face pales as she realizes who the girl that had just painted her portrait was - the princess. She had just been painted by the princess!

"Oh! I didn't realize! I'm so sorry, your highness!" The woman bows, another blush creeping into her face.

Orchid jumps up from her chair, waving her hands wildly. "None of that! None of that! It's totally cool. You don't have to call me 'your highness' or whatever. I'm just Orchid, okay? Hey, here's my number. Keep in touch! And tell me how it goes with that guy," she adds with a wink.

"O-of course." Orchid grins, wrapping her arms around the woman.

"We're going to be great friends, I just know it!"

The morning light fell on the wall in filtered strips through the drawn but unrolled slatted blinds. The only sound was the whirring of hard disks and the hum of power supplies. At the desk a computer monitor scrolled a screensaver with the line of text, "There are 10 types of people in the light kingdom; those who understand binary and those who don't."

Against the wall under the window, on a worn leather sofa, prince Athanasius Tunid was asleep, fully dressed, his feet up on the chair arm and his spectacles askew on his face.

On the server cabinet, a light turned red, and with a click a disk drive ejected itself, knocking into a long cardboard tube which just happened to be in front of it containing cable ducting. The cardboard tube fell away, and the end of it landed straight onto Athy's face. He woke up with a start.

"Oh, god...what....?" He took his glasses off to rub his eyes, then replaced them and looked around. The light coming through the blins was an indication he'd already slept in too late....not that he'd been in his bedroom at any point in the night. He'd up up until about 3am trying to debug a piece of software he was working on. He hobbled over to the terminal a shook the mouse to get rid of the screensaver...then sighed. Another compile failure.

Oh well, he wasn't going to have any more time to look at it today. He pulled up the blinds and looked out over the city. Today was going to be one of the few occassions in his royal career where he was going to have to interact diplomatically with the other nations. How tedious.

He made his way through the halls to his bedroom. The servants had evidently already been in to serve breakfast, but not finding him there had dressed the room and laid out the clothes the king had picked out for the occassion.

At least Athy wouldn't have to worry about being bothered by the staff again this morning. Most likely they were out and about looking to see where his step-sister princess Orchid had got to. "Mingling" in town no doubt. Athy didn't mind, it deflected a lot of attention from the indifference he showed towards matters of state.

The crisp, clean morning air filled Ciara's nose as she stepped out onto her balcony. It was days like this Ciara lived for. Not too hot, not to cold. A light breeze was blowing the princess' long chesnut hair around, tempting her to come play as the sun twinkled in her light blue eyes and brought out the gold in her tan skin.

"Oh alright." She spoke to the sky, feigning aggrivation when truly there was nothing she'd rather do. With a "swoosh" her blue wings that stayed hidden were released, and were strong and sturdy on her back. They began to beat, picking up speed, lifting her into the air. She laughed carelessly as she looped and soared through the sky. She used buildings and trees as natural obstacles, and waved cheerfully to her people below. Nothing made Ciara feel more free then flying.

Rhys moved through the palace slowly, his arms full of bottles and strange looking instruments as he made his way to the Princess’ bedroom. It was perhaps his least favorite thing to do, his monthly overall checkups of her highness. Not because he hated her or any such silly notion, he just hated how sickly she could get. It was painful to watch her health fluctuate so wildly, sometimes to the point of danger. Even though her father had not tried to save her life as a babe, he would be hard pressed to make such a call again now that she was a young girl.

“Your Highness, I’ve arrived,” He called to her as the guards allowed him entrance, ignoring the side glances from her maids. They certainly did not get along for whatever reason. Every day they watched him with suspicious, jealous eyes. Perhaps they were afraid he had some great power of the princess simply because he controlled her health. Such a thing was preposterous to Rhys. As if he could ever imagine taking advantage of a sickly child, especially her highness! Furiously he gave them a hard stare, sending the girls fluttering elsewhere away from the angry healers dark eyes. He could hear them whispering in their corners but he couldn’t worry about that now, he had other things to attend to.

“Your Highness,” Rhys made a distressed clicking noise of disapproval when he saw her sitting in the window again. “You will catch a death of cold if you don’t stay away from the window.” He scolded the girl in a light tone, although he knew it did no good. She stayed next to that window like a sad bird, trapped in a gilded cage, watching the world pass her by.

There is no sunlight to tell those of the dark nation to rise, no early morning birds to sing their sweet songs by their windows, not the sound of nature waking or the members of the nation rising. It is silent- but the scent of smoke as the fires are lit will drag every last one of them from their slumber until the squeaking of the bats nesting beneath the nation sends them all to sleep again...
Gethen had already risen before her maid had the chance to come in and light the chandelier, the orange light glowing in through her open door had been enough to see with and prepare for the day. Standing resolute infront of her mirror she stared into those eyes as dark as charcoal in the shadows and stroked the dark hair that surrounded her face thoughtfully. 'They lit the fires just after dawn- but how could they know when dawn was-perhaps they didnt-perhaps up there it was still night and the Dark nation were living their own universal time' She glanced up at this as if she could see through the heavy earth and solid stones to the upper lands. Funny thought that she'd have to ask a councillor.

Pulling on her crimson cloak she dragged the hood up over her head and tied the tassles before striding out of her bedroom door just as her maid was walking in with her basket of wax, fire sticks and other complimentary items. She looked hesitant, like she'd caught the princess out who shouldnt leave or get out of bed until she'd done her duty but then she slipped into the bedroom regardless knowing it was better that she could do her job in silence then under the watchful gaze of Gethen..who had a very..watchful..gaze.
Gethen lent over the stone barrier that ran along this entire level to see over the edge, down all the levels of the nation, right down to the small open plain where lights danced, it was merely a ridge and beneath that swirled absolute darkness.The plain was used for ceremonial gatherings and speeches so that a majority of the Nation could gather...others would lean upon the stone barriers of their levels like she was now and listen over the edge as the king and his councillor's voice's boomed and echoed.
Gethen travelled down the staircases carved from the mountains to a lower level hearing her bare feet pad with a slight slap against the stone walkways as she felt the heat of the fires below increase. Coming to the door she wanted Gethen pushed on the grand wooden doors into a well lit room containing two. A councillor and her instructor. Both male. One who found his affections inclined towards men more than women and the other found he liked women alittle too much.

"Gethen" drawled the councillor his cloaked figure straightening up from where his head had bent to talk to the instructor. "What an early bird you are" he smiled his smuck smile that made Gethen's skin crawl. All councillors addressed the royal children like nieces and nephews. Personally Gethen didnt mind but a few members of the council she did not trust, they had a certain snake appeal. This councillor was Phallus. He slid his way over to her his chesiure cat smile still in place even though she noticably did not greet him or show any friendly gestures.
"Such a stoney expression for me you shouldn't have my cavenous flower" he teased before nodding at the instructor. "No matter nothing can dampen my mood today for today...feels like a good day"
Gethen waited for him to depart before turning to her instructor who held a hand to his lips to smother any smile.
"You shouldn't have my Cavenous flower...today feels like a good day" she mimicked dramatically whilst approaching her instructor.
"Gethen as royalty you certainly dont rest until you have pushed your luck with other superiors" the instructor stated pulling out a tape measure.
Gethen tried to replace her grin with a grimice. "I know i know- i just find some of the council members...sneaky"
The instructor tapped her with the tape measure as if to scold her which brought her attention to the fact he had a tape measure.
"We are dancing with tape measures today?" she questioned with an eyebrow raised as her instructor positioned both of her arms in the air and began measuring her muscles.
His expression turned grave and any hint of humour had faded from his drawn features. "No- it is on request of the council. To size your physique up"
Gethen's face fell into thought as she turned her eyes towards the door Phallus had departed from. What had Phallus meant by a good day...

Dreary. That was one perfect word to describe their living conditions. Industriously destructive could've been other words to accurately describe the Nation in which they lived in. Unlike most of the jovial Nations, theirs suffered from famine and the abuse of living in a very dark place. Thousands of people suffered in a Nation which he had no control over, being the Prince, he could only wander the streets and observe. Even his small, secret gestures of kindness was nothing—only a speck, a grain of what could be done once he became king. If that day ever came, being the only male in the family, it might be possible. Seeing as his sisters didn't seem to share his own views of the Nation, there wasn't much he could do to sway their thoughts to his own. They seemed uninterested and just accepted the way they lived. The Prince couldn't understand how they cooped themselves up underground, as if they were afraid to live their lives on the surface. What was the point of punishing themselves underground, where finding sufficient water and food was a challenge? What were they afraid of?

Zenith shook his head, he'd already awoken ahead of his servant (a shambling old man, why they hadn't given him a young maid like his sisters, he wasn't sure), and prepared himself for the day. Buttoning a fitted white shirt, he grabbed for his vest and buttoned that over it. Most of the clothes he wore were unconventionally royal by any means, but comfortable in ways he couldn't describe. They suited him more than anything else. Moving towards the mirror, he hastily slicked back his hair with scented oils and straightened his collar. It was then that the well-mannered servant rapped his knuckles lightly on the door before tugging the handle. He waved the man inside and grabbed what was needed for the morning: his tea and an apple before sighing heavily. Everyday was the same dreary routine.
“What is it today... I've got a bad feeling,” the Prince managed to rasp between bites of the apple, sitting on one of the wooden dressers as he balanced the small tea cup in his free hand.
The dithering servant, Clause, only smiled knowingly before placing his gloved hand across his chest, “One would say that today is quite prosperous.” Truthfully, it annoyed him how Clause danced around the subject, and as old as he was, he knew the man was no fool. Everyday they would sit like this, with no sun shining out the windows, and talk. His servant was also one of his only friends, his mentor and teacher. The old man was wise beyond his years, and knew much of the world.
“And that would mean?” Zenith urged, sipping gingerly from his tea as he stared over the rim of the cup.
Clause's expression eased into some kind of tight-lipped frown he'd never seen on the man before, and almost instantaneously, his shoulders tensed for horrid news. Sometimes, he really hated their "morning chats."
“You haven't forgotten about the joinings, young master...?” The small inquisitive bushy eyebrow raised innocently eluded to the fact that his dear mentor was mocking him, if just a little bit. He stood at the doorway, tray poised in one of his gloved hands as he smiled softly. “This includes your sisters, as well as you, you know.”
Zenith paused in mid-bite as his servant retreated from his chambers, inevitably smiling at his misfortune. He'd nearly forgotten about the intended “peace treaty.” Being the only son of the family, his responsibilities had gotten the best of him, and he completely forgot.

Dismayed, the Prince placed the tea and remains of the apple on his desk before exiting his chambers. Noting sourly that the dismal candles and torches did nothing for the long, Gothic hallway, his attitude seemed as dank as they were. Gethen. Stella. They would know what was going on, surely? Striding through the hallways, he quickly stepped down the long, spiraling stairs until he paused for a moment. Running blindly around the royal palace wasn't going to do much if he didn't know where anyone was. He stood planted on the stairwell before he nodded his head, he knew where Gethen would be. Every day, she had dancing lessons with the unusual instructor. Allowing himself to drop back into his quick gait, he stopped in front of a heavy wooden door and pushed it clear. This was when he saw the instructor wrapping his sister with a tape measure. A sight that stopped him in his tracks.
Zenith's mouth worked for the appropriate response but he only ended up spluttering, “What...?”

Gethen glanced to the side when her brother entered and wasnt sure if she wanted to smile at him or grimice. Considering his first words of the morning to her were 'what?!' she doubted he knew what this was about either- you know the entire measuring physique business.
Her instructor too looked to the side, Hanza his name was, a dreamy smile spread across his lips at her brother standing in the doorway-she resisted a pitying sigh- that man really should have been born a woman.

"Zenith what do you know of this! I come down here to dance and instead i get Phallus that councillor flittering about like some fairy talking nonsense at me about how today is going to be a good day and that i need my physique measured- my physique and for what exactly! What on earth has that grim little man have planned for me" she exclaimed instantly tossing a hand into the air as Hanza requested she remove her bodess so he could check her stomach muscles and pelvis.
"See" she hissed pointing down at Hanza as he knelt down infront of her. "Pelvis and stomach muscles! What next they wiegh each breast!" Hanza stared up startled by her words. Gethen cleared her throat. "Excuse me that was inappropriate- i just do not appreciate secrets"

Her shoulders relaxed before she turned her head back to her brother and smiled, Zenith was like her in many ways, he too had dark hair and he wasnt as fine looking as Stella though he was certainly handsome but still pale. Was it strange of her to want a pale complexion too?
"Zen you wouldnt mind doing the lace would you?" she gestured behind to the laced up back of her bodess. Without help it took hours to put on and hours to take off. Usually she cheated by loosening it and slipping out without touching the back but in company like Hanza and her brother she had to go about it the right way. Zenith and Hanza were most likely the only two men in the kingdom she could get away with undressing before. Hanza didnt fancy women for himself and Zenith well- Zen was her brother.

Lucian grunted with exertion as he pushed all his strength into moving the plow through the dirt. His muscle ripped in the reaming sunlight, as he had long since forgone his shirt. Managing to slowly push it a couple more feet, he fell on the ground exhausted. Wiping the sweat from his face, he glanced at the field around him. Half of the land on his right was gutted, prepared for the planting, while the left side was perfect and untouched.

With a heavy sigh he pulled himself up, and shrugged his shoulders. His muscles were hard and taunt from work, and unlike other princes his hands were calloused from years of hard work. Looking around he muttered “Damn mule, quit half way.” He was angry over earlier when barely starting out the mule had bucked and injured itself, causing Lucian stubborn as a mule himself to push the heavy plow. He’d been out here since yesterday, and knew it was almost time for breakfast… of the next day. He grabbed his dirty shirt and tossed it over his shoulder to hang from it like a primitive fur. Looking up the road, he tugged on his large wicker hat, and began his journey up the winding road.

The soft grinding of gravel filled his ears, and the gust caressed his skin. Looking left and right, he smiled at the beauty of his home; the green ever expanding utopia that was the Earth Kingdom. Untouched by technology and all that came with it: greed, ambition, and sloth. Looking up the road he could barely make out the high spires of the castle. How majestic and regal it looked piercing into the sky, he felt pure unbridled pride swell in his chest at the sight. His home, the ring to it was warming.

He saw a woman running up to the castle, at first he wasn’t sure who it was till he spotted a dog running at her heels, cupping his mouth he gave a loud yell “Veta!!” He quicken his pace in hopes to catch up to her.

Siris smiled softly, almost sleepily, as she turned her upper body to face her brother. Indeed, he had been adopted, but never would she call him such. To her he was her brother and nothing more, nothing less. "Oh, Oliver, good morning. I haven't seen father yet, I've been here since dawn." she paused to pick a rogue string off her gown and drop it to the floor "Rhys should be here soon, I believe. Poor man, he has to go through so much just to take care of me." Siris' lips fought a frown, her heart filled with old wounds made by her father's actions - or lack there of. He stayed away from her as much as he could, only seeing her by accident or if he was hard pressed to do so. "When you do see father tell him 'good morning' for me, would you?"
Her eyes flicked to the door behind Oliver when she heard a noise and Rhys' warming voice call to her. The healer entered, a person Siris considered a good friend. She chuckled as he chastised her, a common thing among others.

Azure chuckled and shook her head at the absolute disaster that seemed to be happening right before her eyes. It amused her that people put so much effort into treating her like a princess when she herself didn't bother give it a second thought. She lifted a hand and motioned for him to settle back down. "Calm down Porter. I don't need you killing yourself to pay respects to me." She placed her other hand on her horse's flank and stroked softly. "It's a stupid post anyway. If Anything I should be thanking you," she muttered.

Slowly she walked over to where the male sat and crouched down to play with the grass. "Because you do more work than I would ever be allowed to do. A princess should never learn to cook or clean or dress herself. It's all of you who deserve respect." And just barely she dipped her head to him with a small smile on her face and her eyes full of light. "Well, I should probably be getting back home before anyone realizes Dawn and I are gone. I hope to see you again soon.... Croix? May I call you that?" Azure stood back up and adjusted her blue hair in its ponytail feeling that it was too loose against the back of her head.

While she waited for his answer she went back to Dawn and stroked the mare's nose with a calm look. She absolutely loved her horse, it would be obvious to anyone. Yet, as much as her horse was gentle Dawn didn't like anyone. It was hard knowing that Azure would have to spend weeks getting Dawn to even think of liking someone but it was worth it. Especially knowing that she would soon be able to visit Marcus and maybe bring him back with her for a visit.

"Oh that would be nice wouldn't it Dawn? You'd love him. He's different like us," she whispered to the mare who seemed to understand every word. "Oh you will love him. I just know it."

Marcus had woken up a while ago and had taken to sitting by his open window to allow the morning wind to to lift his spirits. It had been dark when he'd first opened his eyes but the sun was up and the sky was blue and he couldn't wait to get out. His hands were already tingling with excitement at the thought of being able to get up in the air. It was all he really needed to have a good day; just five minutes with the clouds. Just five.

But he wouldn't get that until someone told him he was free to leave his room and do as he wished with his time. Which was obvious from the time he got up. His mind was set on only one thing every single morning; getting out in Ostensus and getting into the air. Away from family, friends, people; expectations of everything he was supposed to do and be. It was all gone when he left the ground. It all meant nothing once the wind started blowing through his hair and brushing against his skin. Because he had that ability, he could do whatever he wanted once he was allowed to. If he wanted to leave he could and he knew he should but he couldn't. There was so much left to do.

"So much left."

He sighed and moved from his window to his closet and began to sift through clothing. Trying and failing to decide what he would bother to dress himself in.

Because if he had his way.

Clothing wouldn't really matter too much.

Still, the public demanded he look like he took care of himself. So he would oblige them because he couldn't bother to argue.

It was just easier.

Veta!!

The young girl whirled around, nearly tripping on her long, flowing skirts. Always the graceful one, Veta. "Lucian," she said happily, a smile breaking across her face. "Fancy meeting you here!" Coming towards him, she took in his appearance, noting dark circles under his eyes and an air of fatigue hanging about him. "You look exhausted. Did you rise before the sun this morning? Where's the mule?" Peering around him, she noticed the worked land as well as the lack of an animal. Her blue eyes widened in shock as she realized that her brother had done it all himself. "You did all this? I'm very impressed!"

Stepping around him, she made her way over to the plow, listening to the way the earth crunched under her feet in a satisfying way. There wasn't a sound in the world she loved better, except perhaps the rushing of a waterfall or the babbling of a brook. The world seemed to speak to her, whispering its secrets on the wind. She would miss this. Being the eldest girl, she knew what was coming. Today, was the day that everything would be set into motion - she would have to say goodbye to the world that she loved. She dragged her finger across the plow, pushing back tears that were threatening to force their way out of her eyes and down her cheeks.

"You could have asked for help, you know," she said, turning to her brother with a smile painted across her face. She would never let him see her dismay. "You know I'm not the fragile flower they'd like to make me out to be. I have my fair share of calluses as well." She held out her hands, displaying her worked hands, tough from digging in the earth. "Next time ask, okay?" Glancing behind him at the castle looming in the distance, she smiled again, a small bit of sadness seeping through the action. "Let's go back and eat breakfast, hm? Wouldn't want it to get cold!" Yes, you must enjoy it while it lasts.

Lucian had to repress a grin at her royal elegance… but tripping had its own charms. Laughing lightly, he nodded in agreement “Strange to run into each other out here..” Looking at the field he growled quietly, his eyebrows low in his few moments of fuming “Mule gave up, had to take him back to the nearby servant stables, but I still couldn’t do it all… guess I’m not strong enough yet.

He stood where he was and simply watched as she walked onto the field; he knew she needed this quiet moment to herself, and it wasn’t his place to interfere in it. It was almost sad, no reason to be as the land looked beautiful, but there was a soft aura of sorrow lingering. He knew what today was, and his only coincidence was that the odds of the fire princess actually showing up were slim to none… but his sisters wouldn’t be as lucky. They would have to leave, not that Azura is showing much fear at the prospect, but she was always different.

Looking at her hands he nodded “Oh I know, and I am share your husband will find your calloused hands a wonder” he spoke with a light teasing tone. Truthfully he preferred women who knew what a hard day of work meant, he just liked to tease. Looking back over the field “You know I wont ask for help, im stubborn. Help is beyond me, but we should probably go don’t want to eat cold food” He offered his arm to her “Shall we?”

"I tell him good morning from all in the castle, it seems he only enjoys the company of a select few these days," Oliver muttered, thinking of the King. Thankfully, he thought to himself, he was in that select few, unlike his siblings the Prince and the Princess. Oliver shook the thoughts out of his head as Rhys made his way in, throwing out a comment as he did.

"Rhys," Oliver muttered dismissively as the man entered. He was not a fan of servants, and even the servants weren't fans of Rhys. He was a medical man and medical men were never to be trusted, especially the one that held the life of the Princess in his hands. Oliver did not dislike Rhys for any of those reason, though. He disliked him for being too pale.

"The Gathering is drawing near," Oliver commented. "And that is when Nethaneal and I will get married to the charming Montclair sisters and you will be sent off to the Light Nation to marry the charming Prince with the unpronounceable name, Athanasius Tunid." Oliver paused slightly, before continuing his thoughts. "The Dark Nation is a nation of cave dwellers. It is a dirty little hole and I will be marrying one of their royalty, the term being used in its loosest form. Stella Montclair is beautiful though, so I've heard. All I've heard of Gethen is in comparison to her sister so it doesn't tell me much. And then the Light Nation, the democracy of monarchy. It should be an interesting change for you, Siris. And you, Rhys. Will you stay in the castle or go with Siris once she marries?"

Zenith's hand instinctively steadied himself on the grandiose doors handle. Apparently, his servant had been completely right about the weddings and marriage. The proof stared him straight in the face; if they were marrying Gethen off, surely his father meant to marry them all off. His heart sunk before he steeled himself and gathered his wits, smoothing the front of his shirt before clearing his throat. He hadn't noticed her instructors sheepish smile, but cast him a glance. Truthfully, he didn't know much about the instructor besides the fact that he was a gifted dancer, and Gethen trusted him. They'd never been alone together to strike up a conversation, but he'd seen him quite a bit when he searched for his sister. The measuring tape Hanza totted was nearly a mocking reminder that he too would have to be fitted.

“I thought they would only marry off Stella,” Zenith admitted, eyeing his sister wearily. Both of them believed that their beautiful sister would be the only one promised too someone. Gethen was too preoccupied being her stubborn and headstrong self to bother with a man, and the Prince seemed to have other things in mind. Their father had always pushed them into wanting to join with someone of another nation, but over the years, he'd guessed that their beloved father had given up on them. It wasn't hard to acknowledge the fact that they wanted different things. “Phallus already spoke to you?” He questioned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully before he made an irritated noise. “I really hate that old man, you know,” He added before shaking his head, arching his eyebrows when Hanza requested she remove her bodice. Zenith couldn't help but contain a curt snort before his mouth fell into a line. “It seems their serious about this then,” the Prince admonished, rubbing the back of his neck. Neither of them enjoyed being kept in the dark and he could see that his sister was none too happy that this was happening.

Zenith and Gethen had been the closest growing up, he thought it was because they looked a lot alike—from their dark-coloured hair to their inability to compete with their sister, Stella. It wasn't that they all didn't get along, but it seemed he spent more time gallivanting around the castle with his adventurous sister. Sighing, his gaze went from Hanza to his sister before he nodded, moving towards Gethen. “Clause told me this morning that father intends to marry us all off,” He told her, gesturing as he circled around her. Fiddling with the intricate lace of her bodice, he glanced down at Hanza. “We're we the last ones to know? I swear he did it so we didn't run off somewhere.”

Rhys’ eyes flickered over the Prince and his lips turning downward just slightly as he struggled to keep himself from outwardly showing his displeasure that the boy had beat him there. Dutifully he bowed his head to the younger boy.

“Your highness,” He replied softly, his façade returning to that of coldly frozen ice, his disappointment quickly hidden from sight.

It was almost a shame he supposed, that the King had stooped so low in desperation that he had to take on this little ill-begotten boy as a son. If the boy had any sense at all, perhaps Rhys could have forgiven it. But he was a hooligan as far as the Healer was concerned. And that, unfortunately, was why the King liked him. He was a manipulator, just like his Majesty. But Rhys wasn’t playing the game. He utterly refused. Not when he could see the pain in the Princess’ eyes. Her father doted on the boy like he was his real son. The man couldn’t give his own flesh and blood the time of day and yet…this boy… He just didn’t understand why Siris cared for him so…

Rhys shook his head before his blood began to boil just thinking too much about it. He busied himself preparing the princess’ medicines as the two talked, the simple tasks soothing his troubled heart only for a moment before his sharp ears caught on to the conversation behind him. That too…brought him much pain. He tried to force his breathing to remain calm as he listened to the boy’s question.

“That is for his Majesty to decide I am afraid. I have received no orders in regards to that matter as of yet, your highness. ” Rhys moved slowly from the table, cradling a bowl in his long fingers before handing it respectfully to the girl sitting in the window seat. “Please drink your highness.”

He couldn’t dare admit he was alarmed by the lack of orders and he hid his discomfort as best he could. So far the King had only ordered him to attend the Gathering with her highness but after that…. It made him feel afraid for the small girl. If the Light nation did not have adequate healers and his majesty did not give the orders for Rhys to leave…. The princess could suffer for sure.

Athy strolled out into the palace atrium, still straightening his tie. It was close to midday and the courtyard was already a hive of activity; indeed moreso than usual, with courtiers and officials planning the logistics of the imminent proceedings. He didn't have to walk far before being joined by his footman, Bellamy.

"A timely emergence," the servant said sternly, "there is much to prepare, if you please your highness."

"I'm sure." Athy said without a hint of enthusiasm. "What about Orchid? Is she sapping all our manpower by making us look for her."

Bellamy coughed and replied delicately. "We have some idea where she might be. Let us concern ourselves with preparations for your royal self, highness."

"Sure, sure." Athy sighed, shaking his head. "So who are they giving me then?"

"Well, as you know," Bellamy replied, a little indignant at the prince's irreverence, "tradition holds that the Light Kingdom recieves princesses from the nation of the Watereans."

"That's a darn shame."

"Majesty??"

"Well, I just mean that the Water nation is scarcely the most in need of correcting. They have technology; submersible vehicles and all that. They're just all about art and music. Art and music has a valid place in society. But it would be a better exercise for us to recieve princesses from the Dark Kingdom. They are the one's who really need to learn from us."

Bellamy raised and eyebrows, then nodded his head sideways in erstwhile agreement, before saying, "And I do hear that the Montclair sisters are a comely pair, if you will forgive me a candid observation."

Athanasius shot him a disgruntled look. "Thank you Bellamy," he said, "I'm sure if I was marrying one of them I'd be delighted to hear it."

"Apologies your highness." Bellamy stammered.

"Forget about it," Athy said, staring up through the skylit dome over the atrium. "I trust I can leave the preparations in your capable hands? For my part, I think I may take a stroll through town and see if I can't track Orchid down myself."

Siris smiled warmly as she took the liquid from Rhys. Staring into the mixture, she gathered strenght to best the taste that would follow after swallowing. "It would bring me great joy if you were allowed to travel with me, Rhys. I wish I could take all of you with me," she added, her eyes meeting Oliver's. "But surely father wouldn't allow it." Bringing the bowl to her lips, the liquid poured past her lips, filled her cheeks and after a moments hesitation she swallowed. It wasn't as bad as most of the medicine she would take.

Handing the bowl back, Siris licked a droplet from her bottom lip and nesstled back against the wall. "I wonder what my husband will be like... The only gossip I hear is from the maids that clean my room and dress me, but I doubt everything they say is true. Jealousy can change any story. Have you heard any stories from the Light?" Her gaze searched both her brother's and the healer's. "Would you tell me what you've heard? What is it like, beyond a monarchy?" A childlike curiosity had wormed its way into the pit of her stomach weeks before and only now had it risen in her. What was her future husband known as? What would be expected of her as his bride? How old was he? She didn't even know that. Did he take maids to his bed or did he even have maids?

As a young girl she had dreamed of marriage. The flowers, the bonding, everything. She wanted to be relied on as a woman would be, a wife should be. She wanted a man who would love her, care for her like her father and her mother. How the king adores his wife! He chose to save her over his own daughter. While others croon over Siris, telling her that her father does indeed love her, Siris knows otherwise. But she doesnt dwell on that fact, only the romance in the story. What love the king has for his wife...