Tanya
__**Castle Lazaroth: The Courtyard**__
Like many other castles across the world, Lazaroth's is home to a wayshrine at its center, and surrounded by a garden. Given Lazaroth's climate and weather, oftentimes the garden's flora is bare but not dead. While it doesn't get as cold as it does in the neighboring kingdom of Gantrick, it still gets chilly enough to cause the leaves to fall from trees. At the courtyard's center is a wayshrine, but unlike others found across Lucidien, the magical flame that teleports individuals to and from it is not held within a pavillion. Rather, the flame is held by a statue of a beautiful dark elf woman- a depiction of the first matriarch of Lazaroth, Vannea Telzrar.
Adrienne
Slowly but surely, Feyre would appear before the statue wayshrine, her body forming like stars coalescing into a single being. The air was chilly, but not so much so as Gantrick's. Elora was waiting patiently for the human to appear, and seemed to have already informed the dozen or so Lazarothian guards that had their swords at the ready for potential intruders. Many eyes were now upon Feyre, the second to appear from the wayshrine. The various guard's armor was a shining steel, very disimilar to the knights of Gantrick. While guards from Gantrick wore red, black and white, these men and women were clad in pure silver armor. Additionally, each were adorned with a wolf-like helmet atop their head.

Elora had very little time to warn Feyre, as the moment her body fully apparated into the Lazaroth courtyard a guard was nearly onto her. His sword was sheathed, but it seemed his more interested in assuring the small woman was not a threat to the castle or its inhabitants. The guard reached out to grab the human, but just as he made contact with her chilled arm a third being began to appear behind her in a thick cloud of icy mist...
April
Slowly, Alyus's vision was restored to him. Teleporting by wayshrine was something the king never enjoyed. It made him feel uncomfortable in a multitude of ways. During the fleeting seconds one was teleporting, it felt as though their body was not there. As if they were a cloud of air in a vast sea of stars, which surrounding one while teleporting. While it was beautiful to behold, Alyus could never seem to get used to it no matter how many times he used a wayshrine. As his vision and hearing came back to him, Alyus could hear the muffled voices of strange men and women, one's not familiar to him. It was clearly the guards of Lazaroth, but even still Alyus felt a pang of urgency swell within his chest.

Now fully apparated, Alyus tugged Feyre backwards just out of reach of the guard. Now well within his grasp and pressed against his abdomen, Alyus would ensure no one else would even think about touching what was his. Eyeing the guard with a glare akin to that of a protective animal, eventually Alyus's growled out as he tried his best to reign in his frustration with the handling of Feyre. "I am King Alyus Archaius of Gantrick. I am here to seek council with the Matriarch." The moment the guards laid eyes on the king, each took a slight step back, though none bowed. Their job was to protect the matriarch, not him, and they owed no allegiance to the Gantrick crown outside of the alliance.

_ _
Alyus looked to Elora, who had removed her helmet to ensure they knew she was no threat. There was an exasperated look on her face, and it was clear she tried her best to prepare the dozen or so guards for both his and Feyre's arrival. Being nothing more than a squire, it was clear they cared not for her words of reassurance. With Feyre in his grasp, an arm had settled down and around her to not only ensure no one touched her, but to make sure she had no chance of running off. The encounter had likely frightened her, and Alyus knew this. Past experiences of Feyre's fight or flight kicking in had prepared the king for such a moment. *She'd not get away this time.*

A guard stepped forward, the same who had tried to grab Feyre. *"I will need to inform the queen of your arrival. You will need to remain here until then."* The guard's voice was deep and serious. Ensuring the safety of his queen and kingdom was clearly no laughing matter to the man. Alyus replied, his voice stone cold. "Then do so quickly." Upon the king's words, two guards turned and departed, entering the black castle of Lazaroth with haste. Now that things had calmed down, Alyus's grip on Feyre loosened ever so slightly, allowing her *Some* Freedom of movement. Without looking down, Alyus's voice softened as he addressed the human in his arms. "Are you alright?"
Ramon
At first, Feyre felt as if she was falling. Spiraling into a void where she had no control over where she was going. The experience was extraterrestrial at best, something the human had never been through. Her bones grew heavy within the first few seconds and then– Nothing but airless free flow consumed her. Whispering through a series of lights like a comet, only to be spat out gracefully on the other side. 

When Feyre eventually made it to the wayshrine of Lazaroth, she heard sounds of clattering metal and estranged voices before she ever saw anything. The human's vision stung, perhaps just a first timer's troubles when using such a magical relic no less. Trying to blink away the blur and dizziness in her head, Feyre heard Elora's voice roar amongst the many shouting men and women in the background. With just how urgent her tone struck, it seemed as though things were going awry– Causing the girl to press her fingers into her eyes and quickly wipe away the fog stuck to them. 

As she regained her self awareness, Feyre's eyes stretched into wide orbs of panic the moment she realized the voices were swarms of bodies all around her. Pointed swords glinted under the moonlight overhead, though Feyre didn't have time to wrap her head around the shift in nature's atmosphere when blades were headed for her throat. A hitch formed in the young girl's throat as she staggered backwards a moment– hands instinctively raised at her sides. "E-Elora.." Feyre began, her eyes darting over to where her companion was desperately trying to calm the masses. 
_ _

Tensions grew higher the more the guardsmen rallied in deafening crowds. Between the sheathing of weapons and shuffling of armor scraping against one another, followed by shouting so stern– it was enough to bring Feyre to her knees. The circling only grew tighter as the human's body was forced into submission. She eyed the guards closest to her carefully, their swords even closer. Like a panicked prey encased with their killer, Feyre's breath heaved wildly. Her body beginning to tremble in an itch to run. Nevertheless, the moment one reached out to cease her, Feyre jolted to the side, reaching for her guard in a heap of panic. "**Elora!**-" 

There was no telling just what these creatures would do once they got a hold of her, and every alarm was set off in poor Feyre's mind the moment she felt a grip dragging her back. With eyes wide with fear, the rare-blood was yanked with a force so sudden, it nearly caused her to scream. Just before she could however, familiar hands embraced her as she fell back into the chest of King Alyus. Feyre clasped her palms around his arms instinctively, gripping onto them as hard as she could. Heavy, frightened pants poured from her throat, staring at the many armored knights who held gazes unlike she had ever seen. Most were cold and cruel like the few in Gantrick who despised her presence; while others, seemed just as confused as her. 
 _ _

The bear king's words brought them all to a standstill, their weapons lowering. It was an intense sight to see for Feyre, though her panic had not died down just yet. Her eyes remained alert and pointed, occasionally shifting to the side where Elora stood frozen all the same. Everyone seemed to be on their toes, and rightfully so. Feyre knew little to none about the works of a royal and their neighboring kingdoms, though if Alyus claimed this place to be a friend... It surely didn't seem like one. 

Few words were exchanged between the Lazaroth guards and the king before some turned on their heels to leave. Feyre, still clinging onto the arm fastened around her, was just now starting to realize just how *Tight* Alyus was holding her. She was undoubtedly sure he could *Feel* Just how hard and fast the poor girl's heart was beating– if her trembling body hadn't already given that away. A shift in her stance silently motioned his grip to soften, and as he did, Feyre exerted a stiff, quick sigh. "I am now..." The human managed to utter through a weak tone, her eyes still fixated on the many armored suits surrounding them. Even while frightened, Feyre still managed to but on a brave face for the king.. Something she was slowly learning from him. 
|| Song: 1121 by Halsey |
April
Contrary to Feyre's assumptions, Alyus could not only feel the girl's heartbeat, but *Hear* It. After all, that polar bear within him had the very same senses as the real animal. Feeling Feyre's small hands on his arm did not startle the king. In fact, it told him that Feyre was comfortable and safe within his grasp. The hold he had on the human softened greatly, and as she reassured Alyus she was alright, the king . "They did not mean you harm. They were simply doing their duties as protectors of their realm." Straightening the coat around Feyre's shoulders, Alyus gave a nod to Elora and the young guard came up beside the two of them. "We're meeting with the queen of Lazaroth, Dhakashira Runacri." Explaining what little he chose to to Feyre, soon enough one of the two guards that had departed earlier returned.

*"This way, your majesty."* Gesturing for the Gantrickan party to follow him, the guard turned on his heel and began making his way towards the doors into the castle. Gently, Alyus pressed against Feyre's back to encourage her to begin walking, his arm still around her all the while. Entering the castle, the party would be greeted with a sight much different to Gantrick. The Lazaroth castle was black inside and out, statues of wolves along the walls, paintings of noble women between them. In her short studies, Feyre hadn't had a chance to learn of the other kingdoms, so Alyus did his best to teach what he could as they walked along.

_ _
"Lazaroth is ruled by a matriarch- a queen. In most other kingdoms, a king is the head of the royal household, but not here." Walking through the brightly lit halls, the sun had fully set outside, causing nothing but moonlight to shine in from the occasional window they passed. Guards would pass by, and Feyre would get her first glimpse at the beauty of the dark elves. Their skin a blueish grey, perfect features and tall in stature, most of which being men. The sound of voices approaching caused Alyus's eyes to flicker to the source, and as they rounded a corner in the hallway the Gantrickans were greeted by a small posse of dark elf women, each dressed in lavish and revealing clothing.

*"Well, who do we have here? Oh-!"* One of the dark elf woman, obviously the leader of the little group, quickly bowed low to the king she realized was before her. *"-your majesty. I did not know we'd be having guests."* The woman eyed Elora, then Alyus, and then Feyre, whom she stared at for a while longer. It was clear she was inspecting the woman who she didn't know was a human, and with a raised eyebrow she gestured toward Feyre. *"Are you taking her to see the queen? Looking like that? Tsk- that won't do, Alyus and you know it."* Alyus, who offered a nod in return to the woman's bow, looked down to Feyre upon hearing she looked a certain way. The king new there was no time to prepare her, but perhaps it would be best if she looked at least somewhat presentable to meet the matriarch...

_ _
*"I'll doll her up for you and the queen, don't worry. I'm Avir Nalvaci, maid of honor of the queen. It's nice to meet you, miss...?"* Extending her greyish-blue hand for Feyre to take, Alyus could feel the apprehension growing in the human's muscles. Leaning down, Alyus muttered into Feyre's ear, his voice as calm and reassuring as it could be. "I know her, she's trustworthy. Won't you want to look your best to meet a queen? She'll bring you to me the moment you're ready." Pulling away, Alyus gently pressed against Feyre's back, encouraging her to go with Avir. "Elora, accompany them." Without hesitation, Elora came up beside Feyre and offered her arm for the human to take. *"I got you, don't worry."* Elora muttered, offering a smile.
Ramon
*Queen*. That word constantly sang within Feyre's mind as she listened intently to everything her king said to her. Many of the subjects in the books she used to learn and read did cover the very slim basics of royalty and their positions, what correlation one had to another however, Feyre did not know. *A Queen*, Fey thought, *Would she be as mesmerizingly terrifying as King Alyus?* Part of the human wanted to ask just why both she and Elora were needed to meet a Queen. The rather stressful warm welcome proved to her enough that being a ruler was a tedious job, as knights and guardsmen were still circling the group like a pack of vultures... All eyeing her. 

Deciding to hold her tongue for the most part, Feyre's back arched rigidly when the King pressed his hand against it. She felt like a sheep being herded into a slaughter, however, still she tried her best to shadow the look of shock that still rattled in her wide, turquoise eyes. Golden brown locks bounced around Feyre's face as she pushed her feet forwards, falling in rhythmic step with her guard and protector. From the courtyard that housed the wayshrine, Feyre didn't see much of Lazaroths daunting castle... But now, entering the mouth of its massive doors, the small mortal could be seen gaping at the skyscraper that rose above them. 

Outside, Lazaroth seemed haunting. It's dark overlay meshing with the night as if the darkness had woven the land all on its own. Although, once inside the inky mansion, Feyre had a plethora to behold. While still laminated in dark colors, the castle was beautiful. Statues far larger than anyone in the room towered overhead, leaving Feyre to observe it from every angle possible as they walked by. The series of candle light scattered neatly through the halls did seem to comfort her a bit, the warmth of their glow bringing back the feeling in her anxious, and freezing toes. 
_ _

Feyre tried her best to be mindful of others as they passed by the Gantrickan crew. She learned early on that staring was not found kindly amongst many, even if she meant no harm. Nevertheless, when by-passers did emerge, Feyre caught herself many times lingering on the appearances beneath silver suits, or lavish clothing. These people... They looked nothing *Like* People. With skin in shades of various pale colors, most notably blues and grays– The way they danced under candle light, shimmering in comparison to that of Feyre's human flesh. 

It was hard to not lock eyes with each soul that passed. Even as she did, Feyre felt a tantalizing chill that ached down her spine. Something about the way these elegant creatures simply existed... It was captivating, with just the right hints of danger. 

Scaling onwards through the Lazaroth castle, Feyre did her best to remember each and every tidbit Alyus murmured to her. Gentle nods of acknowledgement would bob from the young girl's head from time to time, eyes still wide in awe about the lively room. Feyre, as always, had many questions filling her mouth. Wondering just why it mattered if a King or a Queen were to rule, and why a woman was such a rare thing to be ordering a land alone. Just as the words began to form on the tip of her tongue however, voices that not only caught her off guard– but the group as a whole – stopped them in their tracks.
 _ _
Rudy
Elora and Feyre held each other side by side as the pair were escorted by the maid of honor, Avir Nalvaci. The series of rooms that passed seemed far more elegant than the last until finally, the dark elf stopped at a tall, black double door. Flicking a silver key from under her sleeve like magic, the maid unlocked the room and ushered the two in. Inside, the room looked almost like an illusion, or a painting at that. Candles danced in the air overhead, while some crowded around a vanity below, all giving light into the space which was surprisingly brighter than the hallways of the castle. 

Golden was the mirror that sat in the corner of the room, its size almost stretching out the panels of two whole walls. In each corner lay something completely different however; a bathing station to the right, and a tall, black oak wardrobe to the left. Leaving the center empty save for a single pedestal covered in cream colored cloth. "We are ready, ladies," Avir instructed abruptly. Elora gave a puzzled look to her companion as there was no one else in the room with them aside from the maid of honor herself. Feyre remembered a few dark elves were with her when they had met, but now... It had seemed like they just simply vanished. 

"*Oh~ i'm so excited!*" A frivolous voice beckoned from behind. When Feyre turned her head to look, she found nothing but the same objects that the room held, no person in sight to be found. Soon however, a shadow bellowed, and out stepped an elven woman of similar features to Avir Nalvaci. Her face was identical, save for the smile that painted her dark purple lips. "*Who are we dressing today? Are they for the Queen?*" 
_ _

Stopping a moment, the new maid fell silent once her eyes located Feyre. The elven woman's pupils expanded in shock at the sight of her, although Feyre only assumed it was because her dress was not fitted properly. Without warning, the drow approached her. Slinking her hands through Feyre's hair as she pulled it back enough to observe her perfectly round, human ears. A gasp played from the woman's lips, as she couldn't tell just *What* The young girl was just yet. She spent a while looking Feyre over before Avir had cut her time short, clapping her hands together for more maids to assemble. "Come now, we have work to do."

They appeared through the cracks from slivers of darkness, just as the first one had. But while Avir solidified into a tangible form, these drow remained mostly made of shadow, their features barely discernible, save for their loose, flowing midnight gowns. They remained silent when they reached for Feyre, and she didn't fight them– As there was nothing to fight them with, and nowhere to run. The hands that clasped around the human's forearms were cool but solid-as if the shadows were a coating, a second skin.

The dark elves wasted no time as they brought Feyre towards the portable bath and stripped her naked, something she herself was still getting akin to. Even in silence, they bathed her gently, much like the maids back in Gantrick. Unlike these maids however, Feyre didn't feel comfortable enough to strike up a conversation. Silence floated in the air, along with the sloshing of bathwater, before the second maid who had arrived finally blurted out the elephant in the room. "Miss Feyre, *What are you*?" 
_ _
Ramon
Looking to Elora for guidance, the young girl surveyed the many faces now staring back at her before she sheepishly answered. "I.. I'm just a human," Feyre began, the steam from her bath now beginning to run cold. Expressions of disbelief and confusion washed over the dark elves, only to vanish into their neutral, lifeless state once more. Feyre felt as though she had said something wrong, and when looking back to her friend, Elora simply offered a weary smile and shrugged. Perhaps they didn't believe her, and if questioned further, maybe Feyre didn't even believe herself..

After the bathing was over, Avir instructed her maids to set Feyre up near the golden vanity to sit and dry off while she looked for the best garment for their new project. Once her body was completely dry, their next step was jarring to say the least. Feyre eyed two of the maids curiously as they came back into the room with buckets of paint, black and blue swirling within the tin can. Atop the vanity soon appeared a series of brushes, all different tip and thickness sizes. "What is this for?" Feyre asked, curiosity filling her soft spoken tone. The maid of honor simply waved a hand from afar, not bothering to look at the human as she spoke, "You must be presented, represented respectfully at that." 

Weary of just what she was in for, Feyre watched as two elven women closed in on each side of her. Dipping their bristles into black paint, and before she knew it, they were painting her fair skin.
_ _

Their brushes were unbearably cold and ticklish, their shadowy grips firm when Feyre wriggled. Things only worsened when they painted more intimate parts of the poor girl, and it was an effort to keep from kicking one of them in the face– A reflex she knew all too well. They offered no explanation for why, no words of comfort aside from Elora or the single cheery maid. Even if Feyre were to flee, there was nowhere to escape to, *Not without King Alyus finding out*. So, the human stopped demanding answers, stopped fighting back, and let them finish.

From the neck up, the pure blood was regal: her face was adorned with cosmetics-rouge on her lips, a smearing of gold dust on the eyelids. Kohl lined Feyre's eyes, and her long thick hair was coiled around a small golden diadem embedded with lapis lazuli. But from the neck down, she was a heathen god's plaything. The design of the paint that the dark elves weaved onto Feyre covered very inch of her skin. Trailing in and out of creases in her skin much like the shadows that danced within the room itself. And once the blue-black paint had dried, they placed Feyre in a gauzy white dress.

*If you could call it a dress* It was little more than two long shafts of gossamer, just wide enough to cover the human's breasts, pinned at each shoulder with gold brooches. The sections flowed down to a jeweled belt slung low across her hips, where they joined into a single piece of fabric that hung between her legs and to the floor. It barely covered Feyre, and from the cold air on her skin, she knew that most of her backside was left exposed. Shocked settled in the pure bloods face as she realized that *This* Was all she was to wear in meeting the Queen– *Alyus*.
_ _

Another cold breeze caressing Feyre's bare skin was enough to kindle her rage. The two drow ignoring her demands to be clothed in something else, their impossibly shadowed faces veiled from any emotion. "Y-You can't be serious," She began, whipping her head around to face the maid of honor. "I can't go out looking like this- Please.. There has to be something else." Avir settled in beside Feyre before directing her attention back towards the large vanity mirror. Placing her head low, aligning it with the humans, the elven woman stared right into Feyre's eyes as she spoke, "*You will be marvelous, Feyre. Trust me. It has been far too long that we have been able to present the Queen with a rare beauty such as yourself, sending you out in anything else would be foolish.*"

Ice wrapped around the human's stomach as the realization settled in. There was no backing out of this now, and by the sounds of it, Feyre had to make the most of her appearance for a Queen she knew little about. Flickering baby blues teetered between herself and Elora through the mirror, hoping to wager just what her friend must think. By the matching expression weighing on her guard's face however, Elora didn't know what to think either. Now, it was just a matter of waiting for the time where Feyre would be escorted to the Queen... And the King.
|| Song: Test Me by Melanie Martinez |
Rudy
*Photo description + dark elves & Feyre's face claim*