Terra beamed as she walked down the cobbled street, bare feet against warm stones, waving to the cheering people around them. Her own fellows followed behind her, a procession she led, a procession of peace! The pale skinned men and women of the Rive Highlands celebrated, even though just a month or so ago, they had been mortal enemies. But her people would have shared in the same jubilation were their roles reversed, for they were not cheering their enemy, they were cheering peace! Peace after so long!
Banners were unfurled, doves set free, petals tossed joyously into the playful wind, carrying their fragrance along in a wonderful, colorful rain.
"Whoah..." Said Narra, Terra's best friend, who stood close by and to her left.
Terra nodded, reaching up and catching pedals out of the air, fitting them into her hair, before turning and placing some among Narra's chin-length locks of black. Narra blushed but did not stop her, carrying Terra's Staff, and the gem growing out of it. Normally Terra would never allow anyone to carry the stave, as it was, in many ways, the source of her super natural powers. But by allowing Narra to do so, she was able to keep her weapon close, while sending the message that she did not come to wield it.
"It's hard to believe that these...are really the people we have been fighting." Narra said softly.
"Yeah, under the old king, I thought they were demons, but now...how can I think that now?" Terra said with a wide smile, catching more petals out of the air and placing them among her long white hair, and Narra's black hair.
The old king of Rive had died, and the Prince, upon taking power, had approached her people in humility, for peace and forgiveness for old wounds. Her people, the stoics of the Deep Woods, were not easily convinced, but after conferring silently with Terra's father, and succeeding his tests, the new Prince had emerged with his blessing!
Things had been progressing smoothly since then, and now they came to what was hopefully the final peace summit, this one hosted here, in their Capital. Such was the gesture of trust between them, and the war had not progressed a step in either direction since the prince had come before them. Terra had spent so much of her life hating the Rivans, yet with that unraveling, and seeing their displays of generosity, she had felt that hate dissolve utterly. They were not so different after all, and seeing it, knowing it, seeing it, was good.
"Reveling in the coming peace already?" Said a voice from behind her.
The Youngest Guardian, the last after her father, turned to regard her elder, adopted brother. He had neither the blue eyes, or white hair which singled Terra and her Father out as Guardians, but they shared the same tan, and a love for their people. She smiled at him and tossed her hair playfully.
"The peace is already here! All of this, it's just technicalities." She said back to him.
He grinned a cold grin, and shrugged.
"Well, at least one of us is optimistic." He muttered.
"What's that?" she called back, and he shook his head.
"Nothing little sister. Lead on Terra, to a brighter future. It's what Guardians do."
She grinned widely at him and proudly puffed out her chest as she led her people up the streets of the capital, and towards the large, spike shaped castle, high on the central hill. They were met and greeted by the guards there, who saluted and bowed to her, and the diplomats. Terra entered with a bounce in her step, brazen where the others in her cadre were more stoic and refined. Such was the way, for she was a Guardian, an incarnation of nature itself! And today the sun smiled, today the world spun rightly!
They were escorted into the inner garden to await the arrival of the prince, and Terra kneeled in the loamy earth before her, admiring both the flowers which they had cultivated here, and the weeds they had failed to suppress. The stone work around them, the skylight that allowed the sun to rain despite the high walls, and these new, exotic plants, it seemed to Terra that she was discovering something novel and interesting every moment she was here, and she felt it could not be but a good omen! The prince had been so reasonable in all of these endeavors that she could not imagine anything preventing their people's peace now.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Prince Thran watched the milling, waiting forms of the stoics from above, through a high window. He smiled, an expression riddled with a long restrained depravity, one which was pulling at the bindings which had held it taught for so long, fraying them, but not yet free. Not yet.
In particular, his eyes fell onto The Guardian, the Last Guardian, the young woman named Terra. All of the savage stoics wore leathers, hides, and scant straps as clothing, and she was no different, though her own garment was composed mostly of feathers, her sun kissed skin shamelessly displayed in a way which any proper Rivan woman would be ashamed to.
Thran had always been tantalized by that exotic shade of skin, and that shameful fashion of dress, or rather, undress, which was common to all of her people. But Terra was even more tempting than even the next most beautiful savage, as she was not only a gorgeous specimen herself, but truly novel, special in many ways. Her and her father were the last of the ancient Guardian lineage, and both bore stark white hair, and bright, deep blue eyes, which set them apart from the others of their kin, who bore dark eyes and black hair instead.
And that was not even mentioning her feral beauty, a beauty he admired even then. She was not so soft and plump as the majority of the Rivan women who were considered beautiful in his land. The prince watched as she bent to admire a flower, and squatted to view its roots. Her whole body was toned with lean, tense muscle, her every movement an accentuation of athleticism totally absent from all but the warriors among his people, and Rivan women did not fight.
Combined with her natural, magical potential, it was all the prince could do not to salivate as he watched her, so unknowing of the truth, and of his plans. He would soon own her, and then tame her and her deliciously feral body. He would make her obedient, and then, he would make her his queen. His gorgeous slave Queen, bent entirely to his will, controlled by her senses by his every given whim. And by owning her in that way, he would do what his foolish father never could. He would conquer the Stoics, and create a lineage which would rule a kingdom composed of both of their lands.
His plans had been working like magic, ever since he had managed to connive his way into a meeting with the Chief of the Stoics. Now that man was dead, replaced by a magical facsimile who had done his every bidding. And yet, he could not have gotten this far, not without inside help. Had the stoics been as pure and true as they pretended to be, then he would not have been able to hide his lies for this long, but, luckily, power lust crossed all races, and he used it to his advantage.
He had painstakingly constructed his trap, assembled the bait, and woven his illusion over all of it. And all of it, every last step had led to this wonderful moment. Terra was virtually his already.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The conference was almost over, and the time spent had been time beloved! Terra had made no secret of her daily explorations of the castle, and her many mischiefs in between. Her presence was more a symbolic one, lending authority to all that happened here, but the negotiations were largely done by those who had come with her, but not by Terra herself. She teased the guards, stole odd pastries from the chief, climbed and crawled along the roof and battlements, and frolicked among the inner and outer gardens.
Though many faces would redden when she was about, she found it was mostly because of the prudish nature of the Rivans, who wore so much cloth and garments that Terra truly wondered how they could comfortably move about! Aside from that, they seemed to loosen up eventually, taking joy in Terra's constant levity and upbeat nature, even their hardest shells cracking over time as she lingered and wandered about the capital for nearly two weeks.
The people referred to her as princess, a concept that was not exactly the same as being the chief's daughter, but was close enough. Many Rivans had blue eyes, just like her, but none had her white hair, though their own skins were far paler than hers. When Terra would come by the river, she would giggle and tell stories in clumsy Rivan-speak to the girls of the nearby school, who would braid her soft, white hair, and listen carefully to the legends of Terra's people.
When she would run about the work yards and begin inspecting the crates, the men would take it upon themselves to eagerly explain the name and function of the many odd devices and inventions that she would unearth, placing them back when she had finished marveling over them. The jeweler in the town twisted a small twine of silver into the semblance of a branch, and affixed it to a steel bracelet for her as a gift. The flower woman would always break from her deliveries to tie roses into her hair, and the baker always left a few tarts out where she could easily steal them.
