A/N: Here it is, the long awaited Incarceron fic. It definitely took me a long time to figure out how I wanted to write them. So, enjoy. And then review, for the love of all that is holy. And I think (if I am both very bored and motivated at the same time) that there will be more. While this takes place after Sapphique, I've started a story of the same pairing that took place during Sapphique. So, enjoy some lovely Keiro and Attia.

And then review.

Enjjoye.

Attia smiled at Finn, eyes shining. He looked down at her, one side of his mouth quirked up in return. He had laughed a little at her joke, she was pleased. His green eyes shone, too, and Attia was just thinking how...good he looked in a prince's clothing. How the position truly suited him.

And then there was Claudia; similarly bedecked in a royal gown with a train that dragged behind her feet. Luxurious, but Attia could clearly see the impracticalities of it. If only her. And all of a sudden, Claudia was there at Finn's arm (to her it was Prince Guiles), curls bouncing around her shoulders and her crown shimmering beside Finn's matching one. She gripped his shoulder tightly, pulled, drug him away from Attia.

But he had turned willingly, ready to be led away to some new princely excitement. Nothing that Attia, the dogslave, could provide for him.

It was reasonable though, this was the way things were meant to be. Because tonight was their engagement ceremony. The warden's daughter was set to marry the long lost but newly found and very handsome prince. No ex-prisoner was about to change that.

So Attia watched as Claudia fussed with his hair while he stood awkwardly, hands placed lightly on her hips. Attia imagined it was herself in the coppery haired Claudia's shoes. If only that were her.

But she was just the little girl from Incarceron, the escapee, the unglamorous girl in the dress that was a bit too big, and it was only natural that she fade into the shadows.

So she did. Attia found a bench, on the outskirts of the great hall, away from the golden-lit center where dazzling couples twirled in time to the fluctuating music. That was not where she belonged. She was meant to stand alongside the aged tapestries and the earthy plants that decorated the walls of Finn and Claudia's palace.

Attia was the watcher, not the watched. And so there she sat, hands folded between her knees, as she does her very best not to compare herself to the rich, royal, and radiant Claudia. She did what she had always done – lived independently in her own thoughts.

But then there was an interruption. Attia jumped, startled out of her requiem, as she felt a firm pressure against her back. The nerves along her spine and her neck and the back of her head told her it was a body. A male body.

Muscles tensed, she sat completely still. Two calloused hands wound their way down her sides, coming to a rest at her stomach. Letting out a tightly held breath, she dared to glance downward.

It was impossible to miss the gleaming silver thumbnail on the right hand.

Keiro.

Attia drew in her breath, prepared to scream, to shout. Keiro was prepared, though. His hand slid up her front, clamping over her mouth with his palm pressed to her lips. The sounds were trapped in her throat.

She turned in his arms, sliding her feet over the edge of the cold stone bench so she could stand. Even then, she noted irately, the top of her head only reached to his chest.

He grabbed her head, and with his strong hands forced her to tilt her chin upward. Attia looked at him, in all of his toned, tanned, blond and blue eyed glory. The boy who was a man, the self-proclaimed winglord. The metal man. The egotistical wonder, he who believed himself to be the perfect male specimen.

He parted his silky lips. A word escaped. "Dogslave," he whispered.

Attia wondered why she didn't feel that familiar surge of hate that normally swelled within her. She wondered if that had been a hint of affection hidden deep in his voice. She felt one of his precious rings pressing into the flesh of her cheek. She ran her tongue over its form inside her mouth.

She pushed against his chest, separating them. Distance. She opened her mouth to speak. "Winglord." The word was not said with reverence.

Fire surged in his eyes. The blue eyes.

Attia had a strange thought, a thought that disturbed her. It occurred to her that she liked fire. So she looked back into Keiro's eyes. With the icy rings around the dark, impenetrable irises.

Just like that, they stepped out onto the dance floor. The dogslave danced with the winglord.

Attia's hands were rested on Keiro's broad shoulders. His hands were rested on her hips, sliding lower, pulling her closer. Keiro and Attia did not consider protocol as they danced. Keiro pulled her hips into his. He thrusted.

They rolled in synchronized movements, no space between their hot and sweating bodies. They kept their eyes locked the entire time.

Attia saw Finn watching. She saw Keiro seeing Finn. They danced harder. One leg was wrapped around Keiro's hip. He supported her weight. They kept moving against one another.

They danced with abandon, not thinking, just moving the way their bodies wanted to. Keiro's hands raked their way through Attia's softly brushed hair. He pulled her face even closer to his. Attia's entire body was flushed, tingling with excitement and anticipation. She clutched him closer.

It no longer mattered who was watching.

The party ended. The passion between them didn't. Keiro half carried, half dragged Attia to his room. He threw her to the bed, pushing her down beneath him, and the zealous actions continued. Fingernails scratched skin, laces and buttons were torn.

Attia was sure that an enormous mess was made.

Keiro's body was heavy and hot above hers. She writhed underneath him, rolling with his motions. Emotions surged through her, fast and untamed. It was violent.

Even as she slept, her heart pounded viciously.