The buildings in this part of the commercial sector were a little too dilapidated for Melia's liking. Of course, she did not doubt Minister Asdis's sense of direction. Although, considering the woman's generally scatterbrained nature, perhaps she should have been more concerned. Yet she followed her guide without hesitation, weaving through piles of debris and occasionally picking up the flyaway documents or dropped pens that Asdis seemed to leave in a trail wherever she went.

It was eerily quiet as the pair turned on to an even narrower street - no merchants calling out their wares or people haggling or children darting in between stalls laden with goods. The only sound was that of the wind as it stirred the heaps of trash. The buildings that lined this road seemed to squeeze together and their architecture, though decently ruined from centuries of neglect, was reminiscent of ancient times. She glanced around at the chipping paint and broken in windows, found herself wondering exactly what she had gotten herself into when she agreed to allow Asdis to take over the process of planning the wedding.

They stopped at the door of a small shack-like store that had a faded purple sign swinging loosely above a cracked window. The Minister of Records smiled widely as she attempted to make a grand one-armed gesture towards the shop, as if the pitiful little place was some haven they had dedicated years of their lives searching for. But the Princess felt a twinge of doubt deep inside herself, a hint of distrust.

Asdis raised an eyebrow at Melia then shrugged ever so slightly. She straightened the sharp frames of her spectacles, pushed them up further on her nose. The movements she made had a fidgety edge to them, as if she too was nervous about whatever was behind the door. Finally, after smoothing the material of her dress multiple times and reorganizing her stack of documents, she pushed the door open and strode inside.

Melia hesitated. Something about this whole situation seemed odd, suspicious even. A part of her felt almost like she was being led into a trap. She had that uneasy feeling, rapid heart palpitations, constricted lungs that made breathing nearly impossible. But she forced those feelings aside and followed the older woman into the rundown shop.

The interior of the place was much nicer than she had expected. The carpeting appeared to be spotless, most likely having been cleaned very recently, if not that same day. And the entranceway was well lit. She allowed herself to relax once she saw the racks of dresses in the next room over, each neatly arranged by size, color, and style. Her feet carried her to Asdis's side as the Minister spoke with an elderly woman by a poorly crafted mannequin. They seemed to be in deep conversation, but their voices cut out as the Princess approached them. The old woman's emerald eyes went wide when she recognized the face of the future Empress.

"Your Highness, this is my mother," Asdis said once Melia stopped walking. "She has been a dressmaker for almost three centuries. We would be honored if you would choose to wear one of her designs for your wedding."

"Well, I shall certainly look around," Melia assured, smiling at the wrinkled, hunched over woman.

"Thank you, Princess," the elder replied, bowing her head in a show of respect. Then she looked up with a crooked grin, gestured toward a group of three racks, each one hung with dozens of white dresses. "Perhaps you would like to start over here?"

Melia nodded and walked over to the racks that the dressmaker had indicated. She ran her hands along the fabric of each gown, appreciating the gentle caress of surprisingly fine silk against her fingers. It took her only a few seconds of this before she found one that suited her purposes. Just a simple white dress. She did not want anything too elaborate, for fear of being accused of trying to hard. This was not an arrangement she was eager to fulfill and she was determined to let her choice of dress reflect that. But Asdis appeared at her side as she removed the gown from the rack.

"That one?" she questioned, one eyebrow raised. Then she set her towering pile of documents and pens and other such objects on the floor, searched through the rack vigorously once her hands were free. She produced multiple dresses and, although breathtakingly beautiful, each was more extravagent than the last - all ruffles and lace and intricate beading with flaring skirts and skin-tight, low-cut bodices. "Try these on. There is a place to change just beyond that curtain."

The weight of the four gowns was staggering. Melia nearly dropped them as she struggled toward the privacy behind the sheet that hung from the ceiling. Once she stood where the others could not see, she allowed the dresses to fall out of her arms, pile up on the floor at her feet. She sighed as she stared at herself in the mirror. Was she really so old that she was required to marry? There were no signs of age, however. Surely, she was still developing - granted, she was in the final stages before full-fledged adulthood, but that did not mean she was prepared to be a wife. Or a mother.

She shivered as she slipped out of her usual clothes, baring her skin to the cool air of the store. Her eyes avoided the mirror and she quickly pulled on one of the wedding gowns in order to cover herself. Unbidden, a thought formed in her head, a nagging question. Would Dunban like her body? Shame flooded through her like boiling water, but she tried to convince her mind that the concern was a valid one. After all, she was uncomfortably aware that her breasts were smaller than what most men preferred. Oh, how she envied Sharla!

When she laced up the back of the dress, she forced her emotions away and focused on fidgeting with the fabric. She smoothed the skirt then turned to look at herself in the mirror. The change seemed unusual, to say the least. There was an elegance that the change of clothes brought to her, almost transforming her into the more mature, Empress-like version of herself. She smiled a bit, ran her hands up the front of the bodice. The silver beads rolled beneath her fingers, but did not seem loose enough to fall off. Pleased by the quality of it, she shifted her attention to the remainder of the gown.

It rested off of her shoulders and boasted a plunging neckline. However, in this case, she allowed herself to appreciate how it exposed just enough skin to keep her husband-to-be interested. She swirled around, watched the skirt expand and flare outward. The dress was relatively simple, yet elegant and had already received Asdis's approval. Perhaps this was perfect...

She stepped out from behind the curtain, a hint of nervousness jolting her physical senses. Gaze falling on the two other women, she opened her arms. "What do you think of this one?"

The elder rushed forward, unable to contain her excitement. "Beautiful," she cried. "Just beautiful! You look like a goddess, Your Highness."

"I absolutely agree, Mother," Asdis said, bouncing on her toes. A shower of papers fell from the top of the pile in her arms and she stooped to collect them with a mumbled apology. Then she stood up straight again, glasses sliding down to the tip of her nose. "That dress appears almost as if it was made just for you - a perfect fit!"

"Then I shall wear it for my wedding ceremony," Melia decided, certainly sounding more confident than she felt.


The rest of the late morning and early afternoon was filled with similar pursuits. She rushed from one place to the next, purchasing and planning and repeating the process indefinitely. It placed great strain upon her, but she knew she could not complain. At least the majority of her duties were taken care of. The cake, the invitations, the seating arrangement, the music - all of that had been prepared. Finalization of the plans would occur in the morning and the rehearsal of the ceremony was set for the evening before the actual wedding. But she tried not to think about that.

For the moment, she was permitted to do as she pleased. And her first order of business was to check on Kallian. Since the encounter from the previous day, she worried that his needs were not being properly met. So she strode toward the infirmary with swift steps, eager to fight for his right to remain conscious. However, when she arrived, his assigned bed was empty. Her eyebrows furrowed as she stopped in the doorway, looking in to the room. All signs of her brother had been cleared, as if his hospitalization had never happened.

"The Minister of Health was not pleased when she saw His Highness..." a small voice said. Melia whirled around, startled, and found one of the healer's assistants standing there. "She demanded that he be roused and released..."

"Thank you," she replied then headed out of the infirmary. Silently, she was grateful to Minister Eirena for perhaps unintentionally saving Kallian from what most certainly had been abuse. But the gratitude soon gave way to suspicion and she found herself wondering why he had been treated in such a way to begin with. Surely, he had no enemies in Alcamoth...

She weaved a winding path through the palace grounds in search of her brother. Yet, she could not locate him. After nearly an hour of aimless wandering, she lowered herself onto a garden bench to rest. Perhaps he was locked in a meeting somewhere, unable to break free and see her. Perhaps simply waiting for him to stumble upon her would produce better results than actively seeking him out. So she settled into the smooth stone, admiring the flowers that surrounded her with tiny bursts of color.

The sun shone down on her, bathing her in the golden rays. It felt nice to be able to relax like this. And it most definitely was not an opportunity that she often had. Therefore, she was determined to enjoy it to the fullest, despite the anxiety that bubbled in the pit of her stomach. She closed her eyes against the light, leaned back. The position left her heavily reliant on her sense of hearing to detect danger, leaving her fairly defenseless in the case of a sneak attack, but she could not bring herself to care. Although, she did wonder where Catlaina had disappeared to. The woman failed to report for duty that morning - an occurrence that was far from common. She simply hoped that her guard was alright.

"Mind if I join you?" Her eyes snapped open at the sudden sound, glancing around rapidly in search of potential danger. When she discerned that her life was not at risk, she let her gaze settle on her husband-to-be.

"Of course," she replied as she scooted over to one end of the bench. Dunban sat beside her with a bit of a sigh. Turning her head slightly, she scrutinized his expression. The Homs man had quite a few matters weighing on his mind, she decided after a moment then allowed herself to look away. "It is a beautiful day today..."

"Indeed," he said, but Melia noticed that he did not follow her gaze. Instead, he remained completely focused on her. She angled her body towards him, a question on her lips, but he spoke again before she could voice any sort of concern. "We must speak. There's... something I should tell you and I don't think it can wait."

"What is it?" She could not keep herself from appearing curious, yet deep down, she was more nervous than she intended to let on. The tone of his voice... Perhaps he would tell her that he was already married or that he had been having second thoughts about their arrangement. Or perhaps he simply did not find her beautiful, intelligent, and strong enough to consider her as his life partner. She prepared herself for the worst, body tensing in worried anticipation.

She could shoulder whatever burden he unloaded upon her, she knew she could. But, at the same time, she wondered where she could place it when the time came to set it down. It could very well muck up her life if she did not find its proper home and that was not something she was prepared to deal with. Yet, on this day, she considered herself fortunate, for another interruption prevented Dunban from speaking.

"Sister, I have been searching for you since I was released from the infirmary," Kallian said as he approached the bench with a handful of guards following behind him. They all seemed faceless; none of the five were Kennet - something Melia worriedly took note of. His gaze shifted to Dunban and he paused to consider his next words, a strange expression on his face. "I did not know you were keeping company with the Homs hero..."

"It has not been long," she said, hoping to reassure him. "Other duties have held my attention for the first half of the day and I am only just having the opportunity to rest now."

Her brother did not reply immediately. There seemed to be a sort of calculation occurring behind his eyes, but he did not put words to any of it. Surely, he knew that he was not required to share such thoughts with her, especially ones he considered to be sensitive or inappropriate for discussion in the presence of outsiders.

"May I ask what kept you occupied, then?" he said at last, once again becoming his cheerful self. Except something seemed off about it, as if he did not truly feel as happy as he looked. "I had hoped we could have had lunch together, but you were nowhere to be found."

She found herself hesitating, unwilling to share her recent planning exploits with him. A small voice in her mind reasoned that right then was not the proper time to tell him that she had been making preparations for her wedding. But she was reluctant to blatantly lie to him. How could she do such a thing when she had preached to him the importance of being open and honest to the ones he cared about? She knew she had to follow her own advice, yet felt a sharp spike of fear stab at her heart. There was no guarantee that he would understand. Surely he would, though... So she decided to take a chance.

"Minister Asdis and I were making arrangements for my wedding," she said, staring up at him with an almost defiant glint in her eyes, daring him to speak ill of the plan.

"What are you talking about?" A faint redness flooded his features as the words registered in his mind. Tension drew his body in tight lines, the softness of an older brother's portrait long forgotten. Without a doubt, she knew he was angry, but she did not know how to calm him.

"Dunban and I are to be wed the day after tomorrow," she explained. The defiance she once felt shriveled into nothing and, in its place, she felt timid, worried that she had crossed a line somewhere. Her brother appeared truly enraged, causing her to unintentionally shrink away from him. As if that could save her... Dunban's hand came to rest over her own, which was still braced against the bench. A show of support. Melia's cheeks tinged light pink at the thought.

But her brother noticed the interaction with eyes darkened by unbridled fury. He took hold of Dunban's collar, dragged him up from his seat. The Homs man stumbled, caught off guard by Kallian's sudden action. Quickly regaining his footing, he pushed the Prince away from him lightly, ever mindful of the guards who were all watching with hands on the hilts of their swords, prepared to draw in case of danger.

Melia cringed as her brother turned from Dunban and directed the full force of his anger at her. He stepped toward her, menacingly, as if he might soon become violent. Fear drained all the blood from her face. She had never felt like this with Kallian before. He had never threatened her when they were young and certainly, such an incident had not occurred in recent times. She stood slowly, edged away from him, distinctly feeling the cold stone of the bench brush against the back of her knee. A part of her nearly made her legs give out, let her settle down again and pretend that nothing was wrong.

He did not stop his advance, did not seem to understand that he terrified her. His hand reached out to grab his sister's arm, but Dunban stepped between them, effectively blocking the Prince's attempt to take hold of Melia.

"Do not touch my bride. Your Highness." The honorific was placed at the end as an afterthought and there was no real respect in the words. In fact, they sounded rather poisonous. Like a baited trap, the Homs seemed to be trying to lure Kallian in to trouble of sorts. Yet his expression of shock at the High Entia's next words disproved that theory.

"Fight me," the Prince demanded, drawing his sword from its scabbard. Melia gasped, fought the urge to simply run from what was about to happen. In the stunned silence, he reclaimed control over himself and forced his rage down from an inferno to a low burn. "Let us have a duel, hero of the Homs. If you should defeat me, you shall have the freedom to do whatever you wish with my sister." Then he smiled, unsettling, crooked, as if he were a man possessed by insanity. "However, if I defeat you... Well, I think I shall kill you on the spot!"

Dunban glanced back at Melia, perhaps searching for something within her eyes. Then, having located only fear, he turned once more to Kallian and nodded. "I accept."

The Prince nodded once then turned to the guards. He instructed them to not interfere regardless of how the battle seemed to be progressing. They replied their understanding a bit grudgingly, but they were sworn to obey him. Unless, of course, he was endangering himself. But a duel was a different matter altogether. It had been a part of the High Entia tradition since the ancient times. In the last few centuries, however, the practice decreased in frequency. The only one that Melia herself had ever witnessed took place about fifty years prior - in her childhood. She did not remember the outcome, though it was surely unpleasant.

Silently, the guards backed away, clearing ample space for the duel. She felt her muscles freeze with each step they took. The bout had yet to begin, but she already feared the results of it. Her mind and heart screamed in unison for once, attempted to warn her that she would soon be witness to a death in the capital. But she knew she had no power to prevent it. With all of her remaining strength, she set herself down on the bench unsteadily.

"You may have a moment to prepare yourself, of course," Kallian said as he returned his attention to Dunban. "Being a man of honor, I shall allow you this without question. Please inform me when you are ready to begin."

"I assure you, I need only enough time to draw my sword." He did so in a single, fluid motion, grasping the hilt in his good hand. Then his dark eyes met the Prince's teal ones. "I am ready."

"Then let us settle this."

They circled the allotted space, each one waiting for the other to make the first move. Warriors had special fighting instincts, Melia noted, ones that came from years dedicated to both training and real battle experience. She knew she was still in the process of developing her own, but even she knew that, in an honest duel, it was easier to respond to an opponent if they attacked first. And that knowledge merely made her anxiety for the beginning of the skirmish increasingly intense. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip unconsciously.

She set her gaze on Kallian, analyzed his expression. His eyes were dark and teeth clenched with anger and concentration. But, like their father, he was not known for being patient. The self-control that remained within him wore thin then broke. Before his sister could even recognize that break, he lunged at Dunban, beginning the duel with a wide horizontal slash. The Homs dodged easily, but made no counterattack.

After a few more lunges that were meant to test the opponent, the battle took off at breakneck pace. When one jabbed, the other dodged. When one sliced, the other parried. Steel clashed against steel repeatedly, a sound that rang out in the once serene air. Melia winced at each meeting of the swords, concerned for the safety of both men. Any tactical error could mean the end of a life and that was not something she wanted to experience. But a piece of that stuck in her head, making her wonder. The death of one of the fighters was expected in a duel like this. Kallian knew that too. So, did he intend to lose purposefully?

The thought made her stomach churn. Perhaps she should interrupt, put an end to the foolishness. They could very easily have an adult conversation about the engagement, after all. But she knew stopping the fight before it naturally concluded went against the centuries old law that had been put in place by her ancestors.

Dunban seemed to be making no effort toward offense. He allowed the Prince to rain down endless attacks without a single response of his own. Always just parrying or dodging. Melia watched him with interest. There was a grace in the way he moved, a force that captivated her completely. She found that she could not tear her eyes away from him. Her gaze focused on the muscles in his good arm, the way they strained as he fought off the weight of Kallian's attacks. Sweat began to drip down his face and she studied that as well. The little clear beads fascinated her. What was a natural bodily reaction seemed almost mystical when it happened to him. She felt a slight pang of desire coil in her stomach, throb dully. And she became quite aware of a hollow ache somewhere inside her body. How peculiar...

It had to have been scientific - those strange things she was feeling. A pure wish to better understand all of the slight differences between a Homs body and a High Entia body. That was the only way to describe her overwhelming urge to place her hands upon Dunban, feel how his muscles tensed and responded to physical stimuli. She shook herself back to reality.

Her brother's attacks seemed to land less frequently now. He staggered and cursed and sweat relentlessly. It did not take professional scrutiny to determine that his body neared the point of collapse, that he could not push himself much further. Dunban, on the other hand, appeared only slightly tired. He pressed forward then, as the High Entia attempted a final slash, he kicked the Prince's legs out from underneath him. Melia distinctly heard her brother exhale sharply when his back hit the ground. She leaned forward, anxious.

The Homs rested the tip of his blade against his opponent's throat. Turquoise eyes glared up at him, slightly dazed but quickly regaining focus.

"Go on then," Kallian panted. "Kill me. It is your right, as the victor."

But Dunban shook his head. He sheathed his sword in its scabbard then offered his hand to the fallen Prince who hesitated before allowing himself to take it. The Homs dragged the older man to his feet. "I won't kill you," he said, all too aware of Melia's sigh of relief. "That is not the man I intend to be."

"I... I understand. Thank you..."

"Your Highness." One of the guards stepped forward, gesturing for Kallian to approach him. "Perhaps you would like to retire to your chambers for the day? You have strained yourself too far..."

The Prince nodded his reluctant agreement then glanced at Dunban over his shoulder. His eyes were defeated and, when he spoke, his voice sounded too quiet, broken. "Take care of her..." Without waiting for a reply, he allowed the group of guards to guide him away from the scene of the duel.

Melia stood, walked until she paused at Dunban's side. They watched her brother stumble off toward the interior of the Imperial Palace in silence. A small part of her wondered what thoughts passed through his mind right then. Yet, at the same time, she doubted that she truly wanted to know. If he was proud of his bloodless victory or ashamed that he allowed such a thing to occur, she tried not to care. He deserved the same privacy that she had, in regards to emotions. She would not pry.

His fingers brushed against the back of her hand and she looked up at him, surprised by the sudden contact. A faint grin played at his lips, capturing her full attention. She watched as his mouth formed words, but could barely hear them, enthralled as she was. Then her focus returned. Embarrassment rushed through her as she realized what she was staring at. She forced her gaze to shift upward to Dunban's eyes. Slowly, he turned his body to face her. Without consciously deciding to do so, she did the same. That little smile faded and a serious expression took over. He placed his good hand on her arm, caressed it with his fingers. Shivers ran down her spine at the feeling, but she did not have the time to think about that.

"I hope you don't doubt me, Melia," he said, voice a soft murmur. "It is my solemn vow that I shall care for you until the end of my days. Kallian won't ever need to worry about your well-being while I am your consort. I promise."