Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron or its original Japanese version Golion. Both are the property of their original creators and/or importers/dubbers. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

The Sindariin

Chapter Ten:

Kogane sat dozing lightly in the pilot's seat of Black Lion's cockpit. They were two days out into their week long journey from Altea to Heracles and the Lions were not equipped with long journey stasis functions of any kind neither did they have any sort of warp-drive or faster-than-light propulsion. While the Lions were all space worthy, they really weren't meant for interplanetary travel. Kogane shifted in his sleep and Blue Lion's key fell out of his pocket making a decidedly loud clank on the paneled cockpit floor.

The Golion Chief jerked awake, ready for action.

He glanced around wildly for the source of what had roused him. All the readouts on his monitors read normal. The other three Lions were still with him, there was no unexpected meteor shower, no space debris to collide with, no enemy ships in the area. No danger. Kogane relaxed back in his seat, his hand drifting down to his pocket to run his fingers over the key to Blue Lion, the key to Fala's Lion. It might be a silly idea, but he thought of the small blue and gold pendant as a sort of 'token' from his lady. He was her champion and he would save her from her fell captors with his own two hand, he would would find a way to penetrate the energy barrier surrounding the planet and storm the castle to rescue fair lady from... Wait, where was the key?

The still groggy Lion pilot fished his hand in his pocket in a desperate search for the key. It wasn't there! Blue Lion's key, Fala's key was suddenly missing. Panic seized his heart. The last place he'd had it was in the Control Room beneath Castle Gradam, he had placed it in his pocket after Raible had asked him to keep it safe. From there he had rushed to Black Lion and taken off. That meant that it either had to be in Black Lion somewhere or else he had lost it in the shaft or the tunnel that lead to his Lion.

Kogane bolted to his feet. He stepped around his chair, eyes scanning wildly for the key. He found it within an instant, on the floor by the chair. Relief washed through him and he released a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding in. Kogane picked up the key and held it out in front of him glaring as if to reprimand the trinket for giving him cause to worry.

"Fala..." He sighed. "I hope you're safe..."

...

Fala drifted back to wakefulness in slow, steady stages. The bed beneath her was soft and comforting, the sheet spread over her back light and soothing. She imagined herself back in her bedroom in Castle Gradam back home on Altea. It was a lazy morning and Hys would come barging in any moment to scold her for sleeping-in. The ache in her muscles was from judo training with the other Lion pilots. It was a pleasant fantasy, one she sorely wished was her reality and everything else had just been a long terrible nightmare. But she had to face reality eventually, it was better to have it be on her own terms rather than waiting for someone else to come and rouse her.

The Altean born Galran Empress pushed herself up off the pink bedspread and stepped out of bed clutching the sheet that had been covering her around her still naked from. She padded over to her closet, averting her eyes from the sight of her own reflection. She had gotten a good enough look at herself last night when the wounds were still fresh, she didn't need to see them again now that they were dried to scabs. She pulled the closet doors open wide and stepped down the isle of clothing.

The dresses were all so extravagant, made of heavy expensive fabrics or with equally heavy and expensive ornaments sewn into them. Didn't Sincline think to get her anything light weight and practical? He had known enough to get her exact measurements. She longed for something like the pink one piece jump-suit she'd had back on Altea, with its high collar and long frilly sleeves. Instead she found a light cotton dress with a wide drooping collar that showed slightly more clevage than she would have liked and long trailing sleeves that drooped at the shoulders exposing her bandaged bite-mark. It was the lightest and plainest item in her whole damn wardrobe and the Empress slipped it over her naked form without corset, bodice, chemise, bloomers or undergarment of any kind. She was married to a savage, nobody would care if she dressed as a savage. Besides, she didn't want to run the risk of tight and constricting undergarments and clothing irritating her wounds.

Now clothed, the Empress stepped out of her bedroom to find her maid, Marisol, dozing on the sofa in her sitting room. She thought momentarily about waking her, but what would be the point? The woman would probably just fuss over her, insisting she rest or what not. Fala did not want to rest, she wanted to leave, to get out, to escape, to get away. She tip-toed to the door that would lead out into the corridor and opened it as silently as she could... and was greeted by the back of a guard's uniform barring her path.

The Captain of Fala's guard turned to face her, bowing respectfully. "May I be of service, Your Majesty?"

She slammed the door in her Captain's face without so much as a word and retreated back to the bedroom. The sound of the door slamming had roused Marisol and she groggily rose from the couch to follow her lady back to the bedroom. Fala prowled the room restlessly, like a caged lioness searching for a weakness in the bars of her cell, a slip-up by her keepers. Her eyes once again fell on the window and she revisited her half-backed escape plan from just before her 'wedding'.

"Can I get you something, m'lady?" Marisol asked.

The Empress ignored her, her eyes fell on a heavy-looking marble bookend that was currently serving the purpose of a useless decorative table ornament. She lifted it, testing it's weight in her hands before lobbing it directly at the window. It hit the center pain with a resounding thunk and slid down the transparasteel 'glass' to clatter on the floor.

"Damn." She muttered.

"M'lady...?" Marisol ventured startled by the outburst.

The Guard Captain appeared in the doorway. "Everything alright in here?"

Rage and despair penetrated Fala to the core and she rounded on the Galran guard, focusing all her unchanneled feeling into one single question. "Where's Sincline?"

"His Eminence is currently-"

"Take me to him!"

"Certainly, Your Majesty." The Guard Captain once again bowed. "Shall I wait in the outer room while you prepare?"

"I'm ready now." Fala snarled. She had no real desire to see Sincline, she would be perfectly content if she never saw him again for the rest of her life. But she wanted to get out of her suit, away from this whole damn floor. It seemed she'd spent all her time on Galra in this damn Royal Residential Wing. If she couldn't get away she would at least get out.

"I'm sure you are, Your Majesty." The Captain nodded. "But you might be more comfortable if your maid found you a pair of shoes before we left."

Fala glanced down at her bare feet, her fury momentarily deflating. She looked back up at Marisol whom promptly disappeared into the closet to find a pair of slippers to match her dress. When she had slipped her dainty feet into them the Captain stepped aside, holding the door open for her Empress to pass. The Captain fell into step behind her, following Fala from her suit down the corridor to the lift.

Inside the lift she rested her forehead against to cool metal of the carriage wall. What was she doing? She didn't want to see Sincline! She just wanted to get out of the royal suits for a while. Out of the corner of her eye Fala saw the Captain of her guard take out what looked like a digital pocket-watch (if such a thing existed). The woman sighed at whatever time it was before replacing the chronometer in her pocket. They reached the business wing of the castle and the lift doors parted for them.

Fala stepped out, storming through the halls and corridors with her nose held contemptuously high. She hated everything around her she decided. She hated this place, this planet and this castle, she hated these people, she hated their customs, but most of all... most of all she hated their king, their Emperor. Her eyes burned with loathsome passion when she thought of him, her mouth set in a thin line of a frown. As she passed through the halls people on either side of her flattened themselves against the wall just as they had done for her husband. It was a silly thing to think that this weak little human woman could pose any sort of threat to them but for some reason passers-by felt the urge to flee and hide from her, so strong was the Empress' aura of hostility and contempt.

The Guard Captain remained ever by her lady's side, silent and stoic as they made their way to the Emperor's office.

Fala paused outside the door. She didn't want to see him. She really, really didn't want to see him. One delicate and fair hand drifted up to her shoulder to lightly brush over the gauze bandage there. Perhaps she could turn around and tell her guard to take her somewhere else. She was Empress after all. The Galran woman had to do what she said, right? Fala would say that she's changed her mind. They shouldn't disturb the Emperor, he had work to do. Take me somewhere else.

Before she got the chance to, however, the Guard Captain opened the door for her Empress.

He was standing by the window, leaning over it more accurately. His forearm resting on one of the transparasteel panes, his forehead resting on his forearm, his eyes glaring fixedly on something outside and far away. Fala could see lights slowly rising into the air, a capitol ship taking off from from the castle's own hangar.

"Whatever it is, just put it on the desk and get out." He snarled not bothering to look up.

"I'm not one of your lackeys!" The Empress snarled back matching his tone.

Sincline looked up from the window in honest to goodness surprise. "F-Fala." He then composed himself. "I would have thought you'd be resting. You're strong. That's good."

He wanted to invite her in, tell her not to linger in the doorway but he hesitated. She was strong of character but he was slowly realizing that her body was not quite as strong as the will that drove it. The Emperor did not want to push her, neither did he want to run the risk of hurting her yet again. As much as she meant to him, she also seemed to never miss an opportunity to piss him off and Sincline had long since come to terms with the fact that he did not manage his anger well, often and easily resorting to physical violence to vent his frustrations.

An awkward silence fell between them that was only broken when Fala's Guard Captain entered and shut the door behind her making the couple jump.

Sincline's eyes shifted from his wife to her Guard Captain. "You're dismissed."

The Captain bowed respectfully and left leaving Fala alone with him, her heart sank. Once again trapped in a room with a man she hated.

He pulled the heavy curtains closed over the window and turned to face her, giving her his full attention. His voice was flat and expressionless when he said, "Take your clothes off."

"What!" She hugged herself, crossing her arms over her chest and backing up against the closed office door. "Again? Here? No! Didn't you have enough last night!"

Her heart raced in a panic. Memories of his excruciating vigor flashed through her mind and the scratches beneath her dress, the bite on her shoulder and the tender flesh between her thighs all throbbed with phantom pain.

Sincline did not move. Normally, when his orders weren't immediately obeyed he would close the distance between them and tear her clothes off himself, but the Emperor didn't trust himself to touch her. Instead he said, "Let me look at you."

She made no motion to comply. "And after that?"

"And then you can put your clothes back on."

"Just like that." Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What's the catch?"

"Just let me see your wounds, Fala!" He snarled in impatience. His hands balled into fists at his sides, his sharp nails threatening to tear through the fabric of his gloves and into the flesh of his palms. Still his feet stayed rooted to the spot. He would not allow himself within striking range of her. "Its not like I'm ordering you to get on your knees and suck me off!"

The Empress' cheeks colored at the idea. She had never even considered the possibility of taking his... her mind searched for a word that didn't make her cringe, taking him into her mouth. She remembered his length and thickness, the odd bumps and ridges that textured his shaft, his dark blue balls that hung below it and the thick silver hair around his base... Her stomach gave a sickening lurch at the idea of putting any part of it in her mouth.

Sincline watched an expression of revulsion cross his wife's face and he bit the inside of his cheek. Did the idea of sex with him really so disagreeable? He had always thought his bedroom skills were rather good. The gods knew he'd had plenty of practice!

Fala reluctantly pulled up the hem of her dress, lifting the material up over her legs, her hips, her shoulders and her head. She stood naked save for her shoes before him, still he did not make a move toward her and the Empress was glad for it.

"Turn around." He croaked.

Fala slowly turned in a circle, allowing him a full view of the long gashes that ran the length of her back and width of her buttocks. "Satisfied? Admiring your handy-work? Does it make you hot?"

He ignored her scathing insinuations, asking instead, "Will you scar?"

"I hope so." The Empress growled. "I hope I get gnarled nasty scars that you can't stand to look at! I pray to God that I become so revolting to you that you dismiss me like one of your servants and send me home!"

"I would never dismiss you." Sincline muttered and it sounded as if he were trying to make it sound like a comfort rather than the threat Fala took it as. She slipped her light cotton dress back over her head not wanting to stay exposed to him any longer than she already had to. He sighed in resignation. "You're tired. Neither of us got much sleep last night. Go back to your rooms and get some rest."

"Don't order me around like one of your little harem-slaves!" She snapped. "I've been cooped up there for a week and I'm sick of it. I'm not a docile little princess content to stay locked in your cold dark tower, Sincline. I'm going out and there is nothing you will do to stop me!" At least, she was going to try to get out and she hoped there wasn't anything he could do to stop her.

"You want to go out...? Alright, we'll go out."

Fala bit the inside of her cheek. She wanted out of the castle but she didn't want to go out with him. Her guards, fine. She had grown accustomed to them and didn't mind their aloof company, she might even be able to find a way to give them the slip and get away, get to Amue's rebel group and find a way back to Altea. But with him... With Sincline with her she was sure she's never manage to squirm out of his grip! Forget about getting out of sight or away!

He dialed something on the comm. built into his desk and barked a few short commands in his own language before looking back up at her. "Preparations for our outing should be done by the time we're ready, my dear."

"I'm ready now." She blurted out without thinking.

An amused smirk graced his thin blue lips. "My dear, I would be more than happy if you were to spend the rest of the day with your nipples poking through your dress where I could admire them. But something tells me that you would feel rather uncomfortable about it."

Feeling suddenly scandalized, the Empress's eyes fell down to her chest where she saw that the light cotton of her dress was, indeed, raised in two delicate beads. She crossed her arms over her breast in sudden shame, her face coloring a bright shade of pink in embarrassment and mortification. "Its cold in here!"

"I didn't say it wasn't." That amused smirk of his widened into a grin of devilish glee and the color of Fala's cheeks deepened. He knew just as well as she did that there was nothing wrong with the temperature in the room and he assumed it was a sign that she was not as adverse to his attentions as she acted. "Perhaps we should get you a warmer dress. Hmm?"

...

Sincline removed his torn gloves and cast them into the nearby waste basket, he then examined the cuts he had dug into his palms. Nothing worth getting worked-up over, just cat scratches really. The cuts he had made on Fala's back looked far worse and the heterogeneous hybrid was once again reminded that his darling bride was not as tough as he was. With all his time and experience with humans he should have remembered just how fragile they really were, it was careless of him and he should know by now to take better care of his things. Fala might talk a good fight, but she was still only human and had all the weaknesses and limitations that went along with it. Something that was a 'tiny scratch' to him might be a 'severe gash' to her.

The Emperor mentally kicked himself for his foolishness and pulled a dark tunic on over the simple shirt he had been wearing, new gloves, his sword belt, a red cloak and he was ready for an outing with his wife.

...

The corset Marisol had dressed her in pressed on the gashes on Fala's back, pushing them together, making them sting and making her all the more aware of the damage. Her only comfort was that the constricting article was so tight that there was no need to worry about the wounds reopening at any point on her outing. It just wasn't going to happen. And she had a more pressing concern at the moment anyway. How in the world was she going to evade her husband and manage to escape? And, where was she going to go after that? She had no idea where Amue's rebel group was hiding.

'One thing at a time.' She reminded herself. Yes, the issue of finding Amue and her group would come up eventually, but not if she wasn't able to escape in the first place. Escape now, worry over getting lost on a hostile alien planet later. She turned in the mirror scrutinizing her attire. 'Not practical.' She decided. The long black dress with modest gold fringe she now wore was lighters than most of the gowns she'd worn since arriving on Galra. However, its many long skirts would make it difficult to run in. Likewise her corset made breathing difficult, the last thing she wanted was to faint in mid-escape only to wake up right back in this room with a very pissed off Sincline looming over her.

"Don't I have anything in a 'pants suit'?" She asked.

Marisol shook hear head in the negative. "No, m'lady, but you look lovely as you are. I'm sure His Eminence would be pleased."

Yes, and that was all that mattered, wasn't it. Pleasing his His pompous spoiled Eminence. Fala gritted her teeth and turned back to glare at her reflection as if her mirrored image was somehow to blame for her current misfortune. And maybe it was. Maybe if she wasn't so easy on the eyes Sincline would never have developed this fixation he has on her. She highly doubted he desired her for any reason beyond her physical beauty.

There was a knock on the door of the outer chamber and Marisol left to answer it, quickly returning with Fala's Captain of the Guard. The Empress hadn't seen her since she had been dismissed from Sincline's office and she wondered where the woman had gone during the interim. Her curiosity quickly diminished, however, when she reminded herself that it wasn't pertinent to her escape plans and so she shouldn't care. It was no business of her's what Sinclin's lackeys did with their free time.

"Your Majesty, I'm to escort you downstairs to the car." Said the Captain.

Fala nodded and followed the woman out. The car was a long black heavily armored vehicle that hovered over the ground on small anti-grav pulsers, all windows but the driver's windshield were tinted so dark that to see inside them was impossible. Her Guard Captain opened the car's only passenger door and Fala climbed in to find herself in a very spacious back seat that would have made a cozy sitting room were it not for its other occupant. Sincline sat to one side, an open boom in his lap. He looked up when she entered and motioned for her to sit by him. The Empress gritted her teeth, reminding her self that she planned to escape on this outing and she wasn't going to have to endure him much longer. Her Guard Captain as well as the Master of Sincline's Royal Guard entered after her and took up seats opposite the imperial couple.

The moment all party members were inside the vehicle shot away from the castle like a bullet from a gun. Sincline closed his book, his attention shifting to look out the window as the car moved. Fala recognized the book as the one she had seen on his bedside table and even thought she had just seen it for herself, she still couldn't imagine him as a great reader. It just didn't seem part of his general character, he was just to impatient and anxious for any sort of heavy reading. The conflicting images of him just couldn't be reconciled in her mind and so she set her escape plant to she side momentarily and asked, "What are you reading?"

"This." He held the book in his hands, turning it over to look at an intricate design that had been pressed in to the back cover. "Its a dramatic telling of the exploits of Eliindaal fin Galraprima, the first Emperor of Galra, my ancestor. I suppose you'd call it 'historical fiction'."

"Oh." Fala once again returned to her platform of disinterest, the two images of him had been reconciled. He would be the type to read a book about his ancestor, it wasn't that he liked reading, it was that he found it gratifying to read the exploits of his blood kin romanticized and immortalized in fiction.

"I can have it translated into Altean if you'd like to read it for yourself." He offered.

"No."

The Emperor looked almost disappointed for a moment before his face molded into an expression of indifference and he shrugged returning his attention to the window and the barren landscape that was rushing by, the blank mask of his face reflected in the dark transparasteel of the glass.

"Where are we going?" Fala asked. If she was going to escape she best figure out where she was and what was around her.

"To Nargothrond." He answered shortly, whatever the hell that was.

Nargothrond, as it turned out, was a city. The largest city on the planet actually. It had once been the seat of the Imperial capitol and home of the first Galran Emperor, Eliindaal fin Galraprima. The capitol was moved out and away from the city, however, during the Second Age under the reign of Empress Fingaal ni Undomil. Fingaal had feared that having the Imperial palace and home of the royal family situated in the center of a civilian metropolis was more of a liability than it was a strength. She commissioned a new castle be build far from the city's limits and the old palace be given to Menagroth as tribute to the great God-King. Thus the old palace became the High Temple and Demon Castle where Sincline was born and grew-up was constructed. Fala, knew none of this, of course.

The car passed through dense buildings and narrow streets, neighborhoods as old as the monarchy itself. Some buildings looked new and on the cutting edge of design both in terms of functionality and Galran pop-culture and then others showed their age both in weathering and design, architecture as old as it was alien reflecting a shadow of what the city might have looked like back in the First Age when it was still young, the monarchy still fresh. Fala leaned back from the window as the car slowed to a stop and her Guard Captain and the Master of the Guard climbed out to secure the area for the Imperial couple.

They had stopped at an open-air plaza just outside of a short stone wall that ran the perimeter of an enormous and ornate building that looked big enough to hold both Castle Gradam and Demon castle together with room to spare. The Empress had to pause and admire its domed roofs and intricately carved pillars in the forms people and beasts, all alien to her eyes yet no less beautiful. A single tall tower rose out the center of the compound reaching up beyond the dark layer of clouds where it was lost to her eyes.

Sincline placed a single gloved hand on her shoulder and tilted his chin up indicating the ornate goliath of a place. "Want to see inside?"

"What is it?" She asked in breathless awe. Not even the depressing ever-night of planet Galra could dull the spender of the place and Fala had to wonder at the architect who created it and how someone capable of creating such beauty could come from such a barbarous and savage people.

"The High Temple." He answered simply.

The High Temple, the seat of the gods, Galra's blood-thirsty evil heathen gods. Fala shuddered at the thought that such beauty could hold such vile iniquity within its walls.

"Are you cold, my dear?" Sincline's soft voice whispered in her ear, his warm breath sending a short thrill down that side of her body.

"I'm fine!" The Empress bit out, her cheeks colored a very attractive shade of pink at his sultry voice and intimate closeness. Fala climbed out of the car, feeling suddenly claustrophobic and needing of air, even the vile putrid air of planet Galra; she just wanted some space between herself and him.

Sincline followed her out grinning.

Fala ignored him and cast her eyes about the plaza, getting an idea of the layout and trying best to plan out a possible escape. They stood in a wide open square made of dark stone. A tall fountain made from the same stone was erected in the center of the square several meters from the open gates of the High Temple. A number of people gathered around it, lovers sitting together sharing sweet nothings, children with their governesses tossed coins of silver and bronze in to the water for wishes. It was all so urban, not at all what the Altean-born Empress had imagined a Galran city to be like. Had the people been human rather than reptilian this could easily be evening at any town on Altea. But she pushed that idea aside. Fala did not want to draw parallels between her people and Sincline's, no, she wanted to escape.

The square was to wide and open to make a strait break for it. It was well populated but the crowds were not dense enough to hide her not to mention that a single human would stick out like a sore thumb in the midst of a mod of green, blue and grey skinned aliens. Likewise, aside from the fountin in the center there were no structures in the square, certainly nothing large enough for her to hide behind or provide cover should Sincline's guards choose to fire on her (which she honestly couldn't decide whether or not they would, surely they might try to stun her at the very least). And then the question of where she would go once she had escaped rose in her mind again.

Her husband came up beside her, taking her arm in his. "Come with me, my dear."

Purely for lack of a better plan she allowed herself to be lead through the gates of the High Temple and she uttered a silent prayer to God do deliver her from these workers of iniquity, these bloody men.

The High Temple was just as mesmerizing up close as it was from afar. Each of the massive pillars that supported the canopy overhanging the exterior walkway was carved differently in the shapes of Galran men and women and beasts and creatures which Fala was unfamiliar with and could not name. No two pillars were the same and each one reflected a small amount of personality of sorts. The immense double doors of the Temple were thrown open wide and priests and pilgrims alike strolled in and out of them freely with an air tranquil pride that Fala found disorienting in people of the Empire. There was no feeling of malicious war-mongering here, only calm dignity and honor.

The first few rooms that had originally been part of the Imperial Palace in the first age had been stripped away, their walls torn down when the palace was converted into the Temple. Entrance hall, great hall, ball room and grand escalier had all been combined into one massive chamber as had countless rooms from the floors above. All this had been done to make room for an immense statue of Menagroth. Fala stopped in her tracks at the goliath sized idol. Each of the statues feet was the size of a full grown human man, his legs tall and thick were plated with beautiful blue and green stones as was the rest of his naked body and they perfectly mimicked the scales that the great majority of the Galran people hand fro skin. A cape of solid rubies had been carved for the statue, its thin crimson slabs held together by what looked like a lead plaster that had been painted the same shade of red to better hide the seems. In his hand he held a massive crystal sphere and in the other was a golden scepter topped with a golden hand.

Sincline knelt at one of the statue's enormous feet and began removing his gloves.

"What are you doing?" The Empress asked, her half-baked plans for escape once again forgotten.

Her husband smiled up at her, thinking her question a sign of true interest in the customs of her new people and answered, "I have not yet thanked the God-King for the gifts he's given me." His eyes roved over Fala's figure from head to foot with warm hunger. "I wouldn't want him to think me ungrateful. The gods have a tendency to take back what they've given if they feel their favor is unappreciated."

Sincline drew his knife from his sword-belt and slit a long cut across his palm. He cupped his hand, letting the blood pool there for a moment before spreading it over the statues large foot, his head bowed in prayer. Fala's stomach churned at the action, was she going to be expected to follow these barbarous practices of self-mutilation in the veneration of their heathen gods and false idols? The Empress shuddered at the thought, her mind once again returning to her plans for escape. She walked in a wide circle about the room ignoring the beautiful mosaics and reliefs of scenes from Galran scripture but noting instead three other doors beside the main entrance. She glanced back at her husband whom remained kneeling before his heretical idol. Would it really be so easy to slip away from him?

Fala kept at a slow pace, not wanting to arouse his suspicions should he choose to open his eyes and see her running from him. The Empress slipped inside the room to the right of the Menagroth statue hoping to find another exit, a servants' door or something of the sort. What she was greeted with was not a way out but rather another statue.

What looked like a massive stone wheel had been placed in the center of the room she now stood in, within each rung of the wheel had been fitted a mirror. Each mirror reflected a different version of herself and Fala blinked at the images of her appearing suddenly fat, or unhealthily skinny, unnaturally tall or abnormally short... trick mirrors, all of them. All but one. Had the wheel been a clock the mirror fitted to the one o'clock position was a real mirror and reflected her as she was and it was also this mirror of the wheel that was indicated by a large stone hand plated in the same blue and green scales as the Menagroth statue.

Fala's eyes drifted up above the large stone wheel to see a statue of the Galran god of Doom and Destiny laying atop it. One blue and green stone hand was draped casually over the mirrored wheel, the Wheel of Destiny, with his index finger pointing to the normal mirror, the reflection of the present. The other hand his cheek rested in, supporting his face. The god of Doom and Destiny looked down at her with an amused thin-lipped smile on his face, as if he knew something she did not and he found it very amusing. Leaning against the Wheel of Destiny (and also probably acting to stabilize the eccentrically designed statue) was an iron scythe, the Sickle of Doom.

The Empress tore her eyes from the pagan deity and returned her attention to her search for another exit. The room was circular in design, the walls painted with scenes from what she assumed were scripture or legend (probably both) but there was no other door. With a sigh she returned to the main chamber to find Sincline still kneeling in prayer. Fala never would have taken him for a religious man. But then again, she had never imagined him as much of a reader either and she wondered just what else she didn't know about him. But then she reminded herself that she didn't care and strolled past her kneeling husband to the room opposite the one she had just exited.

In this one, like the previous one, the room was occupied by another statue. This one of a goddess that her Guard Captain had told her was the God-King's ardan, whatever that was. The word had been cropping up every now and again around her and she recognized it only because those she spoke to whom spoke her language didn't translate it into Altean. Sincline had used the term with her as well, calling her 'his ardan' before proceeding to brutalize her in bed. From what she could gather it was something similar to a lover. Fala looked up at the pagan God-King's lover and wondered if the goddess went willingly to his bed or if she had to be forced as Sincline forced her. She stood with one blue and green scaled hand resting on her round hip, the other lifted up to touch her lips as if sharing a sultry secret between herself and whomever else was in the room with the glittering jeweled statue. She looked playful, almost happy. No, Fala decided. The goddess' mythology would probably have her happily laying down her her king.

The Empress turned her attention from the statue to give the rest of the room a cursory glance not expecting much. There were paintings and reliefs of the goddess and the God-King locked in an embrace, of her standing at his left-hand while he reprimanded another god, etc. But there was no other exit, no other way out. She was about to turn back when strong arms wrapped themselves around her and she felt the familiar warmth of Sincline's body pressed against her back.

"That is Aradianya." He purred in her ear and gently nibbled her lobe. "She is Menagroth's consort and the goddess of Arda."

"Oh." His wife replied not knowing what 'arda' was exactly and not caring anyway.

"They say that ardan who share a kiss in her presence will be blessed." He continued coming around to face her, his eyes smoldering with desire.

Fala knew what was coming and she took a step back but before she could get any farther he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back into him, melding her body against him. "You are my ardan, Fala." He whispered gazing down at her, the smoldering passion in his eyes tempered by a look of affection that she felt didn't belong. He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers, not demanding or invasive as he had been the previous night when they had consummated their marriage, no. This kiss was gentle, soft and full of warmth and affection. Feelings Fala wasn't used to experiencing from him. When they broke away he studied her for a long moment as if searching for a change he hoped to see.

"If I were to ask anything of Aradianya, it would be to have you feel for me as I do for you." Sincline said at length.

The Empress studied his pleading eyes and glimpsed the briefest moment of vulnerability behind their golden surfaces and she wondered if he didn't actually love her in some warped and twisted way of his. Perhaps he did. After all, coming from such a repulsive and savage people as he did, how would one express their love if not by power and dominance? But regardless of how the despot felt about her, it didn't change her plans for escape. She still intended to get away and no amount of pretty words from him would change that.

...

After their visit to the High Temple, the Imperial couple was driven to a posh restaurant for lunch. The Emperor and Empress were seated in a private parlor with high backed gold chairs with over-stuffed red velvet cushions. The room was dimly lit in what might have been called 'romantic mood lighting' but Fala viewed it as excellent cover for a possible escape. If only they weren't surrounded by all his guards! Damn.

"I trust we can eat without any repeats of our earlier meals together." Sincline crooned, picking up his knife and fork and cutting off a large bite of the steak that was in front of him.

Fala caressed the handle of her own knife laying in its proper place setting on the table and she imagined stabbing the utensil through her husband's eye. She then looked up at all the guards that surrounded them. Two by the window, one in each corner of the room and her own Guard Captain and his Master of the Guard flanking the door. Attempting to stab him now would be a futile effort. "I can be civil."

"I'm pleased to hear it."

...