A/N: Hey guys, time for a belated Valentine's Day special with everyone's favorite Khura'inese royal family; though there's one thing you should know before reading: this chapter takes place on December 11, 2027, so Rayfa is 13 in this one. I couldn't find a good place to state this, so I decided to put it here for reference. With that said, enjoy the chapter!

December 11th has always been a day of great joy for the people of Khura'in. For on this day, the Khura'inese butterflies flock en masse to the mountain range near Mt. Poniponi to mate, coloring the sky a mix of vivid pinks and purple- a truly breathtaking sight for those who witness it. That's why this day is known as Mitamah Day and is viewed as a day of love and romance, a day where couples shower each other with gifts, go on romantic walks up the mountains, and snuggle as they watch defense attorneys getting beheaded; making it not all that different from Valentine's Day in the West.

Yes, it's a wonderful day where people enjoy life to the fullest… unless your name is Inga Karkhuul Khura'in, who would always spend the day stuck in his private quarters doing paperwork and dreading any sexual advances from his dominatrix black widow of a wife; for not only was this a day with love as its epicenter- something that Ga'ran had managed to weaponized against Inga and would use against him on a weekly basis- but also their wedding anniversary, the worst day of Inga's life.

"Stupid Mitamah Day…" Inga grumbled to himself as he stamped an execution paper and put it on a pile in the corner of his desk. "Stupid Ga'ran, forcing me to hide in this room like a dog...! Though it's not like things are any better at work with my love-struck goons. I swear, the second Mitamah Day rolls around, it's as if every stinkin' member of this country's police force loses their spine!" Inga raised his hands and started doing high-pitched impersonations of his pathetic subordinates. "'Oh, I've gotta go pick up flowers for my honey-pie!', 'Oh, I should end the day early and have a picnic with my lil' boo-boo-bumpkin!', 'Oh, I should have a romantic candlelit dinner followed by a night of passionate lovemaking with my yummy-wummy-gummy-sugar-puss-tootsie-doll-face-daffodil-lollipop!"

Inga growled as he throws his stamp on his desk. "What the Ga'ran's palace! Why are those guys so love-struck? Haven't they learned the evils of romance after being forced to watch that sex tape showcasing the nightmare that was my wedding night- an unholy byproduct of this damn holiday!?" Inga pinched the bridge of his nose and let out an exasperated sigh. "Maybe the boob tube can help get my mind off today…" The Minister of Justice noted as he got up from his desk and plopped down on his bed, grabbing the remote control off of his nightstand and turning on the television.

On the current program, a large, muscular man with flowing, long black hair stood in the middle of a busy street, clutching the hand of a shapely woman wearing a tight black dress who was much smaller than he was.

"Oh, Gertrude! My love for you is brighter than a million stars and deeper than the deepest of oceans! I would wander the hottest of deserts, the coldest of tundras, and busiest of discount stores a thousand times over with no hesitation if it would allow me even a brief second of staring into your heavenly green eyes! Please tell me that you feel the same for me, for surely I would die a slow, painful death without your warm embrace!" The man overdramatically said, a tear streaming down his cheek as he got down on one knee.

"Oh, Harold!" The woman wailed, tilting her head upwards as she put the back of her hand on her forehead. "My heart screams the same and more; but alas…! My father…! He would never let us be together, for he is the leader of the Osaba Waba Kingobo Robot Pastry Chef Ninjas, the sworn enemies of your father's band of polar bear-riding Feline Viking Pirates who play basketball on the weekends! Alas, dear Harold! Our love has been cut down in its prime- like a fallen leaf; it has been crushed beneath the iron-shod feet of a cold, cruel, uncaring world!"

"Then run away with me…!" Harold proclaimed, his cheeks glowing red with passion. "Run away with me to Milan where we can love each other without fear of the wrathful, ever-vigilant eyes of our warring families!"

"But, Harold! What about your job as a real-estate agent/poet? And what of my father? I can't just leave him and break his heart!"

"But what about MY heart!? Can't you hear how it beats for you like a tom-tom drum?! If our families can't accept our pure, beautiful love, then they are all dead to me! As for work, we'll open up a produce stand on the Boulevard, next to the fountain- just like the one we discussed about in the coffeehouse on that rainy Tuesday afternoon."

"Oh, Harold!"

"Oh, Gertrude!"

The couple embraced and proceeded to engage in a sloppy, passionate kiss, prompting Inga to roll his eyes.

"Oh, my stomach... I swear, Moments of Our Days gets cheesier with each passing season. Let's see what else is on…"

Inga changed the channel to a movie depicting a girl with a bob cut wearing a white dress with pink polka dots standing in an alley between two stereotypical greasers- complete with white t-shirts, black leather jackets, and large greasy black pompadours.

"Ay! Dean, you can't go hittin' on Denise! She's my gal!" The rail-thin adolescent standing in front of the girl stated with his arms outstretched.

"I didn't see no sign on her sayin' she was yours, so she's not yours, Alex! OH!" The pudgier boy with baby cheeks standing behind the girl retorted, pointing both fingers out as if he was directing air traffic.

"Ay ay ay! I don't need no sign 'cause our relationship is set in stone! We smooched at the Snowball Dance- just ask Steve, Petey, or Crustache Chris."

"That's nothin'! We shared an ice cream float down at Arty's, which includes whip cream and a cherry." Dean smugly retorted with a smirk and crossed arms.

Alex limply waved his hand in dismissal. "Oh please, she only did that 'cause she felt sorry for you. As for me, Denise introduced me to her ma who said, for all to hear, that I am the best boy that she has ever met and that I was made for her daughter. Did Denise introduce you to her ma?"

"Well… Well…" Dean stammered, his face growing red with irritation. "Well, I own a Cadillac!"

"Oh, like your lame-ass caddy holds a candle to the Mercedes."

"Well at least my Cadillac doesn't smell like it was ****** by a candy cane, unlike your Mercedes!" Dean retorted.

Alex rolled up his sleeves as his nostrils flared. "Oh, you wanna fight!? You wanna fight!?" The skinny greaser yelled as he marched towards the pudgier adolescent.

"Bring it on!" Dean angrily bellowed as he puffed out his chest and spread out his arms.

"Hold on, boys." Denise assertively sated, extending her arms to the side in order to separate the two adolescents. "You wanna fight for my heart, then you gotta do it like men- with dance."

"Alright." Alex smirked before repeatedly squatting while pumping his fists in the air. "Like what you see? Compared to these sweet moves, Dean's as dry as his ma's lasagna!"

"Oh! Now you're gonna get it!" Dean yelled as he put his hand behind his head and proceeded to repeatedly pelvic thrust.

"Why am I even watching this?" Inga asked himself before changing the channel to an episode of the Plumed Punisher.

In the current scene, the evil version of Dhurke from the show- complete with his crimson-red eye, large horns, pointed teeth and ears, and oversized silver hook on replacing his left hand- stood atop the peak of Mt. Poniponi with his second-in-command, Datz Are'bal- who the show portrayed as a short, hunched-over man with a goiter hump, a left eye the size of an eight ball and a normal-sized right one, and a long forked tongue hanging out of the right side of mouth. And behind the two men was a large computer with a large butterfly net-like device mounted on top.

"Mwahahaha! Enjoy your Mitamah Day while you can, pathetic fools of Khura'in, because it will be your last after I execute my FIENDISH MASTER PLAN! Datz, activate The Device!" Dhurke bellowed at the top of his lungs.

"Yesss, Masssta Dhurke! Datz wills obey!" Datz said with a voice scarily similar to that of Gollum from Lord of the Rings as he clicked a few keys on the device's keyboard.

Suddenly, the device became active, sweeping the net across the nearby mountain range, trapping each and every butterfly and sending them into a large jar at the device's base.

"Mwahahaha! Excellent! Without the butterflies, the land of Khura'in will be left without love- a void that I will immediately fill with the spirit of revolution!" Dhurke proclaimed with sinister glee, raising his fist in the air as an over-the-top explosion went off in the background, prompting Datz to enthusiastically clap and pant.

"Yesss! Yesss, Masssta! Unleash the pretty, pretty unyielding dragon upon the peopleses! Rain fire and death from above like springtime rainsies on the flower!"

"I wouldn't be so sure of myself if I were you, traitor!" A female voice yelled off in the distance.

"Who dares to defy the great and all-powerful Dhurke Sahdmadhi, the infamous unyielding dragon?!" Dhurke snarled as he scanned the area.

"Funny, because all I see is a dirty viper hiding in the brush." The Plumed Punisher sneered as she appeared on top of one of the nearby mountains.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my old nemesis, the Plumed Punisher… Come back to relive the shame of Mitamah Days past?" Dhurke sneered.

"You might have kidnapped me when I was a young girl and subjected me to your vile genesplicing experiments; but by fusing my DNA to that of Lady Kee'ra's, you have created your undoing!" The Plumed Punisher stated as she jumped down from the mountain peak onto the summit of Mt. Poniponi with Dhurke and Datz. "Cease your plans now or the only chance you'll have to yield will be before the Holy Mother Herself!" The heroine threatened as she pulled out her dagger and assumed her battle stance. "And trust me; Her Holiness shan't be a merciful as I."

"Mwahahaha! If the Holy Mother is as weak and stupid as my late wife Amara, then I have nothing to fear; but if you love the Holy Mother so much, then allow me to introduce you to her personally. Defiant Dragons, give the Plumed Pity here a one-way ticket to the Twilight Realm!" Dhurke shouted as he pointed at the Plumed Punisher, prompting a dozen Defiant dragons, who more or less resembled ninjas, to appear in several puffs of black smoke before charging at the heroine with outstretched arms.

Though despite their best efforts, the goons were swiftly defeated with a few flashy punches and kicks from the Plumed Punisher, rendering them unconscious.

Datz, who was hopping up and down like a person standing on hot concrete, tugged on his boss's sleeve while pointing to the limp, motionless bodies of his comrades. "Masssta Dhurke! Ssshe whop-whop Defiant Dragonsss! What we do now?"

"I'll tell you what we'll do: play hardball! Second wave, attack!" Dhurke bellowed, prompting at least 50 Defiant Dragons to appear before the heroine.

As the Plumed Punisher was busy fighting the next wave of minions, Dhurke's hook morphed into a cannon aimed straight at the heroine.

"Say your prayers, Plumed Prissy!" Dhurke smirked as he fired the cannon at the Plumed Punisher, hitting and entangling her in a silver net that, despite her best efforts, she could not free herself from.

Dhurke proceeded to saunter over to the Plumed Punisher, who, much to his delight, was wriggling and writhing in the net like a freshly-caught trout. "Squirm all you want, Plumed Pity, that net is made of pure, 100% Dhurkium- an element that I had my lab boys develop to neutralize your Kee'ra DNA and render you powerless."

"I'll never be powerless, Dhurke, for my strength doesn't come from Lady Kee'ra, but from my devotion to the people of Khura'in!" The Plumed Punisher snapped.

"Mwahaha! Save that load of malarkey for when you meet the Horrid Mother." Dhurke said as his cannon morphed into a gun.

"Favorite part of the episode coming up in three, two, one…" Inga counted off on his fingers, a grin forming on his face as he leaned back on his bed to get comfy.

"Not so fast, Dhurke...!" A loud, booming, authoritative voice bellowed off in the distance, causing both Inga and Datz to flinch.

"No! It can't be…!" Dhurke cursed through clenched teeth.

"Minissster of Jussstice Inga!" Datz wailed as he literally shook in his boots.

"That's right, vile cur, it is I, Minister Inga Karkhuul Khura'in…!" Inga- who was depicted as insanely muscular, chiseled, and well-endowed man with a voice as smooth as silk- proudly proclaimed as he marched up to the mountain's summit. "And your end is nigh!" The minister stated with an assertive finger-point, creating a powerful gust of wind that knocked Datz over.

"Ha! Not if my Defiant Dragons have anything to say about it! Oh, boys…" Dhurke snapped his fingers, prompting his minions to charge at Inga.

"Nice try, Dhurke, but your ruffians are no match for the intelligence and strength of Khura'in's noble, benign police force. Now men, show them what happens when you go against our glorious nation!" Inga boldly ordered as an army of futuristic-looking police officers in spotless white outfits stormed the summit and proceeded to fight the Defiant Dragons, leaving Inga to deal with Dhurke.

"You're done, Dhurke! Note your surroundings- there's nowhere to run. Just turn yourself in and our wise, benevolent queen will have mercy on your soul and will try her hardest to help you reform your evil ways. So, what do you say?"

Dhurke sniggered, a toothy grin forming on his face. "And stop my plans for conquering this puny kingdom? Not a chance! A dragon never yields…" The rebel leader's hook morphed into a sword. "even with his dying breath."

Inga shook his head. "I may be a gentle scholar at heart, but you've forced my hand." Inga said as he took his cigar stamp out of his mouth and held it at his side, causing a green laser of spiritual energy to emerge from its tip.

Inga and Dhurke then proceeded to engage in an epic sword fight with much jumping, side-stepping, and guttural screams. Suddenly, the real Inga's television watching experience was interrupted by Rayfa, with red cheeks and tears streaming down her face, wailing as she stormed into his private quarters and jumped on his lap; burying her head into the Minister's shoulder and drenching it with tears. Inga, seeing his daughter in distress, turned off the television and stoked the back of Rayfa's head.

"Rayfa, what's with the tears? And shouldn't you be with your mother at Mt. Poniponi for the Mitamah Day Ceremony?"

"I- I was, Father, and I was enjoying it… until… until this boy showed up…" Rayfa sniffled, swiping a hand across her face to wipe away her tears.

"A boy…?" Inga growled, his rage building up at the prospect of some gutter trash brat breaking his sweet little princess' heart. "What's his name and what does he look like!? Because when I'm through with him, he'll be regretting the day he ever chose to hurt you, see!"

Rayfa shook her head. "No, Father, he was a very nice boy. I'm upset at what Mother did… The things that she told him…"

Please tell me that Ga'ran didn't… Inga shook his head to get rid of the bad thoughts that were brewing in the darkest corners of his mind. "So what happened?"

"Well, Mother and I were attending the ceremony, watching the butterflies majestically flying from mountain to mountain in a breathtaking display. Mother didn't whisper under her breath that my ugly face would scare the butterflies away- so that was a plus. And as we were greeting the people, a tall, handsome boy with nice, combed hair and the cutest little dimples you could possibly imagine approached me. We talked for a bit, having a pleasant conversation on a variety of topics- my experiences with the Divination Séance, our favorite stalls at the bazaar, and the Plumed Punisher, to name a few- and ending with him asking me, like a gentleman, if I wished to take a stroll through the bazaar with him. I was about to take him up on his offer when, out of nowhere, Mother laughed and said 'We must be getting out of touch with beauty standards in this nation. For since when did short and under-endowed become the new tall and voluptuous?'."

"Aw, I'm sorry, Rayfa…" Inga said with a touch of pain in his voice.

"Oh, and it gets worse, Father!" Rayfa fumed as tears started to well up in her eyes. "Mother then went on to tell that boy nasty lies about me- like how I refuse to bathe, or how I have webbed toes!" The princess wailed as she resumed her crying. "F-Father! Why must Mother be so mean to me?!"

"I don't know what to say, Rayfa, that's just how your mother is. See, she's like one of those expensive chocolates- hard and fancy on the inside, and edible on the inside. She was probably trying to protect you in her own cold, aloof way." Yeah, Ga'ran's like one of those fancy chocolates, alright- the gross coconut one that you want to throw away, but can't because the person who gave it to you will kick your ass if you do.

"No, you try to protect me from boys. Sure, you may yell at them and spout deaths at them to make them cry, even making one boy wet himself, but you never belittle me. Mother, on the other hand, takes advantage of every opportunity to berate my appearance, insult my intelligence and skills, and strike me down when I start to develop even the slightest hint of self-confidence!" Rayfa yelled, clenching her fists as her left eye began to twitch.

Add in Ga'ran shoving her fist up where the sun doesn't shine at least four times a week and you have my life. "Listen to me, Rayfa. Those insults your mother slings at you are false, see? She's just jealous that you have so much going for you: you're young, smart, and really making progress with your spiritual powers- not to mention, you're a beautiful girl who could have any guy she wants."

"Really?" Rayfa asked in a vulnerable tone, looking up at her father with big, green bloodshot eyes.

"Of course! Why do you think I'm so leery of boys? Why, when I was your age, if I saw a girl even half as pretty as you, I wouldn't have been able to contain myself. See, I wouldn't waste even a second going up to her and saying-"

"Father, this discussion is starting to become rather uncomfortable." Rayfa flinched.

"Right, sorry about that…" Inga said, nervously scratching the back of his neck. "Just got a bit carried away, see?"

"It's okay, Father, your kind words really helped brighten my mood. Thank you!" Rayfa chirped.

Inga chuckled as he ruffled Rayfa's hair. "Don't worry about it, Rayfa! I'd be a real crummy dad if I couldn't pick my little girl up when she's down! And don't ever hesitate to come to me if you have any concerns or questions. My door's always open."

"Okay, Father, so how did you and Mother meet?"

Inga flinched. "W-Why do you want to know ancient history like that?"

"Well, it's Mitamah Day, and I'm curious to know what it's like to find and experience true love. So, when did you and mother meet and how'd you know that you were destined to be together for the rest of your days?"

Easy. When a member of Amara's royal guard held a sword to my throat when the priest asked if I'd take Ga'ran's hand in marriage. "Well, Rayfa, it's a long story, so I'll summarize it for you. See, it all started 26 years ago on this very day. I-"

"Father?" Rayfa interrupted.

"Yeah, honey?"

"26 years ago? But you would tell me when I was five that you were married to mother for over two decades. How is that possible?" Rayfa asked, cocking her head in confusion.

"Look, a year with your mother feels like about one and a half. That's why I created Ga'ran years- you know, like dog years."

"Oh, okay. Continue on then."

"As I was saying, it was 26 years ago on this very day…"

December 11, 2001 10:00 p.m.

Behind Tah'veerne's Pub

I was 19 and had accomplished my dream of becoming a prosecutor a mere four months prior. I may have been relatively new to the legal world, but I possessed skills beyond my years. Armed with a quick wit and more bravado than even your mother's giant bloomers could hold, I was able to make a name for myself as the King of Convictions, on account of my high win record Yep, no attorney could even dream of holding a candle to me… except one.

His name was Dhurke Sahdmadhi, the very same guy who went on to kill Amara and form that meddlesome little terror group known as the Defiant Dragons. Now, if you think me becoming a prosecutor at 19's impressive, Dhurke became a defense attorney at age 18. So given that we were both talented attorneys, the Prosecutor's Office would always pit me up against ol' Dhurke in the courtroom.

Our trials were always heated and fierce; going on for days at a time with neither side giving an inch. That's how Dhurke developed that 'a dragon never yields' mantra, on account of him never giving up even when I had presented more than enough evidence proving the defendant's guilt. Poor Amara would have to do at least a hundred Divination Séances a day due to Dragon Boy's nitpicking. It soon got to the point where people started calling us the Ying-Yang Attorneys due to how our strategies were so similar, yet our purposes were so different- cancelling each other out like the light and the dark; but on that fateful Mitamah Day, little did I know that I would discover just how dark Dhurke truly was.

I was young, famous, and wealthy- the golden combination for any swinging bachelor to attract the ladies. So, with the desire to meet someone special, I went over to Tah'veerne's pub down by the bazaar for their annual Mitamah Day Celebration, where the drinks were half-off and the magatah'mans were free. But as for me, I never got to even enter the building, because before I could walk in through the front entrance, I heard a scream coming from the back. Now, most people would just pretend that they didn't hear anything and continue on with their lives, but not me! I was a man of justice and valor who would rather die than abandon someone in need! That's why I didn't even hesitate for a second to rush over and see what was wrong.

Well, good thing I did, because to my horror, Dhurke was gripping Amara's wrists and pushing her back against the building; grinning as a flare of sinister delight filled his eyes at the sight of the young queen squirming and begging for her life. But Dhurke was just as heartless and despicable then as he is now- threatening Amara to falsify the Divination Séance in court the next day so his guilty client could walk free. The nerve of that guy! Doing that in front of your mother, who was cowering off to the side as that brute bullied her older sister.

So with my finger pointed, I yelled "Hold it, Dhurke! Let Her Merciful go!", which prompted the villain to push her off to the side like a piece of trash as he glared at me, growling in frustration that I got in his way.

Dhurke then went on to chew me out- saying how I was a pansy, and that the only thing that matters in a trial is winning, and how I'd been a thorn in his side for too long and that he was going to get rid of me right there and then. Suddenly, Dhurke raised his hands, and, summoning the evil forces of the Devil, deceit, and telemarketing, fired bolts of blue lightning from his fingertips at me.

Thankfully, the Holy Mother was on my side, and with her powers I was able to counter Dhurke's demonic lighting with holy green bolts from my own fingertips, the two attacks meeting between the two of us in a ball of bluish-green energy. And for a bit, our powers were evenly match, with neither side giving an inch. Though unfortunately for me, that didn't last, for Dhurke drew deeper from his wellspring of telemarketing evils- trying to sell me a gym membership for a place that was 45 minutes away from my house and that I'd never use because I'd be too tired by the end of the day- and increased the intensity of his powers, causing his vile lightning to creep closer and closer to me despite my best efforts.

But even though Dhurke may have had the advantage, I wasn't giving up. I'm Inga, and I'd never go down to some punk like him without a fight, see! That's why I sent out a telepathic message telling every child in Khura'in to send me their energy; and thanks to those children, I was able to strengthen my attack and overwhelm Dhurke's- sending the ball of energy right back at him and engulfing his body in a mixture of spiritual energy and a sales pitch for an ab buster that everyone knows doesn't work.

And when the dust cleared, Dhurke was drastically weakened- his right eye blown out and his left arm completely paralyzed. He couldn't harm anyone any longer; bit before I could call the police and have him brought to justice for his dastardly deeds, the dirty snake used the last of his energy to throw a smoke bomb on the ground, covering the area in a thick black mist and fleeing the scene during the chaos.

I was then about to give chase after Dhurke, but I was quickly stopped by Amara who wanted to thank me for saving her and told me that she would grant me one favor- virtually anything that my heart desired. Now, being the humble man that I am, I told her that it was nothing and that she didn't have to do anything for me; but Amara wouldn't have any of that and demanded that she repay the favor to me somehow. And it was at that moment that Ga'ran ran up to me and grabbed my arm, insisting that I marry her.

Now, I may have not been exactly ready for marriage at the time, but who was I to deny a member of the royal family. And so, on that fateful Mitamah Day, I married your mother at the palace.

"And the rest was history. The end. So, did that story answer your question, Rayfa?" Inga asked.

"I'm a little confused, Father. If Dhurke was so mean to Aunt Amara, even threatening her wellbeing, how did he convince her to marry him?"

"Your aunt was called 'Her Merciful' for a reason, see? She was the kind of person who could forgive anyone for anything- even a lowdown crook like Dhurke. That, and Dhurke was always good at crying crocodile tears when he needed to. Heck, you should have seen how that blowhard would start blubbering like a baby whenever I'd whop him in court!" Inga sneered.

"Um, Father… Can I ask you for a favor?" Rayfa nervously asked, casting her eyes down at Inga's comforter.

"Ask away, I'm all ears."

"Is it alright if I stay here with you for a while, at least until Mother calms down? You know how cross she gets when someone leaves a gathering early."

"Don't I know it… So, wanna watch some t.v.? Maybe some Plumed Punisher? Inga suggested as he picked up the remote control.

A smile spread across Rayfa's face as her eyes filled with joy. "Must you even ask, Father?"

Inga turned on the television and proceeded to watch the episode of the Plumed Punisher that he was previously watching, which was showing Inga using his cigar stamp/laser sword to destroy Dhurke's insidious device and free all the butterflies. And while it felt good to see Rayfa enjoying herself, laughing as she cuddled with him on the bed, Inga couldn't shake the horrible memories of what really transpired on the night he met and married Ga'ran as they flooded back to the front of his mind like a raging river.

December 11, 2001 10:00 p.m.

Tah'veerne's Pub

A few points of Inga's story were correct: he was a young, famous prosecutor and Dhurke was his rival; but contrary to what he told Rayfa, Inga was by no means the assertive bulldozer-type person that she knew him as. In fact, Inga was very much the stereotypical nerd- rather introverted, dedicated to his studies, and would wear a brown suit no matter the occasion. Sure, he had a knack for soccer and was always the top player on his school's team, but when it came to anything above the knees, Inga was the very definition of awkward- his upper arms, which were usually pressed against his sides, made him look like a raptor, his posture was stiff like that of a toy soldier's, and he had the unfortunate habit of having slight bladder leakage whenever he was a little nervous. Not full-on soaked pants, but a little dripping that was noticeable only to those observing types who would not hesitate to announce it for the entire world, earning him the childhood nickname of Tinkle Tinga and plenty of hazing from the other kids. It also didn't help Inga's case that he was the type of person in his youth who was afraid of his own shadow and would respond to most conflicts by running away. However, when it came to court, Inga was a lean, mean prosecuting machine- never one to back down and quick to smash the defense's argument to pieces with solid evidence and/or the Divination Séance and/or a witness testimony.

Even going to Tah'veerne's Pub on Mitamah Day was something that Inga would never do had it not been for his new friend Dhurke dragging him there against his freewill. Yes, because Inga and Dhurke were pitted against each other for so many cases, Dhurke- being the kind of guy that he was- made it his goal to be Inga's friend and to help the shy prosecutor come out of his shell, which, was still a work in progress.

Tah'veerne's Pub, despite the name, was more of a dimly lit dance club rather than a bar, offering very little in terms of drinks but more than making up for it in the variety of music, which consisted of different genres from all around the globe. And no matter what time of year it was, the dance floor was always packed with people of all ages and sizes shaking what their momma's gave them; though the scene was much more intimate on Mitamah Day, with the bulk of the music being slow songs and the place being bathed in a pinkish-purple light.

Though amongst the crowd of excited youths trying to find love, Inga stood out like a sore thumb, nestled in a corner as his body twitched and his eyes nervously darted around the room- a direct contrast to Dhurke, who leaned back against the wall as he casually sipped on his ginger ale.

"D-Dhurke… I… I don't think I'm cut out for this. I'm going to go back home and kick around my soccer ball." The young prosecutor announced as he tried to make a dash for the exit, only for Dhurke to stop him in his tracks by placing a firm hand on his shoulder and turning the prosecutor around to look him in the eye.

"And miss out on the fun? The evening's still young, my friend, and this place is crawling with fine, fine ladies… Fine with a capital F and a capital INE!" Dhurke grinned as he gestured to the multitude of young, attractive women on the dancefloor.

"Easy for you to say, Dhurke. No girl worth her salt would ever waste her time on me." Inga sullenly commented, lowering his head in shame.

"Don't talk like that, Inga! You've got what it takes!"

"Oh? Last time I asked a girl out, she screamed in my face and kicked me in the crotch before running away in terror." Inga moped.

"Well, in her defense, you did jump out in front of her from an alley while yelling 'Love me!'."

"I couldn't help it! That's the only way I know how to make friends!" Inga facepalmed and let out a long dejected sigh. "Oh no… I'm going to die alone and nobody will know about it until my corpse is all gross and decayed two days later!"

"Buck up, Inga!" Dhurke stated, slapping the prosecutor on the back. "Now what am I always telling you?"

""If I scratch it, it's because it itches!'. But what does that have to do with picking up girls?" Inga asked with a look of confusion.

"Not that, the other thing: 'A dragon never yields.'" Dhurke said with a tone of authority, holding his arm outward and clenching his hand to make it look like a dragon's maw. "Even when wounded, a dragon bites down hard, and never lets go till its dying breath. It glares, it roars, and latches its jaws firmly onto its prey till the bitter end. That's how you find the truth in both court and love!"

"So I have to… bite them?"

"No! You have to be confident and determined! Girls can smell a defeatist attitude from a mile away and will never like a guy who doesn't like himself. Just show them the side of you that I see from the defense's bench- the one that's always fighting to the bitter end to debunk my zany claims. Where's that Prosecutor Inga?"

"Busy at home sorting through the mountain of bluffs you said just this morning." Inga retorted. "Plus, do you really think that it's a good idea dating a girl that you meet at a dance club? Seems kind of… shallow, if you ask me."

"Nonsense! We just have to find you the right girl!" Dhurke turned Inga so that he was facing the dancefloor. "Now, which one of these fetching young women catches your eye…?"

As Inga scanned the room, he was shocked to see none other than Queen Amara sitting by herself at a table, enjoying a glass of lemon water.

"Her Merciful!" Inga exclaimed with wide eyes. "What's our nation's young queen doing in a place like this?"

"Answering my prayers to the Holy Mother." Dhurke looked upward and snapped his fingers with a grin to thank Her Holiness for doing him a favor before returning his sights to Her descendant. "Man, look at her… so graceful… so refined… so svelte… I wouldn't mind her channeling my spirit, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, she's really pretty." Inga meekly stated, his cheeks turning slightly red.

"Then go talk to her. Ask her out on a date!"

"Me? Talk to Her Merciful? Are you mad!?"

"Hey, you're a prosecutor, you've talked to her before, right?"

"Yeah…" Inga nervously scratched the back of his neck. "But that's strictly about the Divination Séance for the current trial, not about personal stuff. She wouldn't want anything to do with me outside of the courtroom."

At that moment, Amara waved to the duo and flashed them a sultry grin.

Dhurke slapped Inga's upper arm. "'Not interested', you say! She's digging you, man! She wants a flinga with Inga and to do something nasty with her finga!"

Inga shuddered at Dhurke's choice of wording. "First off: ew… And second: not that I doubt your 'elegant' wording or anything, but how do you know that smile wasn't for you? Or if it was just a sign of gas?"

Dhurke rolled his eyes. "Yes, Inga, because gassy people wave and give you bedroom eyes. Now quit stalling! She wants your dragon and she wants it now!"

"But what if I'm right and Amara has her royal guards come out of nowhere and beat me up? I don't think that it would help my image much if I'm prosecuting in a cast and as an enemy of the State." Inga wryly retorted.

"Look, if it'll make you feel better, if anything starts to go down, I'll jump in and help you; but we'll need a code word to make it sound less obvious- something that you'd use in day-to-day conversation. How about…" Dhurke cocked his head to the side and tapped his chin in contemplation. "cinnamon?"

"Fine. If anything goes awry, I'll yell cinnamon and you come in to get me out of there. But if I'm right and she's not into me, you're going to be making this up to me in spades by going five cases without bluffing!" Inga snapped.

"Scout's honor. Now get out there and make me proud!" Dhurke stated as he pushed Inga in Amara's general direction.

As Inga slowly made his way to Amara, he mumbled to himself about what he'd say to the queen, when suddenly, he bumped into Ga'ran, who was making her way back to her older sister.

"Hey! Watch where you're go-" Ga'ran's scowl morphed into a sultry smile upon noticing that the offending party was Inga. "Well, what do we have here? Prosecutor Inga being somewhere other than the Prosecutor's Office or the courtroom. Isn't this a treat."

Ugh! See, Dhurke!?This is what happens when I try to hit on girls. I go for the attractive sister and instead I get the ugly one! Okay, Inga, you've been through worse. No need to call in Dhurke yet; just act natural and slowly creep away… "Oh, uh, hi, Prosecutor Khura'in. Yeah, I came here with Dhurke… you know, cutting a rug, living life to the fullest and whatnot. Well, it's been nice talking with you, but I really have to go."

Inga tried to scurry away, but Ga'ran stopped him by grabbing his hand with a cast-iron grip that could give a bear trap a run for its money and pulled him towards her.

"Spare me the formalities, Inga, we're not in the Prosecutor's Office, so feel free to call me by my first name: Ga'ran!"

"Uh… Thanks, Ga'ran…" Inga said with a tone of hesitation.

Ga'ran proceeded to tightly hug Inga. "You know, the last time I saw you outside work was at my mother's funeral last month. You looked quite handsome then… just as you are now." The royal prosecutor purred.

"Yeah, real sorry about Queen Reepa'layce. She was a good ruler. It's a real shame that someone had the audacity to poison her drink. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go mourn for her somewhere that's not here." Inga tried to squirm out of Ga'ran's arms, but to no avail.

"Oh please, Mother wasn't all that great. Oh, she loved Amara to no end, but she couldn't care less about me. That's why my sister got to inherit the throne while I'm but a mere prosecutor! The nerve of that woman…"

"That's… That's too bad." Inga commented as he started to break out in a cold sweat.

"Ah, Prosecutor Inga, always one to be cordial to others… How cute… Now dance with me!" Ga'ran demanded as she started to violently rock Inga back and forth, who, thanks to his completely stiff posture, was more like a plank of wood than a dance partner. "You're a really good dancer." The royal prosecutor purred.

"Thank you." Inga nervously squeaked out.

"What's the matter, Inga? Do you require a beverage to wet your parched throat?"

"Yeah, Ga'ran, that'd be real swell. Maybe something with CINNAMON!" Inga yelled out, but after waiting a few seconds, Dhurke did not come.

"Yeah, CINNAMON may not be something that most people put in their drinks, but what can I say? I like CINNAMON!" Inga proclaimed, and much like the previous time, Dhurke was nowhere to be found.

"Inga, why you yelling 'cinnamon' at the top of your lungs? It's rather obnoxious." Ga'ran complained.

"I just can't help it that I like CINNAMON! CINNAMON'S my favorite! Can't get enough CINNAMON!" Inga bellowed at the lungs, only to once again be greeted with no Dhurke rescue party. Where the hell are you, Dhurke…!?

Inga scanned the room for his friend, only to find the Dragon Attorney talking to Amara- laughing and having a jolly good time while he left his friend to a fate worse than death.

That ASSHOLE! Leaving me with crazy Ga'ran with her dominatrix outfit and spider hair just so he can get his unyielding dragon tamed! Inga thought to himself as he shot his 'friend' a death glare, which went completely unnoticed.

"You know, Inga, this may be the spirit of Mitamah Day talking, but something tells me that we were destined to be together. Wouldn't you agree?" Ga'ran asked as he pressed her head against Inga's chest.

"Well, the thing is, Ga'ran, I'm not really looking for a relationship right now."

"Then why are you out on the dance floor wearing a suit that complements your eyes?"

"Well, I wanted to speak with your sister-" Inga was cut off by Ga'ran shrieking and digging her long fingernails into Inga's chest. "Uh, Ga'ran, your kind of hurting me."

"Why am I not surprised? Everyone wants to speak with Amara because she sooo pretty and nice and smart and understanding! But does anyone ever want to speak to me? Does anyone ever want to speak with Ga'ran!? NO! To everyone in this kingdom, I'm just Amara's little sister who's only use is to make her look better by comparison! It's just like when we were children and Mother would always tell me 'Why can't you wear your hair straight like Amara? She wears it so nicely.', or 'Oh, Ga'ran, you dance as clumsily as a warbaa'd is loud! Why can't you be as graceful as your sister?', or 'Stop torturing small animals, Ga'ran. You don't see Amara doing that, do you?'! Well newsflash: I'm pretty, I'm graceful, and I am a lovely person! What does my sister have that I don't!?" Ga'ran yelled, glaring daggers at Inga.

Oh, I don't know... friends, no restraining orders, SANITY! "N-Nothing! She has absolutely nothing on you!" Inga stuttered, terrified by the prospect of what an off response could do to him, given that Ga'ran's hands were digging into his side and that her knees were dangerously close to an area that he would prefer to leave untouched.

"Damn right, she doesn't!" Ga'ran fumed. "But after tonight, I'll have something that my sister doesn't: a husband! And guess who gets to be the lucky guy?" The royal prosecutor purred as she slowly stroked Inga's chest.

"Dhurke?" Inga asked with a combination of terror and hope in his voice, prompting Ga'ran to slap his chest.

"As if Dhurke could handle this much woman…!" Ga'ran sneered. "I'm talking about you. I've been watching you for some time now, Inga, and I have to say that I like what I see."

"I'm flattered that you feel this way, Ga'ran, I really am, but I'm just not ready for marriage just yet. It's not you, it's me."

"Nonsense! I am a catch and you will marry me!" Ga'ran huffed.

"My answer to that is still no."

"Such insolence! I did not ask you if you wanted to get married, I told you that you were getting married. Now, come! Our wedding shall be at the palace!"

Ga'ran grabbed Inga's arm and proceeded to drag him towards the exit.

"Don't you think that things are moving a bit fast. Can't we at least court for a few months first?" Inga pleaded as he dug his heels into the ground.

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you? To risk Amara getting married first and showing me up? Not my watch! Plus, the sooner we get married, the sooner we get to the wedding night…" Ga'ran purred with a sultry grin, a slight malevolent tone in her voice.

"Well, it's not a wedding without CINNAMON! CINNAMON! CINNAMON! CINNAMON! CINNAAAAAAAAMOOOOOOOONNNN!" Inga wailed as Ga'ran dragged him to the exit; but before they could leave, Inga grabbed onto the doorframe and clung to it with all his might as Ga'ran tried to yank him off.

"Dhurke, you son of a bitch! I'll remember this and you'll pay! You'll regret the day that you betrayed me, Prosecutor Inga Karkhuul Haw'kohd Dis'nahm Bi'ahni Lawga Ormo Pohmpus Da'nit Ar'edi Iz III! I swear, I'll dedicate the rest of my days to watching you from the shadows, lying in wait until you mess up and then I will have your head! You hear that!? I'll kill you even if it's the last thing I do!" Inga angrily proclaimed.

Meanwhile, Dhurke was still sitting over with Amara, paying no mind to Inga.

"So, Amara… Want a demonstration of how a dragon never yields?" Dhurke amorously asked, to which Amara's only response was a giggle as her cheeks grew red.

"… And then when the dogs are finished eating your arms, I'll take what's left of your corpse and use it as a piñata!" Inga yelled as Ga'ran continued to try to pry him off of the doorframe.

"This is going nowhere. Oh, guards…" Ga'ran snapped her fingers, prompting two guards that Amara had appointed to protect her sister to come over and help the royal prosecutor pry her unwilling fiancé off of the door frame.

With Inga removed from the doorframe, the guards carried a squirming Inga out of the pub, with one holding his arms and the other holding his legs, as Ga'ran followed them over to a windowless van which she opened the doors to; allowing the guards to throw Inga in before closing the doors and driving off.

And the rest was history…

Inga was suddenly snapped out of his thoughts by Rayfa tapping him on the shoulder.

"Father? Father, are you alright?" Rayfa asked with a look of concern on her face.

Inga rubbed his forehead. "Sorry, Rayfa, I was just think about some personal stuff… stuff involving Dhurke."

"Well, Father, the Plumed Punisher just ended." Rayfa said as she pointed to the television, which was playing the end credits of the show. "So, what shall we do now?"

At that moment, as if on cue, Nayna burst into the room, a cold glare and furrowed brow on her face as she stormed over to Rayfa."

"I'll tell you what you're gonna do, Your Benevolence: You're gonna get your little butt right back to that Mitamah Day Ceremony this instant, young lady!" Nayna said in a no-nonsense tone as she waggled her finger at the princess.

"But Nayna! Mother was-"

Nayna slammed the end of her cane to the ground. "Save it, missy! Your mother is in a tizzy wondering where you are! Not to mention, you abandoned your people when they needed you! Do you think that's how a respectable princess should behave? Running off just because she faced a bit of adversity? You should be ashamed of yourself!"

"Yes, Nayna…" Rayfa sullenly replied, lowering her head in shame.

"You're darn skippy you should! Now let's get back to that ceremony before Her Eminence has both our heads!" Nayna demanded, prompting Rayfa to quickly get off the bed and join Nayna's side. "Sorry about Her Benevolence disrupting your workday, Minister Inga."

"It's nothing, Nayna. I always enjoy spending time with my daughter!"

"Good, good… Say, Minister Inga, while I'm out, do you want me to pick up a nice beverage for you? Maybe one with cinnamon in it? After all, didn't you once say that cinnamon was your favorite?" Nayna sneered, causing Inga to growl as his left eye started to twitch.

As soon as Nayna and Rayfa left his private quarters, Inga pulled out his notepad and a pencil and turned to a page titled 'To-do List' and right between the tasks labeled 'kill Ga'ran, kill her good' and 'buy an ostrich', the Minister of Justice wrote down 'drown Amara and Dhurke in a large tank full of cinnamon'.