Dedicated to Sin - NaMe whose review made me want to write this like crazy as soon as I read it (which was not too long ago). Expect more chapters soon.
BETA: FLYAWAY213
THE NIGHT BEFORE
Merlin's hands dipped into his decent sized bag depositing a few of the items onto the wooden table at the center of the room. Against the wall facing the door was a small bed just large enough to fit an average height adult male, a bit too short for one tall and lanky young warlock.
He grumbled as he searched for the water tin he forgot to pack hoping upon hope he had just been blind to the obvious during the journey. Unfortunately, his hope was tarnished as he pulled out nothing but air from his search. With a sigh, he poked his head out the door and decided to ask his old friend if she could spare a bit.
The Reaping was taking place the next day, after all. The water was always free that week so everyone could be looking decent and healthy enough for the Capital's viewing. It was a good idea, just not planned out all so greatly. For one, some did not even own the proper clothes or have access to a working faucet with actual clean water.
"Anna, I may have done something a bit foolish..."
Arthur looked thoughtfully at his dear wife. She was eating a meal of thin slices of meat, cheese, and hardened bread from the kitchen's fire. Out their window, sorcerers mingled with red capes as they worked on setting up platforms and wooden barriers as a base for the…show.
Sir Gwaine stood atop one fully built stand, his scowl interfacing that of Sheravia and Marvia's smiles as if in competition. Sheravia, her blue hair tousled in a single wind, was calling orders out while Marvia attempted to seduce a few of the knights, much to their fierce disgust.
Gwen yawned softly, "I'm sure it will all come out okay, Arthur." Her reassurance did nothing to calm Arthur's tense nerves, "I just don't understand why they insist we watch. It feels off." He, although very oblivious to much, felt as if they were doing this with an alternative motive. They were not allies, not even on the same side of Albion. The Kingdom of Parciluen supported magic while Camelot, in contrast, most definitely did not. It was only due to sure, unwilling obligation that he submitted to the outrageous ideals of the cruel kingdom, if only temporarily.
The blue haired woman walked to her companion, grinning whispers suspired between the two. The slaves were nowhere in sight and Arthur suspected they to be chained to a wall somewhere. Contrary to his suspicions, although it would be greatly desired, the two were not seemingly close to being chained to a wall. No, that would be far too gracious for the two criminals, in the Capital's words. Instead, they stood spine straight stiff as they both held a barrel of water over their heads. If they let it down, the "prison guards" would be notified immediately.
"My Dark Lady, I am humbled by your presence. What is it that brings you here?" a plump man asked nervously. His thinning ginger hair stuck to his forehead like honey, a sweet relish of fear. Her light lips smirked tightly, her hand reaching towards him in an animalistic manner.
His eyes widened in terror as her smirk rose a fraction revealing a mouth of blades. "You can help me. Indeed, you will choose my name from your Reaping jar," she stated firmly.
Confusion crossed his horrified face, "But, my Dark Lady, you are not a part of my district!" Her pupils dilated in the heated passion of predator against prey as she gripped his fatty neck, "Oh, I know this. The thing is, the Capital does not."