Crumpling the two narrow silken panels of multihued strands of alabaster that composed a majority of her dress during the fitting, the wider layer of slighter darker fabric yet to be added to the very back, the very exposed bride-to-be had to take a moment to rest. Legs trembling, her entire frame was aquiver with visibly racking shakes, but she took some solace in the fact that at her skin was not glistening with an unhealthy sheen of sweat this time; ever since this dammed wedding had been announced, the bride's stamina had taken a hit and was continuing to dwindle with each passing day. Well aware that it was the stress she had put under, the Necromancer's daughter had tried her hardest to hide the fact that she was cracking, especially from her betrothed, but it was becoming too much to handle on her own... There was no one to turn to in her moment of need...

But why should there be?

Sadly, even her internally declining vigor was not the only unexpected kink in her fettle; glancing down at her arms, past the nigh translucent glamor that by this point was not fooling many to pass her by, the frail demoness gazed at the blotches besmirching her natural pallor, each speck of alien pigment ranging from fresh fuchsias to dulled dark Byzantium, shades of gruesome greys and lively lavanders, liver and lemon, onyx and blue. Hoping that she had done a good enough job using her magic to blot away the temporary stains on her body, what she really should have been worried about was her face, a heavy line across her eye where her skull had met with the desk in her father's study earlier. It had been her fault that this had happened, but never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that her academic retreat would have caused this much of an upset, so she made a mental note that the next time she had to slip away, she would be sure to tell someone when and where she had gone. Ironically, that was actually what had caused this attractive new signature - figuring that if even Scorpion had lost track of her, Noob wouldn't think that she had gone off with her bodyguard for a secret tryst. As if that were even possible...

Peeking around the pillar of reeking rot and delicious decay she had chanced to rest upon, the young-looking female caught just the briefest glimpse of her ninja protector, and for a glorious split second, her heart rate spiked, but as with her luck of late, the good in the world was absorbed before she could enjoy it. This time it was one of the two demons attending to the creation of her gown - if you could call the meager scraps hanging from the glossy charred metal at her waist such - grumbling over their job, "Care to join us Evren, or shall we inform your husband that you insist on hindering the wedding date?"

Of the duo appointed to fashion a dress suited more towards Noob's preferences for his bride - ideas she could have sworn were crafted merely for her discomfort and potential humiliation - one of the demons was a child-eating creature with a stout pig-like wolf snout and beady acid-green eyes the size of a marble, while the other was a polychromatic beast with crochet needles for fingers and hooks and nails protruding from its chest. For the past ten minutes now they had been bickering back and forth about various subjects, one of which was whether or not to have the front flaps of Evren's ensemble coming out from the draped coils of alloy at her thigh, the material starting a little higher up at the hip, or the middle tier at her waist, flowing out from beneath her ribcage. Blaanid, the wolf-like female, insisted that it was classier to have the bride as covered as possible - especially with the groom's strict instructions upon the nature of the garment - but the scissor-thumbed Serik heartily disagreed with his companion, pointing out that it was explicitly expressed that the dress should showcase as much of the bride's 'glorious' form as possible. He also asserted that it lengthened her silhouette, thus making her more feminine and beholding to the eye. As anticipated, Evren was ignored whenever she tried to make a single suggestion about anything pertaining to the wedding, so she quickly gave up and decided to make better use of her energy.

Serik eventually won that debate and the exquisite garb was made to be from the hip down, dawning just above the zenith of the underwear-like piece covering her genitals, but that was days ago - the fight had since shifted to how they were supposed to fit the woman when it seemed like she had to sit down every five minutes! Perhaps the most unhappy with their jobs, they made no secret of their displeasure, the sewing monster once pondering aloud the option of dissecting the bride and sewing her back into place later, but the more sensible of the two reminded her partner that if they did not put up with the woman's constant weak knees and fainting spells, it would be their head on a plate next. Literally. They, along with everyone else commissioned into this carnival, had seen what had happened to the cook in charge of the appetizers when he had failed to deliver a dish fit for the delicate pallet of one of the honored guests. Blaanid still salivated at the memory...

It wasn't like Evren had been trying to be difficult for the sake of stalling or aggravating her groom - she knew better than to cross the volatile wraith - the attention alone was embarrassing to the point where she would rather cooperate as silently as she could so this thing could just be over, so really if she had had anything to say about it, this wouldn't be happening... Her body was just too frail from the stress of maintaining this lie...

Nodding over at Serik and Blaanid, Evren picked herself up from the column and attempted to pull herself together just long enough for them to figure out the perfect length of her skirts, but she had severally underestimated the degree of her condition, and she collapsed promptly to the floor. Or rather she would have kissed the dirt, had a certain someone not grown tired of the the squabbling and rushed to action to shut everyone up. But maybe that wasn't why he had sped from his post near the door; perhaps Scorpion had seen her joints buckling prior to her even feeling it and hastened to catch her before she could take another tumble. No, that was foolish, because he had no reason to care for her, not even before, during their time in Outworld... No, most likely he had become weary of all the standing by and had merely used this opportunity to say that he had done something since being appointed her personal protector.

Blaanid growled in alarm and slipped back into her native language, speaking in some demonic tongue that even Evren didn't know - and her master had ensured that she knew a number of hellish dialects - but she seemed to be on the bride's side for the most part. Alternatively, Blaanid was on the side of not having her flesh torn from her body in a violent game of tug o' war, as the gist of what she was yapping seemed to be that Noob would have all three of their heads if anything happened to Evren that he didn't like. The wolf seemed grateful for the first time for the onlooker of her 'creative genius at work'. Serik was of a similar mind, but seemed somewhat disappointed by the outcome of Scorpion's heroics.

Indubitably the first of the three scenarios that the heart-breaker thought up, Scorpion expressed his annoyance with the constant verbal altercations by his tone alone, milky orbs narrowing in disgust at their lack of professionalism; he solved their dilemma, completely overlooking the woman clutched in his capable, muscular arms as spoke only to them, neglecting her presence altogether, "Tie her up."

The two lowly grunts turned seamstresses gawked at each other and the shinobi in equal measure, wondering how they hadn't thought of that themselves. Taking the advice with mute gratitude, Blaanid went to where the supplies were kept and began to bustle about as she dug around for what they would need, and Serik began to yank regenerating tacks from his torso, grunting in extricating pain with each projectile he plucked. While he was preoccupied revealing in the masochistic pleasures reverberating throughout his entire being and Blaanid was delving deep into other rooms for the right kind of binding, that left Evren and Scorpion alone and unheeded. It was not the first time they had been almost truly alone together since the engagement, but given that the undead warrior was still holding the demon assassin so close in his arms, it certainly lent another light to the situation, stirring up more than shallow surface memories...

Wrapped instantly in a cocoon of one torrid morning that could have been happening at that very moment for the scorching sensation in the core, the demoness was ensnared by the feeling of his arms wrapped about her, her head falling back so that she could look up at him, the wraith drowning in the dainty perfume of her flowers as it traveled up his nose, through his mask. So very aware that he was grasping her as tight and as close as he was, Scorpion knew that he should release her lest something happen that he could never recover from, but it had been so long since he had felt this woman in his arms, and he just couldn't let her go... Not yet.

Fingers creeping of their own accord, the body was always more honest than the mind was, the bride's hand caressing his left forearm, the right hand of the bodyguard trailing downwards... No, what were they doing?! He couldn't do this, he shouldn't do this... He knew that he was so going to do this...

More than the latent lust, Evren was in love with this man, with widower and grieving father Hanzo Hasashi, not the man she was about to teether the remainder of her life to, and what hurt her the worst was that he had no idea that she was doing all of this, putting on a fake smile at just the right times, masking the nature of her injuries, disputing the fact of her ailments, was all for him. Noob Saibot had her trapped in this gargantuan lie, promising that should the lovelorn demoness not comply with his demands, he would kill the man she really did love, the sadistic prick killing her more and more everyday inside and out as he lorded what she couldn't have in her face. No, even if it were not for this grueling sham, this incorrigible shame, she still could never have her moment in the sun, of being held in the arms of her beloved...

Her chance with Scorpion had never existed in the first place, and if it ever had by some miracle, there was no way now that all had been said and done that she could ever dare to tell him her true feelings, that more than anything she longed for his happiness, that she would suffer the worst for all eternity just to ensure an hour in his favor. She was the daughter of the man that had killed his clan, his family, and now she was was forced into making him spend every waking moment in her company, acting as her bodyguard. As if there was an external threat to her life... The real threat was the man extorting her...

That was why this had to happen...

A/N: I would like to kick this chapter off by thanking TheHemomancer - ironically you were the first to review both stories so far - and Obelisk of Light for your reviews! You guys definitely help me go on! This was originally going to be the first chapter, but I like it better here, like this. Although, in the first draft, there was no sexuality... Oh well.

You like what you see? Review! You no like? Review!

Disclaimer: I don't own Mortal Kombat. That honor goes elsewhere. Like (but no limited) to Netherrealm Studios, the WB (or whatever they're calling themselves over at Warner Brothers), and Ed Boon. There might be more, but I'm no lawyer, and I'm certainly not versed in ownership rights, so I don't know exactly who owns what. I can, however, lay claim to Evren, Blaanid, Serik, and all the other minor nameless characters, and I do.