Wolf RPG

for @Paarthurnax <3

he is traveling with a retinue of four guards, two concubines, and a female slave ... because that's how he rolls okay and this is a ridic long post srry

The fierce Nita Frostfur had borne Xerxes enough children for him to recognize the fifth thickening of her otherwise slim waist, the contented look in her beauteous eyes. You are with child, he had stated, somewhat surprised that Ahura had blessed them this late into their lives, and Nita had confirmed it. Xerxes had ended their wanderings there; the royal pair had returned unto Susa, renamed Samarkand after Dariush' passing. Having left the lands in the care of his second-born son from their last litter, the Shah expected his courts and decrees to be firmly intact, for his sons and daughters to greet himself and their mother with aplomb and excitement, for the gods to smile down upon the hotlands, for Nita had returned home to bring forth the next generation of Samarkand. Instead, and bile roiled within him as he remembered, the royal courtiers had been dispersed. The land lay untended beneath the fierce visage of the burning sun. Viinturuth had left to seek his own birthright, as he had not wanted the reins of Samarkand, and this Xerxes understood, but Sahloknir was quietly afraid, Nebuchadnezzer had been gangpressed into service among Samarkand's soldiers, who had been sent on a crusade far into the fiery southern reaches of Xerxes' kingdom, and Atarxerxes cowered in fear, the marks of Sahrotaar's rage evident upon his slight body. Vashti and Esther had been closeted away into the guarded, locked reaches of the harem, an unbefitting place for royal daughters, and Paarthurnax was nowhere to be found. Xerxes had immediately shouted for his second son, who slunk into his presence with resentment flaring in his green-gold gaze. The Shah had demanded to know what had transpired in his absence, and in the next breath he stripped Sahrotaar of his title as acting ruler, vowing in a rage to recall Viinturuth from whatever frozen waste he had sought and instate him as Shah. Nita was ferocious; savagery burned in her, despite the fact that her sides had begun to softly round with Xerxes' newest brood — she lashed Sahrotaar with her tongue until he, defeated, revealed the scheme he had devised for Paarthurnax, true apple of the old Shah's eye, for she resembled Nita so closely — he had sought to sell her in marriage and servitude to the harem of a neighboring foreigner, with whom Xerxes himself was on unsure footing. Marriages of alliance between countries was not unheard of; any of Xerxes' daughters would have fetched fine dowries and prolonged advantages for their father's military and political gambits, and each of them understood this. But to send Paar away to act as a mere concubine to an unknown dog, to strip her of her rightful and royal titles — it angered Xerxes to greater heights of fire. It seemed his daughter had escaped her shameful fate; she had run away from Samarkand and her brother's greed, but there was no true word of where she had gone. Xerxes, enraged and desperate to locate his desert flower, sprang into lawful motion to undo what his faithless son had done. He immediately sent a regiment of guards to reverse Sahrotaar's jealous order that his brother Nebuchadnezzer be forced to fight as a commoner upon Xerxes' southernmost borders, and to bring him home. Atarxerxes was tended by Nita, with whom he had grown closest, and another battalion was dispatched to seek out Viinturuth with an order that he return to Samarkand immediately. And though Nita did not like to hear it, Xerxes disallowed her from traveling with him to find their Paar; not only was pregnancy full upon her, her presence as Shabanu would aid her in cleansing Samarkand of the wicked stamp Sahrotaar had placed upon it. Upon his departure, Xerxes ordered that Sahloknir help Nita to repair the political damages Sahrotaar had wrought, and his second son he placed under heavy guard, to await punishment once his father and brothers had returned. The ageing Shah had traveled for a month in the vague direction of the Seahawk Valley, but missteps by his guards, unfitted for the more frigid lands, had resulted in Xerxes' emergence at the Teekon Wilds. Three of his soldiers had perished; the rest of his entourage buried them where they had fallen and pressed on. It was a crisp autumn morn that found Xerxes upon the Rome-scented border of Noctisardor. His four remaining guards fanned into a protective stance around him; the two concubines and their handmaid hung back shyly, though curiosity shone in their eyes. The trek had been arduous, but Xerxes' familiarity with the climes had resulted in a better awareness of where to find prey and shelter. Paarthurnax was here; the Persian had caught gentle breaths of her scent along this claimed land. He did not hesitate in tilting his crown to call her to him, for it was high time she returned unto Samarkand and her role as its princess.

This time, her venture away from Noctisardor Bypass had not served her well. Instead her feelings of agitation remained, yet she refrained from bringing them to the attention of her mate. His thoughts were troubled enough without her complaining over being a lesser Alpha, even though it did her no good to bottle her heartache. Perhaps it was the way of a Roman wolfess, she tried to remind herself again and again, but with this came a sore realisation: this was what she was not. This was what she could never be.

And truthfully, she was finding herself coming to dislike all that was Roman.

She loved Shadow, and her fierce devotion to their pack was all that held her together. Paar could look past her husband's heritage and see a future by his side, but not as his lesser. To know that she was not trusted enough to be a good judge of character truly burned her, and despite her gentle nature she knew that it would only be a matter of time before she lost control of her building frustration.

Alone, Paarthurnax considered the best way to tackle her woes. She very much intended to approach her pack-mates and seek their opinions on her as a leader, though she feared their responses. Tiberius had been brave enough to announce his concern at the meeting, and she'd found it difficult to accept. That was just one yearling wolf - how could she possibly handle the perception of the others?

A painfully familiar call pierced her silence and at once Paar was on her paws, slipping swiftly from the comfort of her hollow and jogging in the direction the summons had come from. The request had been for her presence and hers alone; she hoped her comrades would remain in the background and leave her to her privacy, especially her ashen co-leader. It wasn't that she didn't want him involved in her family, but simply that she was not sure why her father had come all this way or, better yet, how he had come to find her.

Xerxes stood proudly at her borders, guards shielding him and understandably on edge. The crimson sandflower regarded the group in silence, noting that he had brought with him three young females no doubt to tend to his... needs, throughout the journey. Annoyance blistered then, though it was sharply followed by concern; where was her mother?

"Father," the lithe Frostfur said breathily, sweeping so she could deliver to Xerxes' cheek an affectionate bump of her snout and a tender flick of her salmon-pink tongue. "I have missed you. How did you find me? Where is Mother? Why are you here?" She took a careful step backward then to regard her sire with wide, curious copper eyes.

It seemed his comely blossom had made a name for herself here; as he waited, Xerxes scented his daughter more strongly upon the border. The name was Latin, which caused him some ire — his dealings with the savages from Carthage had been strained at best. Yet he stood quietly, awaiting Paarthurnax's arrival. The concubines shifted restlessly behind him, but their handmaid stood silent. Xerxes had enjoyed the favours offered by the darker of the pair, and her pale counterpart was willing to do the same for her Shah, but stress and anger over what had transpired in Samarkand had caused his lust to flag considerably — he worried for his kingdom, for Nita, for his sons, including Sahrotaar, and for his daughters, who should have been been queens in their own right by now, presiding over their own lands. Sahrotaar would have to be harshly punished; Xerxes had decided that a military foray into the fierce reaches of the peninsula would suffice. There, he would place his son beneath the whim of his most hostile captain, and turn a blind eye to what occurred thereafter. His heart ached at the thought, but he would not tolerate such insubordination from any of those below him, least of all his own flesh. Nita too caused him to fret; she was fierce and beautiful, but Ahura had aged them both, and Xerxes feared that the pregnancy would not move so kindly upon her as it had before. This would be their last litter, the Shah ruled in his mind; he would not have her destroyed by his desire. His daughter appeared, and though the last time the Persian had seen her, she had been softened by an entourage of maidens and lesser wives, she was no less beautiful, no less graceful. Xerxes returned her kiss, regarding her with paternal concern. "گل شن و ماسه من," he murmured, lips curving through the streaks of grey that had come to reside upon his muzzle. "All is well with your mother; she is expecting the last children who will be your sisters and your brothers." While Xerxes was not brisk with his runaway blossom, his tone moved stalwartly toward inquiry, as did the expression in the viridian of his eyes. "Sahrotaar will be punished for what he attempted to do, and he shall never rule in Samarkand again, in any capacity. I am sorry, my Paar, the Shah murmured, ears folding back momentarily against his skull. Muzzle lifted to the air briefly. "You have made a place for yourself here, Paarthurnax. For this I am glad; I had thought you were lost." Yet his words became firmer, though his eyes remained soft with affection. "Your mother, I am sure she would like to know that you are well. Come home, گلبرگ," Xerxes murmured, using one of his pet names for the crimson daughter of Samarkand.

He welcomed her to him with warmth, returning her affections and crooning in their native tongue which roused feelings of great homesickness. Paarthurnax smiled then, though sadness glistened softly in her fiery gaze. "I have missed you," the crimson beauty said, relieved to hear that her mother was well though surprised to learn that she was unexpectedly with child. Nita had swore to enjoy what was left of her years, for she had raised several powerful sons and fine daughters of Samarkand. Paarthurnax knew that accidents happened, however, and that her new baby siblings would be no less loved. "Both of you. All of you, and the way things used to be."

But she could not return with him, no matter her brother's punishment. Her life was destined for the Teekon Wild, her heart chained to that of a certain silver outrider. A large part of her wished she could spirit herself home to the deserts she'd been born to, and take her beau and all that she loved with her. Such things were not possible, however; Shadow would never bow to another leader now that he'd had a taste of power, and his loyalty lay with Noctisardor. He was too proud to be ruled, and she very much doubted that the laws of Samarkand would suit him.

She inhaled deeply. "I cannot," the sandflower declined softly, her expression solemn. "I am mated now, and a Shabanu. I made my life here, for Sahrotaar had created a hell which I thought I could never return to." Xerxes would have to return home to Nita Frostfur with only the assurance that their scarlet girl was well, despite the ache in her heart at having to steel herself against the opportunity.

It was not the answer Xerxes desired; a frown crossed his face fleetingly. She may have been queen here, but she was not a true Shabanu without the blessing of her father, and a husband who hailed from the hotlands. Yet this was a hypocrisy in himself the Shah did not recognize; the idea that Paarthurnax was no longer the virginal blossom she had been troubled him, and hardened his heart against the man who had taken her. That he was Roman knifed the Persian, but the act had been committed and he held nothing against his beautiful sandflower. "But now you can return," he pressed the crimson she-wolf gently. I have brought an entourage of guards to escort us home; these women, they will be your handmaidens. I assume this man of yours cannot provide you with the comforts abundant in Samarkand, Xerxes jibed, not intending to shame her for her choice, but to make her realize what it was she would sacrifice. "Where is he?" the Shah demanded of Paarthurnax at length, peering over her shoulder with eyes that had grown dim in his old age. Xerxes was stippled with grey and his joints ached in the cold of the Teekon Wilds, but he cut no less a confident and imposing figure than he had in his youth, even with his smaller stature. "I would meet with this man, my sandflower, and know why it is he allows you to walk in the elements unprotected and uncoddled, as befits a princess of Samarkand."

Once, a long time ago, a very young Paarthurnax would have been proud to have maidens fulfil her wishes. As a juvenile she'd been a vain creature, far different to the wolfess she'd become, but as she aged she came to realise that it was wrong to consider herself better than the subordinates. She decided that slavery was cruel and unnecessary, learned to appreciate her freedom. So when Xerxes presented to her the young ladies who were to be her slaves, Paarthurnax felt herself bristle.

She did not respond with words, though her copper eyes blazed with frustration and pity for the she-wolves who blinked timidly in her direction. "I cannot accept," the crimson sunflower mustered, newfound strength in her voice. She adored her father, loved him now as wholly as she always did, but even as a Princess of Samarkand she had disagreed with many of his practices. "I had no one to protect me when Sahrotaar forced me to flee," Paarthurnax reminded her irritated sire, tail lashing a t her pale hooks as she considered how to take her flaring irritation. "I am a woman grown, and he respects my independence. This is different from Samarkand, yes, but it does not pain me to live this way. I welcome it. I am content with the way things are." Paarthurnax straightened then, trying hard to ignore the little voice in head had that whispered, are you?

His ears folded in renewed displeasure; he did not care for her newfound tongue, nor her continued refusal to return home. Sahrotaar had been subdued; this he had assured her, and still she would not accept. Stifling the anger that flared momentarily in his emerald eyes, Xerxes motioned for the two young women to return unto their posts behind him, and then returned his attention to Paarthurnax. The little blossom he had known was no more; in her place was a fiery and determined woman, and though irritation mounted in his breast at her foolhardy decision, the Persian found pride in her all the same. Features softening, the man gave a ragged sigh. "What of Nita, your mother, Paar? Her heart will surely ache."