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“As long as there is breath in the lungs, there is kindness. As long as there is kindness there is hope. And as long as there is hope, there is a reason to breathe.”

Name: Zephyra (Zeh-fear-ah) Tambrolin

Gender: Female

Age: 23

Position: Gift to the Palace

Appearance: Zeph stands at 5’ 5” with long flowing chestnut hair that goes halfway down her back. It is often left down to drape over her shoulders and frame her face. On occasion, she will have it in a braided ponytail style, draped with jewelry and pearls. Part of her hair often sweeps across her forehead to be tucked behind an ear. Her eyes are a light striking hazel with an orange inner ring that seems to stretch out into a teal middle, meeting up with a yellowish-ring. She has long alluring lashes that are exactly what a person thinks of when they imagine batting eyelashes. Her face is very oval with smooth skin and she has a straight thin nose. The corners of her mouth have a natural tip upwards which makes it seem as though she is always in a good mood.

Her neck is slender, coming out to sloping shoulders. She has an hourglass shape, exaggerated by her slimmer form which borders on underweight, her bust average. Her legs are long, clearly what takes most of her height, though not to the point of making her look proportionally off, more of giving her a graceful look. This being said, her arms and legs do not come out as looking weak, not exactly strong, but finding a medium between the two. Her overall appearance comes out as smooth and aesthetically pleasing. As for what she wears, that varies depending on the day and purpose, but most of her clothes show waist and shoulders. Her skin tone is a light tan (a lot being a natural sun tan), her territory carrying lighter skin tones, which she is somewhat of the extreme considering her mother is of foreign birth.

Zephyra has no scars except for light, barely noticeable marks in a band-like path on her wrists as if something had chaffed them for too long. Only if someone is inspecting her wrists carefully would they notice them.

Personality: Zephyra is quiet by nature, only saying things if she has thought them over. When she does speak, she is soft spoken, voice gentle. However, there is a soft kind of power that comes with it that often causes people to listen. The tone comes out almost in a wise way, reserved in showing any kind of negative emotion. It carries a very alluring feminine hilt, though she does not use it in a seductive way, preferring to stay as inconspicuous as she is allowed (which isn’t very often). She is highly intelligent, reflected in her eyes and the way she watches everything around her. She manages to avoid making situations worse as often as possible because of this and can often soothe tense ones, again something that is helped by the way she talks.

She is very patient, and while cautious, she is not guarded beyond reason. In fact, she is a rather open person, willing to answer questions honestly as much as she is willing to just listen. This is a bit of a flaw as well considering it contributes to the fact that she is not a fighter and tends to be more submissive in the end. She hates loud noises, particularly yelling and crashing sounds. She will stand tall and act unaffected, but afterwards, she will often be found shaking violently. This submissiveness may very well be what has kept her alive and not in worse condition, but it has also contributed to her being used and even seen as being weak.

On top of this, Zeph is very compassionate, doing her best to offer what kindness whenever and wherever it is accepted. Despite being used and mistreated, if she sees someone in pain or hurt, she will take a cautious initiative to offer a kind hand. She is much more careful about doing such things as a few times she was taken advantage of for this. But nonetheless, she will try and do something nice in secret if she thinks it will help.

History: Zephyra was the daughter of General Tambrolin, a high-ranking official in her country. She was raised by her mother mostly, a gentlewoman by birth who taught her much about etiquette and how to be a lady. Her father, when he was home, insisted she get an actual education, which she did. Her and her mother decided to visit her father during the war that was raging and moved to a tavern in the town near where the soldier camp was. Her mother had leave early after hearing news about Zeph’s grandmother falling ill, though Zeph stayed. It was during this time that the camp was overtaken, her father killed and the town attacked. It was quickly discovered who she was and she was taken with the enemy forces as they returned to their palace to announce another victory. In that time, she became familiar with many of the soldiers as a way to humiliate her because of her connections.

Family:

Damascus Tambrolin (Father)

Candance Tambrolin (Mother)

Hosiah Martar (Grandfather)

Destiny Marter (Grandmother).

His hands are stained red and his morals are gray... But somehow, deep down... His heart is gold ~S O L O M O N~ R O M U L U S~J A S P E R ~I M O N A~ "Without loyalty, you have nothing" ⇒Nickname(s)⇐ The Red Dragon, Sol ⇒Gender⇐ Male ⇒Age⇐ 24 ~ "You cannot kill me in a way that matters." ~ ⇒Appearance⇐ Solomon is the type that appears to be carved out of a mountain, body made of the most sturdy and hard of stone. Standing at 6’0” he is considered tall, but what makes him big isn’t his height. No, Solomon is broad in every sense with the intimidating, hulking physique of a highly-trained soldier. His figure resembles that of a trapezoid, wide across the shoulders and chest, but rather evenly distributed overall. He has a gentle taper from the top down to the waist, hips, and legs. His body is criss-crossed with scars from his time as a soldier, even if it’s been a rather short one, with some more prominent than others. The most visible is the one that creeps from the top of his chest and up the side of his neck, with the point ending on the underside of his jaw. Solomon’s skin is a darker caramel with warm undertones, creating a rather attractive hue. His face is highlighted by a strong and prominent square jaw. His eyes are bright, hooded, and arguably his face’s most memorable feature. Solomon’s irises are a brilliant amber hue that closely resembles gold. They are sharp, predatory, and incredibly off-putting. If his size wasn’t enough to intimidate, the eyes more dangerous than any sword will surely do the trick. Below them sits a nose that is straight and simple, with a pair of thinner lips with a faint cupid’s bow to finish it off. His hair is a rather plain ebony color, black as pitch and kept short as to not have much maintenance. It’s kept in a crew cut style, kept a bit longer at the top and swept up into a small point at the front. His hair is stick straight and overall not very eye-catching. Solomon has no tattoos or piercings and finds them rather unattractive. His attire is usually simple, flexible attire that’s a rather simple tunic, pants, and a pair of sturdy boots. Although he is often expected to don more formal attire due to his status, he hates how restrictive fancy overcoats can be and refuses to wear them. ⇒Personality⇐ Solomon is unwelcoming. There is nothing warm nor fuzzy about the man, in fact, he is extremely cold to most anyone he talks to and is rather easy to dislike. Gaining his trust is an impossible feat. He is arrogant and incredibly so, with an ego bigger than his already massive body. Solomon believes he is the best, above everyone else but the high-society he is apart of. Confidence is front and center with him and every move he makes is calculated. He is never out of line. To the upper class, he is respectful and diligent in his many duties. If anything, he appears to be flawless and a perfect leader, which makes his arrogance even more infuriating. Standoffish and anti-social, Solomon will typically not speak unless spoken to. He has very little patience for wasted time and finds talking extremely boring. Although when he does speak, his voice is low, the man rather soft-spoken. He may not talk much, but he is opinionated and judgmental, stubborn and unmoving in his views. Solomon is extremely intelligent and a highly analytical person, but his hard-headed and close-mindedness saps away much of his potential.There is not much in the way of friendliness when it comes to Solomon. Many would consider Solomon to be cruel, the way he seems to take everything and give nothing. He is known to be merciless, the type that takes no prisoners. He is brutal and demanding on the battlefield, a commander with no patience or tolerance for anything but the best. Solomon does not accept losses. The man would rather die before he loses, but is known for not being ignorant enough to take on a challenge too big. He is a leader that could conquer nations with ease, but in perfecting his ways of war, his morals have grayed. But Solomon is not just a character who’s heart is black. There are multiple sides to every story. He is rigid in his ways and the perfect soldier because it is how he was groomed to be. He is loyal to a fault, unwavering and dedicated in any task he may take on. Solomon is righteous and committed to the empire he serves, believing that in his victories he is proving his honor and forging a brighter future for his kingdom. Although he may appear to be a villain, deep down he truly isn’t a bad person, but the web of lies he has devoted his life to has led him down the wrong path. ~ "I would rather die than betray what I believe." ~ ⇒Solomon’s History⇐ Third son and third child of the Imona family, Solomon is used to having his presence glossed over. He was raised primarily by his mother, his father being a distant figure for the entirety of his childhood. As much as all the Imona longed to have the attention of their standoffish, busy father his absence wasn’t often missed. The children were not only raised by their mother, but by their elder siblings, namely Luther. War was always a part of Solomon’s life, as their father instilled in them very early on the importance of their mission and taught them about the justice they brought to the misguided nations. Solomon’s biggest role model was his eldest brother, Luther, who was a military prodigy and general at twenty-one. He became a soldier, just like his brother and learned to wield dual-swords, just like his brother. Solomon’s dedication allowed him to join the ranks at sixteen, where he has been ever since. He fought under his brother's command for four years until Luther was killed on the battlefield. He was utterly destroyed by the loss of his brother and father-like figure, but with an even stronger fighting spirit in his stead, he rose to take his brother's place as a general. With every victory dedicated to the brother he lost, Solomon became an incredibly successful general, possibly even going beyond that of his brother. He acquired the nickname The Red Dragon for his unmatched skill on the battlefield and dedication overall, which is a tribute to their nation's flag, which features the crimson beast. He spends the majority of his time away from home and on the battlefield, for his life is his work. ⇒Family⇐ Luther Imona(Father, 59 ) Callista Imona(Mother, 52) Luther(Brother, Deceased, 28 at death, 32 if alive) Josef (Brother, 28) Vivianna (Sister, 26) Heinrey (Brother, 21) Ascalo (Brother, 19, Twin 1) Cyrus (Brother, 19, Twin 2) Aveline(Sister, 14) Ryia(Sister, 7)

⇒Themes⇐ The Devil Went Down to Georgia By The Charlie Daniels Band Bleeding Out By Imagine Dragons Insert 3rd Here

The Concorban Empire is a combination of many kingdoms and territories conquered by the central nation of Concorba. The Empire is ruled by the Imona family, who’s influence stretches over half the continent. Concorba itself has become the epitome of wealth and high-living standards. It’s poor are not at risk of starvation and the nation is flourishing. But that’s only Concorba and it is all a part of a lie they feed to those around them to have the continued support of their people. Propaganda is all they know.

Outside of Concorba, the territories conquered are impoverished and their resources are being sucked dry. Slave camps are common and most citizens work to help with the war effort. There is almost a constant draft, random territories being selected to supply quotas of men to add to the ranks of soldiers. Entire towns have been converted into forts and other military hubs. The majority of food and other basic necessities go towards the war. Dissenters are killed and disobedience isn’t tolerated. The foreign leaders are typically killed if they resist to the point of where the emperor loses his patience. If they survive, they rule as a puppet for the Imona’s and their regime.

Mini Concorba History: Concorba was an extremely weak nation bullied for decades by its surrounding territories. Eventually, there came a time they finally had enough. They wanted freedom from the constant abuse. Except, when they began to win wars and had a taste of power, they became consumed by the thought of revenge. In what was once an effort to save and better the lives of their people, they became the very rulers they had loathed for generations.

A shoulder was bumped against the woman’s as they walked, light hazel eyes not even bothering to glance to see who it was who was pressed close to her during the long walk they had been on. He wasn't the first to jostle along the line of marching soldiers to get next to her and have a chance to rub shoulders and reach out to ‘steady’ her, a hand always pressing against her waist and back. But Zephyra never said anything to them, never complaining nor inviting the gestures towards her.

The young woman knew all the soldiers by this point, and was familiar with the gentler, lonelier ones, versus the crueler less thoughtful ones. One may have thought it fascinating that she knew each soldier by touch at this point, thinking it an interesting talent. But the truth of the matter was it was rather sad the any woman didn’t even have to look at the man to know who he was, only needing to feel his hand or the way he pressed close to her during a march. It was humiliating knowledge to be able to have really.

This particular soldier was one of the less friendly ones, and for that reason she lifted her gaze to focus on everyone around her but him. The stunning palace was already beginning to loom ahead and yet that was not where she focused. Herek. Herek marched a few steps ahead and he was one of the gentler of the many that she had spent her nights with. To her shame, and yet not, she had sought his company many times on her own. But never because she was looking for it, rather it was when she had caught a glance from another man in a dark mood or saw someone stalking towards her with a dangerous gleam and she chose the better of two evils. And Herek was the better of the two. And he was now.

Zephyra waited a few moments, taking the way she was pressed into, just barely picking up her pace until she tripped. It was a calculated move, her graceful swinging forward and reaching out to catch herself by pressing a hand to Herek’s back. The other soldier reached out as well, arm wrapping tightly to her waist, but it was Herek who turned and caught her gaze, the gentle plead for help in the intelligent depths. And, of course, he jumped towards the opportunity, slowing to take to her other side.

His own arm wrapped around her waist, almost snaking beneath the others to push him off. Herek had an advantage. His father was high ranking and the other soldier immediately back off, leaving the woman to the slimmer man with a sturdy grasp. She was pulled close to Herek, allowing his fingers to press into her waist as he moved her into the marching steps with him. The woman could smell his familiar scent, though she felt nothing for it. She never did. She found no joy in this, but she was grateful for the occasional protection, though it came at a cost.

Today’s cost was to be fondled for the walk to their destination by Herek, and she did not doubt she would stay that way through the night until the man was satisfied and released her to the rest again the next day. But that was one day with guaranteed good treatment. Well, as good of a treatment that one in her position could get.

“What do you think of our palace? Grand isn’t it?” He hummed out as he bent his head down to whisper in her ear. “Nothing in the world can compare to the glory there.”

“It is beautiful,” Zephyra responded softly, saying no more on the matter but putting her attention on the palace that was getting closer and closer. It really was magnificent, she granted it that. But deep down, nothing would be as beautiful to her as the one in Bercasitt. It wasn’t this big or grand by any means, but it was in her home land and she had visited it once or twice because of her father’s title. The very title that left her to suffer this fate as a soldier’s girl for the entertainment and muses of the men who had slaughtered the man that gave her life.

As the palace began to loom larger and larger, the woman expected them to turn along their path and head to the side towards barracks or a place for the men. But as some began to deviate, Herek continued to lead her forward, bringing her through the ranks until they were at the front. She was forced to continue moving along as eventually ninety percent of the ranks had fallen off, leaving her with a small group of the higher-ranking officials.

Herek bent his head one more time as the party paused near the entrance, his hand moving to her chin and turning her head towards him. His smile was gentle and yet she knew better, not surprised when he pressed his lips to hers. She knew his mouth well, and took it calmly, adding none of her own input into it but accepting it as it was. There was no passionate spark in her eyes as pulled back, just the same expression as he caressed her cheek with his knuckles, though she offered a soft smile.

“That’s my girl,” he purred before reaching down for her hands, lifting them up. It seemed natural enough until the Captain walked over, adding two rather delicate chains around her wrists. Zephyra did nothing to pull away, though a feeling of dread began to set in. At the same time, Herek was pushing her hair behind her ear, pulling a different strand out to frame her face. A hand reached out, adjusting the partial shirt for her to pull the neckline down more and twisting it allow more waist to be seen. “Looking like the perfect charmer you are. Now don’t be getting feisty for the princes you hear? Wouldn’t want anything to happen to my girl.”

Her heart dropped though she offered the same smile, dipping her head gently, “Never could I offer such behavior m’lord. I would offer no such disservice for your sake.” That earned a pat on the cheek before Herek turned, saluting his officer’s and going to join the rest of his ranks for some relaxation and fun after the sweet taste of victory against Bercasitt, a territory the Empire of Concorban had been working hard to get their hands on. And now they brought a rather precious souvenir home with them, a gift to the princes of the land. A souvenir who held an uncertainty for the men she was being offered too. She held no love or attachment for Herek or the others, but she knew what to expect, when to hide and how to act. She knew nothing of those who held the title royalty and infinite power with it.

Zephyra followed dutifully as one official stood in front of her, and one on each side, holding to the chains that were for aesthetic more than necessity. She would not run... there was nowhere to run to and she remembered well what had happened the one time she had tried, when she first had been captured. How long ago that was, she could no longer remember, days blending together until she had no concept of time. She just lived, accepting her fate and yet clinging to the small sliver of hope that promised she may find favor one day and be allowed freedom. Or just gentleness.

The hallways were captivating as they strode through the immense place, screaming power and glory, dwarfing those who walked through. The woman was not aware of what led where, or how long it could go on for, simply struck by the immensity of it all. Struck and yet unaffected. Yes, it was extravagant, but did that really offer her? Nothing. It was a means of intimidation and yet she had seen things much scarier than oversized halls and grandeur.

However, if one thought the halls were intense, they had not yet been faced with the throne room. But Zephyra did not tarry on the appearance of the room as she was led inside but honed in on her future. Her head was tilted down as was expected, but she gazed up through her long lashes. Five. Five princes were there with the Emperor and Empress, her future in the hands of a set of large brutish looking men. The officers spoke, though she paid little heed to what they said, just taking in the gist of it. Yes, her home had been conquered, her father murdered, and she was to be the prize, an offering of good tidings and celebration to the very princes that stood there to look her over as though she really were just a trinket for their enjoyment.

A pretty trinket. Her chestnut hair across her shoulders, framing her light smooth face, hazel eyes glancing up from beneath lashes any woman would die for. Lips that seemed to tilt up gently as if fate were determined that she always be happy, complimenting the perfect nose. Her slim body, her upper half covered by draping pink material, leaving her waist exposed with a matching pink flowing skirt beneath, the slit up the side. Dressed up... as she always was, though she had at least the chance to choose from the sets the soldiers had invested in. Except today. The jeweled belt and tighter fitting necklaces not her choice, but given to her for this meeting she had not been aware of. And perhaps that was for the better.

Because these few moments were ice in her veins, waiting to see how her fate had been shifted this time.

Solomon hadn’t wanted to come home today, nor did he ever. It wasn’t that home was a bad place per se, but the young prince had outgrown the lavish halls and preferred to spend his time on the battlefield, working to further the Concorban reach whenever he could. But since Bercasitt had been conquered and the battalions had stabilized the territory, there was nowhere he particularly needed to be. When his mother had discovered he was free, she had invited him home, though he knew the letter had been ordered by his father, even if her words had been genuine.

The man had a feeling his father wanted to discuss their next move. Despite their empire's growing size, battles were getting harder to fight as the remaining kingdoms were banding together, throwing their lot in in hopes of keeping the Concorban’s at bay. They weren’t fighting for the freedom back of the nations lost, they were fighting to keep themselves independent and safe. Solomon couldn’t blame them, but his father’s orders were orders and the man knew the world would be a better place beneath the man's rule.

Not that Solomon revered his father, but the respect he had for him was immense and he sought his approval. The man may not have been made for fatherhood, but he ruled his empire well and his military was top-of-the-line. Even so, it didn’t mean he wanted to return, even if he would have the opportunity to impress his father. Solomon did not find the appeal in their luxurious gatherings and frivolous conversation. He lived on the battlefield and in forts, the man's belongings enough to fit in a tent. He didn’t want to live in a crowded palace where he had to play a part.

So it was with that rather pessimistic mindset Solomon entered the palace grounds, which were lush and large, but the palace was by far the most breathtaking building there. It was colorful and shined beautifully in the sunlight, the epitome of regality. It was fitting for the empire's rulers. His belongings were stored on the back of his horse, Solomon’s long legs stretched over the wide stallions back as he weaved towards the stables, the grounds having as much hustle and bustle as they always did.

“Attikos,” Solomon spoke, head-turning to glance back at the man who tailed him, “What would be our probability of success if our armies converged on the Eastern Isles?” He questioned. The prince knew his father would want to take those islands next, but unfortunately, the Eastern Isles had been the only battle they had ever lost. “Factor in Bercasitt. We’ll have extra manpower and their naval fleet.” Attikos, fortunately, was from the Eastern Isles. He was their only advantage when it came to war talks regarding the territory.

Attikos hummed, a sign he was thinking. “It is very much possible General, but their guerilla tactics have been thus far unmatched. Even General Luther’s innovative plans were crushed easily.” He pointed out but was in no way comparing the two, not that Solomon would mind if he had. He found it honorable to be compared to his fallen brother, “Then again, you were able to take Bercasitt. Their naval fleet was one of the elites. I do think a victory is probable, but it will be hard-won.” He concluded, dismounting as they finally reached the stables. “Why do you ask? Do you truly believe the Eastern Isles are the emperor’s next objective?” The man inquired as he handed off his horse.

Solomon sighed as he removed his things from his mount, throwing his small collection over his shoulder. “I want this steed to have top treatment, you understand? Ambrose is worth more than your life.” The prince told the stablehand sternly, to which he received a frightened nod before he skittered away with the massive stallion. His attention turned back to Attikos, whose expectant dark eyes peered out from beneath blonde curls, “Yes lieutenant, I do believe my father intends to take the isles and I refuse to lose. I lost the battle once under my brother's command and I refuse to do so as a general myself.” He growled, the two beginning their walk towards the palace, which now loomed above them even larger than before.

“I want you to find Juneau and Brom. Locate every war plan my brother made when he attempted to take the Isles. I want you to begin to factor in Bercassit and be ready with the beginnings of a proposal. I want this to go over as smoothly as possible. Hopefully, we can have a plan by the end of the week and attack within months.” Solomon ordered, pausing to turn and face the man as they reached the barracks. Golden eyes glittered with a hungry determination, the man ready for a new challenge and fight.

“What about your fellow generals, Janshai and Briggan? Do we not need them?” Attikos inquired tentatively, clearly having his doubts, “Surely their input on the plan is necessary? And will you not be joining us, sir? I appreciate your faith in us, but two lieutenants and a colonel cannot have the insight of a general.”

Solomon gave another sigh, running his hand over his face. “Janshai and Briggan are still cleaning up Bercasitt. They will be rendezvousing with us once the fleet is assembled. At the moment, we are it.” It was true that the man shared the same doubts as his fellow soldier, well aware that it would be easier with the other generals, but it could not be so. This time, Solomon had to shoulder the weight of organizing multiple battalions.

It would be a stressful job, but the man knew he could do it. He had to do it. “And unfortunately, Attikos, I cannot join you. For some reason, I must attend the presentation of a whore in the throne room.” The man growled out, clearly displeased with having his work interrupted, “My father saw no value in her, but Josef has always been interested in new playthings. I’ve heard she is the daughter of Tambrolin and she had a battalion addicted to her touch. No doubt Josef has rallied my brothers in his mischief.” The man never understood his siblings who were obsessed with the most monetary of things, “I will see to it that I join you once it is over. I want nothing to do with the woman.” Not that Josef would let anyone else play with the new toy first.

It was then the two parted with curt goodbyes, Attikos sent on his new task and Solomon towards his family. He was immediately greeted by the servants as he entered the palace, first heading for his own room to deposit his things. It was just as lavish as ever, with the massive golden bed and its sheer curtains at the center of it all. There was a fireplace with its own little sitting area that consisted of a couch and a couple of chairs with a small little table to top it off. His desk was nearby, as was a small kingdom map and bookshelves to complete his workspace. That was all without mentioning the massive wardrobe, en suite, extravagant weapon cases, and other decorations that were mostly in the form of gifts he had received from other nations.

Solomon would admit that it looked nice, but did he need it? No. It was mostly for presentation, a space that guests would be amazed by if they saw it. The man deposited his things atop the chest at the edge of his bed before exiting once more. There would be no time to relax or slow down, which was something Solomon desperately needed but refused. There were wars to fight and kingdoms to conquer. He could rest when his father’s empire was complete.

“So, are you excited, Sol?”

Solomon flinched and whipped around, coming face to face with his eldest brother. He had been too lost in thought to even hear the man’s footsteps. “For what?” He replied curtly, resuming his walk. Unfortunately, he could hear the sound of his brother's boots following him. It should have been expected, but he wasn’t in the mood to listen to his sibling gush about the used trophy that would now be roaming the palace halls. Solomon loved his brother, but he was irritated that not only was he wasting time by attending this foolish meeting but that he would be expected to partake in it all.

Josef scoffed at Solomon’s response. Out of all the siblings, he was the most talkative, which wasn’t a lot considering he was a rather selective converser. “About the woman, Solomon. The general’s daughter who’s been tossed around by every soldier of Brom’s battalion.” He explained, which received a disappointed look from his sibling.

“I knew you were into whoring at The Menagerie, but I never expected you to bring one into the palace.” He snapped, to which he received an offended look, “You are sullying yourself with this peasant and no doubt our brothers will follow your example. That woman is dirty, damaged goods from the enemy that has been shared amongst the Gods know how many men. You taint your name by sharing a bed with her. We are above this and her.”

Josef rolled his eyes with a snort, finding amusement in his brother’s hostility. “Solomon,” His brother’s voice was firm as he spoke his name, something he did when he wanted the other prince’s attention, “She was technically a woman of high stature where she came from, our names are fine. And what’s the harm in a little fun and some easy game? She’s ours to have, so why not use her? Besides Solomon, you could learn a thing or two from sleeping with a woman. Maybe it would loosen you up, you’re about to blow the vein in your jaw.”

The conversation ended there as they entered the throne room, eyes turning as the oldest of the remaining sons entered. The man may not have worn the usual formal clothing, but his official uniform of dark crimson with its golden sash and accents fit the bill. He greeted his family quickly, only pausing to hug Vivianna, who he arguably had the most patience for. His younger sisters weren’t present and he was thankful for that. A hand reached out to scratch at the scar that crawled up his neck as he took his place beside Josef, the three eldest children beside their father while the younger stood beside their mother.

They only waited a minute or two before the doors opened, and several soldiers entered, guiding in a woman in pink who could have certainly passed off as a gypsy. Solomon eyed her, but only in disdain. He could see her appeal, for the man was uninterested, not blind. She was attractive in almost every conventional way and it was easy to see why bored, stressed soldiers would find pleasure in using her. But they were not soldiers. They were royalty and the very thought of sleeping her disgusted him, but he could already see the satisfaction in his brother’s eyes, even if he hid it well.

They introduced her as if she were some sort of grand gift, daughter of a defeated enemy whose spirit had been broken and would bend to the will of any man. She was the perfect little trophy of a battle hard-won, the submissive byproduct of people who found pleasure in her humiliation. There was no great achievement in continuing to hurt someone who was longer their enemy, nor had she ever been in the first place. What was the purpose of this commoner's presence? Why did his brothers feel the need to draw this out, to embarrass themselves with controversy?

The answer was boredom. The Imona children were silent, but they were skilled in conversation with their eyes. They were bored and had found something new to entertain themselves. Granted, Vivianna was rather indifferent, only holding herself with her usual elegance, but dark eyes peered out from beneath her curtain of ebony hair as she still wanted to be a part of it all. Opinions were exchanged and messages were sent, but their attention snapped back to their father as it was his turn to speak. They all knew the gift was to be accepted by the emperor, only to be turned over to his band of sons who were up to no good.

Luther crossed his legs, an elbow propped up on the arm of his throne. “The Imona family accepts your gift. It is a lovely trophy to signify the end to our long battle with Bercasitt and their merging with our empire.” The man spoke, his voice low and deep, the corners of his lips turning upwards in the beginnings of a smile, though it never went farther than that. It never did. “I thank you gentlemen for your contributions to the empire. You soldiers are the key to a long future of prosperity.” Truthfully, the emperor was not a very charismatic man. He was blunt, short-tempered, and often difficult to deal with. This was simply a show. A show meant to please and paint him as someone that was hard and stoic but also had a heart.

The soldiers were dismissed quickly, for they had better things to do and as did the royalty. Well, Solomon did at least. Except, the conversation wasn’t over and it had now shifted between the children and their father. “Josef,” The emperor spoke gruffly, eyes falling on the heir to the throne, “I expect you, no, all of you, to handle her accordingly. I do not mind her presence, but will not be getting involved with this, you understand?” Cold eyes swept across, making it very clear that if he had to intervene, the punishment would be great, “And do not drag your sisters into your matters either unless they get involved of their own will. This is a prince’s matter.”

Solomon’s gaze found hers briefly, only because the woman was left standing in the center of the room, alone and in shackles she probably didn't need. If she was as obedient as she already seemed, there was no point. After the conversation continued for a few more minutes, which was mostly Josef reassuring their father that she would be supervised and kept in the sibling's wing, Solomon uncharacteristically interrupted. “Father, may I be excused from this meeting?” He questioned, hands moving to clasp behind his back, “I have much work to do regarding our new territories. I understand your terms regarding the…” Solomon’s eyes found the woman again as he did his best to hide his disgust, “trophy for our recent victory.”

His father nodded. “Yes Solomon, you may go. We will have a meeting later regarding the Eastern Isles.” It was just as the prince predicted and he was somewhat glad it was so. Hopefully, by the time the meeting came around, he could have a rough idea. His forward thinking always pleased the man. “And take her to her room, will you? It’s next to Josef’s.” Solomon gritted his teeth. That was Luther’s room, not hers. This woman was not only going to have a bedroom mere doors down from his, but was taking his brother's? It infuriated him, but just as he was about to begrudgingly nod, his brother butted in.

“I can take her, Father. Solomon clearly has work to do.” Josef spoke, which the younger prince was thankful for. He knew his father had meant it as a reward, given as he had been front and center in the war effort, but he didn’t want anything to do with her. The general nodded to show he was okay with his sibling taking his task and it was clear his father had no issue with the change. And it was then the siblings were dismissed to go their separate ways, though Solomon pulled his brother to the side, his voice a low, warning murmur.

“If you value your integrity, you will not sully yourself with that sorry excuse for a woman.”

Trophy. She was used to such words when it was spoken by the Emperor himself. Trophy, trinket, doll, prize, lovely thing. Zephyra had heard them all, and stayed quiet, eyes cast downward when the great man spoke, dismissing the soldiers to leave her standing alone in the large room. She said nothing, barely even moved other than lifting her eyes again to try and determine what she could of her new future.

She immediately honed in on Josef, storing away the name as she noted the man being spoken to. He seemed to be the oldest and perhaps the one who planned to make her his main muse. She had caught the veiled look of approval in his eyes when she had first entered which usually meant some security. Herec often had given her a very similar look, and she was counting on that. Hoping for it at least, though she had been quickly taught that a man could turn faster than snake about to strike.

Light hazel eyes shifted to peer through her lashes at the biggest of the group when he spoke. A warrior, clear by the crimson color he wore and the golden sash. A giant of a man, which was saying something considering the whole brood was made of large men. But it was the look given her that put her at extreme unease regarding him. It was well hidden, and barely catchable, but she had learned quickly to read through looks. It was a means of survival. And what she saw was disgust... and men who were disgusted were the scariest. If such a man did decide to seek her company, he was usually bitter with himself for it and it would be retaliated on her.

Solomon. She also stored away that name, though she did not think on it long when the prince was asked to take her to her new room. Zeph still made no move, no sound, not even the slightest of twitches. But her heart had leapt to her throat, eyes closing for the briefest moment before opening again. Her hands were kept demurely in front of her, a strand of chestnut hair falling from behind her ear to her face still tilted downward.

The woman was relieved when Josef offered to take her instead, watching as everyone seemed to agree on that and settle for that choice. She noted that Solomon pulled his brother to the side before they went their separate ways and she was retrieved. Zeph said nothing as the older brother came over, taking her by the arm to lead her in the proper direction. She took the time to look him over and try to judge where she stood with, though kept her looks hidden and from below her lashes, not wanting to accidently start anything or set him off. She still knew pretty much nothing about him.

Each step of hers was light compared to those of the four men, as it seemed the other three brothers were trailing along. She did not pay them as much attention, trying to judge the way they were going so she would at least know where things were. As much as she could that was, considering she was given the clear impression that she was to stay in one wing, and that was the prince’s wing where she would accessible at any time.

The moment they arrived, Zephyra almost immediately knew it was theirs and glanced at the variety of doors, each with a different symbol to mark whose room it was. There was one that no longer had a mark, though she could see on the door that there had been one a while before. Was that to be her room? It would make sense that she received the unmarked one, considering she was a no one. But she didn’t get to find out as she was stopped at a different door, one with a winding dragon marking it. Josef’s room?

No, she could hear the other brother’s laughing, highly amused. It was then she felt her whole body go cold, as Josef opened the door and gave her a small push inside with clear instructions. This was Solomon’s room... she was to wait for the scariest of the group, to make him happy and seduce him, as the exact words were. “As you seem fit,” she whispered, dipping her head as the door was closed behind her, leaving her alone in the room, hearing the loud laughter that ensued outside the door, as if her being there was the funniest thing in the world.

And maybe it was for them. But truth was, Zephyra was highly frightened, glancing around the extravagant room unlike anything she had seen before. There was so much packed into it, yet it still had an intimidating amount of space and she wasn’t sure where she was supposed to go or what she was supposed to do. When was Solomon to even arrive? Her body was shaking slightly as she stood, but she closed her eyes, taking in a few rhythmic breaths to calm herself. She knew nothing of this man and perhaps he was not so intimidating as he seemed, though she highly doubted that. She had met too many men not to be wary.

She took the time to look around slightly, though it was the bookshelves that drew her the most. Stepping over, she very lightly gazed across the titles, noting them with a smile. One or two she had seen before but she did not dare touch them. In fact, she dared not touch anything quietly moving over to the bed where she gingerly sat down between an opening in the sheer curtains. It was the softest bed she had ever sat on and she allowed her fingers to run over the soft warm covers. That was an upside wasn’t it?

Zeph had no idea how long she sat there, quietly taking in where everything was and what was there. She spent very little time looking at the weapons and mostly stared at the fireplace and sofa. Sometimes she would fidget with her clothing, trying to shift the top to cover a bit more of her waist and shifting the necklaces whish had become uncomfortable. They were small actions that showed she wanted her dignity, wished to hide herself but she couldn’t and her gaze finally fell to her wrists, the golden chains pointless except to signify just how worthless she was.

Her full attention snapped to the door when she finally heard it open, fingers pushing some hair back from her face as she tilted her head slightly, smiling gently but nothing more. “I was asked to wait for you m’lord,” Zeph spoke softly to make him aware of her presence, though wasn’t sure what else she could say, if anything really, working hard not to look nervous. It all depended on what he was like in the end, whether she said anything. Some men were talkers, other preferred silence, and she didn’t have the faintest clue what he was like.

Solomon stalked out of the throne room, his steps almost silent against the tile, which was rather miraculous given his size. It only served to further prove how dangerous he was, light on his feet and bigger than big. His strides were long as he exited the palace, trying to locate the soldiers he had assigned to begin the planning. A new battle on top of wrapping up the old one. Solomon could already see the sleepless nights ahead of him, knowing this would be an extremely difficult time. Although, he was aware it would be a worthy sacrifice.

It didn’t take him long to find them huddled around a table in the barrack’s war room, which was musty and certainly not as luxurious as the one in the main castle, but they preferred this one. With maps and other papers pinned to every wall and an ancient war table in the center that was already covered in papers. The three men within bustled about, working to fulfill the orders of their general. Attikos was the only one that stopped, sensing Solomon's foul mood, which had only seemed to worsen since they had departed. “Sir, how was your meeting?” He questioned tentatively, beginning to sort the papers in his arms, though dark eyes glanced back at his superior.

“The meeting itself was fine, Attikos. It went smoothly as they always do,” He spoke curtly, moving to stand beside the blonde man as he began to make sense of what they had already collected. “It is the fact my brother has decided to turn our royal wing into The Menagerie. It is as if he has an unofficial mistress that he’s going to be sharing with our siblings. I don’t want to think of what he’s doing right now.” He picked one of the many pieces of parchment, falling silent for several moments as he examined it, “But enough about the meeting, the decision cannot be changed and I respect my elder brother. We have a war to plan. My father wants to converge on the Eastern Isles and we will win it as we won Bercasitt.”

Solomon was unaware of how long they conversed around the table, looking at his brother's old plans and beginning to turn them into new ones. Honestly, his brother's work had been that of a genius, but it hadn’t been enough to win the Eastern Isles. There were a lot of new factors as well, given as Solomon had conquered a new array of territories with new military benefits. They were stronger than they had been before. Attikos was right. They truly had a probable chance of winning and the prince was already itching for the battlefield. He and his men would take the untouchable Eastern Isles in the name of Concorba.

But just as they were making some leeway, a courier entered with a crate of paperwork for the general, handing it to the man after a quick greeting. “I was not informed of the specific contents, but it is about Bercasitt.” The smaller man spoke, fiddling with his sleeves, “ It was sent from General Janshai. I was only told to deliver it to you.” The man dared meet Solomon’s eyes, which were intimidating in their indifference. The crate in one of his arms, the raven-haired man flipped through the first through pages for a few awkwardly quiet moments.

“Inform General Janshai it will be done as soon as possible and that I will send it his way when I am done. That is all, make haste.” With Solomon’s parting words the messenger scrambled off, leaving the high-ranking soldiers alone again in the room. “Unfortunately, I have to go. This paperwork needs to be handled. Continue planning and we will meet again tomorrow.” The prince wasn’t ready to leave, but he knew wrapping up their affairs in Bercasitt took priority to the new battles. Besides, he had trust in the men he had selected to assist him. He was sure they could come up with a rough plan without him and the general could add his input later.

So it was then Solomon left, heading for his room to find some quiet to do his work. Hopefully, the man could get it done swiftly and return to the war room, though by the looks of it, it was going to take him a few days at the very least, even if he decided to work through the night once or twice. There would no doubt be more coming since it seemed he was supposed to handle the papers while they did the physical work in Bercasitt, which annoyed him. Solomon would much rather be with his soldiers working to rebuild their new territory rather than being stuck at the palace, but such was the young man's fate.

He gave a barely audible sigh as he entered his room but instantly stiffened at the sound of a voice. Fingers tightened around the box he held, eyes darkening as he found the woman in vibrant clothing. What the hell was she doing in his room? Solomon’s jaw tightened in a way that would appear painful and he strode over to his desk, dropping the crate rather audibly onto the desk, which was a signal of his growing internal anger. Fists clenched and unclenched, the man flustered and quickly growing furious. And quite frankly, there was a hint of embarrassment there but was masked by the much more fiery emotions.

Solomon took a breath and stepped back over to where she could see him, arms folding over his chest as he kept a long distance between them. It may not have been her fault, but he didn’t want to be anywhere near her. “I see...” He finally answered, voice dreadfully low. His eyes found the ceiling for a moment as he thought, but fell back to hers as he continued, “You are going to tell me exactly which of my siblings brought you to my quarters.” He demanded slowly, making sure his point was getting across, “And you will do it now. If you don’t recall his name a description will suffice.”

Solomon was positive it was Josef, knowing that it had been his job to escort the woman to her quarters. Granted, he knew it was probably a group effort, but Josef was the eldest and that was the best way to get his message across. The man waited impatiently for her to speak and when she did, he gave a curt nod to show her answer was a satisfactory one. “Return to your room. It is the unmarked door to the right of the one with a stallion symbol.” His gaze glittered with disdain, which he did not hide. There was no need to. He may not have said anything aloud, but nothing needed to be said to show where the man stood on the matter. It was clear her presence was unwanted.

The man waited for her to exit, golden eyes never leaving her form as she left, the man left twitching. For a few moments, he was going to let it go. He was going to just do his work. Solomon was the type to remain calm and not let such childish games get to him. But on top of the niggling humiliation and his disgust at the woman in general, he wasn’t willing to stand down. No, he knew that if he didn’t assert himself he would find that woman in his room more often than not and that was something the general wasn’t willing to stand for.

Solomon opened his door as her’s clicked shut, which caused Josef to poke his head out into the hall. Although, the elder brother would soon come to regret that, as a sword was drawn. “JOSEF!” He roared, rapping his blade against the wall. The prince was wise enough to shut his door, but soon enough Solomon was banging on it, enraged. “GET OUT HERE YOU COWARD! FACE ME LIKE A DAMN MAN!” His fist thundered against the door and he was half-tempted to shove his sword through it and destroy the thing. Would serve the man right.

“Solomon! It was a joke. Gods brother, she’s just a woman! Calm down, I thought you could loosen up a bit, maybe even enjoy yourself. Worst case I’d figured you’d yell at her or something, not break down my door! Now don’t be thick and go back to your room.” Josef called through the door, but his brother wasn’t retreating. Solomon wasn’t one to be denied and sure wasn’t going to let it begin with his entitled whore of a brother. They used to be closer, but that was when Luther was alive. Now they tended to be at each other's throats for no reason.

The general snarled and raised his sword, but did not stab it through the door. No, he raised his blade as if to thrust it into the floor, but angled his sword at the door handle so it broke off with the weight of his blow. The knob clattered to the floor, leaving Solomon to kick the door open, his nostrils flaring. When the door made contact with the wall an echoing bang ensued and the brothers were left face to face. It was Josef who spoke. “I expected better from you Solomon. Breaking down doors? The palace isn’t a battlefield and I am your elder brother. Know your place.” The man growled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You will listen to me, Josef, because I will only tell you this once.” Solomon’s voice had lowered again, speaking of many dangers, “I will let you be the alpha. I will respect you and your word, but only if you keep your whore away from me and my room. I refuse to play your silly little games and indulge in your ridiculous plans of infidelity. I demand the respect I deserve and that is not having my space violated.” He approached his brother, their faces mere inches away, golden eyes finding darker ones. “The next time your plaything ends up in my quarters without my permission you will never see her again, do I make myself clear?”

Josef pushed Solomon away, rolling his eyes. He glared at his brother, irritated with the outburst and threats. Although, even as they fought, the siblings still knew each other well and both were stubborn when it comes to winning. And Josef did not miss the faint shading of crimson that dusted across his sibling's nose that only happened when he was embarrassed. Already the elder brother had struck his mark. The interaction had flustered Solomon, no matter how well it had been hidden with fury. “Fine, you will not find her in your quarters anymore, but I think part of you is lying, Sol. Maybe you’re just afraid of being with a woman, is that it? Is there something wrong with you? Or perhaps it is true that you really are into men…”

If looks could kill, Josef would have already been stabbed thirty-seven times in the chest. How dare his brother insinuate such things! Fingers tightened around his sword, which was still drawn. “Just because I don’t feel the need to play with the palace’s new pet does not make me less of a man. I can contain myself and do not feel the need to sleep with a peasant. I don’t find pleasure in it as you and the others will.” Solomon defended, which in all honesty, only worsened how he appeared. Granted, Josef was wrong, but he had managed to catch him extremely off guard.

“Solomon Solomon Solomon… you are lying to yourself. It seems the great general has finally found something to fear… and it comes in the form of a whore in pink.”