//------------------------------// // Chapter II – The Serpent and the Yoke // Story: The Rose and the Serpent // by Gulheru //------------------------------// The pure, intoxicating warmth was all around Roseluck. The wonderful heat, deep and profound, was surrounding her in a cocoon, making her feel safe and secure. Making her feel cared for. She took a deep breath, taking in the scent of thick furs. The delicate hint of warm, mineral water. And the touch of incense, tickling her nostrils playfully. She stretched under the warm pelts which were inviting her to go back to this wonderful, beautiful slumber. She felt... fuzzy. A bit fatigued, but strangely satisfied. Like after a truly splendid night. A night with warm joy and heating emotions and then deep, spent, glowing relaxation. A night with company. Her lips curled into a warm, sated smile, the remnants of bliss still lingering in her groggy mind and in her muscles. It felt heavenly. And azure. And purple... And... ... and periwinkle...? Roseluck’s eyes shot open, a cold shiver running down her spine, the icy grip of realization awakening her fully. She remembered. She remembered everything. She sat straight up, regretting the hasty decision immediately. Her head spun and her stomach objected somewhat fiercely, suddenly revealing its extensive knowledge of knots. Her eyes crossed a little, as a tide of fatigue washed through her. Cold. Empty. Colorless. Where did the wonderful colors go...? No, they were... they were not... She supported herself somehow from slumping back down, trying to stop her head from trying to redefine up and down, as well as left and right and everything in between. “Do take it slow, young one. The confusion shall pass in a few heartbeats,” a silken, hissing tone addressed her. Cyrus. She tried to focus, bravely attempting to stop the world. “Wh... Where...” she mumbled, her tongue having no intention of helping her out. “You are in my lair still, young one,” the naga hissed back. When the World established its uneasy balance, she finally locked her eyes on him. He was submerged in the pond up to his torso, resting on his side on one of the thicker rugs, an open, ancient-looking tome in front of him. And he was smiling in satisfaction. “It is the morn.” It was morning... Roseluck spent the night... she spent the night by him. In his embrace. Hypnotized... She felt... cold at that thought. Anxious. Her head had ceased to spin and yet it felt like it was going to start anew. She hugged herself tightly, trying to stop the trembling, even though there were warm pelts all over her. She... she felt... “Why...?” she heard herself asking. “Pardon?” “... why did you do this?” she repeated the question fully, feeling tears welling up in her eyes. “Did what, young one? Hypnotize you?” Cyrus replied with a tone so casual, it caused another shiver to pass through her. “Y... yes,” she muttered. “It was my will,” he replied, closing whatever book he was reading and putting it aside for the moment. “I found you appealing, witty and valuable. As such, I desired to keep you.” Roseluck swallowed. She didn’t know whether to be surprised, or disgusted at the sheer honesty in his voice. “And... and that was... enough? That was... your reason...?” The naga stretched, coiling up to stand, his tail climbing onto the shore, water sliding down its smooth scales all around him. “Most certainly. It is a naga’s right, to claim what is found enjoyable, so teaches us the Hiss of the Coil of Amenities.” Enjoyable. She was enjoyable. She tried to stop the sobbing that threatened to overtake her body. Cyrus slithered forward, his expression changing as he saw her watery eyes. “Your distress is not pleasing me in any way. Here, I have some food for you, prepared,” he let her know, pointing at a platter and cutlery set up on one of the carpets. Apples, some hay and oats were all there. Roseluck couldn’t care less. She lowered her head, slowly turning away from the monster. “Come, you must be hungry...” she heard him insisting, hearing his scales slithering through the carpets. “Your leg isn’t fine yet, I shall carry you.” “Get away from me!” she screamed, tears going down her muzzle. The echo of her shout overtook the calm tranquility of the cave as she turned around, defiant, despite feeling so... feeble. She heard Cyrus stopping. “There is no need for this, young one,” he spoke, his tone calm and gentle, though with a note of displeased authority to it. “You have proven your worth already, I need no more acts of bravery to appraise.” Roseluck gritted her teeth, her eyes tightly shut and her body locked in place. “You think I’m brave?! I’m terrified!” she blurted out, turning her head to glare at him in accusation. “You hypnotized me, you kept me here against my will, you used—” she tried to continue, but only a whinny of distress escaped her mouth. The naga tilted its head. He stared at her with his unblinking, lavender eyes. “I have elevated you to the role of my Servant. It is an honor for a young one to be chosen as a naga’s retainer of the highest value and importance.” “... elevated... Servant...” Roseluck mumbled, feeling tears running down her muzzle still. How... how did that make any sense? Cyrus lowered his torso, leaning forward, but she only tried to move away from him. She yelped when she put too much weight on that strained gaskin. “You are fraught. You can only hurt yourself like this, Roseluck,” he spoke with a certain benevolence to his voice. “Come, dine in my presence. I shall make everything clear to you.” She didn’t move. There was nothing to say. Nothing to make clear. ... it was clear enough to her... Cyrus took a deep breath. “Even a naga’s goodwill towards its retainers is not limitless, young one.” “Then hypnotize me and be done with it!” she heard herself shouting, clenching her eyes and planting her hooves deeper in the furs, like she was trying to grasp and tear them. The naga slithered around the pile, trying to establish eye contact, but despite what Roseluck shouted, she was not going to allow him anything. She felt hurt enough already. V-violated enough... “I wish to converse. You will achieve the honor of experiencing my Gaze again when I find you have served well enough. Or when I shall be feeling magnanimous,” he finally stated with authority. Roseluck bit her lower lip, taking a glance the naga’s way. She risked a lot, but his eyes were but lavender, not in any of the three colors that she felt had... ... been so wonderful... No! The colors that had tainted her mind! “If...” She sniffed, closing her eyes. “If you want me so badly to... to serve... then... it wouldn’t it be... better to just...” she didn’t know how to say it without invoking dread inside of her. “Enthrall you utterly?” Cyrus asked, as if reading her thoughts. The very notion of such a possibility almost caused her heart to stop. She replied nonetheless. “Y-yes, so I... so I don’t have to... remember...” The naga tilted his head again. “But I care for you.” Now that made her heart stop indeed. Roseluck’s eyes grew huge and her brows rose high. She looked at Cyrus so intently, she was certain he would have no trouble with putting her in a trance in a matter of seconds. However, the naga’s stare was calm and stoic, and his expression was inscrutable, though a bit confounded. “Wha...?” Her face felt warm. “What do you...? I mean...? Huh?!” Cyrus nodded simply, frowning at her reaction. “Yes, I... do care for you. You would lose most of your value if turned into a simple Thrall, or even an obedient Slave. Even though, as a naga, I am obliged by tradition, custom and honor to provide for each and all of the Servants, Slaves and Thralls in my care, no matter even their low, insignificant statuses...” he explained stoically. Roseluck’s cheeks seemed to have cooled down, but her heart was still fluttering in her chest. “I...” she looked at him, biting her lip. “And... what if I... regardless... refuse to serve you?” The naga squinted his eyes and his tongue flicked out quickly. “I would be inclined to punish you for the grave insolence.” Roseluck felt a shiver travelling down her spine at the coldness and grim determination in his voice. Cyrus, however, took a deep breath and extended his hoof towards her. “However, I never considered myself a cruel Master. And so I shall generously repeat myself. Come. Dine in my presence. I will answer the doubts in you, Roseluck.” She... was reluctant. She feared. She felt disturbed by the... tranquility with which he carried himself despite what he... what he had already done to her. It seemed that for him, this was... natural. Normal. Roseluck looked at his hoof, reaching towards her in a gesture of imperious benevolence. Then, fearfully, into his eyes, piercing and autocratic. With him around and her hurt leg... She could just hope that her friends would start to worry about her absence soon and begin the search... if they would even manage to find her... ... what else was she to do? She nodded. Cyrus slithered closer, slowly, and picked her up. How different the texture of his scales was now. No longer unearthly. But rough. Almost hurtful. The naga brought her to the food, putting her down with enough care. He chose one of the more delicate rugs, she found out, the bristle of it was far more luxurious and soft. He coiled to the opposite side, turning his serpentine body in a makeshift seating, taking his place with slithering dignity. Roseluck looked up cautiously, as his eyes were observing her the whole time, but they were, thankfully, monochromatic. And yet... strangely... a part of her missed— No! No, no, that part had to go away! In an instant! Cyrus tilted his head and pointed at the food. “Eat, young one,” he encouraged her. Roseluck, realizing that she was still but eyeing his gaze, rather than sating her hunger, quickly scrambled to begin eating. And even while against the idea of following any... commands, she would have to surrender to the hunger. She tried to focus on the meal, wishing to forget for a moment that she suddenly felt like a prisoner. Cyrus was almost motionless, observing her, at first saying nothing, only flicking his tongue from time to time. “I hope the food is fresh enough, Roseluck.” “It... it is...” she had to admit, even if it was to be by a small, reluctant mumble. “If you would think it insufficient, fear not to speak up. If your health demands it, I will acquire bigger portions,” he let her know. And it just confused her further. She stopped herself from taking another bite, looking up at him defiantly. This calmness, it was... it was...! “Why would you care what I think, or need?!” she erupted, more than even she intended to. The naga grimaced in displeasure. “A Servant may not address their Master this way,” he began, a gentle, but menacing hiss making its way into his voice, but soon his expression lightened. “You have not grasped your role still, so I shall be forgiving...” He made himself more comfortable, resting his pony-like back on his own, coiled tail. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “A Servant must be kept in good health, as their state testifies of their Master. The Hisses of the Coil of Servitudes and the Coil of Sovereignties sound as one. It is a Master’s duty to care for his Servants and Slaves and Thralls, and it is their right to be provided for as befits their needs... Then, it is the duty of Servants and Slaves and Thralls to be obedient to their Master, and it is the Master’s right to use them as befits his needs.” Roseluck listened with mounting curiosity. This sounded... convoluted, even if there was a twisted, or maybe “coiled”, logic behind it. “And... you call me a... Servant, right?” “That you are, young one. The highest role a young one can have,” Cyrus affirmed with a small smirk. “Your wit and conviction are most valuable. Your acts of defiance prove your willpower. And you are easy on the eyes...” he added, nodding in thought. “You are a superb acquisition.” Roseluck paid no attention to his doubtful compliments, considering the context. “So you really... think me your... property?” she asked, those words barely making it through her throat. “I do and you are, young one,” “... how can you?” she asked, immediately regretting even trying to grasp this impassive reasoning. “Quite naturally. That is how the Universe was created,” Cyrus responded with truly regal tranquility. “The naga are meant to rule, the young ones are made to serve. It is not something that is saddening or rejoicing, bringing glory or dishonor. It is but how the World slithers around.” Roseluck couldn’t believe her ears. “You... you really believe this?!” she blurted out. She regretted it in an instant, as Cyrus’ eyes again glinted in anger and she immediately had to escape with hers, overwhelmed by the gaze. “Twice have you now shouted in my presence!” He hissed with a warning. Then, took calming breath, a shudder passing through his coils. “As to the question, I do believe in this, young one, those are sacred dogmas of ours. The Endless Coils granted us. With the strength to overpower. With the wit to overcome. With the Gaze to overwhelm.” He made himself more comfortable amongst his own coils. “We are the Overlords of this World, here to conquer and command and rule...” he finished, with a satisfied smirk. “And we... we are but... but slaves in your eyes?” His reply was calm, again strangely benevolent. “In the simplest sense? No. Just the ‘young ones’, destined to serve us. It is not belittling.” “Not for you, perhaps...” Roseluck mumbled, feeling tears stinging her eyes. She dried them quickly. “Indeed. Your kinds always found it hard to grasp...” Cyrus admitted. She glanced back at him, spotting that his eyelids dropped down and his gaze was... absent. He looked like he was... reminiscing something. “And yet there was a time during the reign of Ozsshyimahndhiazssh,” he hissed out something that must have been a name, or a title, “when the young ones of the Seas of Sands bowed to Him and our Empire with great joy and loyalty. The Raja of Rajas allowed them to share in our glory and they were rewarded handsomely for their loyalty.” He sighed, his chest heaving. “Many have forgotten it already, but there are tribes that wander the Seas to this day, weaving tales of those past ages and the nagas’ greatness to their children... Of the endless rivers of Shehzsennshar, with their waters as clear as a crystal and warm as an embrace... Of the Floating Gardens of Dhush-Cadhahzshma, were flowers and desires blossomed both... Of the temples and shrines of Mashkhan-Shaphashir, mesmerizing with sapphires and flames dancing on gold, with incense coiling on the floors, thick as a carpet...” Roseluck found herself... captivated by his words. They seemed so otherworldly. It was as if he was mentioning fables to her. But the tone of his voice rang true. And the melancholy of his gaze spoke even clearer. Those places he hissed out did not mean anything to her, but... “The Seas of Sands...?” she meekly asked, not certain even if he would hear her. “Do you mean... Saddle Arabia?” Cyrus shook his head, another shiver passing through his body. He looked at her, his stare almost glazed over, raised his hoof, then stoically slithered to the edge of the pond, lowering his coils into the water, tail first. As he did so, he let out a long hiss, his tongue flicking out of his mouth a couple of times. Roseluck curiously looked after him as he completely submerged himself. Coming out with yet another blissful sound, he looked around, his eyes clear and piercing again. “What was your question again, young one?” Did he forget? Or did he really not hear her clearly? What had happened there? “Uhm... those ‘Seas of Sand’... that makes me think of Saddle Arabia...” she repeated herself. The naga slithered back onto the carpets, the water quickly running down his scales and curled hair. “That is the name of that serfdom that spans the Seas nowadays, yes. The young ones of the Sands forged themselves a country they believe shall stand for ages. They do not deserve the glory!” he hissed with pique. “Have you finished eating?” Roseluck scrambled to take a few more bites, his irked tone leaving her little choice. When she was done and pushed the plate away, Cyrus pointed at the pond. “I want you to perform ablutions,” he commanded, giving her a once-over. “I have enjoyed your closeness, even though my nostrils were filled with the whiff of soil from... how you entered my lair. But now, as my Servant, you need to present yourself properly,” he remarked his eyes stopping at her mane, muzzle, tail. Roseluck stared at the warm water. And mostly to avoid his again stern, sharp gaze, lingering on her body and causing her to feel self-conscious. Despite still feeling queasy about her situation, she had to make do until any help would come. Especially considering his sudden agitation. Lest she risked... more than she had lost already. “I... can do, yes... Is the water deep?” Cyrus frowned. “Why would that ma—” He paused, shaking his head. “Of course, I keep forgetting that not all young ones tread water. Do you know how to swim?” “I... will not drown, I don’t think?” came her sheepish answer. Cyrus’ mouth actually twitched, his expression softening a little. “Very well... Come.” He rose from his coils, slithering closer and lifting her up. She did not protest. It would do little to nothing. He took her to the edge of water, putting her down on the closest rug, so she could without a problem slide in. “If you are afraid still, I can assist you.” Assist her... Assist her in b-bathing?! Roseluck’s heart skipped a beat. “H-how?” she squealed, feeling a sudden wave of anxiety. And embarrassment, manifesting in the red on her cheeks. “I can offer to hold you in a coil, so that you do not sink,” Cyrus replied calmly, almost as if he did not spot her blush at all. “Oh, I... I think...” ... she thought he would help her with colors... No! No, none of that! Come on, Roseluck, pull yourself together! The mare shook her head. “Thank you, I will bathe on my own.” Cyrus squinted his eyes a little. “One more thing... ‘Master’...” he hissed. She blinked. “Pardon?” “I need to instruct you, if you are to perform well as a Servant. When you are referring to me, and especially if it happens in the presence of other nagas, or retainers, you must title me ‘Master’. It is customary.” “I... It is...” “Customary, proper and indispensable,” Cyrus enjoined, his slit pupils narrowing dangerously. Roseluck did not even try to keep up the defiant stare, his piercing glare was almost burning through her head. She lowered her eyes, taking in a shaky breath. “Y-yes... Master...” Cyrus smiled warmly. “That will do for now, my Servant...” he replied benevolently, already turning to take care of the meal. Roseluck just sat at the edge of the pond for a moment, looking at the water. She... felt so... lost in this! So conflicted. Cyrus considered her a possession. His property. She would have to acknowledge his status, even against herself, lest she risked angering him. And that could mean... She was not going to think about that. Not going to think about last night... ... about azure... and purple... and periwinkle... About how they felt... How good. She shook her head violently. No. They did not. They just pretended to be so. These unwanted thoughts were invading her brain, yes, but she had to push them away, and firmly! She took a deep, calming breath and gently lowered one of her hind hooves, touching the water. It felt really warm. Perhaps it would do nicely to... to relax her, after all. At least for a moment. For a breath. For her to forget where she was. ... in the lair of a serpentine, dictatorial abomination... Roseluck sighed, submerging herself slowly into the pond, holding a breath. Feeling the hot water soaking her coat gradually, heating up her muscles, she hummed as the temperature caressed her all the way up to her neck and muzzle. One thing was certain. No wonder he picked this place, if he was cold-blooded. This pond felt amazing. She held to a carpet on the bank with one hoof, not to drift away, but dared to close her eyes and just... let go of thoughts. For a moment. For a breath. Not to lose her mind completely. ... perhaps this was just a bad dream...? The hissing of Cyrus brought her back to the waking world... that had some resemblance of a nightmare. The naga was rummaging for something in a little alcove hidden in the cavern’s walls, where he had his belongings stashed in, only his tail in Roseluck’s vision. Concerning his hisses, whatever it was, he could not find it. She watched the frantic twitches of his body for a moment, curious. He was, as she unfortunately learned, a cunning and dangerous creature. One that had managed to lure her into its coils and... ...and colors... ... despite her knowing exactly what danger she was in! He was a threat. A predator, one who had no real trouble in cornering and overpowering her. And yet, there was something... off about him. Roseluck could not put her tongue on it, but... He got impatient rather quickly. Even at her calling his species with a wrong term. Now, when she mentioned Saddle Arabia, which he considered unworthy of glory. And then, when he was speaking of those exotic places and glories... he seemed absent. Was this a chance for her? “M... Master?” Cyrus’ tail stopped twitching and soon his face became visible from behind the rock, his lips in a tiny smirk. “Yes, my Servant?” “It seems you need help, Master. I shall aid you...” she let him know. Her throat found it difficult to agree to the plan that quickly formulated in her head, but she managed to let the words out. If she would try her best to play the part of a retainer, she would give herself as much time as she could. And she would observe him more. Surely he was not infallible, no matter how highly he thought of himself and his species. The naga’s smile grew, magnanimous, when he heard her words. “Your offer is appreciated, my Servant... and your first attempts at deference are satisfactory. But, you are injured and I am capable of dealing with this myself. Make sure to wash yourself properly, instead. The mineral water should do wonderful.” She nodded, but then looked at him again, smiling weakly. “Forgive me, Master, but is there any soap around? Or a mane conditioner? I want to... look the part...” She worried she might have gone a bit too far already, especially when Cyrus remained still for a moment, only his tongue flicking. Then his expression grew concerned, but strangely pleased. “We, nagas, need but water. Oils and ointments are additional luxuries, reserved for us...” He glanced into the stone alcove. “I do not possess anything for the young ones, and it is an oversight. Though soon remedied.” Roseluck felt a cold shudder down her spine at his tone, despite the warmth of the water. Cyrus glanced back at her, his expression stern. “For now, use but the water. Your thoughtfulness is noted and shall be addressed.” That is... exactly what she began to worry about, suddenly. At least, it seemed he believed in her compliance. But... “addressing” the issue meant getting those items from someplace... and the closest place was... “What is on your mind, my Servant?” “Oh, uhm!” Roseluck mumbled, realizing she did not continue bathing, instead staring into nothingness. “I... I... I was just... surprised by your... understanding, M-Master.” “Understanding?” the naga inquired, leaning forward a little. “Y-yes! I-I mean, I am a Servant and yet you a-acknowledged what I said...” Cyrus shook his head, smirking. “My Servant, my position being near infinitely greater than yours does not mean that I shall be blind and deaf to what you say. Your remark was accurate, as retainers testify of their Master, I have told you that...” “O-oh...” “Would you believe that I would hold you in utter disregard?” he asked, genuinely curious. “I... uhm... I was m-mistaken.” The naga rolled his lavender eyes. “You have a lot to learn, young one, but time shall grant you that knowledge. Continue bathing,” he ordered, returning to searching through the alcove, only his snake tail remaining in sight. Roseluck let out the breath she did not know she was holding. So far so good? At least she hoped so. Cyrus seemed convinced that she had decided to accept her fate. It would be unwise to let him realize otherwise. She closed her eyes. She submerged herself entirely in the water, to let go of all the thoughts for a while longer. She felt safe, surrounded by the warmth... but one that she chose, not was drowned in by the monster. She took her time, cleaning herself up entirely, trying to wash her mane and tail to the best of her abilities without anything else than water. As she removed the hairs that fell onto her eyes, she spotted that Cyrus has left her a white, reasonably thick, cotton towel on the bank. The naga himself was coiled next to the fur pile and Roseluck spotted that he was fiddling with something in his hooves. Flickers of light were dancing on the far wall, caused by that something that he was holding. He glanced her way. “Do you need aid getting out of the water?” “N-no, Master, I can manage...” she replied, lifting herself up and on the carpet, her hurt leg not giving her much discomfort, muscles relaxed by the bath. She did not take too much time drying herself, curiously glancing the naga’s way. He was giving her more some short stares back, as if... ... measuring her? She finished with the towel, spreading it on the bank to dry. Then, Cyrus turned to her. “As you have become my Servant, the Hisses of the Coils of Servitudes and Sovereignties dictate that you wear some sort of symbol of your Master... Thralls have marks placed on their flesh, Slaves are given bands, or earrings. Servants...” He paused. In his hooves he held a segmented, wide hoop. It had a medallion with a strange mark done in azurite on the front, and it glimmered of gold, polished as if brand new. It could not have been, though, considering that it did not remind Roseluck of any piece of jewelry she knew or heard of. For a good reason. Her widened eyes were stuck on the piece. Partially because it was truly beautiful. And partially, because... “It’s... it’s a yoke...” Cyrus shook his head firmly. “No, my Servant. The hiss of your language names it ‘peytral’... When worn by a young one, it signifies their affiliation and status as a Servant. To bear the mark of their Master so proudly is a great honor.” The mare’s eyes were jumping from the hoop to the naga, not really feeling this great honor he mentioned. “And... and I am expected to wear this... c-constantly?” she asked, but Cyrus just squinted his eyes. “... M-Master,” she added and only then did he nod. “Yes, my Servant, unless you are asleep, or bathing, or there is another reason not to...” He slithered close, towering over her, pointing at the piece of azurite with symbols on it. “This is the mark of mine and my bloodline. It will make you respected amongst other retainers and forbids other nagas from taking possession of you, as it is an affront to me if they would attempt so...” Roseluck, despite the unrest in her heart, looked closely at the medallion, particularly the mineral in it. The signs on it were dancing and coiling around, possibly having a deeper meaning, actually done in some other type of gem, embedded skillfully in the solid azurite. “So this... this is your mark, Master? What... what does it say?” she inquired, hiding her emotions behind the guise of obedient curiosity. Cyrus placed the ornament flat on his scaly hoof, then traced the outermost ring, comprised of many smaller circles, entwined with one another, without beginnings or ends. “This circle signifies the Endless Coils, which hiss to us and teach us and make the World slither around, constantly...” Roseluck listened attentively, her eyes following his hoof through the meanings of the signs. The light of the crystals of the cavern was reflecting in them, playfully, catching gaze, leading her on through the markings and patterns. “This inner symbol, the one resembling two forked tongues, is the mark of the city of Phasharnhaghazsh, my ancestral home... The two glaives, one above the other, are representing my bloodline, the Askhamhenhezsh...” Cyrus’ explanation was, without a doubt, fascinating. And yet, Roseluck had a distinct feeling that it was getting harder and harder for her to focus on his words. The symbols seemed more important than the explanation, as the light reflecting off them was starting to become... strangely familiar. Inviting. Tricolored. “And this serpent’s head with the full circle upon its head is my own mark, which I achieved when the priests read the incense on the day of my coming of age...” Fascinating... this was f-fascinating... The colors, that is... They were wonderful... Azure... and purple... and periwinkle... “No!” Roseluck shouted out loud, without realizing it, closing her eyes quickly and scrambling away from the medallion and its illumination, landing on her haunches as she did so. She yelped when her weight ended up on her strained leg. “By the Endless Coils, Servant, what is the meaning of this?!” Cyrus erupted, though leaning forward, to quickly check on her. Roseluck panted a few times, the pain, thankfully, quickly passing. But now, she was facing something far worse. A vexed naga. “I-I-I’m very sorry, M-Master, the...” she mumbled, keeping her eyes away from the naga's. Or the medallion. Definitely away from it. “S... something startled me...” Cyrus’ nostrils flared and he glanced at her, then at the peytral, his gaze sharp and alert. “What would you mean?!” He pursed his lips at first, but slowly his expression turned into a smile. “Ah... You saw my Gaze...” Roseluck let out a small squeal. She could not lie now. “Y-yes, Master...” “Good. But there is nothing to fear, my Servant...” the naga declared, benevolently offering her his hoof so she could stand back up. She took the offer, afraid to refuse. “The medallion contains a portion of my power, locked in the signs, in the reflective minerals used to create them... Do not fret, as it is meant to encourage you. Grant you the reminder that my glory is with you...” Roseluck did not feel encouraged. Anxious, oh, sure. She was meant to wear a yoke that was emanating with Cyrus’ magic. Very reassuring. Of course, she could not show any of her doubts. “It was just... sudden, Master...” she replied, looking at him bashfully. “I can understand that. You know not of the ways of the naga, but have your mind open and you will soon learn...” Mind open. No. None of that. “I will do my best, Master...” “Good... You will wear my sign, then,” Cyrus stated, leaning forward. She could only stand still as he encircled her neck with her new, golden... collar. When the buckle on the back clicked, Roseluck barely stopped a shudder passing through her. The yoke was not heavy, and yet she felt it dragging her downwards. The naga straightened up, again looming above her, his expression content. “There. Now you truly represent me, my Servant,” he declared, proud and boastful. “The medallion shall place you among the most valued of those subservient to me. And the magic in it will make you capable of overseeing others that shall come to my servitude.” ... o-others... *** “And she has not returned yet?” Princess Twilight asked, her tone betraying mounting worry. Daisy nodded her head as fast as Lily had, taking a deep breath. “Yes, Princess! It was just... just a silly bet, we did not think it through, but now—” “Now we are worried, cause she was supposed to just pick that starsalvia and be back, but... but we waited and waited and still no sign of her!” Lily explained, tears beginning to sting her eyes once again today. It was her fault! Her stupid idea and her stupid fault! She clenched her eyes, trying not to cry outright. “Now, now, calm down,” the Princess tried to soothe her, circling the desk to be closer to the two of them. “Are you sure she did not come back home after you went to visit me?” “N-no, Princess, we have asked Junebug to wait for her there and send Thunderlane after us if she would be back,” Daisy replied, reaching for Lily’s hoof to try and calm her down. The Princess nodded. “Alright. We are going to organize a search. I will have our local Guard help us out. We will find Roseluck, do not worry.” Lily took a deep breath. “It’s all my fault!” she let out a distressed whinny. “Lily, listen to me.” She looked up at the Princess through the tears. “This is no time for casting blame upon anypony, especially yourself. We are going to focus on making sure that Roseluck is back to us, alright?” Lily nodded. The Princess knew what she was talking about. However... “I want to help with the search.” “Yes, me too!” Daisy immediately joined in. Princess Twilight looked perplexed for a moment. “I...” she began, her eyes darting from one mare to the other, finally resting on Lily, who was pretty certain her tears could not hide the conviction in her gaze. “I will talk with Mayor Mare about coordinating help from the citizens, alright? But only after we make sure that there is no threat that the Guard needs to deal with.” That would have to do. “Thank you, Princess,” Lily replied, letting out a long sigh. “Thank you...” she repeated herself, hoping that her and Daisy’s closest friend... truly, their sister... was alright...