The rattling of a carriage, musty suffocating stench of sweaty, muddy and sand covered skin side by side, lips sucked in by the drought forced upon them. Their sun-faded clothes were ripped from the seams and unwashed as many days as they had been without water themselves. Their heavy, already emotionless silence in contrast with the loud cackling lively conversations by those outside, steering the horses, acting as if they weren't delivering gifted fresh meat for The Emperor to do as he pleased.

  Amongst them a nameless young woman with long, black straight hair typical for those born in The Eastern Empire, falling down leaving gaps for the eyes with her head leaning against the wooden wall of the carriage, those light blue lifeless eyes fixated on the bright full moon above. Oh how she wondered, if she dared, to pray from The Moon Goddess for her quick end once they reached their destination— Spare me by taking my life, i beg of you.

  Let me rest.

  The two Emperors tried, they truly did, to stay civil as much as humanly possible. Keeping the peace between two blood hungry nations wasn't easy. Even the smallest act of kindness came with a not-so-hidden stab of an insult one way or another. This time, Emperor Ming of The Eastern Empire had sent a token of appreciation as it was their custom to exchange gifts each beginning of a new year. This years gift being labor. People to do all the hard work no one else wanted. But in all honesty, he sent away those without a home. Those on the side of the markets like a sore thumb ruining the perfect illusion of a well off nation. Beggars. Orphans. Abandoned. Emperor Moon of The Western Empire might've mistaken the act as generous—but eventually he'd have to realize just how wrong he had been. A simple disposal of garbage.

  All the woman could see of the large town were the beautiful arching tips and edges of the roofs and the walls of the palace higher far behind. They were taken inside the sacred walls only those carefully selected could walk through, heavily guarded, and straight beneath the ground in a hellish prison dungeon with no holes for windows nor lights seeping through. Only cold walls build by stone and endless cages with heavy locks.

  She knew, surely, once Emperor Moon would step inside the prison and look their way for the shortest moment if even that, he'd realize how Emperor Ming had made him into a fool—a way to dispose those unwanted, sickly frail souls barely holding on. And get rid of them once and for all. Make them into his secret enemy's problem instead.

  In the corner of the dungeon, on the cold stone floor filled with dust, sand and what other filth, she hugged her knees close to chest trying to adjust into the terrible switch in temperature. She avoided looking around and those miserable faces. And everyone else did the very same. An old man with grey sparse hair due to malnourishment and many deep wrinkles over worn-out skin, all those years under unprotected sunlight, began to cough uncontrollably.

  They'll burn our bodies she thought. A cold, mundane thought passed through as if it was the thought of what to have for dinner. If only. All she had to eat were a bowl of half eaten rise every other day—or so she had calculated.

  She had no idea of how many mornings had come, how many nights had passed, while men did come and go only to gather those diseased. A day in darkness beneath the ground felt like a week, she knew, estimating at least a couple of months had gone by— when suddenly a set of different footsteps could be heard approaching through the corridor, hidden from the sight. Dark dribbles of water hit the ground through the ceiling in the same pace, until three men stepped into the dim light of merely two flickering flames. She felt unbothered at first, hiding her face beneath the greasy long black hair, but ultimately the curiosity barely took its win and she turned the gaze up from her bare feet.

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  The men were wearing the traditional long robes with wide sleeves, the color hard to make notes of in the darkness. Two of the men wore long robes tied by a string on the side of the waist, shaped like a box by style, their hair tied up on tight buns with a scarf around the forehead signaling their status as palace employees. The man in the middle, however, had his long brown hair falling down silky, his long smooth robe tied more fitted with a wide belt around the waist. Men and women both grew their hair long, hair symbolizing status, but only those high enough on the pedestal were allowed to leave their hair falling down freely combed—Emperor, for example being one of them.

  But this one was too young to be an Emperor, although she had never seen The Emperor of The West before. Of course, as it seemed, the ruler of a nation would not bring himself to a place like this, nor would he be as kind as to choose their fate personally. He must've known then— of Emperor Ming's mockery.

  ’’She must be the one.’’ The noble man kept his hands crossed and hidden inside the sleeves of his robe, an equally long detailed jacket resting on his shoulders, ’’Everyone else is either a child or elderly.’’

  ’’Yes, yes—Second Prince. Of course. Your eyes are as acute as ever.’’ One of the male employees basked, ’’Many of them died by now, too weak, but she was the only woman thrown—no—gifted to The Emperor." He spoke gently and bowed down slightly as long as he spoke.

  ’’I see.’’ She couldn't read the expression on The Second Prince's face. Was it disgust? Disappointment? Whatever she was needed for, she only wished they'd get on with it quick so there would be an end to it sooner, ’’Well, we cannot discard Emperor Ming's well intended intentions, can we now. We shouldn't be rude.’’ The Second Prince sighed as the two men bowed deeply and began to fiddled with the large keys for the lock, the clattering against each other in the larger hoop of metal far too familiar to her by now. They opened the dungeon door and came straight to her, hissing at those who remained not to move or else, tucked underneath her bony armpits on each side and began to drag her out. While the other man began to hastily close the dungeon door, a precaution as if those tired worn-out limps of the prisoners could carry enough to run let alone get up on their own.

  As the man was about to finish locking the dungeon, twisting the key inside with a loud clank, her legs began to lose the last sense left to them, feeling the dark chilly walls beginning to spin she began to fall forward, the palace employee holding on to her too slow to react she surely expected to clash with the floor, but instead, she felt a strong arm reach beneath her, wrapping around her sides.

  ’’Oh dear— Your Highness!’’ The palace employee shrieked in horror as the color on his skin disappeared into oblivion, ’’You wicked—’’ He was about to scold and yank the woman back and off their Prince, everyone knew touching a Royal family member was strictly forbidden and led to a conviction worse than death— although her thoughts were as calm as ever. If it wasn't her time to go in the dungeon like many of those she had arrived with, at least she got to step outside the small space before succumbing to her death.

  However, she found herself supported instead of being yanked away. A small, gentle tug ensuring she wouldn't fall. She smelled a scent of possibly the finest perfume carefully crafted. A fragrance of forest after refreshing rain in midsummer. And as she opened her tired eyes, facing the ceiling with her hair falling all the way down on the floor and its filth, her cold icy blue gaze met with a set of warmth. Soothing dark brown eyes both wide and narrow.

  The Second Prince's eyelashes flickered as soon as his iris's landed on her own. Her smooth skin underneath the dirt. The beautiful shape of her chapped lips. He wondered how they'd look with a smile— and like an arrow pointed towards his chest as a warning, he snapped out of it.

  For she is not for me.

  ─?~???~?─