He could hear the crowd shuffling above the small, stuffy chamber. He could hear them chatting amongst each other, the sounds incomprehensible but the fear audible. He wondered what it was like to sit in the stands and watch as the convict made his choice and suffered the consequences. To watch the tiger rip him apart.

Raven Blackthorn couldn't imagine watching that last part. He couldn't imagine his beloved animals taking a life that way, even when he had to clean the blood off their fur and fangs when it was all over. His animals wouldn't do that. Not unless forced.

He led one of the tigers through the small door and into the room that barely qualified as such. It was a glorified closet, with no lights and not enough room for him to spread his arms apart. It was obvious that the tiger was uncomfortable in the tight space. It thrashed its tail and whipped its head in circles, searching for a way out. It always did this, no matter how many times it had been locked in here before.

Raven made a soft humming sound in the back of his throat and placed his forehead on the tiger's, as he'd often seen them do to each other in an act of comfort. It stilled, looking up at him with fearful, dilated pupils. It was scared, hungry, and thirsty. Raven understood. He felt the same way.

"I don't know how you do that," muttered a gruff voice from the door. Kiara Altaica was leaning against the doorframe, a frown on her face. She was supposed to be there as a safety measure in case the tiger attacked Raven, but they both knew that there was no chance of that happening. Therefore, her presence was just an excuse to keep both of them out of the arena. "Tero is so aggressive with everyone else, even me. I think you just drugged them into liking you or something."

"I don't have to drug them. Everyone likes me," Raven replied with a wink. However, he couldn't help but bristle a bit at the use of Tero's name. He thought that the idea of giving the tigers human names only emphasized their ownership. He preferred to think of them in the grunts and chuffs they used for each other. It reassured him that they still retained a little bit of their wildness and freedom from before their captivity.

"Your job isn't to reassure and talk to the tigers, you know," Sethos Kosey called from the end of the narrow hallway behind them, his footfalls echoing around the tunnels. The chambers under the arena where the three keepers were used to operating were small and stuffy, but it wasn't as if the king cared. As long as he got his entertainment and the tiger lived, there was nothing wrong with the system as far as he was concerned. Sethos had been one of the first tiger keepers, older than both Raven and Kiara, and he'd been the first to ask the king for larger spaces for the tigers. He'd also been the first to lose two fingers for 'whining and wasting the king's time'. "You just need to put him in the pen and leave him. Reassuring him won't make the fight any more entertaining for the king."

Raven, in truth, felt bad for Sethos. He knew the man was kind and happy when he was free to show that, but he also knew that their current employment didn't incite feelings of happiness or mercy. Sethos was a master of steeling himself. Sometimes even Raven's jokes couldn't get through to him.

"We should get out of here before those doors get opened," Kiara reminded him, pulling him out of his thoughts. "I doubt the king would like to see you in there with Tero if that's the door chosen."

"What did I just say about everyone liking me?" Raven reiterated, but he stood anyways and scooched along the wall to the exit behind Tero. The tiger grunted slightly and pawed at Raven's trousers, wanting him to stay and begging him for food or water, neither of which Raven had to give.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as he slid the iron door shut behind him.

Raven always stood outside the door for several minutes after closing it, trying to justify in his mind locking the animal up when he knew in his heart that he was going against everything he believed in. The tigers deserved to be free and returned to their natural home, not forced to live in these disgusting tunnels where the only light was from dim, sputtering torches that barely clung to the wall and died out every five minutes. But on the other hand, the king controlled them all now. If Raven failed to keep them docile, then both he and the tigers would be killed. It was entirely possible that Kiara and Sethos would be included in their sentence. Knowing the king, they would be fed to their own tigers once the animals had reached a point of starvation that not even Raven could bring them out of, after which the tigers would be gutted, stuffed, and put on display. Raven shuddered at the thought. No, it was far better to cage them than to kill them.

He shook his head at his own morbid musings and retreated down the hall, uneager to hear his tiger's pleas through the metal any longer.

❂

He could hear the crowd shuffling on either side of the path carved through the masses by guards, each armored man shoving peasants and other starving people away from the royal procession.

Jasper Vastatio had always thought it was unnecessary as a child. It was a waste of the guards' time, since the royal family was, well, royal, and therefore untouchable. In his youth, the people had been peaceful and satisfied. Nothing like this.

Now, in the midst of a drought, Jasper could see why the armed passage was needed. The people flooded towards the royal family as they walked through the streets, clawing at their clothing and ankles, hoping to grab something or other. Perhaps they thought that Jasper was simply carrying jars or vials of water on his everyday clothing, or perhaps they thought they were strong enough to pull Jasper into the crowd and do Desert knows what from there. Either way, without the guards, the streets would be impassable. The crowds were simply too violent and desperate.

It broke his heart to simply walk past without reassuring them or giving anything back. But with his father directly in front of him and the rest of the court behind him, there wasn't much he could do. So he held his head high, folded his hands behind his back, and forced his legs to walk him forward.

A hand on his shoulder caused him to turn around. An out-of-breath Arcanus Regis had seemingly sprinted to catch up with him and the rest of the procession. Arcanus, as the son of Duke Taryd Regis, was supposed to stand directly behind Jasper as his rank demanded, but clearly he had overslept or simply not cared enough to be there at the beginning of the departure from the palace.

"You're late," Jasper whispered to him.

"Tell me something I don't know," Arc panted in response. "Sorry."

Jasper gave him a soft smile to let him know nobody cared before turning forward again before someone noticed something wasn't right and both of them got in trouble.

He couldn't help but envy Arcanus for the freedom he had. Arc could get away with being late to everything, only putting in half effort, staying at home and sleeping all day. Jasper could barely get away with using the wrong fork at dinner (out of three forks available, he might add; every night's meal was a gauntlet). He leapt at opportunities for small acts of rebellion, such as sitting out of a lesson to read or skipping a meeting to help out in the infirmary. Having a healer's hands was one of the only gifts he'd been blessed with from birth. Swordplay and publicity, unfortunately, were not his strongest suits.

As the parade reached the steps to their pavilion inside the arena where trials were held, Jasper's breathing always became shallow. He hated being forced to watch as people were slaughtered, usually for no more than the crime of being thirsty. Very few people ever chose the correct door, and as time went on their collective luck only seemed to get worse. Jasper always closed his eyes at the time of the kill. He wasn't eager to watch someone get ripped apart and consumed. However, seeing the bloodstained sand after the kill, shining in the baking sun, was almost worse.

A comforting hand in his calmed him slightly. He would recognize that touch anywhere. It was a consolation he had come to depend on during hard times like these, from the person he trusted most in the world: his twin sister, Rosalind.

❂

She could hear the crowd shuffling in violent droves around them as she clutched his hand. Rosalind Vastatio knew situations like these made her brother uncomfortable. His shoulders tensed and his breathing sped up. It hadn't escaped her notice that he closed his eyes whenever the tiger went for the kill, or that he walked closer to the crowd than most of the court members, perhaps to offer them comfort or show his trust. She couldn't help but feel that his ways were risky and naive.

Jasper had always been the more empathetic of the two. From an early age, Rosalind had figured out that navigating her way around court as the younger, female twin child of the king was not easy. She had to be ruthless and decisive just to earn her due amount of respect. She had to be able to fake a smile and force a laugh to remain in favor. She had to be able to be anything in order to be ready for anything.

A quiet cough from behind her made her turn. Standing poised and looking perfectly groomed as always (with an exasperated expression to complete the look) was Arya Marie Holloway. The duke's daughter was never far behind Rosalind in a royal procession such as this one. With her high rank, she was expected to spend her time with the royal family whose rank was even higher. Perhaps her father wanted her to marry into the royal family through Jasper. Perhaps that was what led to the poor girl's deeply-rooted hatred of him.

Arya nodded at Rosalind's hand around Jasper's, and Rosalind quickly tore it away. Though she wanted to comfort him, Arya was right; for girls like them especially, one could never seem too feminine or fragile for even a fraction of a second, else the public and the court could use that one anecdote to completely destroy a carefully crafted reputation. Thankfully, it seemed like no one had seen them except for Arya.

As the family ascended the steps and entered the arena, the people's cries became louder. She'd trained herself to ignore them, to shut them out like the background noise of rain or a flowing river.

The king took his place in front of the throne at the center of the pavilion and raised his arms, causing the crowd to fall silent. Whether it was in fear, respect, anticipation, or curiosity, Rosalind could never tell.

"My people," the king boomed, somehow loud enough to be heard through the entire stadium. "We are here today because a young man has weighed the value of your lives and found them worth less than his own." This was how he started every trial speech. "Bring out the thief!"

A door underneath the pavilion opened and a guard dragged a thin, quivering form into the sun. Rosalind looked closer at the 'guilty' party. He was no more than a boy, he couldn't have been thirteen years old. His hands and arms were covered in bruises and scrapes, and his wrists were manacled together. He was so skinny, even the tight clothes he wore hung loosely from his limp form. The guard gruffly attached his chains to the ring in the center of the arena and hurriedly walked back the way he'd come, undoubtedly eager to get out of the arena. The crowd stayed silent. No boos, no cheers, no sound at all but the sobs that racked the boy's body.

"He's just a child," Jasper whispered from the king's right. Rosalind shot him a warning shot from where she stood at the king's left. If he raised any words of protest to this barbaric justice system, Rosalind knew full well what punishment it would incur from their father.

"This man was caught stealing water from the eastern well yesterday morning," the king bellowed. "He was taking the water that should have been distributed fairly among you. Will you let this stand?"

There was silence for a few moments as the people judged whether he actually wanted a response. Then, a chorus of half-hearted, "No"s echoed through the stands.

The king smiled to himself and sat down. Rosalind and Jasper followed suit, with straightened spines and clenched jaws. Jasper's eyes were pleading to no one, perhaps praying to the Desert for some small amount of mercy. Rosalind hoped her own feelings weren't so obvious.

The king nodded to the boy and said loudly, "Make your choice. Let the Desert decide whether you deserve to live."

The boy shook, his cheeks stained with the few tears his body could produce. Yet he raised his bound hands and pointed shakily at the door on the right.

Rosalind looked at her father. His lips were twitching into a smile the way they always did when the convict chose the door with the tiger. Rosalind always knew what the outcome was before the door ever opened just by looking at him.

"Open the door!" he howled.

The wooden panel was pulled by ropes until the opening was deemed large enough. A shadow, barely more than a piece of the darkness behind, peeled off and crept into the sun. Orange fur and black stripes spelled doom.

The beast strode in slowly and cautiously, as though crawling. Rosalind doubted it had the strength to truly leap and pounce as it used to. But its jaws certainly had enough strength to deliver a killing blow.

As Jasper squeezed his eyes shut, Rosalind forced herself to watch. Forced her gags back, forced her tears away, forced her emotions to evaporate.

It was over in seconds.

❂

She could hear the crowd shuffling in front of the thin curtain she hid behind. She knew that after a boring and speedy execution in the arena like today's they would be sour and cranky, most likely looking for something entertaining to take their minds off their thirst. She hated that. It wasn't fair for them to be bitter about the amount of water they got, when so many more barely got any.

Lylie Jasmal had been tasked long ago with providing that entertainment for the noblemen and the rest of the court. It was customary for them to return to the palace after an execution for a feast of a sorts. In truth, it was probable that they had a feast every night. Lylie was only summoned on days when the trial hadn't been sufficiently exciting.

"If that creepy earl tries to rip my skirt again I swear I'll tear his throat out with my teeth," growled a quiet voice next to her. Emlin, Lylie's dancing partner, was peeking through the curtains at the aforementioned earl with a murderous glare in her eyes.

"You can, but you'll probably die right after him," Lylie replied dismissively, tying the purple laces on her shoes.

Emlin scowled one last time before standing next to her. "What if we just refused to dance today? What if we just stayed back here?"

"Then we'd get beaten and probably accused of free will, or as they like to call it, treason." Lylie straightened up and stretched her arms above her head, making sure the soreness from her last dance was gone. "It's too much of a risk."

"You like risks," Emlin pointed out.

"Fine. It's not a risk, it's a death sentence."

It was Lylie's turn to peek through the curtain now. She could see the 'creepy earl' Emlin had described sitting a few tables away, his eyes only on the meat on his plate. As soon as they entered the stage, she predicted that his gaze might find a different target. Sadly, this was the case for many of the men in court and even the guards. Emlin was young enough that her curves were still a little lacking, but with Lylie's fully-sculpted body and suggestive clothing it was hard to pretend every male eye in the room wasn't on her. It made her skin crawl, but she had learned to bite back her disgust and suck up to them to get what she needed.

The girls sighed and faced the curtain together. The music would start soon, and after that they'd be expected to emerge.

Lylie and Emlin had a tradition of cycling through several dances they both knew and had practiced with each other on different days. They never repeated the same dance the very next time they performed, else they might bore the court. However, three dances later, no one would notice them repeating moves.

The two of them had not been eager to work together at first. Lylie used to have a different dancing partner, Miha, who had been much more amiable. However, Miha had died of thirst and fatigue a few years back and Lylie had performed solo. She had almost preferred it that way, but with all eyes on her and her alone it was hard to sneak away any of the small vials that she depended on. Then, Emlin had been brought to her. The black band tattooed around her neck signified that she was a prisoner taken from a conquered area in the surrounding desert. The two had been ordered to dance together. It had not gone over well.

They hated each other, actually. Lylie had been annoyed by Emlin's constant complaining and Emlin had disapproved of Lylie's willingness to dance. However, they'd bonded finally over their shared favorite pastime: stealing.

For Emlin, it was a small act of rebellion that she could get away with. For Lylie, it was different. It was her ticket to survival, the only way she could ever get enough water to support herself and her sister in the unfortunate position they were in.

Maybe the dancers didn't like each other, but they could respect and aid each other at the least. They'd started working together to stitch pockets into their silks that could hold the vials of water they took from the laden tables.

Soft, subtle notes began to drift through the curtain in a gentle melody. Their cue to enter. Lylie took a deep breath and stepped through the curtain.

❂

She could hear the crowd shuffling on either side of her at the table where she sat. Though she wished it wasn't, it was a familiar sound. She longed to skip these feasts, or at least sit in a corner where she was invisible, but unfortunately it wasn't a choice she got to make.

Kimera Relicem had been told what to do her entire life. Her decisions were made for her and her opinions were formed by others. Where she lived, who she spent time with, even where she sat at a feast.

Her table certainly wasn't anywhere near the king, thankfully. Her status wasn't high enough for that. His table was laden with all the food they could spare and ample vials of water, each one filled with enough for a shot. They grabbed one whenever they needed it, and discarded the empty glass somewhere around the table for a servant to take care of.

At Kimera's table, the one designated for the lower class people who still lived in the palace (guards, healers, conjurers, etc.), there was one vial per person. If you were smart, you only drank small sips at a time and savored it. If you were smarter, you took someone else's and drank it for them, praying they didn't notice. Of course, they always did notice. So maybe it wasn't the smarter move, after all.

Food during the drought was severely lacking. Mostly it was snake meat, since animals like cows, goats, and chickens had all but died off in the first few years. It was hard to herd large animals without enough water for even yourself. Cactus had become a common food as well, though less so now that all the desert plants in the vicinity of the walled city they all lived in had been harvested to near extinction. It was hard to wander out farther since there wasn't enough water to spare for a long journey.

What the king called a 'feast' was more like a regular meal with extra candles and some music.

"Enjoying the feast?" mumbled the guard sitting a little too close to her right through a mouthful of food. "You haven't said a word since this morning."

Kimera forced a faint smile and whispered, "I'm not much of a talker." At least, not with this man. She could talk easily to other people, like her other guard who offered to help her escape, a kind servant who seemed to have a story for everything, or even the prince who took interest for some unfathomable reason. But with this stranger, who she'd only met this morning and spent all day with, made her very, very uncomfortable. She turned back to her plate, praying that he would leave their conversation at that.

The two dancers that always seemed to be at these events revealed themselves from behind their thin curtain and swooped into a deep bow in unison before they began their dance. This was the only part of these gatherings that Kimera could actually stand. Their dances, though short, were quite impressive. Once they began, it was hard to tell one limb from the other as they swayed in an intangible wind, their silks and hair forming a whirlwind of color shrouding them like a mist. They stood on their toes and the balls of their feet, floating delicately across the floor like they were walking on water; one wrong move and they could slip beneath the waves and drown.

One of the dancers, the older of the two who wore purple and red, flitted her way closer to Kimera's table. She had the nerve to lean down over their meals and give the people sitting there a quick wink before straightening up again and twirling away. Kimera met her eyes for a moment, and they were entrancing: they were a dark shade of brown like the sky after the sun had just set. Mera couldn't look away. But the dancer was gone in a flash. It was admirable; she did it all in rhythm with the music that drifted in the air. She was gone in seconds, to the other table then to the next, as she did every night. The young seer couldn't help but crane her neck to keep her eyes on the beautiful young woman, watching her spin and twist like a talented tornado.

Kimera shook her head at her own childish awe and turned back to her food. Snake meat was chewy and not particularly satisfying, but at the end of the day she was just glad to have food at all. She reached for her thin water vial to wash the salty taste down her throat.

But though she looked, it was nowhere to be found.

Word Count: 3992

Character Appearances:

Raven Blackthorn by PackWolfLegolas

Jasper Vastatio by EstelElfstone

Rosalind Vastatio by sofififlowers

Lylie Jasmal by 3lizamallory

Also Featuring Appearances From:

Kiara Altaica by TheExplosiveCyborg

Sethos Kosey by SincerelyLoki

Arcanus Regis by WaferWhale

Arya Marie Holloway by Toilken4Life

Emlin "The Cat" by dobblewolf

A/N: Hello there! Hopefully you enjoyed the first chapter. I know I haven't introduced everyone's characters yet, but I promise that if you weren't in this chapter you will be in the next one. I can't promise anything regarding an update schedule but I can say that I'm planning to stick with this story as much as any of my others; that being, I won't abandon it or forget about it, though it may feel that way if I take really long to update (which has a high probability of happening). Thank you for reading and leave some love so I know you're there!