Leyla

The battle was won. In the many weeks after, victories and vigils went hand in hand. The last of Phlague's males fell or were captured, and their crimes would be spoken for by the same death they had caused. So many brave Lathras had fallen as well, so many in honor of their land, their kingdom and their females. For four weeks straight, the Dralan let the bells sound throughout all temples of prayer across the kingdom. The locals sung hymns for the fallen warriors, and the females prayed both for those that had returned to them and those that had left them forever.

And finally, for those females that had survived the brutality of Phlague's doing.

As Lathras were dispersed to Phlague's secret hideout (at last discovered after extracting the information from some of his males), imprisoned, injured females were found barely clinging to life. They sobbed at their release, of their freedom being returned to them, yet what they were freed to was a world now so changed to them; a world with little comfort to seek, a place without a home for abused females.

Before the war, Leyla had talked about wanting to help these poor females find a place to recover. Back then, it had seemed like a faraway dream though. They hadn't yet known the outcome of the war, the numbers they were facing, or how severe the damage would be. Now, as females all across the kingdom poured in to seek the aide of their sovereign Dralan, Leyla had been faced with the issue of finding a big enough space for all the females—let alone a place they would all feel safe.

"Use my prayer dome," The Dralan had come to her one evening as she had sat bent over the castle plans, all of the rooms and floors, trying to find an appropriate space. He himself had just returned from overseeing the handling of injured Lathras and had seen her desperate struggle, knowing most of the rooms in the castle weren't suitable enough, nor private enough, or already taken. What these females needed was rest and a secluded space to feel safe, not a place anyone could merely wade into.

"Your prayer dome?" She spoke back, lifting her tired head to meet his solemn gaze. "But..."

"It is a place meant to worship the greatest Female of all. What better place to heal Her daughters?" The Dralan had kissed her cheek tenderly before leaving her to her plans.

Leyla had considered his words only for a moment before closing her eyes and envisioning it; All the injured, abused females, safe in the solice of the holiest of places, the Dralan's personal prayer dome. It was as perfect as it could be. There was only one entrance, and the room was covered away from the rest of the palace. No one would enter without permission, and no one would disturb them without their consent. The dome also lay surrounded by beautiful, vast gardens, so it was the perfect place for the females to wander and be at ease.

With all this in mind, Leyla had therefore proceeded and made the arrangements the very next day.

Within mere hours, the Dome was converted to a convalescent home, beds brought it, fresh and clean clothes and linen, as well as food and water. The Dralan had ordered a small group of Lathras to help her handle it all, and thither stand guard outside the dome for the females protection.

Unfortunately as it was, many of the females that arrived gave timid glances to the Lathras standing out front. Even knowing that they had fought a war for them, the memory of their abuse lingered too brightly in their mind; The sight of a male left them shuddering and sobbing, leaving Leyla to rely on the help of the Kischmirs of the castle instead of the Lathras.

Unfortunately, with all the other injured people of the war, Kischmirs were running low and were worked to the bone, day and night.

As days passed, more and more females arrived. Leyla spent every day in the dome, helping attend to the females alongside Bhria and the other Kischmirs. Bhria occasionally took breaks to visit her brother, however; he was making a slow, but sure recovery along with the other injured Lathras. Bhria reported that he continued to feed from Ahrron, who didn't leave his bedside despite all hands needed on deck. The Dralan's palace was being rebuild, renovated and repaired after the war by many of the Kathmirs, as they were the only hands left to handle it all. So many of the healthy Lathras had been dispersed to neighboring villages to help with the damage control that Phlague's males had caused there; The kingdom lay in pieces, every male and females worked tirelessly, yet Ahrron stayed faithfully by Byhron's side.

"But it is merely another proof of his true love," Bhria had said with a loving smile on her lips. "No male could ever be wrong to grant such love and safety to another."

Her words had echoed in Leyla's mind, and silently, she couldn't help but agree wholeheartedly. She knew at some point she would have to talk to the Dralan about all of it; how this war had changed the world in more ways than one, and that for too long, vhrals had been villainized. Now though, after facing the true villains of this kingdom, it was clear that a change was upon them. Leyla intended to make vhrals welcome in the new world, but she also knew the Dralan would need some persuading, as well as his royal council.

But it was a challenge she was more than up to; the only problem was how she was going to bring the important issue to the forefront.

But as it turned out, the answer came to her as if a prayer heard by the Miss herself.

One afternoon, Ahrron surprised the females by coming into the dome accompanied by a badly limping Byhron, supported heavily by Ahrron himself. Bhria had gasped at the sight and rushed to his side, fussing over his upright state.

"Brother! What are you doing out of bed? Go back and rest, by the Miss, you should not be walking yet!"

"He insisted," Ahrron dryly spoke, watching Byhron's pale face stay defiant as he struggled to stay up. "So I said I'd accompany him and catch him when he eventually collapses."

"I'm fine," Byhron insisted, looking paler and paler by the second. "Ahrron told me of the work... you had done here. I wanted to come... see." He sounded out of breath simply after speaking.

"And now you have," Bhria admonished. "Now go back to bed, I beg you. The females here aren't at ease with male company."

"You...!" A voice suddenly cried.

As if on cue, a female close by burst into tears at the sight of Ahrron and Byhron. She pointed with a trembling hand, and both males looked affronted.

"We will leave," Ahrron assured, starting to drag Byhron outside with him, but they barely managed a few steps before the female cried out again.

"Wait! You were the ones who freed me," She cried, cupping her mouth as both males halted. "On the battlefield! They had me strapped to that... monstrous machine!"

"I remember you," Ahrron spoke after a moment, giving a gentle smile. "Praise the Miss we were able to help."

"I... I'm a Mihr," She whispered, clutching her wrists, which had been bandaged up. "My blood... you didn't crave it."

Both males looked at each other, then at the female who continued to sob. "We are not—"

"Bless you," The female cried, reaching out towards them from her ill bed. "Bless you honorable males. You were born with a gift greater than ever known."

Both males didn't know how to react. Byhron's face had gone from an ashen color to a pale red. Ahrron didn't seem to know whether to speak or not; his mouth opened and closed without making a sound.

And that's when it had occurred to Leyla.

"But this is it!" She had whispered, turning to Ahrron and Byhron with a bright smile. "The female speaks the truth. Perhaps you were always meant to be born for this. Perhaps this was always your purpose."

Both males had a confused expression and looked with uncertainty at her, but it was Ahrron who spoke first. "What... do you mean?"

"You are protectors," Leyla said, looking lovingly between them. "You always have been; Protectors of the purest."

Once again, both males were speechless. Byhron had resorted to looking at the floor, breathing heavily.

"It's true," Bhria now broke in, laying a hand on her brother's shoulder with shiny, wet eyes. "You have spent your whole life trying to protect me; It is in your blood. And Ahrron, you have always looked after every new female you came across in the palace."

Ahrron looked displaced, turning the same shade of red as Byhron.

But to everyone's surprise, Byhron shook his head, shutting his eyes. "No, sister. I am not a protector. I... I have failed you... I am a vhral."

"Born with different urges," Leyla corrected him. "So as to protect that which is too pure to be wanted. Do you not see it?"

Vhrals had been misinterpreted their whole life. Their unnatural cravings had always been made perverse, but what if all along it had been created to protect them from the cravings of sweeter things; of innocent Mihrs and Mihrisas? Their scent had no effect on them, their blood no taste for their lips. They craved not their taste, but rather craved to protect it.

"Ahrron, how would you and your kind feel about protecting this place?" Leyla gently asked, gesturing into the dome. "Something tells me your presence here won't be met by such displeasure as the Lathras. Trust that all vhrals involved will be as protected as you were on the battlefield, no harm or foul to come from your nature."

Ahrron looked around, looking overwhelmed, yet the silent look on his face spoke volumes of the feelings going through him; To be tasked with such an honor, to be given a purpose purely based on what had always disclosed them...

"It would be our privilege," He replied, bowing his head in respect. "If the females agree to it, it would be our honor to protect them as they recover."

And from there on, a plan was set into motion.

Leyla's nights were since then spent by the Dralan's desk, drawing up new papers, new laws and legislations and programs for the new world; a world with Vhrals in it at the center. With the rehabilitation program for Mihrs and Mihrisas being the starting point, Leyla could bring the point across by showing the Dralan and his council exactly what useful purpose they served. What importance they could have.

But this would only be the start.

If females truly did not fear them, this opened the door to so many new opportunities; young Mihrs and sacred Mihrisas could be accompanied and protected by selected vhrals. They could serve as a private guard, there could be safe houses or sanctuaries set up throughout the kingdom, known places of refuge for them to escape to or seek solace in if they ever began fearing for their safety. The same could be said for convalescent homes; Vhrals could guard them or accompany the sick females who didn't feel safe traveling around alone.

No longer would neither of them have to live in the shadows; Vhrals would be a coveted treasure, and Mihrs and Mihrisas no longer a hiding, dying breed.

– And, as the Dralan currently sat faced with yet another feeding problem, Leyla knew the council would see reason in this.

The Dralan had refused to drink from her vein while she bore their young during her whole pregnancy. If the Blithesome Miss above were to bless them with several pregnancies, how should the Dralan make it through all of them, let alone this one here now?

They needed Mihr feeders, females who were scarce and too timid to come forward in fear of corruption, now more so than ever after the war. While many of Phlague's males had been captured, many were still at large, trying to gather up what little resistance was left. The main ingredient to do that would be more Mihr hostages.

But if they knew they would be protected by males who would not harm them? The Dralan's kingdom would flourish and never again would a Dralan be without a feeder, without a source of blood.

But first, this needed to pass by the Dralan. If he saw it fit, then his council would have no choice but to join.

And while Leyla knew she needed no help persuading the Dralan, she still called out to the one person whom she knew would have the heaviest voice of all.

One morning, Leyla stood ready on the steps of the palace entrance and watched alongside the Dralan as a carriage pulled up. Leyla's heart seized with nerves as the carriage door was pulled open by a Kathmir and a female stepped out into the open.

Lady Kahtrina stood under the radiant sun, accompanied by a tall, handsome male by her side. Leyla hid her gasp, but felt tears of joys reach her eyes at the sight of the female before her. Though much changed, one thing had not.

After her brutal attack, Lady Kahtrina had lost her fingers, tongue and gotten her fangs pulled by Phlague himself, yet despite the horrific scars and evidence left behind by him, she still met Leyla with a gentle, but strong smile. She had recovered well and remained a beautiful female, walking with the same grace as ever. She came towards the Dralan and Leyla, walking arm in arm with the tall male beside her.

Giving a curtsy, the Dralan bowed his head back, Leyla all but wiping the tears from her eyes as Lady Kahtrina looked up at the male beside her. She nodded towards him, and he gave a soft nod back.

"The Lady Kahtrina wishes to thank you for her invitation to the palace," He then spoke, Lady Kahtrina smiling as he did. "She extends her felicity and rejoices in the victory on behalf of all females. Words of your courage and strength has reached across the kingdom, and she has come here today eager to contribute to the restoration of peace."

The Dralan stepped forward, looking welcomingly at the Lady Kahtrina. "We thank you for coming. Though I confess I raised my protests in bringing you here, my Dralaq assured me it was your own wish as well," The Dralan spoke, lifting a brow. "She says you insisted upon coming here, despite your own... circumstances." He bowed his head respectfully. "I would not wish to ever bring any further harm upon you by inviting you to the palace warzone."

Lady Kahtrina merely smiled and once more looked towards the male beside her. He gave another nod, smiling swiftly, before turning towards the Dralan.

"Lady Kahtrina wishes to assure you she has no problems being where the war was held. She wishes to be of assistance in communicating the importance of the aftermath of it, the many changes many females now feel are needed. She comes to represent those who have been harmed by Phlague himself and advocate for their future safety."

The Dralan smiled tightly, but then bowed his head respectfully. "Very well. Please, come inside. I'm sure my Dralaq will get you acquainted with the plans she has devised in no time."

Leyla smiled back brightly. Lady Kahtrina met her gaze and instantly came forward, grasping her hands. Leyla pulled her in for a warm embrace, one which Lady Kahtrina returned with a heartfelt smile.

Together, they were going to change the world.

~*~

One week later, the council was gathered and the Dralan sat amidst them. Despite all her planning, Leyla still felt a hint of nerves as she stood before them all now, Lady Kahtrina by her side. In her hands, she held the plans and her speech to convince the council.

Today, Drala would change forever.

"Esteemed council and my precious Dralan," Leyla begun, curtsying deeply before them all, Lady Kahtrina copying her. "I come before you today to suggest a change in law and customs as is needed. As the dust of the war settles over us, so much we as we see the new world come before us. The soil of the kingdom is forever changed by this war, and so too must its people."

The Dralan smiled proudly at her, nodding silently for her to continue. "Speak your claim, my Dralaq."

The whole council stared at her. Leyla reminded herself they had wives and daughters as well, grandkids and probably mistresses whom all would be affected by this war. So with a steady voice, she continued.

"Never before has the protection of females been more important," Leyla raised her voice and glared at all the males with a strong gaze. "For too long, we have been left to trust in the protection brought to us by the common male, and the result turned us into a commodity to be fought over. We are females; not items. We bear your youngs, we feed you, your kin, and your Dralan," Leyla met the Dralan's eyes and saw his sparkle with pride. "Yet when our blood is purest, we are often prey to those closest to us."

Leyla glanced at all the council and saw all the males look between themselves, knowing to whom she was referring. Males had no control when faced with pure blood, and in worst cases, they knew how it ended.

"It has been proven that Mihr blood entices any right male," Leyla begun again, now walking closer as she watched the males react to her words. "And that in worst case scenario, the end result is what you see standing before me."

Leyla gestured towards Lady Kahtrina who stepped forward as well, wearing her wounds like an armor. All the males looked uncomfortable as she parade the room, no shame in her step. Leyla smiled confidently.

"A pure, noble female robbed of her blood status and scarred for life, simply because one male let his instinct drive him to the extreme. How are we supposed to rest with the knowledge that any such day, it might happen again?"

Leyla waited a beat and saw all the males once again look uncomfortable.

"There is a way," She then begun, standing still as she came to the critical point. "A way that has been long overlooked, simply for being against so-called nature. But as I stand before you, female, pregnant and mated to the Dralan, yet born nothing more than a mere bahk, is it not to everyone's mind that this be the will of The Blithesome Miss?"

There was a collective mutter of agreement.

"And so, we must trust that The Blithesome Miss never makes mistakes," Leyla voiced loudly. "That she brings upon this land exactly that which She knows is needed, and therefore was always meant to be."

There was another short mutter of voices, a few nods spreading between the council members.

"From her womb, she birthed strong males," Leyla gestured towards the Dralan. "Lathras, Kathmirs, and common bahks. She made them strong, virile and protectors of those in need."

Leyla now knew there was no going back, and with a final deep breath, she spoke the damning words.

"And with them, she also created vhrals."

There was a small outburst among the males, the council muttering under their breath and shaking their heads. The Dralan was the only one who sat quietly, looking at Leyla with a steely gaze, urging her to continue.

"The Blithesome Miss created Vhrals!" Leyla repeated loudly and strongly, bringing quiet to the room again as she continued pleading her case. "She made them wrong, so that they defied the natural nature of things, but as we know, She makes no mistakes. She made them so, to rid them of their natural urges, and protect their minds against the cravings of a pure female."

The room now became a place so quiet, you could have heard even the slightest exhale. Leyla knew she had their attention, and therefore kept going.

"Members of the council; this war was won using that strength which lies unique to vhrals," Leyla fiercely spoke. "It was their resilience to Mihr blood that allowed them to take apart the war machines and lead the injured females away from the battlefield, thus allowing the Lathras to complete their goal of winning the war, without distractions. It was their courage, and their wrongness, which made it possible for this war to be won. They sought no harm to the females, and the females saw no threat in their nature."

All the members of the council began whispering again. Then, after a long moment, one council member stood up, an older male with white hair.

"My Dralaq," He spoke with a frail, old hoarse voice. "It sounds to us as if you're implying... that Vhrals should be honored and praised for their... perversion of nature."

"That is exactly what I want," Leyla spoke plainly and without shame. She met the council member's eyes and stared him down. "Their perversion, as you speak, was made by The Blithesome Miss and misconstrued by males in this kingdom. To call their urges perverse and unnatural would be to call The Blithesome Miss's work an abomination. Tell me Lord Tern, would you ever criticize your Maker's work in such a way?"

Lord Tern looked affronted and turned a red color, before promptly sitting down again. From the corner of her eye, she saw the Dralan hide his smirk.

"For too long, we have overlooked the potential of Vhrals," Leyla continued, raising her voice again to let it echo in the large throne room. "For too long, Vhrals have been misunderstood when in truth, their nature has always allowed them to remain superior in that cause which is to protect females. Without us, you would have no youngs. Without our veins, you would have no end to your thirst. And without Vhrals, we will have no assured safety in this world. Lest we all end up like Lady Kahtrina, we propose to legalize Vhrals in society."

Leyla finished her speech and felt as a weight of lead seemed to drop from her shoulders. Lady Kahtrina joined her side, smiling proudly at her, clasping her hand in her own.

Right until another member of the council stood up. Lord Harrick.

"In which way do you propose that Vhrals be made legal in society?" He proclaimed with discontent. "What service could their nature possibly serve, if only to bring light of their nature to unseemly places!"

Leyla smiled, but then stepped forward, meeting Lord Harrick's gaze. "We propose to instate Vhrals to protect those females which need it. We intend to erect sanctuaries for such purposes, guarded solely by Vhrals. We suggest to make schools which allow Vhrals to train to become personal bodyguards and protectors of young females that might need safety, such as Lady Kahtrina and her younger sisters, whom have not yet reached maturity. Vhrals will be a symbol of safety to any female, a safe haven should they ever be in need."

"If such a plan was ever to be put into effect, it would be a costly matter," Lord Harrick pointed out with discontent. "While we appreciate the Dralaq's suggestion, we, the council, might ask what... assurance we have that this... experiment be successful. Males have protected females for centuries without problem. One war does not change centuries of evidence that females can be properly protected by right males. To what end would we allow this, then?" Lord Harrick proposed tightly, with a slight sour grimace. "That all right males should no longer hold purpose simply because a few cannot control their urges?"

"Lord Harrick," Leyla smiled again and stepped forward, knowing exactly what to say as she had studied each of the council members thoroughly before this meeting. "You have a daughter, if I am not mistaken. 14 years of age, yes?"

"Yes...?" Lord Harrick said with a tone of confusion. "I do not see what—"

"How would you feel about sending your daughter on a trip escorted solely by males?" Leyla asked. "Or even to take a stroll through town simply guarded by one or two Lathras. I'm sure by now, she is close to reaching her maturity. Her vein must smell enticing, almost... flowering."

Lord Harrick's face twisted up in anger. "How dare you suggest—"

"You will correct your tone when addressing your Dralaq," The Dralan now spoke up, his voice jarring through the room to everyone's surprise. Lord Harrick looked momentarily taken aback, but then bowed to the Dralan before regaining his composure.

"Yes, of course. My apologies," He said in a slick voice, looking sourly at Leyla. "I merely meant to say... to what do you imply, my Dralaq, by bringing my young daughter into this debate—"

"I am pointing this out so that you may understand the reason for my insistence," Leyla cut through. "So that you may see that this matter affects every female, even young ones like your daughter, Lord Harrick. She is as much in danger as I, or any other female are at present. We only seek to ensure our safety and believe that Vhrals have the sole means to do so."

Lord Harrick seemed to chew on something, but finally gave up and sat back down again. The rest of the council muttered quietly, before finally silencing.

Leyla took a deep breath but then continued.

"My lords, I understand that I ask no easy feat of you," She then spoke, looking out towards all of them. "But if you will allow me another moment of indulgence, I will show you which benefits have already been reaped by allowing Vhrals to serve a purpose in society."

Turning her head, Leyla gestured towards the double doors, and without question, Callath, who stood guard by the door, opened it and allowed a few females to step through timidly. They looked around amazed, but nonetheless came forward, curtsying to the council.

"These females were victims of the war," Leyla introduced. "They have recently been recuperating in the Dralan's prayer dome, protected and nursed by Vhrals and Kischmirs alike. Please hear from their own lips how Vhrals have affected them."

Leyla nodded to one female, the very same female who had identified Byhron and Ahrron on the battlefield. She stepped forward shyly, but still straightened her back as she looked upon the many males in the room.

"My Lords," She said, bowing her head respectfully, her eyes widening as she laid eyes upon the Dralan. "My Dralan. I wish to tell you that... I was captured by one of Phlague's males and brought to him, not to be used and abused, but... to be baited," She said, now looking up. "I am a Mihr. My blood remains pure and I have no intentions of letting it become so. Yet, when I was captured, I knew that once the males on the battlefield smelled my exposed wrists... I would become victim to their onslaught," Her voice trembled ever so slightly, but she swallowed and continued courageously; "But to my surprise, I was met by two very different males on the battlefield. Vhrals, my Lords. They did not seek my wrist or even my loins, but merely untied me and freed me. They led me to safety," Her eyes watered at the memory. "It is thanks to them, I stand before you a Mihr still."

Leyla smiled gratefully as the female stepped back, allowing Leyla to step forward again. "The two females behind her share her story. Each of them were captured by males, yet set free by Vhrals. They have shown explicit trust in them since, allowing them to watch over them while they slept and recovered from their traumas. Show me a right male who could claim to have the same honor."

The council members all began whispering again. But before they could get started again, Leyla spoke up.

"There is more," She turned towards one of the other females, who now stepped forward, looking much braver in her step than her prior. She met each of the males' eyes and gave a short curtsy. "Some females have even sworn that, thanks to the protection of certain Vhrals, they now feel safe enough to come forward to serve, my Lords. On the condition that they be protected by a vhral."

"Serve?" It was old lord Tern from before. He perked up and looked almost ten years younger by the words. "By serve, you mean...?"

"Provide the Dralan with blood," The young female spoke up, curtsying deeply again. "I am a Mihr, untarnished and pure, and I offer my services to the Dralan, provided I may claim my safety through a vhral."

The Dralan smiled tightly, bowing his head at the female. "I thank you for your offer, female. Your noble gesture will be thoroughly considered by myself and the Dralaq."

Leyla smiled back lovingly up at the Dralan, knowing already this was not an easy sacrifice on her behalf, but one she knew she would have to come to terms with. If the Dralan refused to take her vein while she was pregnant, she would have to get used to another female feeding him.

And what better than a female who preferred other females?

Leyla shared a look with the female in question who gave a quick grin back. Neither of them felt the need to raise this matter, since all would come together if the council approved anyway. But if she had to let another female feed her male, she would rather it be a female who did not care for his looks.

"More females have said they are willing to serve if this be the terms set forth," Leyla now spoke up, stepping in front of the female to regain control of the room. "Never again would the Dralan be faced with the problem of needing a feeder. The kingdom would remain strong and the Dralan always in health to give this kingdom the linage it deserves."

Leyla cupped her womb and showed off her growing belly to the council. All of them stared in awe, mouths falling open and eyes blinking in disbelief.

The Dralan now arose from his seat. The council, still slightly entranced by the appearance of a growing heir, snapped their gazes towards their leader as his voice filled the room.

"All in favor legalizing Vhrals," The Dralan spoke calmly, but strongly, "raise your hand and pledge your vote."

And as Leyla sucked in a breath in anticipation, she saw without hesitation how the Dralan lifted his palm as the first.

His crooked smile seemed to pierce through her heart like an arrow.

Smiling, her eyes then slid to the council who one after one, looked among themselves and then hesitantly, raised their hands. Only a few at first, but then, more hands arose.

"The numbers speak," The Dralan said after a moment, his eyes still fixated on his female. "The motion carries."

Leyla and Lady Kahtrina both erupted into joyous outbursts along with the other females in the room.

Leyla couldn't believe it. But as her wet eyes turned and found her Dralan's, she saw nothing but eternal love seeping from his gaze and flowing into her heart.

He loved her. And for her voice and love, he would change his kingdom. He would change the world for her, would slay her enemies and destroy all those who sought to take away the voice that had been kept from her for too long.

The voice driven by The Blithesome Miss.

But no longer would it go unheard.

Dohmenic

The day had arrived.

The sun was crisp in the sky, the sharp blue heavens cleared of all clouds so even The Blithesome Miss could watch.

For many weeks now, the aftermath of the war had reaped so much collateral damage that punishments had to be postponed. There were still many more males who had yet to be captured, but for weeks, his Lathras had scoured the kingdom for every last traitorous male who had conspired alongside their false leader.

Those who claimed his fealty had been put to death. Those speculated of being in his grasp had been put on trial and sentenced accordingly. Females who had suffered at their hands were called in to identify their attackers. Those found guilty were killed in cold blood. Wrists and necks slit, left to bleed out, the most horrid deaths known to any Vampire, short of thirsting.

And now, the day of their corrupt leader's trial had come.

Kept in a cell deep below his castle, chained in his dungeons, Phlague had not seen daylight for nigh on ten weeks. He had been bled, tortured and maimed with careful precision and given just enough food and water to keep him alive. To extend his pathetic life until he was ready to serve out his punishment.

And here it was.

"My people," The Dralan's voice bellowed across the vast courtyard of his palace. A large platform had been raised where many males had drawn their last breath weeks prior. Hung, beheaded or left to bleed out, they had met their punishment at the hand of his executioner. "The day has finally come. I call to the platform... Phlague."

His Lathras dragged a weakened, bloodied and pale Phlague out from behind the castle walls. His feet dragged behind him, his hair hung in thin strands around his face. His fangs had been pulled, his tongue had been cut. The Dralan had felt a special kind of pleasure in castrating him and feeding him his own cock until he choked and coughed it back up.

He had done that and so many more things to the male they now dragged out and slung down to the ground, chaining him to the bolts in the platform. He could barely stay on his knees, held up by the scruff of his hair by his friend and personal Kathmir, Callath.

Wrenching his head back, Callath exposed his beaten face to the crowd. Half, if not all of Draylth had showed up to watch this happen. He heard their gasps and cries of regret now as Phlague's wretched face screwed up in the sunlight, flinching after weeks of being trapped in darkness.

He looked nothing like the male who had invaded his kingdom. Who had trashed down his palace and slayed many faithful Lathras and threatened to kill his Dralaq. He was stripped down to just a loincloth, which hid nothing but a vague stump of what he once used to terrorize countless females.

Females now under his protection. The youngs he had fathered by them were safe. The women he had impregnated were guarded well and treated with the utmost care. Never again would they know his torture. Never again would he harm another living soul.

"You come before the kingdom today to face your fate," The Dralan growled, circling closer to the weakened male who breathed raggedly, barely able to open his eyes. "And as Dralan, it is my duty to serve it to you. By The Blithesome Miss's blessing, it will be done."

The courtyard fell silent as a wind blew by. Phlague's ragged breathing echoed in the yard, the gurgle of him choking on his own saliva.

The Dralan grimaced, but then spoke again the words he had spent a long time choosing. For weeks, he had mulled over how to do this, and finally, the answer had come to him as he had laid before a single white rose, nude and praying to The Miss above.

"Many people here today will wish to see you burned alive and tortured," He begun slowly, staring down at the sad excuse for a male before him. His eyes opened an inch and glared back up at him as he spoke. "Many have wanted you to experience every foul thing you yourself have done. They want you to suffer at the hands of their mercy. They want to claw, scratch and beat you until you are nothing but bare bones and skin. But... to let them be in your presence once more would be to punish them, not you."

The courtyard remained silent, but he saw the way a few faces frowned, others reeling with confusion. With anger. And he understood their frustration, for he had wanted the same. But wiser thoughts had filled his head only days prior.

"You should be punished and left to rot for all eternity, tortured daily for the rest of your miserable life," The Dralan declared, clenching his fists, but then drew in a breath to calm himself. "But I am not a torturer. I am the Dralan."

Murmurs broke out, but before they could raise their questions, the Dralan rose a simple hand and silenced the crowd.

"It is my job to uphold the peace and prosperity, as ordained by The Blithesome Miss herself. I am the ruler of the kingdom She has bestowed upon me. It is not within my power or jurisdiction to exercise justice onto a male as corrupt as you," He rumbled out, glaring strongly down at Phlague. His eyes narrowed, staring back up at him. "Your soul is damaged and your mind twisted beyond repair. So it is my verdict that only one female in this kingdom can serve you your sentence. And that is The Blithesome Miss herself."

The courtyard gasped and several bahks turned to look as if they expected The Miss in the sky to drop out of the blue and manifest before them. The Dralan waited for the shock to settle before he spoke again.

"In her grasp, you shall receive your punishment. You befouled her land, you tortured her virginous beings and killed those most innocent," He stated, a low growl grating at the back of his throat. "You disobeyed the highest being in this land. Therefore She is the only one who can determine the fate that awaits you. As anointed ruler of this land, it is my duty to hand you over to her." He stepped forward and glared down at the pitiful male before him. "Your sentence will therefore be death."

Small voices of joy and cheers erupted from the crowd. They were sparse, many still stunned to silence, so the silence fell again quickly as the Dralan now placed himself in front of the male on trial. Phlague's bleak gaze found his, only a shadow of his defiance left after weeks of being tortured beyond belief.

"You shall die by execution like the males who followed in your steps," He then spoke, just loud enough for the crowd to hear as well. But his eyes remained on Phlague. "You shall share the same death as that by a common thief. You will have no special sentence, no noteworthy death of any kind. An axe to your throat is all you deserve, for you are nothing but a simple male, no better or more noteworthy than any other. You are inconsequential, and so shall your death be."

The Dralan turned towards the crowd which had once again turned silent as the grave. Behind Phlague, his friend Callath bared his fangs quietly when the kneeling male wheezed out a low breath. Some semblance of weak protest that could never be more than that.

"This male will not go down in history," The Dralan now spoke fiercely. "For Drala does not commemorate its villains. He will die and be erased from this land, his name will be forgotten, his memory turned to dust. He is not worthy enough to be remembered. He is not worthy enough to be watched as he die," The Dralan turned towards the male once more and saw a weak strip of angry drool slip from his mouth. "You shall die a lonely death, Phlague. You will have no onlookers, no grand goodbye to this world. Just your head against a chopping block and the sound of the axe the last thing you hear."

Phlague grunted something, a weak, pathetic sound that made the Dralan turn his gaze away and relinquish the sight of him. He looked outwards towards his people instead and raised a fist to his chest.

"The Blithesome Miss's will be done."

The crowd bowed their heads all as one, repeating his motion of putting their fists to their chests.

"Take him away and be done with it," The Dralan muttered over his shoulder.

Phlague was released and then dragged off the platform, his body dragging against the ground with no strength left to fight. The Dralan watched with a bitter satisfaction as the male disappeared from sight.

He would not witness his death. He would not grant the male that honor. He was worth nothing, and he would become nothing.

"Long live the Dralan!" Someone then suddenly screamed from the crowd.

The Dralan turned his head and watched in surprise as his people lifted their fists and then lifted their voices.

"Long live the Dralan and his Dralaq!"

Their chants rose until he felt as thought even the Miss in the sky could hear them. He smiled out at his people and then bowed his head in respect for them.

He had protected his people. He had done his duty.

And as he heard their cheers continue on, a smile broke out on his face as humility and honor filled his chest, along with a heavy pressing sensation over his heart.

His people still trusted him to lead them.

And as he lifted his head to the sky and felt the sun burn down on his skin, he somehow knew...

So did The Blithesome Miss.