Atharti. Druchii Goddess of Seduction and Pleasure. There was only one reason she’d be dragged off to that particular temple, and it was a reason that had Estaria’s cheeks bright red, the whole way through. Sure, she had admitted her love for Filnon, and sure Filnon had said the only thing left was to get married. And they were here in the Capital with a temple to wed them. But she was still, with all that, caught off guard. She never thought it was ever going to actually happen, so now that she was here, and that it was, the world didn’t seem real.

“Is it too late to run and hide?” Estaria asked, her face a bundle of awkward nerves. Filnon, on the other hand, was in her element, absolutely in control. Stroking Estaria’s cheek, she gave her lover a kiss that knocked knees together.

“Yes” was the simple, direct reply, before she turned back to the priest. A lot of gold crossed hands, and Estaria was dragged off to a backroom, where she was stripped of her clothes, and directed to a bathtub. Still on edge from how the last time went down, she terrified the slaves with a glare and got washed herself.

Maintaining this stubborn independence, she put her hair up herself as well, with only some guidance from the Druchii worker. It was a lovely style, different to the high pony tail that Hellebron put her in, but still good looking. It took advantage of her long hair to wrap braids down her front, rather than her back. With that, and the stunning black wedding dress they laid out for her, she felt like she was a Princess in one of those stories. Just rescued by her Prince, and ready to be whisked away for a life-time of love.

The veil was thin and light, her crimson hair shining through it and accentuating the black of her dress. The mirror fell in love with her, and Estaria walked up to the altar with the biggest smile she had ever had in her life. 

All this set up had taken a good hour and change, and Filnon was waiting by the Altar, in the dress that she had worn the first time Estaria saw Hellebron. Wasn’t the greatest of reminders, but fortunately she was distracted. Stepping up to the altar, she would take Filnon’s hand, and beam with such joy that the dark surroundings felt lit up.

“Honoured Atharti! Lady of Lust and Herald of Hedonism! Hear our call” the Priest at the head of the Altar exclaimed, hands lifted to the sky. “The call of desire sings out loud, deep, and without pause. So we turn to you, we beseech you hand in tying these two together, for all time!” 

The Priest certainly had passion about him, though Estaria took a short step back as he pulled out a knife.

“Let us now plunge the Ceremonial Knife of Wisdom deep into their hands, so that they may forever be one, as two!” he would shout to the ceiling. While Estaria was worried about stepping on traditions, she drew the line at getting stabbed.

“Can we somehow skip the stabbing?” Estaaria asked, to which the Priest laughed and nodded.

“Yes, yes we can” He would then pull out a bowl of red liquid and dip his finger into it, dotting Filnon and Estaria’s foreheads with it, before entwining his fingers and gesturing towards the two.

“Now, before the eyes of great Atharti, exhibit and exalt your need for the desire of the other!”

Estaria translated that well enough, and turned to Filnon, who lifted the veil, and kissed Estaria with a deep and unbridled passion, hugging the woman close to her as they embraced each other in what felt like an eternity. 

“What a fool” came a sudden voice from the end of the aisle. Looking over, there was a man stood there. Dressed in the garb of the Black Guard, Malekith’s own bodyguard, he radiated power. An deep orange name marked him as ‘Kouran Darkhand’ and his confident gait and posture marked him as a major player in the City. “Only a fool could see such a passionate display, and still think to steal her from you. I am sorry to drag you away so soon after, but your presence has been requested, M’lady Darkfury” 

The man would give a soft nod of his head, and wait for a reply. Clearly, he was not expecting the cold and biting retort from the Druchii, however.

“You will need to specify who you talk to, sir. For as of this moment, we are both, Lady Darkfury” Filnon would reply, stroking Estaria’s cheek. 

“But she is still a slave. Branded and collared by your hand. It is to respect you that she is allowed to wait outside the tower” Kouhan would reply, his voice as firm and sharp as the sword at his hip.

“She is my wife. One more insult towards her, and I will be taking your head back to Malekith when I answer his summons. Do I make myself clear?”

Seeing the brewing tension between the two, Estaria would step out, and take Filnon’s hand. 

“It’s ok. I can set up the residence and move in our furniture while you deal with this. Maybe get an arena meeting as well. There is no need to bristle like this on my account. He’s not exactly wrong” Estaria did her best to simmer things down, but it only partially worked.

“He is wrong. You are part of me now, by the Goddess. Anything I am, you are. Any insult to you, is insult to me. But you, are right. There is nothing to gain starting this fight, so go set up and I shall see you shortly. Miss Darkfury”

Filnon would kiss Estaria deeply once more, and then turn to leave with the man, only to turn back with a coy grin.

“And make sure they have a sturdy bed. We will be making use of it, tonight” and with that coy tease, she was gone.

“Your Mist-...wife, has certainly some confidence about her” The Priest commented, cleaning up the altar and looking towards the door.

“Mmm, that she does. But why this in particular?” Estaria would ask, looking back.

“That was Kouhan Darkhand, Captain of the Blackguard. One of the oldest of Malekith’s Council. Malekith has a legendary temper, killing without mercy or hesitation on anyone who disappointed him, whoever it is. That Kouhan hsa survived so long is a testament to his skill and capability long before he actually does anything”

The Priest would then, with a final nod, leave to administer more blessings. Estaria, however, ruminated on what she had learned. A legendary temper, and a legendarily stubborn woman. Would the tower survive, if either took umbrage at the other? At least she’d know what was going on immediately, if they started. So, with that out of the way, she turned and headed into the city. Still wearing her dress, as if she was not quite believing it had happened yet. She bought herself and Filnon into a small, high class cottage near the Tower, and then buy and deliver furniture from a local store to it. Stepping into the cottage, she would finally take off the dress and hang it in the wardrobe as the first piece of clothing in there. 

She would then dress in her maid uniform manually, and begin to get to work, putting the furniture where it needed to be, dusting and cleaning and doing all the things a domestic house-wife was meant to do. However, the mirror was evil, and with all the rest of her emotions running high as they were, it was just the thing to tip her over the edge. And so that needed dealing with as well. But the uniform was cruel, and it did not allow her to simply crest gently, but rather kept pushing her hotter and higher. Fortunately, diminishing returns and refractory period allowed her to eventually come down, and never had she been so glad for the cold air of Naggaroth, but it was quite the fight getting to that point.

After clean up, and to distract herself from anything further, she would head over to the Arena. A furtive look over at the tower, wondering how much longer Filnon was going to be up there, and then she focused back on where she was. Dressed like a Servant, in such an outfit, and with a heavy, ornate collar - despite Filnon’s speech about not being a slave, Filnon had bought this herself, and so Estaria was keeping it as long as possible - she easily slipped in to get her ‘Mistress’ suited into the arena.

At least, that was the intent. But, apparently long crimson hair, glowing eyes, a terrifyingly graceful gait, a unique shiny black maid uniform and a collar that told the world her name in bright letters was not very subtle. As she was a picked up by one of the men lingering in the hall a few seconds after she arrived.

“Aye, it’s the Sickle of Khaine!” he exclaimed, pointing at her.

“Wasn’t that just a rumor? Har Gareth getting a little too enthused again?” His friend asked.

“Probably, but that was what they called her. And by the Goddess, she certainly moved like she was worth the title” he would then head over to Estaria, and give her a big grin. “We’ve got a great fight just perfect for you! You might even attract the eye of the Witch King himself if you fight in it. Come on!” he exclaimed, taking her gloved hand and dragging her off backstage before an argument could be made.