The 7 Nation Summit: In the Baclonies

Eldunar settled on the bench with his arms crossed. Naina sat regally on the stone bench, calmly observing the arrival of the other royals. Erolass simply stared around the room and observed every inch of it, making sketch after sketch in his notebook, hoping that they would later help give him some architectural inspirations. They all waited for the other royalties to arrive, but did not bother to talk to one another, not yet.

(OOC: Sorry for the short post...I wasn't feeling to well and well...not much to work with...Will improve later I promise!!)

cf: The new recruit, part 1

((OOC: I am not sure if I am even allowed to post now or if there
is an order I somehow dodged. If I did, please just tell me, and I
will take the post back out.

As I am introducing my character, I felt an urge to write a little
more about where she comes from. The orange parts are background
story, not related to this plot, and therefore can be skipped if
you are not interested in reading about my character. If you wish
to, however, feel free to read them and enjoy! ))

---

---

Lahija could still not believe it. Too much had happened, it had
been quite some weeks, strange weeks, dreadful weeks, painful and happy and proud. No, most of all, painful, the bitter taste in her mouth covered the sincere pride she had imagined to feel on this day of all days. The day her dreams finally came true. Her first day on her new assignment. Her first day of being a royal guard.

Oh, yes, she felt the pride and honour boil up inside her, but the
bitter drop of loss shadowed over them, made her feel guilty for
enjoying this. Also she was nervous, nervous to make a fool of
herself, to bring dishonour to her family.

---

"He would be so proud, could he see you now," her mother said to her, holding her hand as they both stood in front of her father's pyre. The words "Fire Bender Errez Zekarion, husband of Lohaja, father of Lee, now deceased, and Lahija" still roared in her ears, but she could feel nothing. She had constant flashbacks of another pyre, another loss, six years ago. Even the thought of it drove tears to her eyes, the pain, the loss of a sibling, a twin, was still there, constantly reminding her that she was but the lesser half of a perfect whole, the one that should have died instead of her gifted twin brother.

Her mother pressed her hand again, misjudging the reason for her tears. Angrily, Lahija wiped over her dark, grey eyes. "I guess we'll never know that, mum, not for sure," she answered, at once regretting the bitter tone she had used. Her mother flinched, but then looked at her sternly and answered "Oh, sweetling, I DO know. Trust me. He was very proud of you, and would have been even more today, with those glorious news. And I am proud of you, too, very proud." Lahija nodded, but the thought How much prouder would you have been if it was Lee instead of me involuntarily infested her mind.

---

Even now, two weeks later, Lahija remembered her dead father and felt this sad, empty vibe of nothing, as if a clear spot inside her that had been her drive, her motivation, to go all this way,
suddenly blinded out.

They marched in file for several hours, and although Lahija was
surrounded by strange faces and dressed up in a completely new, shining uniform of crimson red and gold, this filing felt odly
familiar. Filing was one of the things she had learned to do as a
recruit in the Fire Nation Army, filing, filing, filing, in the
exact rhythm of the others around her.

---

"Hey, officer cadet Zekarion, the General wants to speak with you!"
Lahija looked up from her paj sho game that she had shared with a fellow recruit, and nodded, standing up and following the
messenger. If the General wanted to see you, you asked no
questions, you obeyed, even if it felt very strange to be asked for personally if you were just a low officer cadet.

"Officer cadet Lahija Zekarion?" She nodded and stagnated, saluting her General in the proper way. "Your direct superiors give you some damn good evaluation, officer cadet", the general told her casually, scanning over her file and sitting down. Lahija did not know what to respond on that, so she staid silent and waited for him to continue. "You could get up in the chain of command very quickly, staying here, officer cadet. I can see you one day as a major, maybe even a general." Lahija staid in her uncomfortable stagnated pose, but she had to suppress a blush. "Tell me then, officer cadet, why you would ask for perpetual leave of absence from His Majesty's standing army, a young woman with your reputation and promise."

She bit her lip. So this was, what all of this was about. "It is
for personal reasons, General, Sir." - "I see", the General
responded, but Lahija was damn sure he did not see at all. "That is a shame, really. Some important men have shown interest in your career, men that might help you climb the ladder a bit faster than usually appropriate." - "I never asked for special treatment,
General, Sir." He lifted his brows as she spoke out of term and
without being asked.

"Is that so, officer cadet? From what I hear, you showed quite some motivation to gain promotion from the first day you got here."
Lahija nodded, it was true, so why deny it? She had always tried to be the son her parents no longer had, to move up the ladder in Lee's place. It was the one thing that got her to sleep at night and gave her the courage and strength to raise in the morning.

"What has changed, Lahija?" the General stood up, moving through the room to face her eye to eye. "Something must have happened to justify such a change of heart." She dared not lie to him, even if it was none of his business. "My father just passed away, General, sir."

"I am sorry to hear that, officer cadet. I take it you want your
leave of absence to go to his burial, maybe comfort your family?"
She nodded again, he had gotten her completely. "That is a noble thought, officer cadet, and I would not have it any other way. However, I will not grant you perpetual leave of absence." - "Bu- General, Sir - " her protest was cut short by one single move of his hand. "I understand you are from the Capital, and your family still lives there. I will assign you to the royal guard, they only take the best recruits of every year and after reading your files have specially requested you. You have been promoted lieutenant, as no lesser ranks are allowed in the royal guards. You will leave tomorrow and start you training there in three weeks. Take the free time between your assignments to order your affairs and bury your father. You are dismissed, Lieutenant Zekarion."

She wanted to thank him, but her voice just gave off, and all she could do was bow deep before she left the room.

---

Filing, filing, one step in front of the other, like the constant,
rhythmic beat of a drum. High above them the dragons circled,
beautiful and deathly at the same time. Lahija had caught a glimpse of them when they started out this morning, but now all she could see was their shadows on the road, everchanging, gigantic, agile and strong. She had to forcefully get her eyes off those shadows, to scan the surroundings and make sure everything was alright. She was the youngest member of the royal guard, an elite team of only a hundred warriors, all sworn to protect the royal family with their lives. It was a dream come true, but it was also the most terrifying thought she had ever had. So much responsibility, so much honour, and all hers.

The Spirit Castle towered up above them like a thorn of obsidian,
but Lahija had only eyes for the royals she had sworn to protect.
No body had needed to tell her who was who, she had heard stories enough of them, had seen pictures, had imagined seeing one of them just from afar so many times as a child. Now she had them all at once, smaller than she in her childish fantasies had expected them to be - surely, so important persons must be giants! - but nevertheless a breathtaking sight.

The Fire Lord gave them the order to set up camp, and, only
shadowed by two of his most esteemed guards, walked inside. The guards came back out shortly after, having him escorted to the meeting chambers, their job was done for now.

One of them, bearing the badges of a major, took Lahija beside, and talked to her silently.
"Lieutenant Zekarion, we are to get to the balcony and watch the ceremony, make sure everything is alright. There are no more than two guards allowed on that balcony, it would get too crowded otherwise, with all the royal families." Lahija nodded, she understood well enough. This seemed to be an unimportant
assignment, because, what should happen inside there, the royals probably were perfectly safe - but in fact, it was a test. Her new commander was about to test how she would behave in this foreign, elite surroundings.

She would not let them down, she would not let Lee down. This was his honour, he would have earned this years ago. It was now her responsibility to make her mother proud and honour the memory of her brother and father.

They went to the balcony, entering it silently and taking their
stance directly behind the royal family of the Fire Nation, the
ones they were here to protect. Lahija usually had no difficulty to stand perfectly still for a long time, but this time was different.
She was the perfect young soldier to the outside, calm, in control, self-conscious and strong. But inside her was the bubbling magma of a volcano, the lava of nervosity, excitement, pride and anxiety, mixed with all that curiosity. Everything was new, and it was all her responsibility. The feeling of power and weakness at the same time. It was almost too much.

((OOC: ....You are amazing...where can I clone you? This is amazing! Lol you're really good at this lol. And it's fine, here there is no posting order lol. And yes, you're allowed to post here lol. Just one thing, the Royal Guard is about 100 now lol. At least for this event, you said thirty, it's fine you don't have to edit it though lol. Just remember for the future.))

Luciord approached the staircase, and he breathed deeply like his father. He had hoped that his "rebellious" son had returned. Unfortunately, much to his dismay, only his wife and mother greeted him upon entering. He said not a word, and his face tightened up. He grunted an utter, but in his anger, even he could not decipher the random message he was sending out. However, across the large room, something rather strange had caught the Crown Prince's dark eyes. His eyes darted to the Water Tribe section of the elegant balconies. A aged man with a sharpened beard had just sat down across from him. His eyes too were dark, and his expression was cold and unwelcoming. The two men's eye's met. Luciord did not waver, and neither did Morlis. Morlis grabbed a nearby glass, and began to entertain himself with some refreshments, and Luciord did the same. The two gazed at eachother, yet they felt rather.....odd. Morlis began to relax calmly in his chair, and he thought to himself. "A pity I have been asked to come here an such short notice. To think the King would toil with distant family." He old man chuckled to himself softly. The aged warrior felt a sense of agitation, and the two began to try to diverge their interests elsewhere......yet their eyes met again. Luciord sighed under his breath, "This is going to be interesting".......

Illyria

The servant girl came in quietly, kneeled next to the door, and rang the small silver bell, as every morning, exactly a few seconds before the hourglass on her bedside told Illyria that it was now six in the morning. She had lain awake for twenty minutes, watching the sand trickle through the glass, listening to the beautifull silence before the palace around her woke up.

Once, she would have lain awake and watch her husband sleep until he finally woke up, but those days were over. Shortly after they had decided to stop trying for more children, they had also gotten seperate rooms in the palace. Of course, it was nice to have her own apartment, to be able to do as she liked without having to care for the king's needs and especially without being woken when he decided to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. But, after twenty years of marriage, it had also been a bit lonely at first.

Well, it was not any more. Those days when the separation hurt were long gone, and today, after many years of marriage, she enjoyed the silence before her day began, like the silence before a storm.

Illyria was a strict old woman, with even stricter priorities and principles. Every day, she would get up at exactly the same time, being woken by the same little silver bell. Even if she woke up earlier, she staid in bed until it was exactly the right time.
Her servants had worked for her for years, and they knew her exact every move every morning by heart. They knew how hot the bath had to be, when she would have breakfast, and exactly how she liked her egg. They knew what she would be wearing because she told them the evening before what she planned on wearing, they knew every drill, every wink of her and responded promptly, and above all, in complete silence and order.

Illyria liked them well enough, not because they warmed her heart, but because she could rely on them completely. It was reassuring to have as many fix points in your everchanging universe as possible. Her servants and her daily routine was her fix point, it was what made home her home and what made her herself.

Today, she had herself dressed in the stiff, grand white dress that was ordenated by beautiful golden stitching, a stitching she had handpicked herself, having the dress fashioned exactly after her notions. Her dressmaker had worked for her for years, and her beautiful work was very much appreciated.
It took especially long to twist, braid and set up Illyria's long, whitening silver hair, as she had it brushed every day with exactly 100 strokes, before having it perfumed, waxed and turned into a magnificent hairdressing around her crown, rather a circlet donned with diamants, pure clear cristals, and, as she was herself a fire nation noble, one single grand ruby in the front of her crown, contrasting with her white-and-gold garment.

As she stepped down into the grand hall and out on the main courtyard, followed by her personal servant - a young girl of 16 summers, who had grown up at court and had worked in the queen's household for her whole life, being born as a child to the queen's prior personal servant - she received the appropriate greeting of her husband and son - a kiss on the cheek by Lucius and a kiss on her hand by her son, learning that her grandson Lucien had already set off against the official plans.

She loved that young man and could not be angry at him, but she knew only too well whose fault it was: It was that foul blood his mother had brought into the marriage, that dark nation blood, rebellious, spontanious, and irresponsible. She had to admit she was not at all pleased with how this summit began for her family. Illyria hated, plans being spoiled.

Noctis

Her husband stood up when the servant came to wake them, without even saying her good morning. Noctis regretted having to wake up, since sleep had not come to her easily in their shared bed and when it finally came despite her husband's snoring, it was full of weird dreams, light and unpleasant as the consumating of their marriage had been before they finally could close their eyes and relax because it was over and they had once more fulfilled their duty.
Noctis could not wait for her bleeding to stay gone, so that she would have the perfect excuse to stay at her personal quarters all the time, not having to attend to all of this unnecessary fuss any more. She was tired of it all, but she played nicely as always, forcing herself out of bed and stripping on her morning gown. While her husband was already getting dressed, she kissed him on the cheek to greet him, and vanished into her own boudoir, to shortly bathe, have her hair set up in the same manner as every day, and get dressed herself - in that dreadful white gown with the golden ornaments on it that made her clear light skin look even more pale and her round, baroque female forms plump and ugly.

Oh, she hated that dress! She hated those official occasions, when she was forced to wear the colour of the light nation, that did not suit her at all.
Gladly, she accepted the vest her servant brought her, a dark, red vest, that would at least cover her upper body, contrasting with the formal white and hiding the corsage that laced her down to the figure of an hourglass.

Like her mother in law, Noctis was very proud of her hair, but she did not care to boast with its extraordinairy length and thickness, having it straightened and pinned up with the small blade her father had given to her on her wedding day - a very small dagger with a hilt that looked exactly like a very costly, beautiful, and elegant hairpin.

When she was dressed in that white monstrosity that was only slightly plainer than her mother in law's, covering her corsage with that fluent red vest, she used some make-up to highlight her eyes and lips carefully. Her husband had to be proud of her looking as good as she managed in that white garment. It was her single duty to be a good wife to the crown prince, make him happy and proud.

Like a queen, she stepped out in the hallway and down into the main hall, only to find that she was almost the last of the family to arrive in the main courtyard, where the carriages were waiting. She greeted her parents in law with all the respect they diserved and endured the news, that she would be riding with her mother in law in one carriage, with a stoic face. Maybe that was because she had not put quite as much effort in being pleased with her husband as usual in the other night, but maybe it was also just a coincident, as the men wanted to talk wihtout their wives. One way or the other, she would not get out of it, and all she could do was not showing any weakness and admitting how much it upset her to be in Illyria's sole presence for several hours.

She, as well, realized that her son was not there and got the queen's nasty look that showed her that in Illyria's eyes, this was somehow all HER fault, HER doing, HER education. As much as she would have wished for her son to listen to her that way, she knew only too well that had she told him to embarrass them all and ride out before the party, he would have done the complete opposite and been here by now.
But there was no purpose in stopping to discuss that matter now, her attempts had not been fruitful for years. Noctis got into the carriage and sat down, realizing that this would not only be a long, but also exhausting trip.

---

Finally, they arrived at the Palace of the Spirit King. Noctis could not get out of that carriage fast enough, the last few hours of not talking to one another more than courtsey commanded them to had been tiring, and hurting emotionally. Every time her mind would wander off and allow her some peace, her mother in law made some comment that she had to answer to. That way, she could never get to enjoy the silence, but not the conversation either.

Her son was still not there. Noctis could feel how angry her husband was, how furious, as she and his mother entered the palace with their husbands and parted from them at the stairs that led to the balconies. She was deeply worried, knowing that her son would be in a lot of trouble this time, and this in front of all those other royals who they had to impress. Why on earth was he not here? Did he not know how important this was for their nation, for his grandparents, and also for his father? Why did he choose to embarass them thusly?

Noctis entered the balconies exactly two steps behind Illyria, looking all the other royals over shortly, smiling in that direction and nodding in the other one. Then she followed her mother in law to their seats, leaving one seat in between for her husband. That way he at least won't have to chose between her and me when he takes a place, she thought full with resentment, and then got back to wondering where her only child had gone. He was not waiting for them here, as she secretly had hoped, and her mother in law still punished her with frosty silence, even more hurting than the polite insults she had to endure elsewhen.

When her husband finally arrived and took a seat between the two women, she was relieved, but that relief lasted only for seconds. His fury and anger where so strong that she despite his calm outside could tell they were there, as obvious as if he had shouted at her. And so they went back to uncomfortable silence. A part of her wished for Lucien to show up, the other half prayed to all the spirits he would not, sparing him the embarassment of an open controversity with his father in public.

((I know that the Illumiate Family is going to die after the summit. But until then I chose to play them further on, after all, it took some time and effort to create these characters. I really do hope there will be a good in-game explanation as to why they are murdered, but I trust the admins on that one. Maybe we will even get a good assassination plot that will be fun playing? Who knows?))

Noctis

The meeting had started after the last of the royals had arrived. Noctis was surprised to see a nobody starting to talk to them, and she did not believe him when he started to talk about a foreign country, a far away continent and especially, about magic.

But a part of her wanted to believe him. His tale was so fantastic, so fascinating, and yet, probably purest fiction. How could they have missed an entire continent for years?

Next to her, she could feel how her husband and mother in law listened with the same curiosity that preoccupied herself.
Then the tokens of truth were shown around, and a servant even came up to the balconies in order to show some of the artifacts to the members of the royal families. With widened eyes, Noctis touched a golden goblet, and her heart dared to believe it all. This was truly amazing, it was an adventure. It was like a fairytale come true. For the first time today, she did no longer regret having been brought here, in this stiff, official environment.

But then she turned around and realized her husband's face. While he, too, looked at the artifacts with fascination, he was still particularly mad. He did not show it to the outside, but she simply could tell. She had known this man since she herself was little more than a child, had spent every day that he was not out fighting in a war at his side, had carried his son under her heart and endured him in her bed although she did no longer love him. She had seen all his fury, all his hate, all his love and endurance, she had seen the light and the dark within this great man, her husband. She could tell when he was sad and when he was furious, although he was too great a man, too self-controlled to show it to the outside. He would one day be a great king. And now, he was furious. Lucien would be in big trouble for embarrassing them like this and missing this summit.

She wished she could somehow talk to her husband, calm him down, since she had never seen him this angry with his favourite, their only child, whom he loved deeply - she was sure of that - but with whom he also had a lot of differences. But her hold on Lucius was not at all great these days. He had turned to his mother, taking Illyria's side more often than Noctis'. If she dared speak up for their son, she was sure to make it even worse, since Illyria would dodge anything she might say.

Where was her child? Her worries grew stronger and stronger by the minute. But she was too restrained, to self-possessed to freak out in public. To the outside she staid almost unemotionless, and watched the magician's demonstration with mixed feelings while her thoughts had long gone from that wonderful new land to her sole priority, her son. She prayed that nothing had happened to him, while she also felt that only something happening to him might stop him from doing his duty. He was a rebellious, sometimes thoughtless young man, but he was not that rogue. He would not dare disappoint his beloved grandparents only to hurt his father, no matter what kind of a fight they were having this time.

She would have loved to think that out of love for her, he might come round and be a good prince, a good son, but she knew only too well that her hold on her son was slim and that he slipped more and more through her fingers every time she saw him. He had his own mind, his own strength, and he had chosen to listen more to the other three adults in their family, and neglect his mother.

Illyria

All this excitement about a continent undiscovered until now? Illyria could scarcely believe them. And when she finally did, she did not like it. Not at all.
She was an old woman, stubborn and set in her ways, and she hated change. In her experience, change seldom meant something good. This new continent could of course hold chances, but most of all, it held new dangers, new distractions. The light nation did not need these distractions. They were finally a prospering, peaceful country, with a solid, functioning monarchy. They had even made peace with the dark nation. It was time to enjoy this state of balance, not toss it all around and create new lack of peace, of order.
She could see the fascination in her daughter-in-law's eyes. Of course, that thoughtless, careless, dreamy woman had once more thrown all caution overboard. As if life was a game, as if there were no problems, no threats left in the world. Just like when she had married Lucius. Life was a fairytale to Noctis, it had always been kind to her, and therefore she lacked every sense of duty, severity and loyalty. Her influence on Lucien was the sole reason why the boy was not here right now!

Illlyria felt her son's tension only too well. Oh yes, he was furious, and he had a right to be. But like a true Illumiate, he kept it inside. He was so well reserved, so distinguished - Illyria felt her heart throb with pride. If there was one accomplishment she was sincerely proud of, it was educating her son into a true king. He would be great one day, he already was a great man. He would shape history, she was sure of that.

Blinking, she surpressed a tear of affection, as she remembered the day she had given birth to Lucius, how small, how promising he had been. She had wished so much for more children, but she also knew that he had turned out to be perfect. She might have failed to give her husband more children, to give the crown more stability, but she had managed to give the light nation an heir to the throne, and an heir they could be proud about. She might have failed as a queen, but she had not failed as a mother.
Lucius would restrict the boy, teach him some manners, and she would be there to look out for her little favourite after he had learned his lesson, had learned some sense of duty. Lucien was only half of Lucius, but he was still her blood, and a promising young lightbender. This would turn out just fine. It was one small embarrassment, and after they had dealt with it, they would have made sure it never happened again.

Illyria turned her thoughts away from her family and back on the matter at hand. She knew well that she could trust her husband to make a good decision. She was comfortable up here, representing her nation and backing him up.

Lahija

Standing without motion, without emotion, was not as simple as it often looked to outsiders. It took a lot of discipline and training to stand perfectly still over a longer period of time without faiting, like many of the new recruits often did at first, and even more importantly, to not start scratching somewhere, or fall asleep, or get a nervous tick while you were standing on guard.

The trick in it all, Lahija knew from experience, was to in fact not stand still, but appear to stand still the entire time. Moving only so slightly, shifting your stance, tensing and relaxing different sets of muscles without showing it, prevented the blood to sink in your legs and thereby get you in the danger of losing consciousness. Occupying yourself with simple brainteasers and thoughts about your surroundings ensured that you didn't get all dizzy and unconcentrated. Keeping te control of a place meant you needed to understand every last aspect of it, learn the number of people, their obvious abilities to fight, and the number of the exits by heart - and that without knowing the people, or the place, or the exit ways.

Her first priority was the Fire Lord, down in the meeting room. Out of her grasp, actually, she could see him from above, but to reach out to him from up in the balconies she'd have to cover two stories of air, and without bending.
Her second priority, almost as important, were the Fire Lord's siblings. They sat next to each other, but Lahija did not kid herself: They not only were easier for her to watch that way, they also made for a better target.

She tried to reacll all she had learnt about protection: Stay calm, stay in control, and stay focussed. Try to see the place from the eyes of an assassin.

Easy to say, not as easy to accomplish. There were but fourteen guards on this balcony, two for each Kingdom, and Lahija was no fool. Most members of a royal guard were benders primarily. Of course, just like her, they probably all had some close combat training too, but primarily, just like hers, their strength was fighting with their natural element.

Inside this castle, she felt more vulnerable than she had felt her entire life. Two guards were too few for four people, and when she looked around on the crowded balconies, the Fire Nation had quite good odds compared to other nations like the water tribes, who seemingly had invited even distant royal family members to this summit...

If someone wanted to get rid of the entire royalty of the Seven Kingdoms, now would be the perfect opportunity, all he'd have to do is blow up this room, she thought, and even the thought gave her a sick feeling in her stomach. Fourteen people guarded all their rulers, and these fourteen were limited in their possibilities. This was just wrong.

A film of sweat build up on her forehead. From the corner of her eyes she could see that the other fire nation guard watched her with narrowed eyes, having taken a stance at the far side of the balcony, on the same row that their royal family was seated. Lahija, on the other hand, stood right next to the entrance, gazing all over the assembled majesties. She gaave the other guard a small nod, even less than a nod. All she did was lower her eyelid for a second, a bit slower than a natural blink: Yes, she was still there, and still alert.

The second guard lowered his eyelids in the same fashion, and for a second she had the impression that his eyes sparkled amused, but also content. She had to suppress a smile, and looked away from him again, scanning the room one more time with her evermoving eyes.

((trying to catch up with the meeting of the monarchs part))

Noctis

A lengthy discussion of what monarch was to send what gift had set in down below, but Noctis was too focussed on worrying for her son to actually listen to them.

Then it all happened really fast. A loud burst became audible at the outside. The royal family members around her jumped, Noctis herself one of them. The panic was there at once, starting to drown her, but she fought it back bravely. She was a queen-to-be, a crown princess. She was not afraid, at least not to the outside.
Down in the hall, some guards entered hastily and tried to barricade the door from the inside. Astonishingly calm, Noctis watched as some of the guards on the balcony did the same thing with their door. She felt like a mere spectator, as if she was not even really there, but outside her body, watching what happened. Next to her, Illyria had also stood up. They were the oldest women on this balcony, and despite most of the other royal family members, none of them panicked, at least not visibly. They merely exchanged a look, as Lucius stepped in front of them and drew his ceremonial sword. He will fight for us to the death, Noctis realized, and the thought surprised her despite her knowledge of her strong, honourable husband. There was no love between them, not even sympathy, they were both just so tired of their pretence... and still he would lie down his life for her, because he had sworn to before the spirits.

Illyria

Illyria's eyes were not on the door of the balcony, nor were they on her only son. They were linked closely to the eyes of the old men so far down below her, of her one true love. He had jumped to his feet, just like the other monarchs, but he did not step up to defend himself. Lucious was a man of peace, he had had enough fights for a lifetime. For ten lifetimes, actually. His eyes went up to her mechanically, and met her glance. Over the distance, they exchanged one last look.

Then a loud burst send the gigantic wings of the door flying through the room, knocking over the guards. The meeting chamber turned into havoc, as complete and utter chaos suppressed all sense and a desperate fight broke out. "Evacuate the balconies!" Illyria heard someone shout, maybe it was the Fire Lord, she had not realized fully. She did not listen. Someone grabbed her arm, shouted at her, tried to drag her away. She could still see Lucious' face. He looked at her, but then his glance drifted, looking at something behind her. Shouting a warning, it almost looked as if he wanted to rush over to her, but then he merely grabbed his tunic, right above his heart, and sunk to his knees with a pale, painfully wretched look on his face. Time stopped.

Noctis

The balcony doors burst open in flames. Some of the guards stumbled back, wounded, but two of them merely stretched out their arms and performed a fluent movement. Firebenders.
Within a few moments, the fire-guards had extinguished the flames, being backed up in their fight by their luckier comrades from the other nations. Through the intense smoke, Noctis could see some figures, undefined shapes, imminent and dark like shadows. Shouting, crying, clutching each other, most of the royal family members crowded together at the far end of the balconies, the guards stepping in in front of them, led by no less than Lucius Illumiate himself. Some of the men backed him up, using even bending now. Although she hated that woman, Noctis realised she was looking out for her mother in law. Illyria had not moved one bit. Her eyes were locked to some far point down below, Noctis followed them shortly and realized that the old Queen was exchanging looks with her husband.

"Illyria, come one, we have to get behind the guards! Come on, move!" Noctis did not know where she found the strength and courage to grab the elder one by her arm and try to drag her with her, but she somehow had it. Illyria was hatefull, but she was her family. They needed to get out of the line of fire, and quickly.

The should never succeed. A massive figure, some sort of bending - or, was it indeed magic? - jumped in right in front of the two women. Noctis flinched, trying to escape, and since Illyria was not following, that meant that she loosened her grip around her mother-in-law's arm. For one moment, she could see the white, fragile old figure at the edge of the balcony, could see how her face turned into pure horror, but not because of her aggressor - because of something down below, not visible to Noctis. Then, the massive monster ripped Illyria's head clean off with just one hand, and, growling, turned around to Noctis.

Panic suffocated her. Her skirt was drenched with the Queen's blood, the pure white now spoiled with dark, murderous red. Just as the thing stepped closer to her, she once more got the feeling of watching her own snivelling, begging self from the outside. Strangely, her last thought was full of thanks for her son's improper behaviour. She was glad that Lucien was not here to see this, to die just like she did. She almost saw how her bladder gave out, just before the animal of dust ran a blade right through her. She saw it coming, then the night had her again. The child of the dark nation finally had returned to the dark.

((Just to clarify: This means permadeath for Noctis and Illyria.))

Lahija

BUMM.

Somewhere outside, Lahija could hear an explosion, as loud and fierce as she had never heard one before. She had the feeling that the earth trembled for a moment, and drew her sword almost automatically. From the corners of her eyes she saw that the other guards were doing the same thing.

We have better chances if we all work together, instead of protecting merely our own set of royals, she realized, and saw in the same moment that some other, more experienced guards had had the same idea entirely. While some of them rushed to the entrance to block it - Lahija hastily helped them - others were already crowding the majesties at one end of the balcony, taking a stance in front of them. If they blow up this balcony, they get rid off about two thirds of the world's most important families at once, Lahija thought, as the film of sweat on her forehead intensified. If they blow up the entire castle, we're all dead. That's it. No more Lahija, no more honour for my family, none of us will survive.
At once she called herself a fool. Which power in the world would be strong enough to destroy a whole castle? That thought had been ridiculous.

Were those steps? Steps outside the door? Just like all the other guards, Lahija got ready. They were forbidden to bend in here, and she was determined not to, but then something happened that extinguished those considerations.

BUMM. Another explosion shook the hall, breaking down the huge doors down below, and simultaneously, instinctively, she could feel her arms move forward, dividing a stream of fire that came from the balcony doors. The second of the two simultaneous explosions knocked most of her fellow guards of their feet, but she automatically divided the fire before it could burn her, and she could see that her comrade from the fire nation had done the exact same thing. They had both bended, but only for defence...

And with only a few controlled movements, they extinguished the flames. Some of the waterbenders started to soothe their comrades' burns, whereas she could see that the earthbenders stood about rather helpless, preparing to fight without bending. She could not really see what the dark, light and air benders were up to, and there was no time to turn around and look out for them. Too little time, too few of us... and probably too many of them...

Her worries were shut off before they could arise completely. She lifted her sword, licked her lips nervously, and the words of her family came back to her mind.
As if praying, she whispered them in the native tongue of the fire nation: "Zexenuma j'nah, vaex bekiw, waph vis." Stand fierce, bow deep, live honest. Stand fierce, bow deep, live honest. Stand. fierce.

Rozan

cf.: The new recruit

As he entered the Palace of the Spirit King, the front hall was in complete and utter disarray. Magicians were attacking everyone around, and he could see some of his comrades fighting them, bending at them what they got. It was not enough, obviously, not nearly enough. Although they were the elite warriors of their nation, the seemed to be outnumbered by a few men with sticks.

Rozan dragged out his double swords, but before he could get into the fighting, one of his superior officers had spotted him, probably the last royal guard who had come through the main door. "Shang, we'll look out for His Majesty! You go to the balconies, get his family out of here safe!"
This was not a begging, it was a clear order. And Rozan was glad he had gotten one. Still the horror struck him, all the fire, the elements in array everywhere, and even worse, the strange creatures that were attacking anything that moved.

He ran up the stairs to the balconies, his heart pounding so hard that he thought it would give out. No brawl had ever been so intense, so dangerous. He hated this, that he knew suddenly. He hated it, because people were actually dying, innocent people.
Way up, he could hear a woman scream in panic and pain, and then fall silent. A death-scream. He thought of the Fire Lord's siblings, who were up there with only two recruits to help them, and accelerated his steps.
He had almost reached the top, when it happened.
A huge beast came out of nowhere, claws ripped through his flesh, hit his bones, and flung him easily at the wall. With a shout of pain, Rozan slumped down, and felt that the world went red. He could not even determine where he had been hit, as the animal loomed towards him. His heart raced now, the drumming beats poundering in his ears. But his hands were still clutched around the hilts of his swords. As long as he had his swords, he would not be defeated!

A heavy paw lay down on his chest, pressing him to the stairs, while the massive, hungry beak of a bird-like creature appeared in front of his face, eager to finish him off.
With a loud cry of anguish and hate, Rozan tore both swords up into the creature's body, yanking them both sideways. Blood and entrails were spilled as the animal cried out in pain, and fell sideways off him, twitching in its last breaths. Rozan did not wait to look if it really died. He managed somehow to get on both feet, and to haste further on. The closer he came to the balconies, the worse the sounds in front of him became. It were no mere fighting sounds, there was crying, and begging, and pleading, and dying.

The smell of blood, urine and wilderbeats grew intenser, as he went on, rushing now, flying almost towards his destination.

There was no one out in the corridor, and nothing. The fight seemed to take place on the balconies, he could hear the angry sibilating sound of fire, smell the burnt flesh, even feel the heat on his skin as he entered the balconies.

The royal families were all crowded up at one far end, with a handful of guards trying to protect them. Most of them swung some sort of weapon, others had to fight with their bare hands, since they had no way to bend up here. It seemed to Rozan, that the airbenders were doing the best job, evading the fierce claws that hit out for them, and even working together to smash one animal aside with an amazing gust of wind. It hit the wall right next to him, fell to the floor, and staid there, one paw twitching, several joints broken as it seemed.

Rozan wanted to help, desperately, but then it happened. One of the animals turned around to him and spit fire out of its beak. It actually spit fire, not as powerfully as a dragon might have, but dangerously enough. More out of instinct than voluntarily, Rozan rolled over, evading the stream of fire, and felt how the ceremonial gold and red tunic he wore over his leather armour caught fire. Panicking, he rolled over once more, and again, and again, until the ragged cloth stopped burning, leathing parts of his armour charred.

Still panting, he stood up again, just to roll over once more in order to escape a lash of the beast's tail. This was his chance. Jumping forward, triumphantingly, he hit the tail with both of his doubleswords, almost severing it from the body with one stroke.

Then he jumped back, eluding the animals angry counterattack. Once more, he had completely lost the bigger picture of the fight, only facing one opponent at the time.