The Once and Future Prince

[Tristan Alastor]

While she laughed and smiled, lips shaping unfamiliar words, Tristan could only watch with a rising temper. The leather cord of his mounts reigns had become so tightly wound around his fist that all blood had fled from his knuckles. If he was angry at anything, it was himself, for leaving Onderon on a whim, for giving in to such folly – and yet soon enough he was swinging himself down from the drexl's saddle, drawn after the hooded figure fast fading into the mists ahead.

C'nros Qu'ess – that was what she'd called him. Those words held a strong connection to his dreams, as with every visitation she would whisper them to him, their sound somehow striking a chord inside of the young Prince that he could not explain. “What does it mean?” he called after her, quickening his pace some as he followed in her footsteps, his right hand falling instinctively to the pommel of the dueling sword scabbarded at his hip.

[Megaera]

Stepping only a few paces into the treeline, Megaera slowed, turning so that both the hem of her cloak, and the chill of blue tinged mist swirled around her body from the knees down. She watched him approach, and did not make any move to outdistance him, rather she seemed inclined to show him something. A hand lifted slowly from her side, her fingers wiggled playfully as the slid through the filtered sunlight from the sky above through shade of the trees. They came to rest, along with the flat of her palm against the tree itself, and whispered to Tristan. "Lorugen.."

Bending at the waist, she lifted a handful of moist earth from the ground at her feet, her arms disappearing into the mist as she did so. "Har'dro..", she pronounced, spilling the contents back to the ground.

Then her fingertips trailed through the mists themselves, which seemed to swirl ever closer around her, as if they found her particularly pleasing.. "Horreuren..", she told him.

Where she stood, she held her arms out at her side and turned in a slow circle, gesturing around to the area at large. "Rilbol!", she called out to no one in particular.

She pointed at him, taking a step closer. "Dossta...", and then gestured to herself, with a sensual smile. "Usst.."

Only a step from him now she lifted her other hand from her side, and smiled angelically. "Udosst...", then blew the contents of her hand straight into his eyes, a heavy dose of a sleeping potion she created herself, always carried on her person, in a pouch tied to her waist. Absorbed into his body instantly, he would be deep asleep in seconds.

[Tristan Alastor]

Whatever message she was trying to convey, it was falling on deaf ears. The language she spoke was so unfamiliar, so different from either Hapan or Basic, that it might as well have been nonsense. There had been a great feeling of control when he had chosen to leave Onderon, to pursue something that was his own choosing, but now all he felt was frustrated and helpless.

About to seize hold of her, in an attempt to put some end to her mockery, Tristan's vision was suddenly full of a pale dust. He blinked, screwing his eyes tightly shut, but it was no use. Even Hapan poise and grace wasn't enough to make Tristan's collapse look dignified. He swayed and after a moment his knees gave way beneath him, sending the Prince slumping backwards – his last sight that of her smiling down at him.

When he woke from his unnatural sleep, it was an yet another unfamiliar place.

[Megaera]

She hadn't taken him home. Not yet. Rather, Megaera along with the help of Erishkigal, had taken Tristan deeper into the Dathomiri jungle, away from Aurilia. The Nightsisters of the Burning Mists Clan had outposts at intervals that surrounded their walled settlement, this was merely one of them.

A simple hut, with a hearth along one wall, by which she sat. It had large, open windows through which, even from the floor where Tristan lay, he would be able to see his own mount, which had been brought along, tethered nearby. Megaera had ridden the unusual winged creature, easily gaining it's trust and learning how to communicate with it. It was a proud, if arrogant beast.. not unlike it's master.

She glanced over to him, to find him awake and looking at her. She smiled at him, nodding to his side where his weapon lay within his easy reach. "Hello...", she said softly.

"I'm sorry I had to put you to sleep so suddenly. You seemed quite agitated that you could not understand me. So I gave you our words..", she explained.

"You can now speak fluent Dathomiri, Witch Prince...", at the familiar name that she always called him, her lashes veiled her eyes, a slight blush stealing over her smooth cheeks. She wondered what else he would now understand of the things she had told him in her own tongue, while in his thoughts and dreams..

[Tristan Alastor]

Within seconds of waking, Tristan's hand found the hilt of his sword and as he scrambled to one knee he swung the tip of the blade to point level at the woman sitting before him. For an instant his eyes darted away from her to the hut he found himself in, the flames and shadows dancing on the walls only deppening his disorientation - but it was only moments before his attention was on her again.

“What sorcery is this?!”

[Megaera]

It was obvious that she was disappointed by his actions. Demanding answers was understandable, considering the distance he had traveled to find her, but to threaten her with a sword? Megaera frowned, eying the blade as it was leveled at her. Her eyes scanned the length, then rose to meet his and bluntly answer his question.

"That of the Sisters of the Burning Mists." Though unarmed, Megaera was far from helpless.

"Witches of great and terrible power.", she smiled up at him, then asked, "Are you going to stab me, Tristan?"

[Tristan Alastor]

There was something defiant and bold in her smile, that made some of his confidence falter. The sword wavered for an instant before Tristan forced his arms to remain rigid, his aim true.

“Witch Prince.. C'nros Qu'ess. You called me what. Why?”

[Megaera]

"Because, my lord..", she began, her mischievous grin increasing in naughty splendor. "That is who I was searching for.. and I found you."

"With time and training, that is who you are destined to become. You will have a clan of witches to serve you, to bow before you..", she lowered her head, in demonstration.

"Or am I quite mistaken? Do you feel nothing of this to be true?", she asked him. His answer was very important to her.