Courage Does Not Always Roar
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Since before the dawn of written history, there have been two paths of life.
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Some found themselves settled in the Kingdoms, the city-states of the land, living or working on the estates of the nobles, or dwelling within the ancient walled cities; The Civilized, The Councils.
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They who walked the other path, found a very different life. Nomads, horsemen, tent-dwellers; Without a true 'home', but knowing a kind of freedom others would never understand. The Clans, The Plain~riders.
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Though alike at birth and death, they created different worlds, only interacting when it became necessary.
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At the end of the first age, the Clans came together as one race, ending years of feuding. The Kingdoms did not. Oh, a few joined forces for protection, but more was needed: Hence the accords where struck.
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While the Plain~riders where unified, each Clan ruled themselves in their own right, and in some cases, would offer to act as guardians to the cities willing to pay the tribute; But as high as the price was, few chose that option.
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For they did not ask for land nor gold, but something much more precious.
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Every three years, the Plainsmen arrived and made camp outside the city for a full moon-cycle. The selected tribute would be sent to the clan leader, and if accepted, the city was protected for another three years. For the last 50 years, the tribute of the city of Westerville had always been delivered and accepted. The city Council had decided long ago, after a particularly bloody attack, that the price for safety was more than reasonable.
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The tribute was always two people. Male or female, it mattered not, between the ages of 13 and 17. No one knew what happened to them once they where in the hands of the 'barbarians', nor did they care. A city such as Westerville had not trouble finding someone, usually there where enough orphaned or young thieves to pick the tribute from.
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Until the third year came... when there was neither.
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Disaster. That was the only word for what had happened. A city of thousands, and for the first time ever, they hand no one to send as tribute. The Council had called and emergency meeting, with the Northern raiders attacking nearby city-states, Westerville could hardly stand to lose the protection of the Teronna Nua clan.
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A tall, middle-aged man struck a gavel against the table and called the meeting to order. Lord Montgomery looked around the table, meeting the eyes of his fellow Nobles. Lord Clarington, Lord Fabray, Lord Anderson, Lady Karofsky, Lady Smyth met his concerned gaze with their own.
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"I do not need to tell you the severity of the situation we face. In five days, we will be facing a very unpleasant situation." He stated clearly. "For the first time in in 54 years, we do not have a tribute already selected. This is Westerville's 18th visit by the Plain~riders, and we must have our... payment. With the summer coming, we cannot afford to remain unprotected."
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"The jails have no one young enough to send, and all those without parents are two young. If we go to the people and ask for their children, we could be inviting an uprising. " Lady Smyth replied with surprising logic. "And asking for volunteers is out of the question. No one would willing send their own flesh and blood to... them."
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"Perhaps... perhaps not." Lord Fabrey spoke up. "There may be a way." He looked around the room and continued. "There are some that would send those they no longer would call their children. Someone that has sinned to the point of being unforgiven? I will provide one tribute from my household."
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The entire table gasped.
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"My Lord... you would send your Daughter?!" Clarington demanded in disbelief. He was a cold man for the most part, but spoiled and doted upon his wife and children. "We don't even know what happens to them, of if they even survive! We've heard the stories. Competent warriors, yes. But as humans? We have no idea what their capable of. And it is well known that no tribute has ever come back."
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Lord Fabery didn't even blink. "My offer stands."
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Lord Anderson turned to stare at his long-time friend. "So is it true? She is with child?"
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"Is it true that HE prefers other males?" Fabrey shot back coldly, knowing which of them felt more shame. He turned back to the council. "Is there anyone else..." He looked around the table, "That will put the need of the many above themselves?"
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The room went silent, the air suddenly heavy and oppressive.
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"Yes." Anderson stood calmly. "I will as well."
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Five days later...
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Nausea ripped through the 16-year-old's body for the third time in the last hour. His hands clenched and flexed as they waited for the knock at the door, the one that would send them to their end. His dark hair plastered against his head with a wax and oil substance to tame his unruly curls. His hazel eyes, flecked with gold glanced to the young woman, seated next to him. A year older than himself, her beautiful face pale, drawn, and resigned. She instinctively placed a delicate hand over her abdomen, and bit her lower lip.
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"Why even bother making us wait?" Her green eyes shown that she hadn't slept since finding out either. "I just want this to be over with."
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"You don't mean that, Quinn." He covered his childhood friend's free hand with his. "We don't know what's going to happen..."
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"Their SAVAGES." She whispered. "And I'm having a child... but then again do you think we'll even be alive in 7 months?" Her voice was scared.
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"I would hope that they would value life." He wisped back. "I'll be right beside you, ok?"
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"Thank you Blaine." She hugged him quickly. "I'm glad we were friends, but I wish you weren't trapped like this too."
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"It's my own fault." He gave a short, disgusted laugh. "I should have known better... I knew the truth about why one of the two tributes was selected last time, and I still has to tell my father the real reason I didn't want to start looking into a marriage arrangement with Hunter's sister."
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"And Cooper?" She asked gently, knowing it was a sore spot.
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Blaine's face twisted into a grimace. "No word. I sent a messenger the day I found out, and Cooper's estate is only a day's hard ride from here."
The note had been simple:
Cooper,
As you know, the time for the tributes is coming very soon. This time there where no 'suitable' offerings, at least that's what the council is saying. There sending me and Quinn. I don't know if it's too late to do anything, but please come, if just so I can say goodbye. I'll miss you, brother.
We get sent on the last day of this week.
Blaine
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"If he cared, he would've been here by now. So either he's just too caught up in his own life to give a damn, or...or he agrees with our father." He closed his eyes. "It doesn't matter, it's not like anyone can do anything now."
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"I wish they would just tell us what to expect. No Tribute has ever come back, not in over 50 years. I mean, do they die, or are they kept as slaves or... that celebration at the end of the month they remain outside the city? What are they celebrating?" Quinn leaned in, and pressed her head onto Blaine's shoulder. "You know the thing that scares me the most? Even if I could get away, I'd have no where to go... I don't have any other family."
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"Then we stick together, because as far as I'm concerned, you will always be my sister." He smiled. "Even if our bloodlines don't agree."
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As they embraced, the door opened. A sad-faced guard stood before them.
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"It's time."
A/N: Greetings to anyone who's gotten to the end of the first chapter! I'm new here, and this is my first fanfiction! (And right out of the gate I'm writing Klaine... 2 months ago I would not have thought it possible! Not the Klaine part, the part where I'm writing...)
So please drop me a line!
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