Ceruorae's Pomegranate

Lightning struck Ceruore's midnight sky. A lucious pomegranate tree cracked under the open sky as it fell and hit the ground. Annmaire hurriedly walked past, not stopping to glance behind her. She could not afford to be caught tonight. If she were caught, the consequences would be grand. Not to mention that The Elders would not even touch the subject, but the domineering Armormen would. In a way, she'd love that. The feel of one of their muscular Armormen's body pressed against her in the dungeon. But no, Father would not have that... She was to marry first, then bleed her night away. Sometimes, kingdoms could be so unruly. If they only knew what this elven-countess desired. If they even knew what she had done! Half the kingdoms of Shalize would order for her to be condemned! Charise, her most favorite companion had more than a bowl full of stories to tell of Annmaire's "midnight merriment". Often, before midnight had fallen and all were soundly sleeping like children in the cradle, Annemaire would sneak into Charise's chamber room. Now the two companions didn't play Mirror, Mirror; they played a better game. However, it wasn't even a game, it was a matter of mortality and immortality that they chanced with. Thrice, had Annemaire bitten Charise's lifeline along her wrist, which fed into her veins the most elegant of blood; Elven-Countess blood it was called. Elven-Countess blood was said only to be a myth in Ceruorae's land, but the wise and elder knew it be of truth....

"Father, Father!", cried out Annemaire, awoken by the sun's shining rays.

"Yes, my daughter?", her father rushed to her side.

Annemaire was in severe pain. Marsepha watched behind the sparkling ruby curtains. 'Serves her right!', thought the jealous mother, 'Every little whimper and sigh she must always be tended to by him!'. It didn't matter that her daughter came from her, nor did it matter that she weeped at night for her mother to acknowledge that she was her daughter. As far as Marsepha thought, her other elvenkin were of the greatest elegance to be found in these lands.

"My side...", she bit her lip in pain,"Father, it hurts..."

"Annemaire, you are bleeding.", her father spoke calmly as he brought a rain drizzled leaf to her side while chanting softly.

Annemaire drew in sharp breaths as her father completed their healing ritual. She knew she shouldn't have been out in the fields after night had fallen, but he was there and needed to see her.