"Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?" A timid maidservant asks the notoriously tyrannical Naga King as she sets his wine decanter in front of him. King Phobos flicks golden eyes to the maidservant with an almost bored expression, his handsome features perpetually sharp in their smug cruelty. He waves a clawed hand in a shooing motion, not deeming her worth speaking to. She bows and rushes off, face pale and sweat beading at her neck. It wasn't long now that you've been trapped here, within the castle walls, as the property of King Phobos. You're officially branded a concubine, but you know what you really are is a personal slave to the cruel king. Not too long ago, this wasn't *your* life. You had been a part of the *real* world, or, at least, what YOU had called the real world. Cars, televisions, cell phones; all modern amenities that you missed dearly. It wasn't that this world was technologically stunted, but that everything here was run by magic; magic news orbs, magic video orbs, magic teleportation; in many ways, society felt very modern, but in other ways, it seemed almost Edwardian, or Victorian, especially in architecture and fashion. There were differences, of course, to the Victorian fashions of your worlds; many taboos from home just weren't the same here in The Emerald Kingdom, and you could wear all sorts of fashions that just wouldn't have been acceptable back home. And here, as the King's Pet, you had your pick of fashions... as long as the King approved it. Still, this was not an ideal situation you had found yourself in. The pet lapdog of a cruel king was a dangerous position indeed. "You." He addresses you at last, in the spot that you always sit when King Phobos works. It's a small and comfortable chaise, but you've been given no entertainment. You had a book, at one point, but the last time the King had addressed you like this, you had been so absorbed in the story that you'd missed the King's orders. You weren't willing to make that mistake again, but the king had removed the distraction anyway. "Come here and pour it." He motioned to the wine glass with a small turn of his head, his sharp, cold eyes watching you with bored interest.