**Warning:** This story contains some elements you may not like. If you don’t enjoy dub-con, ‘mind break’, and light fantasy slurs, turn back now!
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**The Gift of Diplomacy**
Starlight filters down into the most beautiful throne room in the world through a glass ceiling, the curving dome of the cut into a thousand facets to reflect the light and create a dazzling array of beauty. Illumination suffused the room despite the fact that not a single torch burned, nor did any lamp shine its light. It was as if the inhabitants were standing upon an open field on a well lit night, one whose moon and stars shone so brightly that they could see unheeded.
At least, most stood. One figure sat instead, poised with grace and elegance upon a throne of pure white. The seat was carved from wood of the last mallorn tree in its waning days, three thousand years ago, and it seemed alive itself, the gnarled branches of its armrests appearing to shift or move when at the edge of one’s vision…though it stood still as dead wood when their eyes focused upon it.