[color=f7941d][b]"I will grant you are bold, bold enough for the battlefield. But I doubt you would have wished to meet me there either."[/b][/color]

Ozragad sometimes forgot the ways of the human kingdoms like Eorzia, their strange rules regarding the roles that women could take their societies. They were not allowed to fight or hold offices of state, they were passed over for succession and denied inheritance. Things were different amongst the Formori, if he had turned away half  of those who wished to fight him he would never have been able to build armies large enough to challenge his much more populous neighbour. Succession amongst their great houses of his kind was cognatic, the eldest child inherited regardless of their sex, and their names were passed down through the mother's line. 

His own mother had been Queen in her own right before he had ascended to the throne. He was King Ozragad of the House of Gwydion through her line, not his father's. Gwydion had been the family name of his Grandmother, she had brought it with her to Morganyth when she had been driven from the green lands when she had been only a girl. Perhaps the Hydaelyn girl did not know this was the case, she had never seen a Formori succession, they were all ancient history to her.

Ozragad had always viewed human women with disdain, weak and pitiful things who he only really encountered when they flung themselves before him to beg for mercy. But at the pain in the Princess's voice and the loathing he could feel not just for him but for her own family, he realised that their passivity was not necessarily a choice they had wished for. He had never really though on it before.

That was what he had been expecting from her of course, passivity, weakness, fear. 

His thoughts were tinged with regret, his eyes dropped away from hers. His rage coiled back in on itself, the fire was banked once more. [color=f7941d][i]Is that what I had wanted? Some frightened mouse trained to cringed away from me at my every motion? Is that really who I am?[/i][/color] His war was over for now, he didn't have to play the conquering tyrant with his every breath, though sometimes it seemed like he had never been anything else. 

Yes she had been angry and impudent, and yes he would not have suffered that in anyone else, but maybe had grown to used too his autocracy. It had been a hundred years since had been civil with another monarch, since etiquette had demanded he treat another as his equal. The Princess was the closest he had experienced to that such a long time, perhaps he had forgotten how to behave politely. [i][color=f7941d]A century of war could do that to any man, even you. You are not immutable Ozragad.[/color][/i]

[b][color=f7941d]"It is no matter who I was expecting, we would find each other complete strangers either way."[/color][/b] With that he lapsed into an uneasy quiet, gazing out of the window of the carriage. They rolled up the mountain road towards the pass between two peaks. He found himself drumming his fingers against his sword again, he stopped himself. He should say something, anything, so as not to waste this whole journey in sullen silence. 

[b][color=f7941d]"We will keep the ceremony to a minimum upon our arrival at the palace. There will be formal presentation of you at court the next morning and a banquet that evening."[/color][/b] He suddenly became away of how alone they were in the carriage, a frown crossed his face. [b][color=f7941d]"You are completely alone besides your guards? No ladies-in-waiting, no chambermaids?"[/color][/b]