Well this has certainly been interesting. Treville is quite getting quite vocal, perhaps he is worried I’ll say the wrong thing and get us all killed? Shaking her head slightly she settled down inside the palanquin making herself as comfortable as she could, she was still annoyed with Treville but for now she would just focus on making it his palace in one piece. Whatever had gone down between Ozragad and the person he had met with didn’t sound all too great, a part of her worried on if her own men would be safe going to the palace. They were strong fighters but could easily be overpowered by numbers especially if the King did not choose to help them.

No, it will be fine. They have covered anything Eorzian about them, it’s not much longer until they can rest. If they can.

Tapping her fingers against one of the walls of the palanquin she felt restless herself, it was anxious being so far deep into the enemy territory. Although a part of her knew the King would not allow harm to come to her there was still the nagging feeling in the back of her mind that she had come to her death. That she would be killed in the night and they blame it on some sort of sickness to try to appease the Eorzians.

Give me strength, patience and… what was that? Looking up from her clasped hands placed neatly in her lap she heard the cry of Long live the King. Smiling to herself at the sentiment it was clear he had the love of his people, that was important when King. You had to command the respect of your people but also be loved by them as they hold power in numbers. However, after the words she felt the tension, it was hard not to sense it and she felt the nerves hit her.

Frowning at the next words she heard she couldn’t help but cringe, her body shuddered as they cried out supporting the peace. Supporting her. I shouldn’t be your queen, don’t praise it. Then came the boos, jeers and she felt her body tense up. These were fresh wounds; the war had barely been over, and she knew that claiming such a thing would divide the people. It had done in her Kingdom upon announcement of the peace treaty. As much as there were supporters of the peace there were also the fanatically people that were dead against such an idea. It had caused quite problem in Eorzia that her father had set up a scapegoat travel carriage in order for her actual one to pass through peacefully. It had worked, she had managed to start the journey in peace and the scapegoat carriage had been taken hostage by loyal devoted people who did not want their Princess given to a warlord.

The reaction of the words spread like wildfire; she could hear the commotion, but she didn’t dare look. For once she had to place her faith in Ozragad that he would keep her and her men safe, it was quite the unsettling feeling for her, but she focused on trying to keep calm. Flinching at the next words she felt her fingers curl up into fists bunching up the fabric of her dress as she gripped it tightly needing to feel the pressure of holding something so tightly.

Down with Ozragad? Are they so mad about this peace to wish ill of their King? Concern crossed her mind for a split second before she shook the thought out of her head. They were just angry men, it had to be expected. Flinching as she heard the small hail of stones bounce off of the palanquin, she half expected a fight to break out, but she felt a wave of relief when she heard them say they were near the gates.

However, her relief was short lived, the next sounds she heard would trouble her. Placing a hand over her mouth hiding the gasp as she heard the blood curdling scream, it went right through her and she trembled. The palanquin was still moving forward but not quick enough, not far enough as she could still hear the distant screams from behind them. That could have been me, it still could…

A sickening thought passed through her as she thought on the warlord, the King who was now personally dealing with his people. It had taken her a moment to realise the palanquin had stopped moving and she glanced towards the exit, for a split second she wondered if this was where she was about to die but that washed away when she saw Treville offer his hand to help her out. Letting out a rather shaky breath she unclenched her fists smoothing out her dress once more, regaining her composure she exited the palanquin taking Trevilles hand this time and stood tall and proud as if she hadn’t heard what had happened.

Clearing her throat, she took a few steps forward, partly to make sure she felt okay on her feet and another part to increase the distance from the gates. Smiling politely at Manawyndan she was glad the journey was over, “Thank you for escorting me and my men to palace.” Regardless of the events she still had to be polite, show respect else she would consistently be watching out for people that would try to kill her. Glancing back, she could see Treville standing just behind her and all her men just two steps behind, all unscathed thankfully. As much as she hated to admit it he had protected her and her men, something she would thank him for if there was a chance even if she hated the idea.

The sounds of fighting grew distant before all but disappearing as the great iron bound gates of the palace swung closed. Behind its pale and strangely glowing walls the aura of eerie calmness that had cloaked the city from afar returned. The gates opened into the outer ward of the palace, a large paved space that used for outdoor ceremonies or the assembly of Ozragad's armies in war-time. It took up a significant portion of the lowest terrace of the palace, the rest of the tier given over to the practical administrative buildings of the complex. Beyond the edges of this courtyard were the stables and storehouses, the granaries and armouries, the barracks and blacksmiths. All the necessary parts of working palace.

Above the square, taking up the several of the next terraces, loomed the chaotic mass of towers and halls that made up the palace proper, where the majority of the courtiers, servants, and soldiers lived and slept. Much of the unearthly glow that lit courtyard emanated from there - the cornices of the walls and ridges of the roofs set with softly glowing crystal that cast its light belong. Beyond that, towering on the highest tier of all, were the royal apartments of King Ozragad himself, their spire tipped towers almost brushing up against the curving ceiling of the cavern.

Manawyndan took the view in as he carefully swung his leg over his horse, the movement was measured and considered. When he had been young he had leapt on and off and horses with no thought, but his bones were brittle and his muscles aching now he had reached his venerable old age and hence caution was best observed. He ran a hand through his short iron grey hair to scratch at the nape of his neck. He was an older Formori, thin and wiry, with a clean shaven sharp chin and a face set with narrow eyes the colour of dark bronze.

"This is a fine mess." He muttered to himself as a stable hand came to take his horse, a look of deep consternation plain upon his face.

The Princess was already exiting the palanquin, the carriers who had borne it up through the city at post-haste had set it down as soon as they were safe behind the palace walls. Manwyndan did not blame them, they had practically run the last third. Ozragad would have probably reprimanded them for that, but he did not have the heart to do so. He finally got a good look at the Princess, she looked very young to him, but he supposed most people looked very young to him after more than three hundred years. She also looked composed considering the mob outside that had been baying for her blood a few minutes before. As she approached him she smiled politely, but with her guards close to her back still. Understandable given the circumstances. He relaxed his expression.

"No need to thank me, Your Highness, I am but a humble servant," He paused to cough and clear his throat as he spoke the rasp in the old Formori's voice did not lessen. Manawyndan gave an apologetic, though wry, smile of his own. "And I cannot help but feel partly responsible for your current predicament. This unrest, I mean, as regent in the King's absence."

That was true of course, Manawyndan had been in charge of the powder keg of a city before it had ignited into panic and chaos. But equally true was the fact that Ozragad's plans concerning the Princess had largely been hatched in Manawyndan's mind. His King would have never accepted such a peace offering except at his encouragement. That made him largely responsible for Elise Hydaelyn's presence in Morganyth.

"My name is Manawyndan." He bowed to the Princess. "Amongst other duties, I serve as the King's Steward here at the palace. Apartments have been set aside for your use, and the use of your men, in the Silver Tower for the time being. My men can show you the way. The seneschal oversees domestic arrangements directly, I will send them over once you have settled in to ensure everything is to your satisfaction, and that you have all you need."

He beckoned two of the soldiers who had accompanied them up through the city.

Please show Her Highness to her quarters. Despite his smile and genial appearance, there was a firmness to those words. A second command went unspoken in them: And ensure she remains there.

---

It was not until much later that Ozragad finally returned to the palace. Outside night had fallen, but under the mountain the twilight only dimmed, the light of the Moon Crystal still glowing in the dark of the cavern. Manawyndan was waiting for him in the foyer of the royal chambers, hands clasped behind his back, staring into a fire that had been lit in the grate of oversized hearth. Servants rushed to attend the King and remove his armour, the old Formori general stayed where he stood.

"Well... That could have been handled better." He spoke without looking at the King, considering the flames still. Ozragad raised his arms to allow the various buckles and straps of his plate harness to be undone. There was a streak of blood down one side of his face. He was too tired to play games.

"Could have been handled better?!" The King barked at his most trusted adviser. "You've left me looking like a fool! What sort of King cannot control their own people? This should never have happened. You should have dealt with this decisively before I ever returned, instead I have to-"

"I was not speaking of my own conduct." Manawyndan glanced over and cut off the King mid sentence. There was a pause.

"All of you out. Now!" The servants that had been attending him scurried out of the room at the sound of the wroth in his voice, leaving the two of them alone. Neither spoke. Manawyndan turned back to the flames whilst Ozragad stepped out of his discarded armour. The King walked over to a ewer of water that stood on a long sideboard of dark polished wood. He poured some into a large bowl and began to wash his hands.

"Well. Speak."

The water began to turn pink.

"Today was ill handled. You should have left that to Tiernon and the watch. A King should be wrathful to his enemies, merciful to his subjects, not leading a cavalry charge into them.

"Those were my enemies thanks to you."

"They were your people!" The general suddenly shouted, turning away from the fire to look at Ozragad. "They were your people. The people you shed so much blood for. All for their sake, you said. So that they would have a better life and better future. And here you are, washing their blood from your hands."

"YES I KNOW! I know..." The King dashed the bowl from the side table with his fist, it crashed to the floor, spilling its contents across the marble floor. He buried his face in his hands, fingers clutching digging into his ashen skin. When they came away there was a cold and hard look in his eyes, his voice was choked when he spoke.

"My hands and not the only ones stained here. The only reason this ever happened is because of your ridiculous plan to have me marry some fucking Eorzian child and your inability to keep order in my city! They would have never turned on me otherwise and I would not have to do as I have done! This blood is as much on your hands as mine!"

Aside from the crackle of the wood burning in the fireplace behind Manawyndan, there was silence. The two men looked at each other, a old weariness hanging over both of them and a guilty look in their eyes. Manawyndan walked across the room to a flagon of wine that had been set out. He poured two glasses and handed one to his King.

"How many dead?"

"I don't know. At least six of ours if you count the one from yesterday, definitively more of them." The King spoke with a grimace, he gulped down the wine thirstily.

"This will only be fuel for the fire. It needed dealing with... but not by you personally. You know this, what's happening with you?"

The King sighed and stared down into his goblet.

"All this business with the Princess... I will not lie... It has unsettled me. Old wounds made fresh. I've been letting my anger get the best of me... no Eorzians to unleash it on either. I worry that peace does not suit me."

"Remember I've been a soldier much longer than you, and I think I can live with peace." That elicited a sad smile from Ozragad. He drained the goblet, filled it again from the flagon, and walked over to the fire to warm himself.

"How was she, the Princess?"

"She handled it better than you." The King laughed with a single harsh bark at that.

"Oh she was probably itching to get of there and slaughter some Formori herself I imagine. You saw to it that she was accommodated?"

"She's in the Silver Tower, so are her guards. I have our guards on the tower doors and the courtyard outside. The seneschal assigned her chambermaids, all people we trust to watch her. I had the kitchens send up a meal for her, had it tasted beforehand for poison, servers all people we trust. Do you still want to go through with the formal presentation and feast tomorrow? It might seem distasteful considering..."

The King sighed again and grabbed a chair to pull it closer to the fire. He sat down in it heavily, swirling the goblet in his hand to make the wine turn into a dark red whirlpool within. He stared into the fire, watching the flames writhe as they consumed the logs.

"Let's get it over and done with. Don't show any weakness. People will forget what happened today in time. I need to keep appearing strong for now.

"I'll see to it, sire." Manawyndan turned to leave the room.

"Manawyndan, wait..." Ozragad stopped him, but did not look at him, his gaze still focused on the fire. "I need you know... What happened out there today... That wasn't the real me... I took no pleasure in it."

The old soldier had stopped at the doorway to face his King once more, when he spoke it was softly, like a grandparent wishing a child goodnight as they put them to bed.

"I never thought so, not even for a second."

The door closed shut. The King was left alone with his thoughts.

They whispered to him.

Liar.

Watching the Kings Steward she was curious about him, he reminded her of Rochefort. Her father’s advisor and most trusted of the King which meant that Manawyndan was similar in that regard to the King here. Nodding her head as he spoke, she turned to Treville who seemed to relax a little more now they were safely past the gates and at the palace. “Thank you, we look forward to being able to rest.”

Nodding to Treville who signalled for his men to follow she turned to the two soldiers who would lead her to where she was staying. It was a relief to know she could rest in private, away from prying eyes. Well, I will be watched. Let’s face it. Frowning slightly as she walked trying not to ponder on the fact that she was no longer free. It hadn’t taken them long to reach the Silver Tower that was being used for her stay, well. It’s not really a stay is it? Is this where I am to stay forever?

“Your highness.”

“What now Treville, more encouraging words? Or are we to discuss more about my impending marriage and role in life once more?” Snapping her words at Treville as she stopped in one of the halls glancing back at him, the rest of the men had been shown to rooms they could use and it was just them two plus one of the soldiers that was showing them around until the seneschal had been sent over.

Taking a step back Treville looked from Elise to the soldier, eyes expressing his clear distrust to her speaking out in front of one of the Kings subjects. “You’re not helping matters.”

“Oh please.” Scoffing she looked at the soldier who had escorted them here and already knew that Treville was suggesting not to outwardly show her dislike in front of them. “What’s the worst that can happen? The people here already wish for my death, the King knows of my dislike on this arrangement. This is all information he already knows; he is not stupid and if for one minute you think he is oblivious to all of this that will be your death Treville.” Turning on her heel she waved him away like he was nothing, infuriated by his words as she moved into the room the soldier was stood by assuming it was for her. Slamming the door behind her she felt her body shake with anger as she stood in the middle of the room trying to regain her composure.

It was only then she took in the sight of her room, lavish red curtains adorned the windows. A magnificent four poster bed sat against a wall adorned with art. Bedding covered with fine silk that looked ever so inviting, embellished wooden furniture with some sort of fine metal and a door which no doubt led to a bathroom. The floors were crafted with fine wood and she caught site of a soft rug by the bed, it was only now that Elise started to feel alone in this place. Trapped with nowhere to run or hide. Turning to look at the window there was a bay bumped out allowing a person to sit there to look out of it, red velvet cushions were placed at either end of the window sill and a black fabric covered the nook to give comfort for whomever was to sit at this window.

Closing her eyes, she felt a tear slide down her cheek, her hand raised wiping it away like it was nothing. I can’t let my emotions get the better of me. Even with her words she felt more tears and without realising she fell to her knees in the middle of her room and began to cry. As much as Elise had kept most of her composure the last part of the ride had scared her, it reminded her just how powerless she was in all of this. She had been powerless to fight against her father in his decision to unite the Kingdoms and as much as she showed confidence against King Ozragad she was ultimately at his mercy, powerless against him. It was a moment of weakness, now alone in her room she was free to show it without fear of anyone finding out she was weak and scared.

Placing her head in her hands she sighed heavily, dragging her fingers down her cheeks before looking up after having spent quite the few moments crying. Pushing herself to her feet she heard a knock at the door and frowned, making sure her face was dry of tears she used her fingers to comb her hair to make sure she was still presentable. “Come in.” Calling out she turned her gaze to the door unsettled on what could happen next.

“Your highness.” An older Formori woman herself entered bowing her head respectfully holding a plater of food, moving inside fully she placed the platter on the table before turning to the Princess smiling. “I am here to assist you; I am one of the ladies who will be ensuring your stay is satisfactory and you are well kept for.” Looking up and down at the Princess she glanced at the platter of food, she was a woman with plenty of experience and had tended to many nobles and even she could tell the Princess was unsettled. If she right in her thoughts she was certain the Princess had been crying.

“Ah… thank you. Might I ask your name?” Smiling slightly Elise looked at the woman, she had a sense of kindness about her and it was oddly relaxing.

“Atarah.”

“That’s a lovely name. Thank you Atarah.” Glancing down at the platter of food she could see an array of cheese, cold meats and other nibbles. There was also a range of fruit should she not want any of the selection on the platter. “I apologise, I do not want to sound rude, but I’m not really hungry. I’d quite like to just get some rest. If that’s okay.”

“Of course, your highness, I shall be here in the morning to help you dress for tomorrows event. Ensure you get plenty of rest.” Atarah bowed her head before moving to the door, “Do you require anything else?” Upon seeing the shake of the Princesses head, she smiled and bowed out of the room signalling one of the guards to keep an eye on the door for the night. It wasn’t just to ensure that the Princess stayed in her room, but to also keep anyone else out of it for her protection during the unrest of their people.



The night had passed, and it was not a peaceful one for Elise, although she had settled herself into the expensive bed that had lavish covers it did not encourage sleep. Throughout the night she had tossed and turned in the bed, listened out for every sound in case someone was out to kill her. Even though her men were staying close and Treville regardless of her snapping at him would ensure her safety she was still highly unsettled in this new setting. Sleep was not her friend, not tonight and she doubted it would be for a while until exhaustion consumed her.

Sitting up bolt right in the bed when she heard the door open her eyes snapped to whomever had entered, but she felt herself relax more seeing Atarah move inside.

“Good morning your highness, I am here to get you ready for todays events. I have the other chambermaids preparing your breakfast and they will assist us this morning.” Atarah smiled as she opened up the curtains looking over at the Princess, “Did you get much sleep?”

“Ah…” Rubbing the back of her neck, “Yeah…” Frowning as she shook her head, she moved herself from the bed standing herself up looking over at Atarah who was placing down a gown on the table. It was a fine dress, a dark red colour with black lacing that adorned the rim and the bodice of the dress. “Is this what I am to wear?”

“Of course, it is a fine gown that is customary to our people. I didn’t see much of your belongings sent with you, so I thought it best I arranged for clothing. It would be wise to wear something of our culture; it might help the unrest.” Atarah smiled as she signalled for two of the ladies at the door to enter the room. One bringing a selection of fruits on a platter which was tempting as she was quite hungry having not eaten much yesterday. The other was holding a tankard of something drink.

When Ozragad finally slept that night he dreamed of her again.

In the dream, he had been searching for her, in a place that was both familiar and strange. It had been made up all the places that had once made him think of her, a house of discordant memories. He had frantically tore through the chambers where they had one lain to together, the empty ballroom in which he had first been caught by her bright and intelligent eyes, the secret spaces beneath the halls of her father she had explored as a girl, the mountain paths above the Ashlands where they had loved to ride alone but for each other.

Everywhere he had looked he had found clues, fragments, snatches of her. A single strand of ebony black hair on a white silken pillow, the smell of lilac perfume, the sound of soft laughter echoing down a desolate hallway. But no matter how hard he looked, Ozragad could not find her. The longer it went on the more panicked and fearful he became. What if would never find her? What if she was gone forever?

And then there was, waiting for him the garden that they had built together. She turned to him, even more beautiful than he remembered. She smiled and all fear melted away. He had so much to tell her, so much that he wanted to say.

"Liveuta I-"

Ozragad awoke to a darkness of his empty room. Alone.

---

Late that morning Ozragad was looking down into the throne room, waiting for it to fill with guests, from a hidden gantry above.

The throne room was one of the largest halls of the palace. A great long space that led from the inner ward to the intersection between the topmost tier, the one that held the private royal apartments, and the terrace on which much of the upper palace sat upon. At the end of the rectangular hall, it narrowed into a semi-circular apse, beneath a cupola studded with luminous crystal and gilded ornament that made it seem as if bright daylight was streaming down through the dome above.

Every wall of the room had carved bas-reliefs panels depicting great scenes from the history of the Formori. The best and wisest of their rulers, ancient battles fought between long dead kingdoms, hunts and games, rituals and ceremonies, all was recorded in painstaking detail. The floor was a mosaic picked out in black and white tiles, all intricate geometric patterns of woven knots and undulating waves.

Beneath the cupola sat the throne on a raised dais, a short flight of steps leading up to it. For all the ostentatious and elaborate detail that the rest of the room was decked in, the throne itself was exceedingly simple. A high backed chair carved from a monolithic piece polished black marble. Supposedly the throne was even older than the city itself. One of his ancestors had brought it with them from an ancient and venerable Formori Kingdom that had collapsed into flame and ruin millennia ago.

The gantry the King watched from was accessed from his private apartments and looked down from the high cupola at the throne below. The space was beginning to fill. They had all come, from every corner of Ozragad's Kingdom, houses great and small alike, all to gawk at the human girl who might soon be Queen over all of them. The only ones who are missing, Ozragad reflected, are Zakylwe and his kin.

Lord Zakylwe of the House of Ahoraa was one of the most powerful men amongst the Ashlander clans. Ozragad peered down to scan the throne room with is orange burning eyes. He did not see a single Ahoraa amongst the Ashlander guests in the throne room, nor anyone the smaller houses that had close ties to them, despite the fact he knew they were in the city. They came all this way to just snub me, I suppose I should be honoured.

Aside from Zakylwe, he could see a few of the other Ashlander nobles, marked out by their preference for long hooded cloaks and scarves wrapped around their necks, they were generally less gaudy than their counterparts from the mountains or marshlands that made up the rest of his Kingdom. He recognised many of the nobility in the crowd, most notably his cousin Lady Cheldarine and her two sons with her, as well as the Lord Belaphon and the Lady Blodwen - all would join them on the high table at tonight's feast.

At the foot of the throne were gathered his most prominent councillors. Manawyndan, his Lord Steward, closest of all, then his Lady Treasurer, the Lord Justicar, and the Lord Chancellor. At the back of hall were a small cluster of human guests, mostly ambassadors from Kingdoms other than Eorzia, but they were a small minority in the room. A drop of pink in a sea of dark grey Formori.

There were also various court officials, heralds, servers, guards. The head of his person guard, Rhiathon, a woman in armour with a shaven head, prowled along the lines of guards that flanked either wall of the hall. He was taking no chances, not after yesterday, and had deployed additional swords to the throne room.

The Princess would be waiting outside the chamber along with the other dignitaries arriving at court for their first time. The herald would call her name last, she was the main attraction after all. She would enter, come to the throne, show fealty and be formally presented to the palace court at large. Then several hours of tedious mingling before the feast.

"Right. Let's get this farce over and done with." The King muttered to himself, as he marched towards the stairs that led down into the throne room.

What felt like hours of being dressed Elise was ready to appear at court, Atarah had ensured she looked her best and presentable. The woman had also reprimanded her about not sleeping which had irked her, but somehow it felt like it came from a kind place which added to her confusion. The dress felt tight but maybe she needed it to be slightly uncomfortable to keep her alert during the day, she could not make a wrong move whilst in court. If she opened her mouth and said the wrong thing it would only cause more unrest and punishment for her and her men. It’s not just my life here.

Glancing back at the Silver Tower a part of her wished she could just return to her room, perhaps hide there? Maybe I can say I am under the weather? It was a long ride after all. I haven’t slept… no. Don’t be such a coward, he would love that if I hid away like I was the dirt in this place. Nodding to herself she continued to follow her escorts who had shown her the way, Treville was already there amongst the people which was best as having her own guard walk behind her all the time could show disrespect. Things she now had to consider whilst finally here and under everyones scrutiny.

“Now, you are to wait here until you are announced.” Tutting slightly as Atarah tucked a piece of the Princesses hair back into its place, she had done a respectful and elegant updo which left a few blonde strands to shape her face. “Your hair is most stubborn.” Shaking her head as she sighed to herself, “I will be inside with the other two ladies you met this morning, Flora and Ida, they will be by your side and will help you with names should you forget. If you are in a dire situation excuse yourself and I will follow and try to help.”

“I uh… thank you.” A genuine smile graced her lips at how helpful this Formori woman was to her, she had honestly thought the people that would be in charge of her care would be different but Atarah had been genuinely helpful since arriving. What if that is the plan though? To gain my trust through kindness. Blue eyes snapped back to Atarah who had entered the hall leaving her outside to wait her turn, anger bubbling slightly as she began to assume it was some sort of trap.

“PRINCESS ELISE HYDEALYN OF EORZIA.”

Taking a moment to compose herself and calm the rage that had surfaced she stepped forward and entered the room as the herald announced her like Atarah had said he would. The hall itself was full of important people and she felt all eyes on her, but she did not crack. Instead she held her head high and walked proud with a soft smile on her face showing outwardly that she was happy to be here regardless of her true feelings. The sea of people parted for her as she walked but she kept her gaze in front of her, on Ozragad who was at the throne.

Regardless of her fatigue or the way she felt this was important, Atarah had done wonders with dressing her and had even lessened the dark circles under her eyes so hopefully no one knew of her exhaustion. She could not show weakness, not whilst within what she would call a lions den. She could hear each step she took, feel the tiles beneath her shoes as she walked up to the throne. Don’t hesitate, don’t do it. Just bow. As if urging herself forward reminding herself that she could not be stubborn here she had finally reached the foot of the throne and bowed her lowest yet without hesitation to King Ozragad.

“Your highness.”

The King received each of the new arrivals from atop his blackened throne with as much grace and courtesy as he could manage. Few were of any interest to him, mostly children just come of age being brought to court for the very first time. He noticed with some amusement that thus far most of those submitting to him had been female - all the youngest and prettiest daughters of his nobles. Are they trying to tempt me into forgoing my Eorzian bride and choose one of their whelps instead? Or are they filling the court with companions for her in order to gain influence over her and in turn me? Ozragad didn't care either way, the King would marry who he must. Besides, from their scant interactions he already doubted she would ever hold much sway over him.

Finally her name was called by the herald. He drew himself up and sat tall and proud when he heard so, pushing his chest out and lifting his chin. He had dressed richly for the pomp and ceremony today, something he would not have normally bothered to do so. A black doublet sewn with golden thread, an ermine fur cape lined with scarlet silk, a gilded ornamental breastplate strewn with semi precious stones, all topped off by his golden crown of garnet and jet.

They parted for her as she walked through, calm and serene, smiling as if no one in that room wanted to see her dead. Her head was raised high, looking every bit a royal. Someone had foresight to dress her as a Formori as well, her garb was cut in their style, and the cloth coloured and dyed in the current fashion of the court - no doubt inspired by Ozragad's own tastes. The dark material only served to heighten the contrast between her white skin and pale hair. It was hair like no Formori possessed, light and golden, the pairing was thus like nothing Ozragad had ever seen. She locked gaze with him as she approached the steps to throne and for once Ozragad could not seem to read her thoughts. She is doing very well all things considered. What was that, a glimmer of grudging respect?

He stared back at her with his own molten eyes, trying to search out the hidden feelings that she had stowed away beneath that calm. Nothing. Then those blue pools of secrets broke away as she bowed down to him, still unfathomable to the King. It was a deep bow, deeper than protocol dictated considering she was a Princess by blood, but it was a good piece of theatre, an unambiguous show of fealty and obedience. Is she trying to mollify my ego? Or is this for my court, make them think there is no rift between us that they exploit? Even in submission she somehow found a way to vex him.

"You may rise, Princess Elise Hydaelyn of Eorzia." He realised then, that was the first time he had spoken her name aloud. Before then she had always been Your Highness, the Princess, or (when he was angry) the Hydaelyn girl, the Eorzian child. It felt strange in his mouth, Hydaelyn, Eorzia, words he had always spoken in anger. He stared at her again for a moment. This time those words had not woken the old fury in him. He just felt tired and unsettled.

"Your dress. The colour it... it suits you." His deep voice almost stammered as he spoke. Why on earth did I just say that? Why am I complimenting her? Its hardly necessary. And yet he had spoken. Ozragad frowned, he was used to losing control in other ways, but not like this. He glanced away, suddenly unsure of himself. With a wave of his hand he dismissed her to where her ladies stood waiting, the spies that Manawyndan had seen placed with her no doubt. He would want a report from them sooner rather than later he decided.

The Princess had been the last of those called to present themselves before him, the ceremony was now over. Beneath the throne, Manawyndan gestured to the herald to make an announcement. The herald raised his voice and called out to the crowd.

"Thus concludes the court presentations! A feast held in the honour of our most distinguished guest, Princess Elise Hydaelyn of Eorzia, shall commence from noon!"

Ozragad rose up out of his throne and descended the steps of the mosaic floor of the throne room below that was now filled with murmured conversation. His advisers and other petitioners pressed in around him - all no doubt wanting a word on this, his blessing on that. There were more than usual since this was the first time he had formally held court in sometime. But despite the crowd of people competing for his attention that surrounded him, Ozragad could not help but feel his eyes be drawn to the side of the hall where Princess Elise Hydaelyn stood amongst her ladies.

Don’t crack, don’t show any kind of fear even if you feel it. Rising from the bow she smiled at Ozragad happy that she had done well, she had not embarrassed herself in the court at least which was something she had feared in doing. It felt like all eyes were on her and it was a lot of pressure, there was a lot of people in his court probably more as she had been presented today. A lot of names she would make a big effort to remember as it would only be respectful to his people, regardless of the war this was an effort at peace and she had her part to play.

Maybe it won’t be so bad. Although she was torn from her thoughts at his next words, her face flushed pale cheeks turning the faintest of pinks, and she lost her composure for a split-second stuttering slightly. Did he just… compliment me? “T-Thank you, that is most kind of you to say.” Glancing down at the dress she quite liked the bold colour choice, something she had never worn before and the fabric was soft beneath her fingers it complimented her well. A genuine smile graced her lips as she thought on it, a smile he had yet to see because it was not fake but she quickly regained her composure giving him a small nod before turning to the Herald who announced the feast in her honour.

Stepping down she had seen her ladies in the crowd and moved over to them who smiled and bowed their head to her upon approaching. Holding her hands neatly in front of her she kept them clasped together else she would fiddle with the dress; it was a somewhat nervous habit of hers and being surrounded by important people she didn’t want to give anything away. She wouldn’t dare come across rude, not in his court. “It was Flora and Ida, right?” Feeling the relief hit her when they both nodded smiling, I managed to remember something, thankfully.

“How are you finding your stay so far?” One of the ladies spoke up, Flora whilst Ida smiled standing by both of them.

“I must admit, sleep did not come easy. Probably due to new settings. I hope tonight will be easier, but everything is beautiful here. The palace itself is quite the work of art.” It was easy to make small talk with her ladies; these weren’t exactly state secrets of hers, but she didn’t really have any. Well… Glancing at her right hand remembering the scar that was there, hidden by the long sleeves of the red fabric, thankfully.

“Ah yes, Atarah mentioned your first night didn’t seem comfortable. Can we do anything to help with that at all?” This time Ida spoke up looking from Flora to Elise smiling.

“Oh no no! No need to put yourselves out, honestly, I think it’s just getting used to the new setting is all. The room is absolutely lovely, everything is so comfortable.” Smiling at both Flora and Ida before she glanced over towards King Ozragad, a part of her felt curious towards him. The compliment earlier had caught her off guard, it was something she had never expected but it was nice. Getting to know him can’t hurt?

The day wore on and Ozragad did not seem to find a spare moment for himself amongst the madding crowd. There was always seemed to be someone who needed to speak with him. Another noble that just had to ingratiate themselves. Another petitioner that had to present their case to him that moment. Another adviser whispering some word of intrigue into his ear. None of this would ever be straight forward, they would never be direct and answerable with a simple yes or no. Instead they would draw out the agonising and irrelevant small talk, dance and allude to whatever it was they really wanted.

It was draining as it was infuriating, but he knew it was his duty as King, so it bore it with as much grace as he could manage. What he wouldn't have given to be out on campaign with his army instead. An unlikely proposition for me for the foreseeable future if all goes as planned.

Before he realised how late it was getting, Ozragad heard the clash of a gong from the wide corridor that led from the throne room to the great hall of the palace. The feast was already upon them. He made his excuses and marched off in that direction, leaving the half circle of sycophants around him scurrying to catch up in his wake. It almost drew a smile to the King's grim face.

The great hall was not as long as the throne room, but it was wider. At the far end, beneath a series of arched windows, was a raised dais and a long table facing the rest of the hall. The high table was set for twelve, five to either side of a pair of high backed wooden chairs taller than all others, the two seats reversed for the King and his guest of honour. Beneath the dais were four even longer sets of tables and benches that ran the length of the hall, a space cleared in the middle of them for whatever entertainment would be occurring during the feast.

There were ushers waiting at the doors to show guests to their seats, the arrangement for upper ends of the table having been pre-arranged. If he recalled correctly, as the guest of honour, the Princess would be sat immediately to his left. After her would be other highest ranking guests, his cousin Lady Cheldarine and her son Elethiomel, the Lady Blodwen, the Lord Belaphon, and a conspicuously empty seat. It seems that Lord Zakylwe will not be accepting my invitation in the slightest. On the other side of the table were his most influential advisers, Manawyndan to his right, then Lady Arwan his Treasurer, Lord Urathon his Justicar and his wife, and finally Iria his Chancellor.

Ozragad stood at the centre of the high table waiting for the hall to fill. Etiquette demanded that the highest ranked individual at the feast sat first, as King that was his prerogative here. Well, these fools have been wasting my time, its only fair I waste some of theirs in return. He allowed for the room to fill and grow quiet before he finally seated himself. The hall followed the King's lead and sat down.

Sound returned as the atmosphere relaxed and his guests began to talk amongst themselves once more. The first course began to be served, some kind of soup was brought out in a silver tureen along with platters of freshly baked bread. Ozragad signalled to his cup bearer to pour wine for both him and the Princess beside him. I imagine I will need a drink before this night is over.

"So... " He trailed off, letting his words hang in the air as he took a long sip from his goblet. "I trust your accommodation is suitable for the time being?"

Elise had been mingling with the crowd, a few polite words here and there. Thanking those for the compliments of her dress and looks even if they were fake, she still had to be polite. Thankfully her ladies had helped and provided support with names, common things of interest to talk about in the small talk and without them she would have drowned. They had been a great asset and it was hard to fault them in any way as Atarah, Flora and Ida had all done their part to help her even though she was an Eorzian. It felt draining the fact she had to constantly smile, small talk with these nobles who no doubt wished her death and laugh at the jokes they would make regardless on if it belittled her country.

It was taxing on her, she was already exhausted from the lack of sleep and keeping up appearances was hard around such a vast amount of people. What I would give to be at home in the gardens reading and avoiding social events, or even just staying in my room here. As much as she was the Princess of Eorzia and was forced to attend court she did make quite the effort not to go, her brother Ravus used to drag her along to keep him sane but the Eorzian court was full of fake nobles all wanting to gain favour with the King. There were several noble ladies that used to throw themselves at her brother and he didn’t deny them, he had plenty a conquest ruining their reputations. No standards, either of them. Although many a lady thought that sleeping with the crown prince of Eorzia would gain them some sort of favour it didn’t. Ravus had his heart closed off and knew that it was just fun for him even though she did not approve of such actions.

Glancing up as she heard the clash of a gong, she assumed that meant it was time for the feast, feeling the relief wash over her as it meant less small talk and she could eat something. Although it was partly her own fault as she didn’t eat the food provided yesterday or todays breakfast, more because her stomach was still unsettled from nerves and at least with no food in her stomach there was no fear of throwing up in front of everyone. That would no doubt cause a bit of a scandal and laugh at her expense.

Following Atarah and her ladies as they escorted her to the next room where the feast would be held, she took in how the great hall looked glancing around she came to the same conclusion that it was still as beautiful as the other rooms she had seen so far. It was wider than the throne room but that was due to the fact this was to sit everyone for food so it made sense, she could see the tables all set out and her eyes set on the two chairs taller than the others. I’ll have to sit next to him, make small talk? The last time we spoke we angered each other. I can’t let myself get angry in front of all these people.

One of the ushers gestured to her place and she moved beside Ozragad standing in place waiting for him to sit before she would do so herself. That was proper etiquette and she would follow it as there was no question about showing outward rudeness to him in front of others. Following suit, she sat herself down and watched as the atmosphere came to life in the hall, people chatting amongst themselves and she saw the first course come out being served to everyone. The smell of fresh baked bread made her smile, she loved the smell of fresh bread and it excited her to try out the food that was being served at the feast.

Oh, thank heavens, is that wine? I could do with a stiff drink. Smiling to herself as she saw her own goblet filled, reaching out she took a sip of her drink before looking over at the King who had spoken. Nodding politely, she set the goblet down smiling, “The accommodation is wonderful, thank you for providing it as it’s most comfortable.” There was no lie in her words, the Silver Tower was more than enough for her and the room itself was beautiful with everything she could need. Plus, the seneschal that had been provided for her was lovely and accommodating, something she had worried about before arriving here but so far everything seemed okay.

“Did you sleep well?” Grimacing at her own question she was not too good at small talk and the exhaustion didn’t help either. “The feast looks absolutely wonderful, thank you for hosting such an event.” Better, who even asks did you sleep well? Idiot. Reaching back for the goblet she took another drink of her wine to distract herself from the not so great small talk she had made.

The King watched as the Princess drank the wine that had been poured for her, the delicate motions of her throat working as purple liquid passed her lips. He pulled his gaze away and tried to focus on something else, the serving of the soup, the breaking of the bread, anything really. He felt suddenly and deeply uncomfortable. He realised now just how long it had been since he had sat like this, entertaining a female guest who wasn't already married or a relative. How long it had been since had courted someone. He pushed those thoughts away as she replied to his question.

"Good." Ozragad shot a glance over to his dining companion and spoke stiffly. "I am glad you are not displeased with it."

The soup was served to their individual bowls, the platters of freshly baked rolls were left on the table alongside pots of soft golden butter. Ozragad reached out and took a roll from the centre of the table, his long slender fingers breaking it in half as he deposited it onto his own plate. This evening did not have to be painful for either of them, he reasoned, it was only small talk after all. I just need to keep my mind off things best left alone.

Then she asked him about how he had slept.

He thought about last night, about the dream he had. The same dream he had been having now for almost a century.

The King did not answer her straight away. Instead he took one of the pieces of bread from his plate and dipped into the steaming bowl set before him. He raised it to his mouth and blew on the morsel once before he consumed it. It was rich with the earthy taste of mushrooms, but he hardly noticed.

"Do not thank me. I am hardly doing this for your sake." The expression the King wore on his face was neutral. But his restrained low voice told a different story. The words were spoken through clenched teeth, ice cold and dripping with venom.

Ozragad lifted his goblet and drank deeply before he turned away from her. He looked to his right and began to make low conversation with Manawyndan who sat beside him. They started to trade war stories, but whenever the old general tried to inject some levity into their discussion, he found himself shot down by his King. Ozragad seemed only want to focus on the bloodiest of his battles and the brutalities he had once inflicted.

---

The first course was really just to whet the appetites of the guests and to settle them in amongst their peers before the real feast began. The beer and wine was flowing and the hall was getting increasingly merry. Even some of the stony faced Ashlanders seated at the head of one of the four long tables were grinning. Serving men streamed through the hall in order to clear the empty bowls and the remove the ravaged platters from the tables. The smell of cooked fish wafted in from the open doors that led down to the kitchens, the next course was already on its way.

"Excuse me," The woman sat to the Elise's left spoke to her. So far she had been in quiet conversation with the young man beside her, but now she turned towards the Princess with a cautious smile.

Tall and possessing a voluptuous hourglass figure, she was striking even for a Formori. Her hair was a brighter shade than most of the others in the room. The majority of the guests had dark brown or black hair, but this woman had curls of auburn red that were artfully arranged into plaits and braids so as to frame her attractive heart shaped face. She dressed in oranges and greens, the cut of her clothing was elegant, tasteful. Around her neck was an impressive piece of jewellery, several long strings of amber beads that wrapped around her throat several times. The beads were the same colour as her eyes.

"I do not believe we have been formally introduced. I am Lady Cheldarine of the House of Ergyng, and this is my eldest, Elethiomel. She gestured to a handsome youth behind her, flame haired like his mother, still making polite conversation with the older couple sat beside him. "My younger son, Peibio, I believe you have briefly met? He serves the King as the royal cup bearer."

Right on cue the adolescent who had poured wine for Elise before leaned in from behind to refill both her glass and the King's. He too bore that striking bright red hair, though kept much shorter than both his mother and brother. Lady Cheldarine gave him a wide and warm smile as he went about his task, the boy did his best to ignore it. She let out a soft husky laugh at his reaction.

"He takes his duty at court very seriously, he does not like his mother distracting him. So diligent." At that she quietened herself, regarding Elise her bright and keen eyes before continuing. "I am sorry, I cannot help but boast about my children to everyone I meet. But I must apologise if speaking of family is difficult for you, so far away from your home, surrounded by strangers."

At least I am not the only one who feels awkward in this encounter. Looking back at the food in front of her she tried to focus on anything else but the King who was sat right next to her, it was hard not to feel somewhat awkward around him. It was easy enough to shoot men down and their feeble attempts at courting, but this was a completely different matter as her father had sold her off already. For some stupid land, although by the looks of it his people could do with the greenery. I highly doubt much can grow here. Focusing on her thoughts she had barely caught the fact he had replied to her about being happy with her quarters.

Reaching out for a piece of bread she hesitated slightly looking over at him as he blew on the hot soup before eating. The words he had spoken told a different story, a part of her was curious as she wondered on if she had offended him in some way or perhaps something was wrong. Well he would hardly speak about it to me. Glancing back at the roll she let her hand drop from reaching out and instead went for more wine over the food, she could smell the soup in front of her and she knew she should eat regardless of her appetite waning at his venomous words.

Are you trying to scare me? Or is this something to coddle your own ego? Watching as he had turned from her and began to speak with Manawyndan exchanging quite brutal war stories, no doubt in her mind about it being her people he had slaughtered as he seemed to focus on the bloodiest of battles. Fighting the urge to roll her eyes she looked away not entertaining the idea anymore, she would simply focus on eating her food. Perhaps the main course, I’ve gone off the idea of soup. Under the table her hand touched her stomach as if the warm touch of her hand would quell the nausea but all she was met with was the soft fabric of her dress.

Drawn from her thoughts she looked over at one of the Formori who had addressed her, offering a smile as she looked over the woman, she couldn’t help but think how beautiful she was. The striking colour of her hair and jewellery that matched her eyes, it was hard not to appreciate how well the colours of her dress to the accessories and hair that all tied in together beautifully. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Lady Cheldarine.” Following her gesture as she introduced her eldest son to the youngest. “Thank you.” Eyes glanced over at the adolescent who had refilled her glass of wine before turning back to Lady Cheldarine, excited at the idea of talking to someone else.

Laughing softly alongside Cheldarine as she hinted towards her son taking his duty and not wanting a mother to distract him, “He will miss it one day, no matter how old nothing can break a bond of a mother and their child.” Smiling as she glanced back over at the royal cup bearer before returning her attention to Cheldarine, “Oh don’t apologise for boasting about your children, I expect nothing less from a proud mother.” It brought fond memories of her own, Elise had been very close to her mother until an illness had claimed her life but that did not mean she stopped loving her.

Feeling her own smile falter slightly as she continued on about being far from home and surrounded by strangers, it was difficult, and she wanted nothing more than to speak with her brother or feel the safety of being within her own palace walls but she couldn’t. “I’m adjusting, it’s… different getting used to change but so far everyone has been quite welcoming.” If you don’t count the people that wished my death on the way, then I guess everyone has been somewhat welcoming. Even the King in his own way, well least he did not throw me in a cell and keep me as a prisoner like my father had thought would happen… well hoped so that he had a reason to return to war.

Trying to push back her troubling thoughts she took another sip of her wine before placing it down noting she should pace herself; the smell of fish caught her attention as the main course was set down in front of her. Reaching for the cutlery she caught sight of her pale hands making a mental note to try and sleep this evening as she knew she would only come off worse if she didn’t. Tucking into the main course she was a little slow to eat due to the worry her stomach would reject it, however she was pleasantly surprised with the taste and how the food seemingly warmed her up easing one of her many worries until a dark thought crossed her mind.

Perhaps I will get poisoned, a nice easy way to be killed I guess unless it’s not a fast acting poison and causes agony.

"Mhmm, well Your Highness, I am glad that you have felt welcomed in our country thus far." Lady Cheldarine's amber eyes glanced over to meet the Princess's for a moment. Despite the inconsequential nature of her words, there was a seriousness to them. Her gaze broke away as a fillet of flaky white fish drizzled in a buttery sauce was set down in front of her. Bowls of steamed tubers and root vegetables accompanied it, along with a series of savoury pastries stuffed with spiced meats. She thanked the servers as they laid them out, waiting for them to leave before continuing.

"It is good that you are adjusting, I personally believe change to be a good thing. Though I hope you will soon have us making changes of our own, some are long overdue. This war..." She stopped herself, even though she had spoken softly so as not to be overheard. She glanced at the King, but he did not seem to overhear, still swilling wine and talking battle with Manawyndan, his plate barely touched. "Let me say that I am very glad you are here. Very glad indeed."

Lady Cheldarine picked at her food daintily with her fork. She had not broken her composure despite the gravity of her words, and anyone looking from the outside would only read polite sympathy on her face. She ate in silence for a moment, turning away to exchange a word with her elder son who sat next to her. At the far end of the high table, a peel of laughter broke out from the plump curly haired man on the far right. The man seemed to be sparring words with the elderly woman sat on the other side of Manawyndan. The severe looking councillor seemed unimpressed, whilst his young wife expressed amused disbelief at their actions.

In the hall at large, spirits were running high, four guards were restraining a pair of men who had exchanged blows at the bottom of one of the tables that ran length ways in the hall. One of the two combatants was dressed in the long robes and scarves of an Ashlander. The soldiers pinned the arms of the unruly guests behind their backs and marched them out of the hall. The fight did not seem to greatly disturb the merriment of others.

Ozragad broke away from his conversation with Manawyndan to listen to a whisper into his ear from the female guard captain with the shaved head who had been roving around the hall since the start of the feast. He paused, nodded at whatever she had suggested, and she too marched out of the hall in the wake of the minor brawl. As she passed behind Elise the Formori soldier shot the Princess a venomous look and turned up her nose. The King faced back to his right, and the Lady Cheldarine turned back to Princess Elise once more, an easy smile on her face.

"I hope we can become better acquainted in the weeks to come Your Highness, after all, we are to become kin soon enough if all goes as planned. Or did you not know that?" She frowned momentarily again. "I am not sure exactly what is known in Eorzia about our country. The length of the war, the difference in our lifespans, it makes things difficult to comprehend sometimes. I am cousin to King Ozragad, on his father's side, I have known him since I was a girl."

Glancing back at the food that was sat in front of her she had taken a few bites before her stomach started to churn uncomfortably, to her it signalled quit while you’re ahead as she knew it wouldn’t end well if she kept eating. The food looked magnificent and Elise hoped no one would take offence that she wasn’t eating too much. The fish looked stunning with the buttery sauces and it tasted it too as she had a few bites of it but as much as the fish smelled and looked amazing, she knew her limits so placed the cutlery gently to one side on the plate.

“Hmm…” Looking up slightly she offered a smile at the idea she had been welcomed in, some people had been nice at least and it looked as if Lady Cheldarine was one of those she would consider nice. Not one of the ones wishing for her death at least. Grabbing the wine once more she sipped at the drink letting the cool liquid calm her as she settled into the chair that was beside the King. Eyes trailed over to Ozragad as he continued to talk with the others a part of her wondered just what was going through his mind over all of this, her fingers tapped against the goblet whilst she considered his thoughts for a moment before returning to the conversation with Lady Cheldarine.

“Change can be good.” Nodding in agreement as she focused her gaze back to Lady Cheldarine looking away from Ozaragad, though she felt herself frown slightly at the next words. Changes of our own? I wonder what kind of changes she expects I’ll be able to make. I doubt the King is easily swayed. This time she glanced at the King once more, watching him for a moment before she shook her head out of her daze. “I am glad, you are the first to express such opinion.” It felt uplifting that someone was glad of her arrival, even if Elise herself did not feel it, it was nice to know that another expressed such a view. I wish I could say the same.

Although people seemed merry, happy and enjoying the feast she caught sight of the men who had exchanged blows. Now being arrested for whatever fuss they had caused, unable to stop herself from looking she caught sight of the one dressed in long robes and adorned in scarves. A part of her wondered if the fight was just because they were drunk, or if it was something to do with the upcoming peace that had been proposed. Something I doubt I will ever find out. Looking back over the hall of people Elise felt so out of place, she could dress like one of them for sure, but she knew deep down she would never be accepted by them not when so much blood had been shed over the war.

Sighing softly to herself looked over at one of the female guards that had spoken to the King, only to be met with a venomous look and upturn of the nose. Feeling the anger stir within her she wanted to fight back, say something but sadly the reasonable part of her mind told her to keep her mouth shut. Instead of returning a look of distaste Elise decided to smile at the female guard in hopes it would only anger them that she seemed unfazed by the unwelcoming look. Sometimes you have to smile like you are unaffected by anyone.

“Oh!” Turning back to Lady Cheldarine who had addressed her once more she listened to her words, confusion crossed her face for a moment when she had spoken about being kin. “I’d like that, to become better acquainted.” At least I can show some effort in wanting this peace to work. “I… well.” Frowning slightly, she looked down at her hands shaking her head, “I hope you don’t take offence to this but well… Eorzians they never really thought about teaching your customs as I’m sure that might be said the same here. I guess it is ignorance really.” Pondering the thought as she rubbed her arm slightly feeling a chill, “I don’t know much of your customs here, lifespans or anything if I’m honest. I was only ever taught the history of my own country.” Grimacing slightly as Elise confessed how very little knowledge she had of this country. “Should it be permitted I would love to learn.” Returning the smile once more, it wasn’t awkward talking with Lady Cheldarine, it was not what she had expected as Elise honestly thought that the feast would be such an awkward encounter for her. “So, you are the King cousin?”

"I would be delighted to teach you, if perhaps you could teach me more about Eorzia in return?" Lady Cheldarine smiled and proffered her hand palm up, fingers splayed, a gesture of exchange. The autumnal shawl draped around her shoulders shifted as she did so, revealing a mark where the upper arm met the body. It was a blotch of darker skin against the grey, a fading bruise. She did not seem to notice that it had been revealed, but still it disappeared from sight once more as she lowered her hand back down.

"And yes, I am King Ozragad's cousin. He is somewhat older than I, so I cannot say that we were ever particularly close, but I suppose being a relation I do perhaps know him more intimately than many of his other subjects." She paused for a moment and glanced at the King once more, making sure that his attention was fully elsewhere before continuing. When she spoke her tones were hushed and the eyes upon Elise were quizzical, questioning, trying to gauge the princess before her. "I cannot claim to know what you think of His Highness, but I know he is unlikely to be the husband of your own desires. But still... he could make a good husband, if you can find the man all his armour. The Man beneath the King."

At that moment that the man of the end of the high table, who had previously been arguing with the older woman sat next to Manawyndan, lurched to his feet. As he did so, he spilled wine from his overflowing goblet onto the front of his white tunic. It dripped down the fabric meeting the purple sash and robes that were draped across it. He seemed well on his way to being drunk.

"Greetings most esteemed and worthy peoples of Morganyth! As some of you may know I am the noble Iria of the House of Kiriath, Lord Chancellor and councillor to His Highness, King Ozragad!" Despite the slight slur to his words, he spoke eloquently enough, his voice carrying clear and true throughout the large stone hall. "As Lord Chancellor, it is my sacred duty to foster good and proper relations between our fair nation and our neighbours! Hence I address you all today in order to discharge my duty to my country and King to the best of my modest abilities!"

Chancellor Iria continued with convoluted platitudes, his tongue running in eccentric and verbose circles. There was a smattering of heckles from the back of the hall, most of them relatively good in their nature, a few of them less so. Ozragad himself seemed was watching what his councillor was doing, one corner of his mouth upturned in somewhat scornful smirk. But his eyes were not filled with hate, nor did he hold his body with the rigid tension of the truly angry.

"Lord Chancellor, I hope you are considering arriving at your point imminently." The councillor paused, as if to consider his King's words, before instead hiccuping up loudly and continuing.

But, of course, Your Highness! Assembled Lords and Ladies, in order to foster good will between nations, I propose a toast! To His Royal Highness King Ozragad of the House of Gwydion, King of Morganyth, long may he reign!" The shout went up around the hall, all the gathered Formori drank to the toast. But the Chancellor was not yet finished.

"And to Her Royal Highness Princess Elise of the House of Hydaelyn, Princess of Eorzia, and our Queen-to-be, long may she reign!"

“You would? That would be wonderful. I would really appreciate that, and I’d be more than happy to teach you about Eorzia in return.” Elise couldn’t help but smile at the gesture the woman had made, the idea that she would be happy to teach her only helped her feel more comfortable here. Maybe it won’t be so bad after all? Watching as the shawl that was draped around her shoulders slip she couldn’t help but catch site of a mark, it looked like a bruise but before she could focus on it the bruise had disappeared back beneath the clothing and the woman carried on with their idle chit chat.

Should I ask? I know I can be quite bold, but is this the right setting? Perhaps I should leave it until our next meeting, I doubt it will be in such a crowded setting especially if she is willing to help me learn the customs here. Nodding along as Lady Cheldarine spoke about how she was Ozragads cousin. Elise felt the woman’s gaze back on her and she looked over, listening to her next words. Husband of my own desires? What would I have wanted? Finding her own gaze look back towards the King, contemplating her words. He could make a good husband, if you can find the man beneath the King. That’s if he’d let me, I doubt he’d let me get close. Watching him for a few moments before she looked back at Lady Cheldarine, “I hope he will let me.” Thinking on it further Elise had never really thought on a husband of her desires, the fact she was a lady of the Eorzian court meant she didn’t get a choice in who she would marry and she had made peace with that long ago. Well…

Sighing to herself she found herself pulled from her thoughts as a man at the end of the high table had stood up, he looked rather merry and she watched as the wine spilled onto his white tunic. Sitting up straight at the table she took her own glass of wine and began to drink more all whilst listening to him make some sort of speech, it would be rude not to look as if she was paying attention.

He certainly likes to talk, could probably rival Lord Aymeric back home they’d no doubt end up talking for hours. Glancing back at Ozragad Elise noticed the slight smirk on his face, so he does have a sense of humour. Not as scary as the stories say. Feeling herself relax a little bit more as she turned back to the chancellor who Ozaragad had hurried up with the speech.

Ah there it is, a toast. Smiling as she raised her glass in honour of the King, though his next words she felt herself falter nearly dropping the goblet from her pale fingers. Feeling her heart race slightly as he had openly toasted to her being their queen she felt rather strange at the notion, the reaction from the people on her way in yesterday was very mixed and a part of her worried on how the people in the room would take it.

Death to the Hydaelyns…

Thinking back to yesterday and the shouts she had heard, her smile had dropped remembering hours ago her death had been wished. There was worry in her blue eyes as she looked towards Ozragad, the smile returned to her face to keep up appearances, but she couldn’t shake the inner feeling of fear that she was about to meet her death. Feeling her hand drop with the goblet in she looked at the liquid inside the cup, focusing on its deep red colour as if it was the most interesting thing she had seen. It was all a cover; she did not want anyone to see the fear in her eyes that she had moments ago.

Silence reigned in the hall.

For a brief moment it seemed that time had stopped. Courtiers sat, mouths agape, goblets half forgotten in their hands. Servers paused in their tracks, hands still laden with empty platters and dishes strewn with the remnants for the main course. Soldiers stony and impassive faces broke apart in looks of shock. No one took up the cry. Indecision wore heavily upon all of them, was it treasonous not to toast their future queen? Or was it treason to toast the Princess of their most ancient and hated enemy?

Finally, someone spoke. It was not a loud cry, nor an impassioned one. It was not a rallying call or a defiant retort. It was firm, measured, clipped almost, but strong, very strong. A voice that could cut steel and bend iron to its will. It did not leave any room for outrage or argument in its wake.

"Long may she reign."

The King was on his feet, looming above the rest of the assembled hall on his high dais. One hand was curled into a fist and rested heavily on the surface o the table, the other held a goblet by the stem and hoisted it into the air. His unflinching gaze, burning like fire, swept across the room. It dared them to defy him.

"Long may she reign."

Another softer voice chimed in from the other side of Princess Elise. The Lady Cheladrine had raised her own glass into the air, though she did not speak to hall as Ozragad had. Lady Cheldarine spoke to the young woman beside her who was so diligently masking her fear in the face of what could possibly be a repeat of yesterday's riot.

Like a ripple it began to spread. First to the councillors sat along the dais, Manawyndan loudest of all. Then to the lower tables, some there taking up the cry with relieved enthusiasm, some with clear reluctance, and some with a pained grimace. Finally it reached the back of the hall, and the half empty table where the Ashlanders sat. None there spoke the words at first. Their eyes glanced to the guards lining the walls, the assembled nobility of the realm, and to the still standing figure of Ozragad himself.

"Long may she reign."

An Ashlander spoke with a clear distaste on her face. Some of her fellows regarded her with scorn, one spat at her, but a barrier had been crossed. Other Ashlanders sat near the edge of the cluster also took up the toast, though they all spoke all with great reluctance. But for every Ashlander that took up the cry another would empty their wine goblet onto the stone flagged floor before marching out of the hall in disgust.

When the last of them had left Ozragad drained his glass before forcefully slamming it down on the table. He turned towards the Lord Chancellor, who suddenly seemed to be less worse for wear than he had appeared earlier and was sporting a wry grin.

"Iria, I will deal with you later."

The King sat back heavily into his own carved throne. A long fingered hand came up to cover his face and massage at his temples. When it came away he turned for the first time in a long while to look at the Princess sat next to him.

"Do not think I did that for your sake."

Long may she reign

Hearing those words leave his lips unsettled her, she couldn’t help but flinch feeling like she was about to cause yet another riot and then she heard Lady Cheldarine speak the same words to her. Rather than address it to the hall she spoke it softly to her and she felt rather startled, eyes instantly looking back down at the floor avoiding everyones gaze because she couldn’t face them. These were not her people; they should not be wishing her reign and she knew that this would cause more issues especially after the revolt of her arrival.

I could never be a Queen to these people, I’d never be accepted.

It was hard to hear the words throughout the hall, the sounds of disgust and forced words leaving their lips. Elise did not look at them, she did not want to see what was going on in the hall better to be in denial than face the truth right now. Torn from her thoughts when she heard his glass slam against the table, biting her lip as he addressed the Lord Chancellor who had started it all she could only imagine the wrath he could face. Well I could be exaggerating, hard not too when he is a war lord.

Blue eyes watched as the King took seat once more, massaging his temples which to her only furthered her assumption of that her being the Queen would cause problems. Is this really worth it? Surely taking me hostage and returning to war would be the easier choice. It’s what everyone expects, even my own father. Narrowing her eyes when he spoke, she was angry at his next words, frustrated at this whole affair and again it was as if she did not exist.

Standing up she slammed her own glass upon the table, fire in her eyes as she looked at Ozragad. “Do not think I am here for your sake.” Not even waiting for a response she turned on her heel and left the hall to return to her room, her food left barely touched. It was childish of her, she knew it, but she wanted to make sure that King Ozragad knew she did not care for him because her anger had gotten the better of her in that moment. Idiot… Thinking bitterly to herself as she moved through the halls to retire to her room for the evening.

--

The feast had unsettled Elise and she could not help but think on it as the days passed, it had been a week of her staying in enemy territory and she didn’t feel anymore relaxed. Elise had hoped she would start to feel settled in her new surroundings, but she didn’t. Sleep was still evading her, and on some days, she would not leave her bed unless necessary as she tried to rest. Atarah had scolded her for it but it came from a good place, the woman was meant to be looking after her and apparently it would not do well if she was to fall ill.

The ladies had been accommodating, Flora who had mid length brown hair and dark green eyes had spent some of the days explaining their style of fashion and had even given the Princess a few pointers. Ida who had long black hair often style in up dos with light brown eyes did not care much for fashion but knew about the various families of nobility and had spent some time with the Princess trying to teach her about them. It was all very standard teachings and Elise tried to make the effort, but it had been difficult with exhaustion and struggling with sleep issues.

One of the mornings however she had been quite emotional, thankfully her ladies did not witness it nor did Atarah but she had broken down. Home sick and exhausted she had found herself crying wishing she had been born into any other family, wishing that she had just been a normal girl without all the responsibility of war and keeping this peace. Thoughts of how she was destined to either be stuck in some loveless marriage or be taken hostage and killed, she honestly thought her life was over at that point. It had been the emotional morning for her so Elise had retired herself back to bed realising the lack of sleep was not helping such dark thoughts.

It was a new day for Elise, and she was trying to be optimistic, she had only been there a week but so far, she still had her health if you disregarded the lack of sleep. That was getting better as the days rolled on and Elise hoped it meant she was feeling a bit more relaxed with her surroundings. Today she had decided that she would take a wander of the palace, explore a little whilst she was feeling quite bold. As much as she wished she was not confined to the palace it was probably best with all the unrest of his people, the feast still plagued her to this day.

Walking through the halls of the palace she had asked Atarah to tell her were the library was, she figured it would be a good way to get her mind off of things as well as an opportunity to learn about this Kingdom. Remembering were to go she opened one of the large wooden doors beaming as she saw shelves of books lining the room, thankful that she had made it without any issues. “It’s certainly a grand library, much like mine back home.” Talking to herself as she stepped inside, pale fingers running across the spines of books as she looked to see what would be beneficial in reading.

In the days following the feast, it seemed that Ozragad had little time to himself. The King was kept busy by his duties, the responsibilities of state and nation that would neither abate nor recede for any ruler. He sat long in council with his advisers, discussing the problems that had arising as a result of his proposed union with Eorzia, trying to quell insurrection before it happened. There were further riots in the Cirith Anyr, none quite as bad as the first one, but vexing none the less.

Worse than that, from further across his Kingdom messengers brought them disturbing news. Ozragad and his councillors had expected to at least partially lose the Ashlanders, but now there were whispers of spreading insurrection. Truculent lords marshalling troops in the Ash wastes were sending out messengers of their own to make common cause with those on The Bleak Coast, and in the Grey Mountains. It was the makings of a Civil War.

And beside these weighty issues there was everything else. A palace to run, a city to govern, soldiers that needed paying, peasants that needed feeding. And a wedding of course, a wedding that would need to be organised. His wedding. The King tried to think about it as little as possible. There were other, more important, things that Ozragad needed to do first. He set all thoughts of the Eorzian Princess as far back in his mind as he could manage.

Yet think about her he did. It was hard not to, when she seemed to be the root of so many of the problems he was dealing with, as well as being the subject of daily reports he received from the spies Manawyndan had set amongst her household. But even then sometimes he just happened to find himself thinking of her for no particular reason. The dark dress against her pale skin and golden hair. The thin veneer of courtesy that hid her temper. The flashes of fear and anger in those deep blue eyes. Whenever these thoughts came, he pushed them away again. She's just another Hydaelyn. Besides, even if she wasn't, no one could ever replace... her...

Ozragad pushed those thoughts away when they came as well.

One day when the King found a spare moment between his morning council session and his duties later in the day. To escape the throng of courtiers that vied for his attention and favour at times such as these, he went in search of somewhere they would not think to look. He thought of going down to the armouries or perhaps the stables, when a pair of large wooden doors caught his attention. The Library. Ozragad hadn't been in there in years, he had read most anything that had pertained to his interests in his youth, and he had not expanded its collection greatly during the years of the war. Something however drew him to the door, nostalgia perhaps.

He left his guards at the outer doors before he strode into the cavernous room. It was much as he remembered. There was an austerity about the library as there was about the palace in general. Few soft furnishings or composite materials. A place of carved stone and dark polished wooden shelves that stretched high up into the shadows above. Some of those shelves were filled with ancient Morganythian scrolls of epic poetry and history. Others were taken up by codices of stories, science, mathematics and philosophy.

It took a moment for Ozragad to realise he was not alone. She was here. The Princess. His betrothed.

"Oh." His voice was flat, emotionless. "Its you."

He hesitated for a moment, resisting the urge to step back out of those doors and go somewhere else. He had dressed simply that morning, a leather jerkin over a dark dark tunic. He felt strangely vulnerable meeting her without the weight of his armour. A sword and a dagger still hung from his belt though.

Why did she have to be in this particular room at this particular moment? Ozragad didn't want to do this now. He didn't want to have to deal with her. He had just wanted a quiet moment to himself, away from all the problems that beset him and his Kingdom. But he wouldn't show any weakness. He would not be the one to leave And why should I leave? Its my palace after all, I'm hardly the interloper here.

He took a step forward into the room.

"Admiring my collection?"

Pale fingers had taken hold on a book, the book itself was on the royal family of Morganythian and its lords and ladies. Elise felt it was a good idea to understand the history, the families that all supported their king, but before she could open it or even settled down to the read the door had opened forcing her to look around to see none other than him walking inside. What is he doing here? Surely not looking for me, I hope. However, as Elise began to think on what could have brought the King to the library, she felt her anger rise at his words of greeting.

Oh… it’s you?

Charming, absolutely charming who the hell does he think he is? Its you? I am not some peasant, not a spy to assassinate him. How insulting.

There was a fire in her blue orbs as she looked at him, fingers gripping the book so hard in her hand it was trembling slightly. “Apologies, I did not realise I was to stay confined to my room seeing as I am already confined to the palace.” Words spoken through gritted teeth as she glanced down at the book in her hands calming herself from the anger, she had felt moments before. I must compose myself; he probably enjoys seeing me react in such a way, relishes in my anger and unhappiness here.

Standing tall and proud Elise was dressed in a fine gown that any royal Princess would wear, it had a beautiful black lace trim and sat off of her shoulders, the only catch was that it was black and it contrasted against her pale skin. Black a colour often seen in mourning, but Elise thought it was fitting as she was mourning her freedom, her impending marriage and being bound to a warlord that clearly disliked her as much as she did him. There was nothing they would have in common, but words of Lady Cheldarine came to mind from the feast. He could make a good husband. No, nonsense. He is a king, he doesn’t need a romance, we are not destined to have love in this cruel game of power.

Looking him up and down she could see he was dressed simply, no armour to show the power he held but there were still weapons sat at his belt just in case something should happen. It was strange to see him like this, it made him look like a normal person not a King with the weight of a country on his shoulders and a distasteful marriage to sort out. Feeling her anger diminish as he stepped in making conversation, she looked at the book in her hands feeling a little embarrassed for her earlier remark and anger at his greeting.

Smiling as she looked around the room at the vast number of shelves adorned with books, scrolls and ancient texts she nodded. “It is quite the collection; you must be proud of it. This has to be years, no centuries worth of information at your fingertips.” Glancing back to the book that was clasped in her hands she held it up slightly, “I thought I’d start with this, it’s only polite to learn about those who graciously host me here. Lady Cheldarine has been wonderful as have my ladies.” It was no lie, the ladies although spying on her had been nothing but lovely as well as Lady Cheldarine.

Hesitating before she spoke her next words she frowned ever so slightly, a part of her didn’t want to ask but then if anyone would know it would be him. Blue eyes downcast as a flash of worry passed through them unsure on how he would react “I don’t suppose… you have heard anything from Eorzia?” Tentatively asking as she spoke her home county name, her father had yet to write to her and it had been a week. Even her brother hadn’t and a part of her had hoped that maybe he had her letters, perhaps they had to be read before she was able too and at first she had been annoyed at the thought but now she just wished there was something. It was hard not to feel alone whilst here in enemy land not knowing anyone and the idea of her family not writing made her feel as if she had been exiled for them. Sold away like nothing.

Ozragad watched as the Princess trembled before him, her white fingers clenched around a leather bound tome she had drawn from the shelves. What was this? Fear or anger? Did it matter either way? Just another manifestation of the rift between their peoples, between their countries, and between them as people. Then she spoke and all became clear, it was anger, of course it would be anger. I should have known that about this Eorzian Princess by now.

He felt her eyes linger over him as his own did the same. The black lace dress against her pale skin, it reminded him of the gown she had worn the night of the feast, the one that he pictured her in whenever the Princess crossed his mind. How different it was to the bright and gaudy colours he normally associated with the people across the border. There was something almost sculptural about it, the play between black and white, like marble and basalt. Regal perhaps.

Ozragad wondered then what it was that she thought of him...

Suddenly she looked away from him, at the book clutched in her hands. She was embarrassed? What by? Had she noticed the way he had been staring at her, looking her over? Perhaps she mistook it for a sign of desire. Ridiculous of course, why should he have any desire for an Eorzian Princess, other than for the sake of his people? She is my enemy, that is I think of her and wonder what she thinks of me, no other reason necessary.

He coughed into his hand and broke his own gaze away, walking past her and deeper into the library. When she spoke again and he turned once more to face her. And she was smiling, complimenting him on the great trove of books and scrolls assembled within the palace. The King could swear he that he felt a light flush in his cheeks. Why would that be? He hoped he was not coming down with a fever.

"Yes... well.. I cannot take credit for it. This was mostly the work of my mother, and my grandfather before her. I have made few additions." He frowned then, realising that was not strictly true. There was a large collection of Eorzian literature he had plundered from the Royal Library of Novrandt before he had burnt the rest. Perhaps this was not the best time to mention that.

The book she held up was one he was familiar with, Ysgollia's Genealogies of the Great Houses, it had been commissioned as a gift to his grandmother when she had wed the House of Gwydion onto the throne of Morganyth. It showed the lineages of all the ancient Formori nobles that still resided east of the Kazadum, and traced the roots of many of them back to the mythic Kingdoms and Queendoms that had once existed where now only Eorzian humans ruled.

It would no doubt be something of grim read for her. Wait why should he care? It will just lead to some other fight, some other conflict with her. That is why I care, nothing more.

"My cousin has a kind heart. But that is a dry and ponderous tome of history, Ysgollia was a diligent researcher but his prose lacks finesse. I would recommend 'Recollections upon the Queen's Court', less scholarly but a much but more colourful picture of life at court. More recent too..." He stopped. That book had been written near the start of his reign, most of those it mentioned were dead, and it had been written before her grandfather had even been born. "Relatively speaking of course."

It was his own turn to feel embarrassed it seemed. How long had it been since he had commissioned a new work to sit in here? Some of his retired generals had set down memoirs of his campaigns that they had generously sent him, but he had not chronicled a single year of his reign, not since the war.

Ozragad coughed and turned away again, pretending to examine whatever collection of books and scrolls happened to be in front of him. Which in this case were... the erotic poetry Idras of Iscarion. His face went pale. Thankfully most of it was written in old High Formori. She couldn't read High Formori could she? Wait! Why do I care if she could?!

He almost missed what she said, had he heard anything from Eorzia? Of course had heard from Eorzia, he had spies and scouts over the border sending dispatches, as well as envoys riding to and from the capital hammering out the exact terms of the peace treaty, the wedding, the dowry, the alliance that would follow, everything really. Then he saw the downcast look upon her face and realised she did not mean had he heard from Eorzia in that sense.

"There are envoys travelling between our two countries regularly now. Lord Chancellor Iria oversees our correspondence, I will no doubt he seeing him later today. I will ask him when I do."