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.

[b][color=f7941d]"Long may she reign."[/color][/b] 

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. 

[b]"Long may she reign."[/b] 

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. 

[b]"Long may she reign."[/b] 

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.

[b][color=f7941d]"Iria, I will deal with you later."[/color][/b]

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.

[b][color=f7941d]"Do not think I did that for your sake."[/color][/b]