[b][color=f7941d]"Ah yes, self preservation, of course."[/color][/b] The King nodded slowly as he spoke, as if he were agreeing with her, but he did not return her gaze. Instead Ozragad looked at his hand, the one still spotted with blood. The flecks were smeared now, he had wiped some of it against his face when he had unbound his hair, leaving faint ruddy streaks against his ashen complexion. [b][color=f7941d]"You see things clearly, Princess, we are in the same boat now, for better or worse. I will uphold my end also. Your privileges are restored to you, you and your people are free to roam the palace as you wish."[/color][/b]

Ozragad summoned the guards posted outside the doors and relayed his commands to them to remove the restrictions on the Princess's household. With a sidelong look at her, he added: [b][color=f7941d]"Please escort Her Highness back to her chambers. It is has been an eventful morning, she should rest."[/color][/b] The words were not unkind, but there was a firmness to them. He wanted her gone. He wanted to be alone.

[hr]
After she had left he let himself feel like the fool he was. How had he let himself believe for a second there that there was some deeper reason as to why the Princess had saved his life? For a moment there he had almost though she cared for him for some unbelievable inexplicable reason. [color=f7941d][i]Gods no, of course not, you are a monster to her. Do not forget it. You are a fool to think otherwise.[/i][/color] 

What was stranger still is why he should even care why she saved him, surely it not matter to him what this Eorzian Princess felt? He was using her as means to an end, and she merely did the same thing. He wanted her lands, she wanted to stay alive. There need not be any deeper emotion behind their marriage and her saving him. And yet...

[i][color=f7941d]You wanted there to be. You fucking weakling.[/color][/i]

With a roar Ozragad rose from his chair, knocking it over as he did so. With one fist he swept the debris from the table, sending it crashing to the floor. Loose papers went flying, an inkpot smashed against the stones, the circlet he had been wearing bounced away, until it rolled to a stop at the foot of a statue. 

[i][color=f7941d]See, you are weak.[/color][/i]

Yes he had wanted her to say something else. That she had come to care for him, despite how he had treated her. Was it so ridiculous? She was beautiful woman, even if she was an Eorzian, he was not blind to that. And she was to be his wife either way, he had only known one other before, and there... there had been such feelings there before. Why would he not want that again? When she had taken his hand before as he had looked into her eyes, he had felt something flutter, something stir in his chest, for the first time in a long, long while. Was it so unreasonable to think she might have felt the same, to want her to felt the same? Was that wrong? 

[color=f7941d][i]You don't want the Princess. You just want someone to replace her, Liveuta.[/i][/color]

[b][color=f7941d]"IS THAT SO FUCKING WRONG?!"[/color][/b] Ozragad roared to himself in the empty hall. The words echoed back to him as they bounced up into the shadowy recesses amongst the many watching statues. There was no other reply. 

Ozragad sighed to himself, the anger and tension deflating from him as he did so. He felt like a wreck. This whole thing, the entire plan of the marriage, and everything that had happened since just kept opening old wounds within him. Things he had tried to put away, forget about, repress, destroy. He disliked what it was doing to him, the way it continually threw him off balance, like the rolling deck of ship in a great and terrible storm. His life had been easier as a callous warlord, when all he had to think about was how to destroy his enemies. Back then all he had felt was rage. 

Not that he did not feel rage now... but it was more complicated, he supposed. 

He walked over to where the circlet had rolled to when he had knocked it from the table. It sat beneath the plinth of a statue. As Ozragad bent down to pick it up he caught sight of the name inscribed there - Queen Cyrridven of the House of Gwydion. [i][color=f7941d]Mother.[/color][/i] He looked up at the marble face that gazed down at him. There was a surely a likeness between the woman he had known and loved and the cold stone figure that stood there still, the statue had been made not long after her death, but it had been so long Ozragad could not say for sure himself. 

Queen Cyrridven had died unexpected, suddenly even, at time of turmoil within the Kingdom. In that time the lords of the western marches had been angry that Cirith Anyr had not been taking a more active role in the defence of their lands against border raids launched by Eorzian lords. After his mother had died, his father had assumed the regency, Ozragad had still been a child in the reckoning of the Formori when he first became King. One of the first things his father had done as regent was march off to put down the rebellion. He did not return from battle. 

There had always been whispers about the unnatural nature of his mother's death. It had certainly suited those rebellious Lords. But there had been other rumours too, it was known the Queen and her consort, his parents, did not have a happy marriage. The speed with which his father had assumed power, his lack of grief, some had said his wife's death had suited him even more. Then there were faithless councillors who had tried to gain power after the death of his father, they had certainly benefitted too. [i][color=f7941d]Poison. A coward's weapon.[/color][/i]

Ozragad studied the crown in his hand. He had accidently wiped some blood on it when he had removed it earlier. He frowned at that, it was an ill omen. He carried the circlet over the council table, there was still the pitcher of water upon it. Carefully he wet his fingers and wiped the bloody stain from the gold. 

As he did so his eyes roved over the table. Eventually they came to settle on the glass that Manawyndan had been drinking out of, it was still full. [i][color=f7941d]Water. Not wine.[/color][/i] But no... he trusted Manawyndan with his life did he not? He could not suspect his oldest, most faithful councillor, surely? [color=f7941d][i]And yet...[/i][/color] 

He glanced at where the Princess had been sitting and saw the overturned goblet. His eyes narrowed. [i][color=f7941d]She spilled her own cup... convenient.[/color][/i] Perhaps Manawyndan's suspicions were not baseless. She had made it clear herself, she was doing whatever she needed to survive. Would that go as far as killing him? It was not in her interest now... but would that always be the case?

The King placed the circlet back on his head. Rebel lords, faithless councillors, and murderous spouses. It had to be one of them.