Thread: Clashing of the Royals ( Ava & Bloody Ava )

Sir Tobias Abell strode purposefully through the near deserted palace corridors, a hand clutched about the hilt of the ceremonial sword hanging at his side, a determined expression fixed upon his face, lips pressed together thinly. A left, then a right, up one flight of stairs and he was there, standing before two large mahogany doors engraved in elaborate swirls and patterns. Both hands lift to press against the smooth surface of the wood, forcing the doors open abruptly and permitting him entrance into the room behind. Barely a glance was spared toward the occupied bed to his left as the knight marched straight across the room, fingers curling against the silken fabric of the curtains and drawing them apart violently. It took even the good knight a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the light, brow furrowed in deep thought. The room was warm, stiflingly so, as a concoction of perfume and stale food filled his nostrils. With a grunt, the young man flipped the latch and swung wide the windows to permit a rush of cool, fresh air. Turning swiftly upon his heel, Tobias marched toward the curtained bed, tearing back the fabric as he glared down upon the sleeping figure-....figures. Gods, Nicholas! A sheet lay precariously draped over two nude figures. The Prince lay upon his stomach, long golden strands tousled and falling half across his face, the stubble of a couple of days covering his chin and jaw. Toned limbs hung freely over the side of the bed, lips curled in a faint smile amidst the throws of some dream. A slender arm lay slung about the crowned Prince's waist, leading to a slim woman also deep in slumber. The sheet barely covered her, but for a corner that covered the soft swell of her rear, the rest of her lay entirely bare. Nicholas did not stir, not until the knight took a hold of his bare shoulders and shook him did the prince jerk away, his gaze clouded with sleep and much too much wine. He blinked, squinting against the light before his lips split into a wide smile, his head falling back against the pillow. Tobias! Shut the damn curtains would you? A frown furrowed his brow when the shadow by his bed did not move. Grumbling, Nicholas swatted at the arm about his waist, pushing it away as he rolled onto his back and flung an arm across his face. I was having a nice dream.... Tobias snarled, disgusted by his friend and prince's behaviour. You are late for your own wedding! Get up, before you Father disinherits you from all that will be yours if you were the man you should be! With that said, he stormed back to the door and shouted out an order which ushered a small army of servants into the room. I will wait for you in the courtyard with your horse saddled and ready. By the time they arrived at the chapel Prince Nicholas' bride had been waiting at the alter for at least half an hour. His father King paced, glancing anxiously toward the entrance every few moments and uttering a great many apologies every other moment. Curse his son, the wretched boy had no thought for anyone but himself! With every passing minute the guests grew restless, the very ceremony on the brink of failing entirely. A commotion stirred in the doorway, a murmur swept through the crowds as Sir Abell stepped forward, resplendent in the ceremonial armour befitting of his station as the Prince's protector. Dark raven hair was cut short, his face clean shaven and deep hazel eyes full of sincerity. The metal that hugged his form was of a gleaming silver, inlaid with the royal crest in gold upon his chest, a crimson cape trailing down his back. His eyes met that of the King, chin dipping briefly before he disappearing momentarily, returning moments later with Prince Nicholas at his side. Golden strands had been tamed, brushed back from his face that now was entirely devoid of stubble. Those piercing blue eyes had cleared, and the smile that had previously been upon his lips tempered to a thin line. Cloth covered his figure rather than the armour that traditionally held its place upon his body, heavy fabric of royal green trimmed in gold. With sure footsteps, the two men strode down the aisle, both sets of eyes fixed upon the alter as they progressed down the chapel. Only upon reaching the few brief flights of stairs did Tobias depart from his Prince's side, taking up the place of honour held for him off to the side. Nicholas ascended the steps, eyes settling upon his wife-to-be rather than meet the firm glare being directed toward him by his father. He drew in a visibly deep breath as he came to a stop before the young woman, turning to meet her gaze for but a moment before speaking. Apologies for keeping you waiting, my bride. Shall we proceed? The tone of his voice may have been sure and clear, but his gaze did not linger upon her for long as he shifted his attention to Father David, nodding faintly.