Thread: Winning a Kingdom (Xavierrol and Emmie)

No! I refuse! The outraged bellow drifted out through the thick wooden door into the corridor. The thinner babble of other voices followed immediately behind. Outside in the corridor, servants huddled in archways with pale faces, whispering amongst themselves. The shouting and chaos in the closed room continued. Your Majesty, perhaps if we agree to their other terms, this last one will not . He has refused any negotiation! Who DOES that. We will NOT yield to these ridiculous demands! Are any of our allies com. Inside, King Arbeden diNalren il Freloq sat at a broad study wooden table, surrounded by his advisors. His swarthy face was red with impotent rage, his bristly black hair in disarray from swiping his thick hands nervously through it. His corpulent body was sweating profusely from the stress, his coal-black eyes glittering with fury. The advisors surrounding him were over a dozen, all in various states of shock and panic. Hands fluttered, eyebrows furrowed. But it all fell silent when the door was flung open, a knot of armored soldiers appearing in the entrance, hard bodies straightening to attention. Princess Thearia deNalren! His voice was powerful, rolling through the room. The knot of soldiers parted, and the Princess seemed to drift into the room. She wore pale blue and yellow robes, the robes themselves almost translucent but so layered nothing could be seen. Since she was in her fathers home she wore no veil, her coffee black hair falling around her head in an only partially tamed riot of silken waves. Black ice eyes pierced her fathers gaping advisors as she made her way to her fathers side, softening her eyes as she bent and kissed his cheek. He gruffly patted her arm, and she sank into the seat at his right side. The door closed, one of her escort remaining inside, the others outside the door. I heard the mercenary has sent a list of demands, father. Her voice was slightly reproving. The discussion had started without her, and Princess Thearia had considered herself her fathers most important advisor since she was nine years old. The King had always seemed to consider it as well. The King snorted. Demands we will not meet! I will not allow..! His rant fell off, and he flushed, looking away from her. What are the demands? She inquired, her voice cool. He could not even speak them, simply slid the parchment over to her. Silence reigned in the room as she read. Outside, the servants would have gathered closer except for the watchful eyes of the Princesss guard. She read carefully, parsing every sentence with care. When she was done, she sat back in a moment of silence. It is unacceptable. Damn right it is unacceptable! The King banged his fist down on the table. The land we can afford to lose. It holds a quarter of our mines and a third of our farms and two important towns, but we will still be successful. Prisoners we have taken can be returned. But this last.. She shook her head. Have we sent a negotiator? Two. Both have been returned without heads. More silence as she considered. And none of our allies have responded. Cowards. She curled her lip in distaste. None, Your Grace. One of the advisors respectfully answered, though no answer was needed. Then we have no choice. We must accept. The babble of voices began again, and over it the thunderous roar of her father. We will NOT accept! I will not allow my fertile daughter to go into the hands of a barbarian. She interrupted him, laying a hand on his arm. She knew his argument. As a rare fertile woman, she was a prize above and beyond anything the arrogant mercenary leader had demanded. Most children were created in government laboratories. But the great families wanted lineage of their own blood. Therefore the great value of a fertile woman. We have no choice. It is either accept his demands and keep half our nation, or refuse and die and he takes over it all. He has agreed to defend us from any other attackers should we accept. No, Thea. I cant. Her fathers voice broke with sorrow, and she smiled grimly at him. It need not last forever. They may never be able to hold the land. But even if they do.men die, Father. Sometimes in their beds at night with a dagger in their throat. Silence fell over the table once again. The King stared at his daughter, stricken. You would kill. If needed. Her voice was cold, her eyes returning to that black ice. Two days later, the gates of Purdah City creaked open. Ever since the invasion of the mercenary tribe, the gates had remained closed. From the massive gates emerged a white horse with delicate pink nostrils, blue eyes, and glossy hooves, prancing proudly as if it knew the precious burden it carried. Princess Thearia deNalren rode out of her fathers seiged city towards the camp of mercenaries. Not as a captive. Not as a tribute. But as a newly married wife going to her husband. Arrayed in glittering gauzy silks and veil of bright green and yellow and blue, the colors of life and joy. 18 pure gold circlets of gold around her neck, one for each year of her life. Her feet were bare, toenails and fingernails painted in deep lush red, the color of fertility. A rare color indeed. Behind her, naked men staggered, blindfolded, chained to each other by what appeared to be golden manacles but were actually common iron dipped in gold. The manacles were linked by a golden chain that ended in Thearias firm grasp. She was taking the mercenaries men back to him. As the odd parade left the castle, couriers fled out from behind her on horseback, racing to advise all the towns in the forefeited area that they would be given over to the mercenary tribe as part of the truce. Princess Thearia rode at a sedate pace, watchful eyes on the mercenary camp in front of her. She could see the mercenaries scurrying about, one of them racing to a large tent she surmised held her future husband. When she was clearly within eyesight of the camp, easily identifiable, she stopped and waited. The line of restless men behind her shifted, but froze when she snapped the chain in silent command. They had no idea that it was a young princess who now held them captive, not a whip-bearing prison commander. Thearia continued to wait under the sun, calm and cool in her silks. She had no intention of walking into his camp. She had to set the footing correctly from the beginning. He would come to her.