Thread: The Prince's Plight

Lox wasn't pleased in the least, and it showed in the form of hot blood rising in his face to darken his tanned skin. Everything about the man made him easy to spot from his stature to the way he carried himself but the most startling feature was his eyes and hair. It was one thing for a monarch to give birth to an oddity as far as looks went and another entirely on how the son acted on his own accord, but his father hadn't liked him from his youth because of what was counted as defects of birth. Lox was an albino of sorts in the fact that his thick messy hair was as stark white as snow, and his eyes had a crimson hue that made it difficult not to look him in the eye when he spoke. But by some whimsy of the gods he had the semi dark tan of his mother, who was native to the middle region of endless sands and took from his father his large build. Though he could think of many heated replies to the pompous bastard king in front of him because he was still gripped by rage at the woman in the black armor who had captured him in the field. Lox didn't fight from horse back as nobles did, he fought on foot in heavy armor, shield, and mace or warhammer as he believed men of equal merit deserved to face each other. With the battle fresh in his mind his eyes drilled into the back of the fine headed woman who had taken him alive. He remembered the battle for the most part, remembered his bothers in arms closer than any noble family member fighting and dying for each other and the disgraceful way he had been captured. In the heaving masses of bodies Lox own forces around him had been pushed back when the enemies had massed and surged forward as one, but he was dug in and was soon crushed in and unable to move his arms until they shifted once more. Two of the enemies died in rightful combat, but a third man had caught him in the back of the head with a blade hilt and died for it. Yet even as his mace ended that mans life a full shield followed to the side of his head and he was brought to a knee. He heard his own men rallying and trying to come to his aid but Lox knew his death would have been assured if he faced a man in combat. Low and behold though it was the black knight that had brought him to his knee and it was this whore who chose to smash her shield into his head once more to knock him unconscious to be dragged away and captured. Even a coward or an underhanded bastard would have the decency of dispatching a downed man in combat to spare him the disgrace of being taken away as a captive, and his hatred and rage built until he heard the creaking of bows and let go of the breath he was holding. Lox had lost himself in rage and realized now that he was shaking that everyone was staring at him and the bowman were getting edgy. Looking down at his hands he opened them to find his palms pooling blood and watched it dribble to the floor in front of him as he turned his gaze back to the king he had ignored almost entirely up until that point. It was only then that the nobles in the court watching off to both sides began murmuring about a savage animal that was better dead than anywhere near the king, but Lox stayed stoic through it all. Like it or not, be it fair or not he was captured by this whore instead of being given the honor of dying on the field, and he had nothing to say to defend himself on the matter even if he did fight with honor and felled more than his share of the enemy during that battle. He hated the idea that he was a prisoner but beyond what he had shown these soft bastards of his viciousness, hatred, and hostility his sense of honor as odd and obtuse as it is was unshakable in certain aspects. If this hadn't been bad enough of a shock as it was, when he heard the main doors open and turned back to see a royal messenger from his own kingdom walk through he wasn't sure how much more his nerves and temper could stand. This messenger carried the counter offer made by his father... and it would determine his fate or his death right after the king read the note and it wouldn't satisfy his honor.