"I wonder if she likes Lamb..." He mused softly.
Rich amber eyes gazed up at the twilight sky, reminiscing fondly as he sat upon an old bail of straw set out along the dirt and gravel training grounds. His thumb idly traced the scar along his palm that radiated a subtle heat, which reminded him of Her presence. It often was described as a ragged branding scar on his pale, nearly ivory skin, but he saw it much more like the grace line of a warm memory. He was an oathsworn, royal or not, and he had been for quite a long time now.
"Ya done daydreamin there, guv?" A fellow shouted to the prince, followed shortly by a small pebble that pinged itself off the young leader's coif. It was laid back off his head, revealing the tight knot of brass colored hair, which he maintained rather carefully. His sister, Aelfrun, had seen to that personally.
"Hm, dunno mate. Figured I'd might take the whole afternoon seein' as it'd get me further than a tossel with you." He gave a playful smirk to his old friend that highlighted the thin dark stubble along his slightly soft and rounded jaw. His nose snorted a little air for emphasis. Its slightly bent shape and ragged cut across the bridge a reminder of his words holding merit.
"Oy." His friend rolled his eyes and settled his callused, tan hands on the hips of his own leather tunic. They rarely wore full attire for training, and the dark brown fabric was plenty for the dull edges of their training blades. The prince also sworn not to use magic during their practice, so his mother's fussing was less than necessary to him. He still admitted the care it showed was touching. She was not a stupid woman, so she likely knew all of this.
"Whats'a matta?" The prince hopped down from the bail, metal boots clanking lightly against gravel and sand beneath him as his warbuilt frame lightly crunched down on them. He was a tall man with the body of a veteran, despite only being twenty-nine. A fact many had begun to turn strange eyes toward, as he had yet to accept any bride. "Can't handle the harsh truth now?"
His buddy sighed and started to turn, scratching his own short and tight brown hair for a moment. The prince began to laugh before the man turned and slugged him, knocking over the leader. He fell with a loud thump and a groan over the bail and into an armory rack, eyes rolling for a dazed moment. "What was'at bout handlin som'tin?" He gave a thick and cocky smile as his hefty brown beard swished a bit. It had heavy curls that reached from his nose down to the neck of his leather garb and nearly twice the same length wide. He always looked older than he was with the lines of age and stress creasing more prominently beneath his deep blue eyes, but those who had heard his humor knew they were laugh lines.
"Dirty cheat..." He croaked as they clasped hands, tugging the prince to his feet again as the two soon shared a laugh. "Cheap shots don' go on the scoreboard ya right bastard!"
"Ay, but they go in the scoreboard of my heart." The slightly shorter and twice jollier man laughed as he patted just above his bouncing stomach. The friends laughed heavily at his goofiness. "An ain't that the one ya really care about?"
"Yer a right git." The prince smacked him upside the head with a snicker, which the other returned with a fist to the shoulder. It wouldn't have taken long for both to have begun a dance of blows, but Aelfrun had other plans.
"Edan, Gwenmaris. Will you two stop barking like a pair of dogs and get ready?" The princess shouted down from the balcony overseeing the nearly triangular training yard, her fingers covered by the fine white gloves she often wore. Good silk from the east that she had worked hard to earn herself by expanding trade routes in that area herself. A hard task for any, and harder still for a young unmarried princess.
She stood up straight, her copper curls falling around the shoulders of her slightly puffy green dress. Its shoulders had slightly more padding, though she required none in the skirt as other ladies may have. She had a sharp and angular beauty that fit her stern and proud temperment. Her amber orange eyes looked down at the two men as she put a hand against the similarly ivory skin of her forehead. "Whatever am I to do with him." She muttered more playfully to herself, and the training field did little to catch her voice. It's unfinished triangle had its final points ending instead to the door to the barracks while another to the castle, with only two actual walls and a vacancy that oversaw the clifface that the castle had been built on. It gave one view of the entire countryside, all the way to the distant fields of the farming country that were rich in vegetables this time of year, and the many homes and villages dotting the twilight of the evening.
"Just a moment, sis. Wanted ta finish shit talkin him 'fore I go and embarras him 'front a our guests." The Prince flashed his sister a sly grin, which she did not appreciate in the slightest. "Oh, fine." The prince threw up his hands in mock surrender as she answered the grin with a searing glare that made her look closer to a demon from the books he read that fed on men's hearts. His sister was not that cruel, but she certainly could tear someone apart when she felt she was being looked down on, doubly so if it was because she was a girl. She had celebrated her second decade recently, and she had taken the occasion to begin dipping her toe into politics. She had a talent for them that Edan lacked.
"Best get a move on. Hear this prince is pretty important." Gwenmaris chuckled and patted his friend on the back. The more fit man lightly smacked his lips.
"Means there will be a banquet." He drooled a little. "Oh, I hope Father got the good lamb!" He salivated more over the image of a whole plate of lambchops dripping in bone broth and butter.
"Sometimes, I wonder how you can eat like that." The two walked together as Aelfrun slipped back out of view, both treading down the unlit corridor connecting the training ground to the barracks where their clothing had been stored. Their fine clothing, which was currently in two heaps beside their hammocks.
Edan wasn't technically supposed to sleep here, but he broke that rule so often that Gwenmaris had just put up a pair of hammocks and told the quarter master that he could take them down if he could eat them. He soon had quit his complaining about the prince.
His father had once led their men himself during the prior age, an age their historians and priests had already taken to dubbing the rotted age. A time of sick minded kings and sicker chapels that spewed out hatred and bloodlust as easily as water fell from a cloud. King Hadeon had stilled their waters forever. So he had never seen any reason for his son to always sleep in the main fortress.
"Word has it this prince is quite the looka." Gwenmaris grinned. "Bet that means ya sis is bout ta get it, aye?" He elbowed Edan, making the prince roll his eyes now.
"Trust me, if Aelfrun had any time for such things, I would be the first to know." He put on a bit more of his regal voice as they changed. Gwenmaris simply donned a rough green tunic and brown trousers with a roughspun rope belt around the stonach and each tan leather shoe to secure them. Edan dressed a bit more finely, though even this was more than he would prefer.
He patted down the embroidered front of a green silk blouse, the back emblazened with their house crest. A tree of endless colors growing from a grave. Its sleeves were loose and puffy while the front buttoned up st five pointed, to which the prince ignored the top two. It went well with the black and grey stripped trousers and nicer leather boots he wore. He found the crest an enriching vision, reminding him of how much his father had labored to bring peace to his lifetime, and how much work he had to do to maintain the same path for his own someday.
Though, his own heir was becoming a frequent topic of gossip. He had yet to even really entertain suitors, favoring campaigns with his men and exploring various countries. He had a fondness for foreign literature and even yearned one day to travel across the sea to the distant place he had read of in the continent beneath Europe. A place where the very streets glisten with gilded waves of sunlight and the people all wear fine silk clothes, not just the ruling class.
"Ya say that like she's one a them table folk." He chuckled, referencing King Hadeon's famous crescent table where he held his war councils in days of old. He had seventeen trusted generls in those days, though only four still lived to see the fruits of their labors.
"One day, if Aelfrun has her way. Just you wait 'n see." He smiled as he patted the stout man's back.
"Whatever ya say, guv." He chuckled lightly at the nickname Gwenmaris had taken to calling the prince.
"Well, we best not be late. I would rather enjoy my food without Aelfrun's nagging about punctuality."
"Puncawhat?"
"..I'll explain later."
...
The dining hall was a bit more ornate than Edan really cared for. Twin gilded chandeliers, each laiden across seventeen arms with pure crystals that had been hand carved to resemble the last cry of a skull, which held the candles in each. They hung far above a pair of half circle dining tables that would be combined for the invitation of diplomats. It gave a sense of unity as his teacher Neri had put it. Otherwise, they sat apart and allowed entertainment between them for more casual meals.
Each table was mads out of firm oak trees, each selected for their well bred durability and then shaped over time using steam and a few of the trolls in the keeps below. They were carved only along the tops, and then any natural grooves had been filled in with molten brass and rubies. The tableware was their finest silver and porcelain, each decorated with little paintings or metalwork of thorns while the glasses each had copper and gold metallurgy along their rims of rose stems.
The floors were finely polished marble that had two long red carpets set out from the two doors at the far back wall that the prince stood at, with a massive door in the center with a much broader golden carpet that led directly across the hall and ended under the table, just past the King's chair. Most of the chairs were pleasant. Dark brown tarnish wood and soft red cushions with hand done images along their backs of forests and gardens that transitioned into flames the closer it got to the King's chair. King Hadeon had a finer chair made out of a mixture of iron and gold, made from the swords and crowns of each king and noble he had to put down. They were molded into the shapes of wailing, distended, eyeless faces that seemed to almost be screaming. It had always unsettled him.
"Come on, guv!" Gwenmeris declared as he patted the prince's back, laughing before making his way toward the table with the prince in toe. He was a little wrapped up in the extent of the finery for a moment even though he had grown up around it all. Perhaps it was that he found it all a bit... much. Perhaps he had grown a little too close to the common appetites brought in by the soldiers and their loose tongues. Still, Edan felt a little alien among it all. He itched a little more than usual today to get back to the training grounds or the stables. Something felt different.
He never felt strange when they had visitors, not even when they were nothing but suitors his father had sent. He had only gotten more persistent as time went on. Edan had started to consider a campaign across the sea into France just to avoid the entire discussion. He could use the time away from the spectacle and the nagging, and his men were itching to find a fresh fight.
That didn't change the here and now, though. He still felt that odd twitch that made him tap his fingers lightly and count to a beep only he quite caught in his head. Neri had taught him the habit as a way to control his more aggressive thoughts when they turned inward. He sat down in his own chair, second to the king's on the west side, and decorated slightly more with images of crossing swords along with a raging hearth behind them. A symbol of his own goals that calmed the thoughts quickly when his habit couldn't always do enough.
Gwenmaris had already begun to chatter in with the rest of the court as they filed in. Well-dressed ladies in ruffled fine gowns with colors ranging from amber orange to deep and rich red in accordance to their rank, while the men wore fine black tailed suits that had their rank set by the crest branded across their necks. A mark of old Rome Edan's father had decided to use in accordance to loyalty, going from the most trusted at I, while the least was at VI. Each was the picture of their own territory.
The first pair marked with the symbol for six was rather humble. The Lady Abigail, who was petite to the point many worried for her health, wore a fine amber dress that almost blended into her golden hair beneath the soft autumn like bonnet, and it all made her wide blue eyes shine rather wonderfully. Her dress was some puff, and more ruffle. Her husband, Sir Finvar, came from the Far East. He had rich black hair that he kept tightly slicked back, and he had a tight and scrunched up face with dark brown eyes that always seemed to be scowling. He had come by escaping a slaver ship and saving King Hadeon when the pirates he had run with nearly slew him. He had earned his spot, but he was kept at an arms reach due to his foreign nature and odd views.
The second pair was far less humble. The lady Hulda's outfit, a shade darker of orange, had just the right texture to resemble shimmering gold. It had a wide skirt and a rather tight whale bone corset beneath the very low bust, which showed off an assortment of topaz jewelry that did not compliment her rather light complexion well, seeming to almost fade against it alongside the fabric. Perhaps some could find that appealing, but her deep, hot pink hair always made her love of gold a bit unfortunate, and she wore them in very showy and heavy ringlets.
This was offset, at least, by her husband, Sir Soren, being a more coordinated dresser. His suit had slight detailing that was more visible in direct light along the trim of the chest, showing images of dancing magic. His mark, a V against his neck, rested where the slight scaling met flesh. He was the child of a late duchess and a dragon, and his sharp green eyes were a reminder for those who missed the creeping scales, green skin, and polished wood like dragons horns emerging from his well groomed copper hair. He kept it in a slightly curly and short style that seemed popular in the whore houses, and the two had quite the reputation among the madames.
The third set was a bit more unique and had a deep amber dress on their lady. She was a very private person, the Lady Catalina, who kept her mouth and nose hidden behind the soft wave of her rather plain cream handfan. She had the most beautiful red hair that was always kept tucked back in a bun, and her fierce yellow eyes were rarely open. She had a single painted beauty mark under her left eye, but where most had them in black, hers was in a soft blue to better contrast her nearly ebony skin. She dressed in a more closed gown with a minimal skirt, though it had a beautiful pattern along the trim of blacks and deepee oranges that gave one the idea of the setting sun upon a vast horizon.
Her husband was a kind and quiet soul himself. A tall and stern man with pale skin and blonde hair that he kept shaved close to the scalp, he had a strong and chiseled face with a cleft chin that made him sometimes resemble the giants from far north. He and Catalina were both foreign nobles who had won their place here through trials and tribulations. He wore the mark of the IV on his neck proudly, and it was said Sir Moroz had not even flinched when it was done. Whenever Edan met his quiet black eyes, he didn't doubt it. They were the eyes of a good man who knew too much blood.
The fourth set did not show today.
The fifth set was a more traditionitional pair of english nobles on the outside. The lady wore a finely made silk gown with a more conservative cut along the breast, with a slight wire underskirt to boost the shade blending skirt. The chest, even to the lace, bled slowly from a heavy and deep red along the bust to a deeply orange golden hue along the skirt. Her eyes had a similar color, as the Lady Elizabeth was a rather well bred type. Not that you would know that when she spoke. Her fine blonde hair was done up in a small set of twin combs that almost made it resemble a beehive, and she did not seem very pleased by it if the sneer along her otherwise striking and lovely features was any indication. Her apricot skin was stunningly smooth for a woman who spent most of her time in the mountains.
Her husband was equally deceiving. He had a nicely trimmed goatee and mustache of black, and his dark hair was kept slicked back and perfectly maintained. He had a sailor's face, which is to say a rugged handsomeness that took a woman with a firm grip on her sword to find appealing. His eyes, however, showed the real man. No white of either eye, just a deep and heavy glow of low reddish brown, like blood flowing under stone. His mark of II sat on his throat, where most of the rest had placed them on the left part of the neck, and it made him look like a scoundrel. Edan had quite a lot of respect for Sir Oliver, as they had broken bread and men together before.
Much of this was a slight sneer at the king and his fanciness, and Edan had to suppress a chuckle. It would be worth the itchiness that Lady Elizabeth was clearly getting twitchy over when King Hadeon saw the two of them. Then Edan would laugh, and he would laugh a lot.
The last pair, however, stood out as they sat. Both were from the Mediterranean area and proudly brought that with them. Both wore pure red clothes that wrapped around them into dresses secured around one shoulder by a small brooch with the symbol of a bleeding sword. They both kept their dark blonde hair in tight curls that were held up by twin laurels of olive branches that had been preserved forever using gold. Their skin was soft from their unique way of bathing and had a rich sunkissed tone to it.
The lady Kore was small in stature, but anyone who got close could see the fine definition in her arms. She had a lovely face that could turn to a warrior's sneer with barely a word, and she only wore red lipstick where most ladies had full faces of makeup. It let the scar arching along her chin seem more prominent. It followed to her neck in a clear line where a bullet had sliced across her jawline. Edan had heard from the men that she had wrenched the very gun that shot her and fed it to its owner. He wasn't sure if that was really even possible, but anytime those fiery red eyes glanced his way, he considered the odds.
Sir Aida was only a little taller, but he was much more visibly built. He never would have fit in the suits like the other men as his arms at times resembled the firmness of the columns that supported the very ceiling above. He had a quiet and calm face that made his physique seem more like that of a quiet giant than a savage beast. Deep red eyes shifted from a lighter hue to a fierce glow depending on his fury, and they resembled a lightly crackling fire for now.
They had been the pair at a young age to show Edan the way to her guidance, and for that, they were as trusted by him as they were his father, as signified by both wearing an I, placed on the backs of their necks.
"Must we wait before eating?" Whined Lady Abigail softly. Her voice was light and girly with her youth, and she had a tendency to childishness at times. Finvar chuckled softly, patting her hand and gently kissing her temple. He rarely spoke, but he had a way of soothing her that was touching to watch. Her face melted into calm at just the touch of his lips.
Hulda chirped in with her nasally tone. "She is right, though. Where is King Hadeon?"
"Calm yourself, my love." Soren rested a clawed palm over Hulda's, lightly tracing her far tamer silver along her left hand. She relented, blushing lightly at the gesture. "Still, she is right. He is not often late."
"Precisely! We were called to this meeting abruptly. Shouldn't we be given the same amount of urgency, hm?" Soren could feel a tinged of sweat at her follow-up.
A soft sigh from Lady Elizabeth was answered instantly by her husband. "Quiet, puffy jewel." He spoke in a soft voice that still managed to bellow. There was a light chuckle from Abigail, Soren, Finvar, and Kore, while Aida smiled slightly. Hulda looked nearly as red as Kore's dress, but she quieted up quickly.
"I am here." The King said as he walked in through the grander door in the center, opened by a pair of guards dressed in the black scorched platemail of the royal guard. A proper steel chestplate with the full undergarb of a hauberk, with a second scorched layer on top of burnt steel. Their gauntlets were clawed and painted red at the tips, black across the arm, and ended at the shoulder in flame decorated cauldrons that attached to long capes of bright orange bleeding into black.
The king himself was dressed properly for a grand event. His full armor was polished scale mail ripped off the very back of a dragon and forged into eight inch interlocking plates along his torso, forearms, and legs, with the split skull resting against the neck guard. It had been hollowed out and remade into a helmet that could slide on and off like any other while also sitting like a trophy when unused. His cloak circled his shoulders like heavy velvet shrouds of scorching fire that almost seemed to be billowing from the skull as it rested facing toward the floor. It's great horns framing the king in a powerful image.
He was an elderly man now, well into his sixties. The creepings of time had long since driven their valleys across his ivory skin and dotted it with freckles among his many scars. His beard, vast and reddish brown, ended near his chest in an expansive wave of curly hair. His face had quiet gentleness as his eyes also had a tendency to stay mostly shut and hide the heavy amber hue of them that flickered with the power of his god. A champion still of the English church, even in his advanced age. His god strode behind him as vengefully as tales of old, yet as kindly as the son of the same in modern psalms. He was a man of dualities, with his thick copper hair set in two large tails. One holding a large cross at the end near his heart, while the other held a heart made of ruby, still dripping in blood.
He sat down on his more ornate chair, relaxing slowly into it as the ache of his back still troubled him. The medicines and prayer had done little, and he had begun to send messengers during the trade visits east to inquire about their apothecaries. He had heard of a drug that could ease even horrible pains. He scrunched his large, slightly wanted nose from the pain. It was likely quite bad from the stress.
All his loyal few stood and gave a bow, while Gwenmaris joined them. His son simply gave a courteous nod, smiling as he leaned forward onto the table with his hands folded just in front of his mouth. "Hello, Father."
"Son." The two exchanged a quiet and curt exchange as the air grew tense. Both stared one another down for a few moments before the king cracked and broke into a fit of chuckles. "Oh, by God. Your breath is horrendous." The table busted into a laugh as the prince coughed and snorted into laughs himself soon after.
"Oh, my breath, hm?" He gave a smirk as his chuckles calmed down. "I distinctly remember Mother complaining about your late night garlic bun habits."
Hulda let out a gossip's giggle while the king fixed his chest plate a little to failings hide his growing girth. "I may have heard a word or two."
"You are a bit addicted to garlic." Aida added.
"What's wrong with garlic?" Chirped in Oliver.
"Don't." Added in Elizabeth.
"Now, Lizzy. You haven't been banning Oli from the pantry?" The King gave a teasing smirk.
"Hmmmmm." Hulda grinned. "I did hear that he stopped heading there last month. Least when he usually snuck in there at night. Cook's been happy as a pig in shit about having well stocked figs again."
"You ate all the figs?!" Kore chirped in. "Ohhh, if you go anywhere near my granada seed stores." She pointed an accusatory finger which got a snort from Aida who failed to stifle a chuckle.
"Ew." Abigail stuck her tongue out. "Those are all so bland or bitter! I want more of those yummy pears! Those are so yummy!"
"I do enjoy their juice with a good steak. Speaking of." The prince patted the table. "When do we eat??" He gave the king a wide-eyed grin, almost like a child expecting a present.
"As soon as our guests arrive. He will be in shortly with his own council." The King fixed his shirt. "Haven't met him myself yet, either. His father bent the knee."
"Hm. And where is his father now?" Aida said as Finvar leaned forward, curious as well.
"Dead. His sister is the acting ruler for now, but we can hope that we may find a way to hasten his ascension."
"You wish to try and marry off Aelfrun?" Edan was taken a bit aback.
"She has done well by us, and they will treat her well. She is a lady. She only has a few more good years left after all." This earned a silent glare when he wasn't looking from all women save for the oblivious Abigail, and most of the men, save for Mozoz and Oliver. "What?? I need heirs still. Edan isn't in any rush, apparently. I need someone keeping our bloodline alive!"
Aida sighed, rubbing his forehead. "And when the church inquires as to how her children could ascend?"
"I may have done some persuasive negotiating to ensure that won't be an issue."
"Mm. Týrannos, os to télos." Kore responded, as the king gave a raised brow. "Apologies. I said a wise decision, my king." He smiled at that. Aida did, too.
Edan was unsure of how to feel about the idea of Aelfrun being used like political capital. All she did, and she deserved to rule as queen someday, not the grandmother to the actual crown. "Why not name her princess regent now?" He spoke up.
"Hmm. No. Your sister is a great leader and builder, but she lacks the will needed to rule. To conquer and protect." He spread his hands out along the table. "She is too gentle a soul."
"Gentle? Aelfrun?" Gwenmaris asked with a blurting laugh. "That girl's bout as gentle as a pissed on beehive!" This also got a collective nervous snicker at first, though the king did laugh and the brief tension snapped to everyone's relief.
"Yes, but she has an assertiveness in her own goals. She doesn't have the perspective like you, Edan. She doesn't have what it takes."
"What does it take, Father?"
"Being willing to look a man you have known his entire life, and ask him to go die for you. Then, hear that man thank you for that honor, and hold in both the arrogance and the sorrow."
The room became as silent as the bazaar before dawn. Many grimly nodded in agreement, but no one dared say a word. Even Gwenmaris briefly lowered his head and spoke a little prayer in remembrance. Everyone had known and felt the blood of their foes as much as their friends, lost in the melee of war. There beside you one moment and gone, only a stain on yours and their armor the next.
"War is no place for a lady." Gwenmaris said, doing his best regal accent. It sounded a little rough, but everyone gave a quiet nod. The ladies, save for Kore, looked quiet. Kore, who had seen battle, looked even more like a statue than normal for a moment. Edan could feel the twisting memories of her own sisters falling. None would eagerly wish that on anyone.
"Thus... She will serve our people through her capacity to bear fruit. Let her life be only one that gives. Leave the taking to us men." He gave a soft harumph of finality, and everyone nodded in quiet agreement. The chatter soon picked back up and went on idly for just a few minutes.
Then, the flutes began to play as the grander entrance opened once more. Soon, they were followed by harps as a precession soon began to enter the dining g hall as a crier stepped to the side. Every last one had rich and deep ebony skin that was rather astonishing to see contrasted by their pale white cloth and gilded finery.
Each guard marched in full plate that was styled like a great golden falcon with their capes split into twin plated trails shaped into wings. The plates were segmented like feathers even on the chest plates and fell in a graceful design that resembled the downy bust of a bird, with black and grey lines decorating them to further the motif. Their helmets were beaked and covered down to their shoulders with scaled coifs. They carried great steel pole arms that arced like moons, reminding one of a more war focused hook or a glaive that became one with a scythe. Their grips were bound in a deep brown leather that went from halfway along the length to a few inches above the pommel, which resembled a small bronze sun.
The crier was equally armored, though he bore a badge on his breast of a shrieking falcon. "All do welcome his blessed excellence, touched by Isis, chosen of the Sun, and bearer of the great gift of divine right!" Edan suppressed a yawn for a moment as most sat straighter. A set of eight armored warriors marched a pallequin in on their shoulders as he shouted. It was beautiful. Strangely beautiful for a prince.
It was rectangular on the interior with long white drapes that were almost sheer along the golden posts of each corner that were fashioned limestone gilded over. The interior seemed well cushioned while the base almost reminded one of a boat with an oval basin and a taxidermy falcon sat upon the front end that had one eye replaced with a ruby.
"His Grace! The Divine Prince Nuru!" The soldiers slowly laid down the pallequin and moved in finely practiced motions to the front. They split the curtain as a third guard stepped forward to offer a hand and aid the prince. Edan's head snapped to attention, lost of daydreams of gravy coated lamb suddenly.
"Prince?" He muttered in confusion.
The one who stepped from those white curtains was unbelievably gorgeous. A thin frame with the warm and full hips of feminity, framed by the finest silk dress that seemed to naturally move in a way that seemed to always look like flowing white water, or even milk. It gave their more soft brown skin a very different feeling than the strong ebony of the soldiers. It was closer to the look of the perfectly baked bread, yet as smooth and hairless along the visible skin as a newborn babe.
They wore a black wig in the perfectly shaped Bob of their royals, with the simplest eye liner that extended the silhoutte of each eye slightly. They had a very soft face with a round chin and slightly round nose. Their lips were painted in a light layer of gold above and silver below, with a line of silver extending down and over their chin. Long earrings of flocking kestrel that stopped just above the shoulder where their dress changed from the thicker white fabric to the sheer and sparkly one of each sleeve, extending from the shoulder to the length of their knee. Their arms were covered in lovely golden armlets that extended from wrist to elbow and had etched images of great rushing rivers. At first, it looked like they had a train coming off their dress, but closer observation found them to be the folded wings of an avian, orange, and black.
His eyes met Edan's first. Each shone as crystal clear as running water, and they flowed like it, too. Rich, deep pools of flowing blue colors that seemed so pure. Edan wasn't even sure how he knew that the prince Nuru was looking at him, for there was no iris. No form save for the flowing blue to his stunning eyes, and yet still he knew.
"Thank you for welcoming me for these talks, King Hadeon." He had the most splendid voice. It had was honey, sweet and light with a breathiness that held a certain warmth for the mind, and perhaps other places men think. It was very high-pitched and lacked almost all the scratchiness of manhood.
"You are most welcome, Prince Nuru!" The King gave a joyous grin. The prince gave a soft giggle with painted blue nails over his lips that were about five centimeters long beyond where a man would keep his clipped, and he had clearly maintained them well.
Most of the chatter rushed quickly. The chats were quite full of Hulda begging the prince for how he kept his skin so soft despite being well into his late twenties. Kore and Aida soon fell into soldier's gossip with the guard as the food was brought in, and the atmosphere bled its tension. The platters were filled with all the finest food from both their kingdoms, goblets filled with fine wines, ales, and coffees. The foreign prince drank his chilled with ice from the north.
The prince Edan had long lost his appetite. He just stared quietly at the Prince Nuru's eyes. He felt his throat dry and yet moisten simultaneously. He felt strangely sweaty and nervous. He couldn't form proper sentences, and he was suddenly checking his apparel for stains when he thought others weren't looking. He felt so strangely panicky all of a sudden. When he had a moment between idle sips of a still full wine goblet, his thumb idly rubbed over his scar, hoping for his goddess to dispel this odd fear that had begun creeping into him.
'It is not fear.' Her warm voice answered privately within his mind, and he suddenly felt so much more terrified.