Encounter

Disclaimer : Princess Alameda is my original creation, as are her warriors and Amrethea. But the pictures of the princes, and their names are drawn from the Kpop boyband DBSK/TVXQ.

“This is all a little too much to comprehend with any swiftness.” Changmin grumbled, raising his flagon to his lips.

“Amrethea does not disappoint.” Yunho whispered in reply, refusing a fourth helping of wine with a smile.  “So, adopt more decorum or have yourself quartered on charges of disrespect.”

“They would quarter a foreign prince?” Changmin was incredulous.

“Within these walls, all power is Amrethea’s. Even if they did take your head, who would rise to protest?” The aged king intoned.

The young prince paled, and gulped more wine. 

Prince Yunho

They sat to dine in the very middle of the enormous court, at the Table of Lords. The Amrethean King sat the head table’s head, the Marrakech royals right beside him, and the farther seats occupied by high officials of Amrethea. The princes and their father had been given hearty welcome by the king who presented an image of excessive frailty framed in splendour.  One could easily discern that it was hardly his own strength that commanded the nation’s fortunes.

The food laid before them was delicious, but it was the wine that held the princes in awe. Crystal clear as if from the purest glacier, it sat cold in silver goblets until tasted when it began to spread the softest warmth throughout every limb until it reached the heart, enveloping it in a blanket of heat and sending a quick thrust into its core. By the first hour, it relaxed the royals to a less measured show of glee.

“Stop drinking now, Changmin.” Yunho warned. “This wine is meant to lower our guard and breach our defences.”

“Now, why would we want to do that, my hawk?”

The men raised startled eyes to the bearer of the voice who approached the table. Flanked by companions whose appearance, quite simply sent the princes’ hearts into their throats, she  strode to the seat exactly opposite her father’s, at the farthest end of the table. Her companions scattered about the courtroom, perching on cushions numerous handmaids hastened to set for them. Some of them even climbed the glittering marble steps leading to the raised dais on which was mounted the Throne of Purgation, a miraculous accomplishment of sorcery that allowed an enormous throne constructed entirely out of steel framed in ice that never showed the slightest inclination to thaw, even in the comfortable warmth of the palatial indoors. The princes had only heard of it, and expectations of opulent excess were disappointed. The throne was bizzarely shaped,  a gleaming hunk of steel coated with a thick crust of clear ice with a large dent in the middle that served at a seat. There were no cushions or coverings of any sort, making the central vision of the court completely incompatible with the sparkle and glint of abounding affluence.

Princess Alameda

But it was to the newest arrival that all eyes were directed. The aged king hastened to rise and make obeisance, and his sons followed. But their salutations remained unreceived, as Princess Alameda took her time settling in. She leisurely sipped from her goblet and only when satisfactorily refreshed, turned to her royal guests.

“Why would we want to breach the barricades of your mind, hawk-eyed one?” She fixed her eyes on Yunho, ignoring all else. “Do you suspect us of dishonourable ulterior purpose?”

Prince Yunho, with all his skill in diplomacy and courtly etiquette fumbled for words. Ordinarily, he would have proper reply at the tip of his tongue, but the presence of the princess has scattered his faculties. It was not simply the knowledge of her power, but that her seated figure exuded a seething, unimaginably palpable sense of something he was at a loss to articulate or describe, even to himself. She was dressed as other Amrethan warriors…sparsely. A shimmering swath of cloth served only as an embellishment, allowing almost unimpeded view of a battle-marked body. A single row of Oriental symbols was festooned across her shoulders, above her barely concealed breasts like a necklace. Despite scars, her lithe, bronzed skin glowed sensually in moonbeam-like lights that bounced off it. Yet, not a thought of desire flecked the princes’ minds. Her left shoulder and neck were adorned by proof of her triumph, deformed skulls of creatures whose faces the peaceful inhabitants of Marrakech shuddered to even visualise. Her hands and wrists were clad in iced steel, of the same material as the throne. Her swords , of similar construction rested against her seat, their tip to the floor, on either side. But it was her face that lit embers of apprehension in hearts in every known realm.

She was beautiful, yes. But it was the beauty pinned down by the savagery of the steel pins planted into her chin, of the strip of skin, of what creature the princes dared not guess that bound her forehead. The princess was decorated in signs of barbarity on the field, and her disdain for common  courtesy somehow added to the context of brutality.

Yet, while the others quivered, Jaejoong felt little more than a curiosity that his upbringing would derogate as less than decent. His eyes swept over her, as he unflinchingly absorbed every inch of tanned skin his vision was allowed access to. Surprised by his own lack of fear of the woman with the bloodiest fingers in all existence, he felt his lips form words.

“My brother spoke out of turn, my lady. But, wouldn’t you be worried if you were in an alien land, seeking favour of someone who could slice you into bloody stubs at the snap of her fingers?”

Stunned silence. His brothers and father  stared at Jaejoong with astonishment, and the Amrethen King lowered his eyes, anticipating only a bloody fate for the young prince. His daughter did not enjoy rebuttal, verbal or physical. 

Prince Junsu

The princess’ eyes flamed on her questioner. “You do not fear me, little dove?” Her voice was dangerously calm.

Jaejoong began to feel uncomfortable tremors in his heart. Her gaze began to incite regret over his wagging tongue.

“I asked you a question, did I not?” Her words lashed at him now.

“What do you want me to tell you, my lady?” His lips parted to conduct his own doom.

Instead of an answer, the princess glared at him, boring fire into his soul. Then, without averting eyes, she raised her hand and swayed it in a peculiar motion. Immediately, her guarding warriors rose from their various position and stood to attention.

Alameda rose, grasping her swords. “Join me, won’t you little dove?” It was a command, one Jaejoong didn’t think wise to defy. “Soon, you will know what to tell me.”