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.”

Glance

Disclaimer : None of the pictures are mine. The princes featured in the story are visualised as the members of this Korean boyband called DBSK or TVXQ. However, in the tale, they do not sing. dance, croon or fanservice. 

The icy wind lashed against his skin, hitherto untouched by anything but the kiss of eternal spring.  The gigantic tank-like contraption rumbled through the six-feet snow that blanketed the road to Amrethea, carrying six men to their shame and surrender. Five among them sat scattered in the enormous space within, while one lingered near the sole opening meant to admit light and air.

“Shut the damn thing, will you, brother?” The youngest of them snapped through chattering teeth. “This cold is enough to kill.”

Yet, the one addressed seemed hardly to register a response, lost as he was in contemplating sights unimagined in his moments of most fervent creativity. 

Prince Jaejoong

“Why haven’t the snows been cleared off the paths?” He asked to no one in particular.

The oldest of the six, a man whitened with age and worry, answered. “Amrethea worships the winter, Jaejoong. They never shift snow from its natural dwelling. One may walk over the snow for it chooses to fall beneath one’s feet, but one can never attempt to dislocate it. That, in Amrethea is sacrilege.”

“A kingdom of savagery and superstition.” The youngest, quite obviously the most fiery, spat out words drenched with disgust. “We are deserving of pity, indeed,  if our salvation hinges on the whims of those that fawn and grovel before climatic changes.”

“You will do well to rein your tongue, Changmin.” Another of the men spoke. Tall and lean, he reclined farthest away from the square of light that Jaejoong’s body partially obscured. “Those savages, as you call them, are indeed all that can prevent absolute annihilation of our lands and people. You cannot expect that as royal guardians and stewards of Marrakech, we would allow innocent lives to be pillaged simply because pride made our knees too stiff.”

The old man cast a proud glance to his eldest son. “You speak like a true prince, Yunho. Despite all the tales of Amrethea you might have been embellished with, my sons.” He swept his eyes over his brood “remember that it is the most powerful of empires, a stronghold of both magic and machinery. Its marvels are unparalleled in all the known realms, and its every ally has prospered and remained unscathed by invasion and plunder. That assurance, my sons is what Marrakech must have.”

Prince Changmin

“At a great price too, Father.” said Yoochun, eldest after Yunho. “Amrethea has no allies. Only bloodless conquests. One buys the protection of their sword only by offering one’s freedom in return.”

The aged king sighed, a cold wind shook every trembling bone of his body. “Amrethea is just to those that bow before her throne. Tribute is reasonable, and the safety they offer is complete. None dare raise steel or bullet against those that don the shadow of the Winter Gods.”

“So we beg the king of winter worshippers for his indulgence and pledge our loyalty?” Junsu, silent till now, questioned.

“Its not the king we need to be attending upon.” Yunho rose, staggered a little against the turbulence of the vehicle’s movement and went to join Jaejoong . “It’s the princess.”

Silence froze all voices. For all their hearts beat to the same pulse at mention of the princess of Amrethea. The pulse of fear.

………

“Princess Alameda Amadis is the reason why Amrethean allies are forbidden fruit to all their foes.” The aged king murmured, wrapping wrinkled fingers around a silver flagon of steaming mead. They had been received well, with grandeur fitting their stature as rulers of a small, fertile state with next to negligible military power. Ambassadors from the Amrethean court had met the king and his sons at the Frosty Gate, known to be one of the Seven Marvels of the Visible Realms, a Gate carved entirely out of a chain of icy mountain and enchanted with the tears of the children that had been raped and buried alive by the barbaric tribes that wandered the mountain before Amretheans took their heads and performed mourning and offerings to the children. Their innocence, now tainted by monsters and madness protected the abode of their avengers. The ambassadors handed the Marrakechian King a talisman marked by the blood and sigil of Amadis which allowed them to pass. None could tread beyond the Gate without the word of the Princess. 

Prince Yoochun

Jaejoong stared in wonder at the opulence of their accommodations. While his own castle was a wonder of architecture, it paled in comparison with the exquisite workmanship of the marble and ebony halls and onyx laid corridors the crossed to reach their quarters. Bereft of windows, the walls gleamed in the menacing light of electric torches framed in a colored cases, hoisted on chains high above their heads. The walls themselves were ornamented by uncannily magnificent sculptures, enormous figurines of battle-clad men and women upon armoured horses glared on them, as did great mages with hands raised in blessing. “Magic and war..” Jaejoong murmured to himself. The  religion of Amrethea.

Their own quarters were resplendent. Each had separate rooms, furnished with rich tapestry , wood, bracing drinks. The princes wondered at the beauty of those that served them, at the richness of their garment and the eloquence of their words.

Their rest was interrupted by a knock upon the door. He called to enter and the doors parted to admit a flurry of exquisitely attired handmen and maidens who bowed and announced their purpose in escorting the Marrakech royals to court.

“Their slaves are dressed as royalty.” Jaejoong whispered as they walked, surrounded by swish of silk and tinkle of jewels.

“Indeed.” Yoochun smiled. “I have read that in Amrethea,  it is those that do not fight that are draped in finery. For the warriors, there is only armour in war and …” he lowered his voice to a whisper and smirk..”in times of peace, much less.”

“Silence, my son.” The aged king reprimanded. “Take care to avert your eyes from the princess and her companions when apt, for you will not find Amrethean women of note dressed as our ladies would be.”

“I fear Father, that we shall not find Amrethean women in any manner as our ladies would be…” Jaejoong said,  stopping in his tracks.

The door to Amrethean court stood before them, guarded by creatures unlike any of them had ever seen.

“Your seats in court await, my lords.” One of the accompanying maidens extended a heavily sleeved arm. “The keepers of Amrethea welcome the presence of your graces

The five princes