The Shattering

Chapter 2

-Stormveil Castle-

Black gilded soldiers lined the right wall, spears at attention. In front of them, golden clad soldiers with spears of their own stood firmly on the left. The hallway stretched down the corridor of the castle, feeling infinitely long to Rennala as she made her way to the room they guarded. The black warriors were her own. The golden, his. Their stance apart from each other was a symbol of the battle to come.

As she approached the room, her apprentices opened the iron clad double doors and she stepped inside.

The room was bare, but filled with banners of his royal empire. Only a few chairs sat around a long table. Tea had been poured, and it sat steaming in two cups that sat upon saucers. A gesture of politeness, nothing more than a formality. She surely knew that he had no real intentions of being polite.

And there he sat, upright, reading an accord. The moment she entered the room, his servants retrieved the parchment from his hands, gave her a half hearted bow, and exited the room, leaving only the two royals to stare at each other in a tense silence.

He was different than she imagined. His amber hair was tied loosely at his back, his skin was tanned and fine, and his long eyelashes could have given him an elfish quality, had it not been for his hard nose and thick jaw. He was... pretty? This was not the king slayer she was expecting. A prince, definitely, but a hardened warrior?

The silence was palpable. It seemed that he sensed the tension, so he stood from his chair.

"Lady Rennala," He bowed his head, 'It's an honor."

Rennala merely stared back at him, unimpressed with his attempts at flattery. Or perhaps she wasn't quite sure how to proceed... she couldn't say for sure.

He smiled a bit, amused at her coldness, and then gestured to the empty chair.

"Please, have a seat."

She obliged, if not warily.

"I understand," He began, "that your territory has-"

"You are not what I expected." Rennala blurted, before she could stop herself. He seemed taken aback, but then his eyes twinkled with amusement.

"I'm not?"

She swallowed, and looked elsewhere, focusing on the window.

"No. You are not. I expected someone... someone..."

"Older? More frightening?" He smirked. "With fangs and red glowing eyes?"

Her cheeks burned, why had she said that? Rennala shot him a soft glare, stealing back her courage. "Someone more threatening."

He raised an eyebrow and his grin widened ever so slightly. So, she could play this game too. After a moment, he sat back in his chair.

"Well, you are exactly what I was expecting."

She blinked, glaring at him carefully. "And what is that?"

"Cold. Unapproachable. Biting. A young, pitiful woman under the guise of a royal scared out of her mind in the presence of an 'unthreatening' enemy. Utterly feeble."

Rage bubbled up within her and she stood, ready to leave.

He chuckled and sat forward, "Lady Rennala, do you offend so easily?"

She wheeled around to face him. "How dare you speak to me so familiarly? I am Rennala, Queen of the Full Moon. I do not answer to 'Lady' if it comes from your tongue and I never will. Watch yourself, king slayer."

His eyebrows raised. "King slayer? Is that what they call me? No wonder you thought of me a monster. And here I thought I was a gentleman."

She was quite done with this conversation. She turned around and walked to the door. He stood quickly and stepped around the table.

"Apologies, Queen Rennala."

She stopped and looked back at him, ready for him to hurl another insult.

He held out a hand, "I would not hope to run you off so quickly. We still have matters to discuss. Though, since I plan to meet you on the battlefield, I would not refrain from a bit of friendly rivalry. That, I wouldn't apologize for." He smiled, but it was not a wicked one like she expected.

She glanced down at his hand, calloused and scarred. There it was... the signs of a warrior. The skin was rough, likely from wielding greatswords and aching from commanding fleets. So, he was more than a pretty, weak prince.

She looked back up at him, "Neither shall I. You don't threaten me, Radagon of the Golden Order."

That was the first time she had said his name aloud. Radagon. For some reason, it made her ill. She brushed past his hand and sat down in the chair.

"We do have matters to discuss. Let us get this over with."

He returned to his seat once more, holding his gaze on her, as if trying to dissect her expression. She was certainly proving more difficult to crack. If not... fairly easy to rile up. He did his best to mask his own expression as he thought of the ways he could use that little fact to his advantage.

They spoke plainly, militaristically about the coming months and battles, being careful not to expose any of their own strategies or weaknesses. It was a great effort to be civil with one another, though they managed it over cold, untouched tea. After all, the tea was only a formality.