Wrath And Rancour

Prologue

The cavernous room was silent save for the sudden sharp intake of breath. Everyone turned their heads, utterly hushed, to where they presumed it came from.

A woman, red in the face, eyed a scroll, her knuckles whitening around the edge of the paper. She could feel the beginnings of a cut forming where she held on tight, but ignored it, trying her best to process the news presented in front of her.

Her eyes visibly scanned the page, slowly going down until her pupils stopped abruptly. Another sharp intake of breath interrupted the solid silence. The crowd of people looked at her intently, wanting to know what was going on, wanting to know why the famous King of Ice would have anything delivered to this woman; a woman who is his known opposite.

“No.” The whisper was carried by a breeze across the room.

“No.” It was more definite this time, louder.

“NO!” The roar reverberated throughout the crowd, shocking them into an even deeper silence.

“That is NOT going to happen!” She jumped out of her throne with such force that it almost toppled backwards.

She stood there; sweat dripping from her brow, her eyes blazing with the heat of anger and vigour, watching a man that stood near the back of the room. Her breaths were that of a runner as she concentrated all her anger on the small face she could barely see.

The man walked towards her, nonchalant, smiling to his followers as he made his way to the notorious Queen of Fire.

As soon as he approached her, however, his demeanour transformed. An aura of callousness enveloped the space around him as he turned to face his opposite.

“I think, my darling, you’ll find that it will happen.” He spat, talking to her as if she were a disobedient child.

A guttural growl escaped from the Queen as she shot him a fuming look.

Once again, silence encapsulated the crowd as they watched, eagerly awaiting her reaction.

“An orb of fire will do no less than destroy you.” Her sharp voice was heard by everyone.

“An orb of ice will do more than kill your people.” The King retorted.

“So it will. But that may not be possible if I kill you first.” She acted fast, using all her strength to push him to the side, her hands ablaze with fire. His knees buckled and he fell with a groan.

“But, I don’t think that’s enough for you…” Upon clicking her fingers, two orbs of fire raged in her hands, and she lifted them, aiming at her opposite’s writhing figure.

“Wait!”

The Queen’s eyebrows furrowed, looking for the small voice that dared interrupt her. A young man of about twenty stepped forward. She searched his shirt for the emblem of fire, making sure he was one of hers.  Her eyes found it almost immediately; he was hers, but why was he stopping her?

“I-I don’t think you should… I mean, it would create war, put all of us in danger and-”

“And nothing. Be silent.” She hissed, staring into his eyes.

The young man stared back, unable to keep his gaze of her blazing crimson eyes. He felt his senses slowly dulling, his mind slowly losing control of his thoughts. He tried to focus, tried to remember why he opposed her… but found he couldn’t.

He shook his head slightly, wandering why he would dispute such a wonderful idea. War was the answer; war would earn his Queen the throne, forever.

“What were you saying, young man?” she questioned, a knowing smile contorting her face.

“I… war. War is the best option. War is the only option.”

Murmured whispers ran through the crowd, the tone acutely negative.

“Then war it shall be.” Declared the King of Ice, his pale face and lean figure showing no sign of having being thrown in the dirt moments before.

“War it shall be.”