Knights of Trinith (OLD/DISCONTINUED)

Chapter 3: Confrontation of Fire

Months have passed, and the relationship between Rayven and his queen have only grown even more as time goes by. Their love however, has remained hidden from the rest of the kingdom. If rumours spread of such acts, it could become controversial and ultimately devastating to the Págos monarchy.

Págos and Rayven resided in the ballroom, with luxurious carpet over top the slippery ice, pillars standing high over them to keep the walls up, and a majestic chandelier of diamonds and gold shined a beam of light down upon the dancefloor, dancing a soft and posh dance. Págos chuckled to herself as they stepped side to side, locking their hands together.

"Thou aren't as bad as they say thine are." she said with a grin, following Rayven's steps.

"A novice's luck I guess, heheh." he replied, twirling her around for a second.

They both laughed heartfully at their actions, dancing more slowly and caringly. Suddenly, there was a knock coming from the doors, causing the two to part from their fun moment. Rayven stood straight and firm, as Págos did the same, making sure her dress was on straight.

"Thou may enter!" she said with a slight annoyed tone, brushing her hair back in place.

The door opened with a fast push, as they hit against the wall from the force. Stood there, the Lord of Fire, King of the Sun, Lord Ílios. Ílios is a giant of a man, standing 8'5" tall and weighing over a ton. His armour, as his design after receiving it when becoming Lord, resembles that of a bronze warthog, with fire escaping through the cracks of the orange metal. Steam escaped from his snout as he got a cocky eyebrow raise, walking forward into the room. Each step made the room shake from his overwhelming heaviness and sturdiness. His knights, fitted with bronze military-issue armour walked behind him with a royal posture. Stopping 4 feet away from Págos, Rayven was sure to keep his guard up. A pig-rotten snort and laughter came from Lord Ílios as he looked upon the new Queen of Ice.

"So, the old bastard only had the time for one child, huh? What a pity it had to be a woman... And yet, a pleasure." he said with a rugged and deep voice, blowing out steam from his snout after speaking.

The lord's harsh choice of words made Rayven and Págos's stomachs drop. Maintaining a pokerface, Págos began to speak up as a queen should in a situation like this: with regality in the face of the worst of men.

"Greetings Lord Ílios. How does thou enjoy this evening?" she said after clearing her throat, standing up straight, and looking up at the large Lord.

"Bah, I don't need 'ny false empathy from you lass. Where's the Lord of this House? I must speak with the old man." Ílios said with a brash tone, crossing his arms.

Both Rayven and Págos averted their eyes at the question, feeling a sense of grief. Ílios quickly realized what this had meant, and quirked a brow at the young ones before him.

"So, the ol' bastard finally died eh? Damn, I was expecting more years from the man."

"What is this about, Lord Ílios? Why is thou here?" Págos said almost demandingly, "Or did thou come here simply to mock grieving souls?"

"Oh, ohoho! Hohoho? Did you forget who you're talking to, lassie?! Know your place!" Ílios said with a more intimidating voice, inching closer towards Págos.

Rayven prepared to draw his blade as he kept a close eye on the man, grabbing the hilt tightly. Ílios noticed this, but continued to stare at Págos, trying to get her to submit to him.

"Indeed, I do know who I am talking to. I must be a Lord now, since my father's passing. We are on equal grounds Lord Ílios, and your attempt at intimidation will not work here on my kingdom... Not anymore." Págos said, staring back at Ílios behind the veil.