Snowdrops
Lildear18
Tim the Yeti
Hos
Charybdis
OliveYou
DiBALThere was something endearing abut watching the elf’s curiosity surrounding the car and August could feel a smile forming on his lips. Her inquisitiveness was charming to behold.
Perhaps this will not be too painful to endure, August could not help but think to himself. Although they had barely met, already the elf, Lyra, was defying his expectations. Back in his Kingdom the rumours of the elves were of hideously blood thirsty beings, crazed with a lust for arcane power. Indeed, from what August himself had witnessed on the battlefield, elves capable of cruelty and torment. Subconsciously he flexed the fingers of his right hand, he false hand, as he always did when thinking of the more brutal side of warfare. He had opted to wear finely tailored, leather gloves for this meeting, as he always did for formal, public appearances, for he was oddly self-conscious of the prosthetic around all but his army comrades.
Of course, for all the trauma the elves had caused, both his Kingdom, his people and even himself, August knew that humans were far from faultless. August had killed and killed and been maimed in the process.
Such was the reality of war.
Lyra jumped back from the car in surprise and into the prince. Instinctively, August caught her in hands, steadying her. A soft laugh escaped his lips; it was not cruel or mocking but genuine and affable.
“Fear not, Lady Lyra. I can assure you it will not bite.” August said, still smiling. “It is another advantage that cars have over horses.” From the corner of his eye, August could see his father confirming as much to the elven King, putting the other man at ease with the fact the Lyra, indeed, was in no danger by examining the vehicle. The last thing either Kingdom needed was their heirs to be placed in, real or perceived, peril and King William, diplomatic as ever, assured the other monarch that the humans were keeping their end of the peace treaty. There were no tricks here.
“Aye, I have a car much like this back home at the palace. It has been arranged to have it delivered later in the week; for we wanted to focus on moving in now.” It was a half-truth; King William had also prevented the car from being sent earlier so as to effectively force August to spend time with his future bride, to remove any temptation to set off and disappear for hours on end.
It is not to say that August was at risk of running from his duties, for he would not; the peace between the Kingdoms would be cemented by this marriage and the Kingdom of Anjou came before all else. That was the reality of being prince; it was not a simple life of luxury, but a political and diplomatic game he had to play whether he desired to or not.
“No, it is not broken.” August stepped over, so he was stood next to Lyra at the boot of the car. He placed his good hand on the metal, fingers accidentally brushing against the elf’s. “Allow me to show you. Driver!” The prince called, rapping his knuckles against the side of the car; the sound had an unusual ring to it as, despite the covering of leather, metal fingers hit the car.
The boot sprung open, as from his seat within the driver unlocked it. August pushed the lid up, revealing the inside to have leather suitcases and other possessions that the prince was brining to his new home.
“What you feel quivering beneath your fingers is the engine, which is houses in the front. This end, however, is left empty and used for storage. Which, ah, reminds me,” August leant into the boot, unclipping one of the suitcases and rifling through its contents. “Here. If I might be so bold, this was to be given to you closer to our wedding day but… I think I would like you to have it now.”
August produced a small box, which fitted neatly into one palm, presenting it to the princess. Inside was an ornate object; hung on a chain, a disc that was decorated with three dimensional dragonflies, their wings carefully wrought. The prince turned a dial on the side of the disc, and, with a soft whirr, the dragonflies seemingly came to life, wings fluttering as they danced across the surface, moving to reveal the face of a dainty timepiece that their mechanical bodies had previously covered.
“It is a… Peace offering.” August spoke softly, so as their fathers could not hear them, as if his words were a secret just for the two of them, “Not between Anjou and Nephalm, but between a husband and his wife.”
Perhaps this will not be too painful to endure, August could not help but think to himself. Although they had barely met, already the elf, Lyra, was defying his expectations. Back in his Kingdom the rumours of the elves were of hideously blood thirsty beings, crazed with a lust for arcane power. Indeed, from what August himself had witnessed on the battlefield, elves capable of cruelty and torment. Subconsciously he flexed the fingers of his right hand, he false hand, as he always did when thinking of the more brutal side of warfare. He had opted to wear finely tailored, leather gloves for this meeting, as he always did for formal, public appearances, for he was oddly self-conscious of the prosthetic around all but his army comrades.
Of course, for all the trauma the elves had caused, both his Kingdom, his people and even himself, August knew that humans were far from faultless. August had killed and killed and been maimed in the process.
Such was the reality of war.
Lyra jumped back from the car in surprise and into the prince. Instinctively, August caught her in hands, steadying her. A soft laugh escaped his lips; it was not cruel or mocking but genuine and affable.
“Fear not, Lady Lyra. I can assure you it will not bite.” August said, still smiling. “It is another advantage that cars have over horses.” From the corner of his eye, August could see his father confirming as much to the elven King, putting the other man at ease with the fact the Lyra, indeed, was in no danger by examining the vehicle. The last thing either Kingdom needed was their heirs to be placed in, real or perceived, peril and King William, diplomatic as ever, assured the other monarch that the humans were keeping their end of the peace treaty. There were no tricks here.
“Aye, I have a car much like this back home at the palace. It has been arranged to have it delivered later in the week; for we wanted to focus on moving in now.” It was a half-truth; King William had also prevented the car from being sent earlier so as to effectively force August to spend time with his future bride, to remove any temptation to set off and disappear for hours on end.
It is not to say that August was at risk of running from his duties, for he would not; the peace between the Kingdoms would be cemented by this marriage and the Kingdom of Anjou came before all else. That was the reality of being prince; it was not a simple life of luxury, but a political and diplomatic game he had to play whether he desired to or not.
“No, it is not broken.” August stepped over, so he was stood next to Lyra at the boot of the car. He placed his good hand on the metal, fingers accidentally brushing against the elf’s. “Allow me to show you. Driver!” The prince called, rapping his knuckles against the side of the car; the sound had an unusual ring to it as, despite the covering of leather, metal fingers hit the car.
The boot sprung open, as from his seat within the driver unlocked it. August pushed the lid up, revealing the inside to have leather suitcases and other possessions that the prince was brining to his new home.
“What you feel quivering beneath your fingers is the engine, which is houses in the front. This end, however, is left empty and used for storage. Which, ah, reminds me,” August leant into the boot, unclipping one of the suitcases and rifling through its contents. “Here. If I might be so bold, this was to be given to you closer to our wedding day but… I think I would like you to have it now.”
August produced a small box, which fitted neatly into one palm, presenting it to the princess. Inside was an ornate object; hung on a chain, a disc that was decorated with three dimensional dragonflies, their wings carefully wrought. The prince turned a dial on the side of the disc, and, with a soft whirr, the dragonflies seemingly came to life, wings fluttering as they danced across the surface, moving to reveal the face of a dainty timepiece that their mechanical bodies had previously covered.
“It is a… Peace offering.” August spoke softly, so as their fathers could not hear them, as if his words were a secret just for the two of them, “Not between Anjou and Nephalm, but between a husband and his wife.”
