The Council

[Adara Peloquin]

Time:5:00pm
Date:August 9th
Place: Elven Council Hall
Status:Open to Nuada's Army.

Looking around with apparent disinterest, Adara Peloquin walked slowly across the expanse of the Council Hall, her eerie blue eyes flickering lazily over the worried expressions of the the council members. "Brother, I think they doubt the Prince," She stated as a slender eyebrow arched.

Her brother Thalion shrugged a shoulder as he shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. It was obvious by his stance that the handsome male was more than a bit uneasy, but he remained silent and just kept watching his sister.

"You're being quite boring," Adara announced, her full lips turning down into a pout. "Nevertheless, I think I shall like this place." Her pout suddenly vanished and a bright, almost warm smile formed instead. "Yes, this is a very nice place. I have decided I shall like it." She continued on with a firm, very serious nod of her head.

Shaking his head, Thalion's own lips curled into an amused smile. He had to admit that when Adara set her mind to something, she normally couldn't be swayed. Pulling his gaze away from her, he sighed to himself. He really did wish he had been able to talk her out of this.... Quest of hers, but... Well a happy Adara was much more preferred than an unhappy one.

"You can't sit there! That's for-" A voice suddenly boomed, only to cut off by an impatient flick of Adara's wrist.

"I know that," Adara countered quite crossly, though made no move to remove herself from the throne she had made herself comfortable in. "My feet were growing tired, and it was empty. There was no where else to sit. Besides, it's a very pretty throne." Her lips had once again turned down and for a moment she looked very much like a spoiled child who had not gotten their way.


"Adara," Thalion groaned. "Do behave..."

"Oh alright! I was merely sitting you know," Adara snapped and slowly, obviously taking as much time as she possibly could, began to rise from the throne.

(tags?? hehe)

[vryntil]

[/b] A deep, scratchy voice seemed to flow over the room as soon as Adara's voice had faded, "Might end in death." There was a threatening tone to the voice, but it was more amused than anything. If there was one thing that General Imornthi liked more than life, it was death. He was, after all, a Necromancer.

He had just entered the Council Rooms through the grand doors that seemed to open and close with no outside help, and he had the slightest of smirks on his pale, gaunt face, almost-white eyes falling upon the young half-Elf. He headed straight for hiw own cahri, an extravagant one, but certainly not as extravagant as the throne itself.

He harbored no ill will against Adara, he had been merely pointing out the fact that if she did not follow protocol and tradition... Well, that might not end too well for her. She needed to learn her place, or take the punishments that she deserved. It was as simple as that - Imornthi was never one for childish antics.

He sat in his own chair perfectly straight, his back not even touching the chair, for numerous reasons, but the main one being his spine. His spine was on the outside of his skin, rather than inside where it should be - it was not his fault, perhaps his mothers, but he'd never blame her for such a defect. Never-the-less, it was a weakness the General wasn't too proud of, and he tried to hide it as best he could. Thankfully, he wore now a cloak over his attire, which covered his back from prying eyes.

A few eyes of the Elven Council fell upon the General, he was one of the most powerful supporters of Nuada, and now that he was here.. They knew there would be no talking Nuada out of his plan, the General was a master of persuasion, not to mention an entire army at his command. The General, though, seemed to notice their frightened and nervous gazes, and this only made his smirk grow more. He was confident that this meeting would go quite well. [/size][/color][/ul]

[King Nuada Silverlance]

The shuffling of the Chamberlain’s robes behind him did little to muffle the heavy footsteps of the Butcher guards at his back. Like monstrous ghouls, the beak like masks they wore hide their normal features and race. Prince Nuada cast a long side glance and listened in silence. Though the Bethmoora clan had fallen under his care, he did little to trust the very breed of guardian sworn to protect the King. A sharp twisting pang seized him momentarily at the thought of his father but his outward expression remained stoic glancing at the gold and yellow leaves that floated serenely about him. It was a thorny feeling, an uncertainty about which half of the soul felt it and bleed to the other.

Nuada ignored the Chamberlain’s poetic ramblings, bypassing him to enter the length of the council room. He had grown up with the creature’s voice ringing in his ears and had the ease of forging it. His hand touched his waist momentarily where his gilded lance once lay, it had been give over before the sovereign officer of the household. However the creature sported a new cut against the side of his bulbous neck, mirroring the one Nuada had given the first time he had attempt to disarm the Prince. The Chamberlain straightened and just had enough time to call out the Prince’s arrival did the rows of Elven men and women turn their head slightly in respect as he passed them.

In the thick silence, Nuada settled his gaze on his small council before drawing the haunting eyes to the solid form of the throne. In twisted metal and pipes to resemble gnarled tree limbs, they stretched from the circle of orange and crimson from the furnace beyond. In the midst of rusting steel and leaking pipes sat a delicate elven woman, paler then the perfect snow. She nearly glowed against the drab and her blood would have equally painted it as the surrounding Guards took a advancing step towards the lone she-elf only to be held back by a simple rise of Nuada’s hand. They bowed under his control and reigned in as he neared to look down his nose at the female.

“Move child,” he commanded before turning to face his councilmen. He remained standing in silence to survey those that once opposed and fled from him, in this very room. His sharp gaze remained unmoved at the occasional flinch or shuffle of robes before he settled the golden stare on his general. It remained less then a heartbeat on him, but more then what he bestowed on the others. He drew a hand to his belt where the scroll had remained tucked away but he drew it away, leaving it untouched and stalked the flank of the chambers where Imornthi sat.

“The time,” his voice broke through the silence, a heartbreaking tenor amidst the decaying realm. “for war has begun.”

[thalion]

Thalion shifted his weight as he watched the General warily. Though he'd never talked to him, he had seen him around the Court when.. Well before Adara had gone missing. Thalion's gaze shifted to Adara, who of course was for the moment was refusing to move from the throne. Of course she wasn't going to move, she'd all but been told to by someone who she didn't know. Thalion sighed, sometimes his sister could be most naive.

Adara looked over at the general, her eyes narrowing a bit. She didn't like the way he was talking to her, not in the least. Jutting her chin out stubbornly, she stayed where she was, almost as if she were daring him to move her himself.

Just as Thalion was going to extract his sister from the throne - fighting or not - Prince Nuada was announced. Thalion froze, and his blue eyes flickered to the door as the prince made his way inside. He watched the pale Elven prince for a brief second and then his gaze flew to Adara. He could only pray she would hold her tongue and that Nuada would show her mercy for her impudence.

Adara's eyes brightened as she leaned forward, her pale fingers clutching the arms of the. Eagerly she watched as Nuada made his way through the Council Hall. Oh, this was very exciting! Very exciting indeed!

>>“Move child.”<<

Thalion watched in wonder as his sister rose from the throne and drop into a graceful curtsy before heading over to him. It was still completely silent in the hall and for a few moments of time the only noise to be heard was the soft rustling of Adara's gown as she walked. He looked down at her when she came to a stop beside him, his eyebrows furrowing and shook his head. He really didn't understand her, not in the least.

Adara reached out, resting her hand on Thalion's arm. Her attention was not on him of course but on Nuada. He was the reason they were there of course. He was going to lead their race into glory once again - she knew he would. Her fingers dug into Thalion's arm and she grinned, obviously excited as to what he was going to say.

>>“The time,” his voice broke through the silence, a heartbreaking tenor amidst the decaying realm. “for war has begun.”<<

"Oh brother!" Adara whispered excitedly. "He's truly going to do it.... How marvelous!"

"Quiet Adara, now is not the time," Thalion whispered, chiding Adara as though she were a mere child. Though thankfully, for both of them he supposed, Adara didn't throw a tantrum. Instead she merely shrugged and continued to watch Nuada with awe.

[vryntil]

[/i] long.

It wasn't long before the Elven Council burst out into arguments. It started with mumbles, whispers - but without moments, it was yelling and cursing in many languages. The General seemed relatively quiet during this whole thing though, slowly standing himself from his seat after the rest of the Council had lept up so suddenly - just waiting for the opportune moment to speak. He did not seem to care about the aruging, in fact, quite the opposite - he seemed rather amused. All in good time, though... The General would have his chance to speak his mind.[/size][/ul][/color]

[King Nuada Silverlance]

It was to be expected and Nuada did. He calmly faced the thundering roar of voices that chimed in a semi civilized manner. The blur of hands accentuated opinions and the smell of tempers were like spices in the air. The prince leaned slightly back on his heels, resting the curve of his palm against his thigh before running the tips of his fingers against a seam of the cool slick material as he brought the hand up to the royal seal that adorned his belt. He allowed the council to voice their opinions as muddled as they were before he returned his gaze to his distrusted ally, the general as he stood. The ruling body of elves and fae continued on, vying for the right of the war in their own eyes and Nuada stared sullenly at Imornthi. His own thoughts on the male had been made clear and it only twisted at the loathing to think further on it.

The grim line of his blackened lips curled upwards into a vague smile, the warmth of it lost in the hardening line of his brow. He did not need the council’s vote, only their allegiance and those that did not side with him, were against him. His father had been a pacifist and allowed the fools of the court to guide his thoughts and allowed him to wither. Nuada curled his head down, strands of his silver hair spilled over his shoulder to hide the cruel smile. He would take it by force if need be. The newly healed scar across his left cheek foretold the lengths he would go to achieve his ultimate goal.

“Be silent!” Nuada’s voice boomed, echoing in the high walled chambers. His voice stretching through the pipes to the upper world to send a group of pigeons scattering into the evening sky from their perch. The elven prince glared at the council as several voices died to a low murmur and he took stance of strength, twisting a leg slightly behind him and raised a hand to point one long slender finger at the individuals of his court. “You bicker as children,” he twisted his hand up, opening his palm. “when our people are dying. You have wasted my father’s life with dreams of a pacifist but what has that truly accomplished?”

The Prince lowered his head but it was only for show, the tenor of his voice softening. “Have you seen our world outside of these walls? These walls,” His voice and head rose. “that are crumbling around you this very moment! We, the immortal, are at the end of the hourglass and I refuse to see Man.” Nuada seethed the title between clenched teeth. “take what is rightfully ours.” He nodded at his general to continue and drew away towards the throne chair, casting a silent glance towards the she elf that had departed from it. Beside her stood a male, a near mirror image of the female. So young and yet they understood the importance of this council. Nuada lifted his golden eyes to the empty throne chair, tiny leaves had fallen along the arm rests and seat in the absence of a body and Nuada leapt atop the first step and twisted on his heels to face his councilmen just a yellow leaf fluttered from above and settled on his shoulder.

[Adara Peloquin]

Adara listened to the Prince, with eyes widened in complete and utter awe. She understood everything he was saying - perhaps more than some gathered around did. The Council knew nothing of the world of man, and because of their ignorance - they wished to remain on peaceful terms with them.

But Adara... Oh she knew exactly how black hearted and hateful that race could be. They wanted nothing more than to expand their knowledge on things they could not begin to understand. And to do this? They merely tried to slowly take apart whatever it happened to be that had caught their interest.

Slowly she stepped forward, shrugging off her brother as he tried to grasp her arm. "My Lord," She called out to the Prince's back. "You have my family's pledge of loyalty to come to your aid if you so need it. My family has seen first hand the viciousness of Man, and know that they need to be stopped before they destroy everything that we hold dear."

She turned slowly so she was now facing the Council members and lifted her chin up so she was staring at them with an almost haughty expression. "Our Prince is right. Man is moving in on our lands. They will destroy everything and will think nothing of it. Do we not owe it to our future generations to ensure that they have a land, a place to call their own? A land that is completely free of the mar that is known as Man? Or shall we continue to subject ourselves to Man's cruelty and hope that they shall see reason and cease? You would do well to heed the Prince in any decision he comes to. You owe it to your race."

[vryntil]

[/i] wanted to be King. Obviously, he had not gotten that chance yet. Of course, he would have never had the strength or the opportunity to kill the King before, as much as he hated to admit it, but now that the Prince had, and had gained much hatred by the majority of the Elven Council by doing so, Imornthi knew his chance was coming - and soon.

He watched the Prince move up to the throne, and Imornthia was just about to throw in his two cents... When the other, young half-elf spoke up. Casting a small glare at her, Imornthi awaited quite impatiently for his chance to undermine Nuada, taking a few steps forward every few seconds. His mind ran quite quickly as he thought of what exactly he should say to convince the Council that Nuada was not the right choice for a leader... Hmmm, perhaps he could drag Nuala into this... After all, he wanted Nuala at his side anyways - if he could convince the Council to include her, perhaps it would stall him and give him a chance to further his pursuit of the throne.

Finally, after the she-elf's inspiring speech, Vryntil stepped foward before anyone else could. "The Prince is right," He began in a strong voice, hardly acknowledging the she-elf's existance as he passed straight by her to come to the center of the group, "The humans will stop at nothing until they take over all of our lands - and turn it into their pitiful cities. But," Most did not expect that 'but' coming, but Imornthi always had a way with words and persuasion... He turned on his heels from facing the crowd, to facing the Prince.

"Is this the right leader against them?" As he spoke, he pointed to the Prince. He had just jumped into chaos, but he was ready for what was to come. Murmurs and whispers rippled across the Council - some agreeing with the General, some disagreeing. "You forget, my Prince, that your sister has just as much of a claim to the throne as you do... And I know she would never support your intentions of war." Of course, he didn't want the Council to agree with that - the not support the war and all - but if he could weasel his way into Nuala's life... He would become King, and therefore have control over her, and the Council. Yes, that would work out quite nicely.

"I say we summon the Princess - let her know that her place is still in Bethmoora, and that she still has the right to a powerful title.... Perhaps she can bring peace to our lands." There was many exclaimations of agreement... Just what the General wanted. [/size][/ul][/color]

[Adara Peloquin]

Adara gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in complete and utter shock. She could not believe the things that were coming out of the General's mouth! Truly she could not. It was not only scandalous - it was an outrage! Traitorous even! The nerve of him!

Adara's already naturally pale skin seemed to pale even more, though her cheeks became tinged with a soft pink - perhaps the only real thing signifying her disbelief and outrage. She shook her head, her silky white hair swaying with each movement of her head. He really could not be serious, could he?! Princess Nuala? He had to be kidding!

Thalion's eyes widened and his gaze continued to move wildly between his sister, the Prince and Imornthi. He too could not believe that such a thing had been uttered. While he was more inclined to agree with the General, these sorts of things did not just happen. He was causing an uproar, and by the looks of him - the General seemed to be enjoying every moment of it.

He looked to his sister, and to add to the disbelief of the last few moments, she had somehow managed to take her slipper off and was clutching it almost angrily in her delicate hands. "No, Adara!" he cried, stretching a hand out as though that alone might stop whatever foolishness was going on, but of course it did not.

It was almost like it was happening in slow motion. One moment the slipper had been held quite firmly in Adara's hand, and the next? It was flying through the air, only to hit the General square in the back of his head.

Adara stood there, glaring at the spot her shoe had hit, with her hands propped on her hips. She looked as though she was ready to take on the General and that she might actually think that she had a chance of actually surviving it. "Idiot! She left us! She lives with those mortals willingly, and you have the nerve to suggest she rule over us?"

Thalion moved as fast as he could to stand between his sister and the General and held a hand back toward Adara, hoping she'd take the hint and cease with the shoe attacks. "Adara, shut up!"

[King Nuada Silverlance]

Nuada watched the councilmen around him just as they hungrily watched him. So many stood against him, judging the prince in scorn. The Golden Army had failed, driven back into nothing but mute statues without the aid of the crown. He had traced the melted outline of it with the tip of his spear before falling back and anger threatened to consume him. It built easily, a hatred that burned for centuries kept concealed until his people cried out for the last time. The elven prince turned his head slightly and blew the golden leaf off his shoulder gently and observed the languid path it took to finally rest at his feet, lost in the countless other leaves that littered the courtyard. So many looked to a leader and sadly a leader of any kind to guide them and he was there to stand where his father had fallen.

He drew his gaze unhurriedly along the crackled cobblestone to the delicate voice that beckoned to him. It was the same young elf that he had dismissed from the throne and Nuada curved his head deliberately in a firm nod. She was young but her heart was noble in his dream. The councilmen respectfully remained quiet but even so their murmurs were building, blending together in divagation, it was the movement of Imornthi that kept the prince watching from the corner of his eye. He walked with sly deliberation and Nuada turned his gaze sharply to him as the she elf finished speaking and the general continued. Though he despised him, it was he that had filled his ranks to amass the war he would succeed.

He inhaled sharply through his nose and his unholy eyes widened and through the flawless mask of elven beauty and scars, his jaw tightened pulling at a muscle along his cheek. The previous satisfied and content look faded and the ivory white teeth appeared through the blackened lips as a snarl attempted to form. Treachery tore at him and that of a man that has lived his life outside the noble splendor of a kingdom, he desired to end the general’s life immediately. The absence of his weighted spear wore heavily, frustrating him. The Butcher guards never shifted their hold on their weapons nor broke their ranks.

“She is nothing!” His voice bellowed over the courtyard and the dizzying bond he shared with the other half of his soul was jarring. He reached through the shadow, his infuriation blinding hot to throw it against the fragile figure of his beloved sister. The terrible strength of his will like a petulant and infuriated god. He did not care what it did nor did he care what she was in the middle of. Laughter or tears were drowned in his sudden force and like the eye of a hurricane, amidst the building crescendo he whispered. I will make you nothing.

The sight of the gossamer shoe sailing through the air made him pull back the biting attack and reign in the tantrum in a bewildering twisted attempt to soothe the harshness. Her reaction, not matter how faint was thundering against him and her emotions clouded with his. He wanted her there now and he wanted her to vanish within the same shuddering breath he took. The prickle of pain was hardly registered as he forced his hands to loosen from the tightly balled fists and he was certain at least one fingernail was flecked with blood.

Nuada jerked his head towards Adara then back to the councilmen, the thin length of his hair swinging from the force and he leapt from the steps of the throne and to Imornthi. He stalked, each footstep precise to bring him closer to the elf but instead of violently lashing out he stood shoulder to shoulder with the general, still facing the assembly of fae. His brow tightened as he silently commanded the fools to stop talking but they continued, reiterating the same delegations.

“{Traitorous vermin, what do you think you will accomplish?}” The elven language slipped beautifully from Nuada’s lips, marred by the rough edge of his whispered irritation. His voice remained low so only their ears could hear. “{Make no assumption that I will allow this.}”

[vryntil]

[/i] at him? His hand instinctually went for his sword, but unfortunately, he hadn't the time to pull it out when Nuada's expected reaction came. The General forced himself to not let such trivial matters with the she-elf bother him now, he would deal with her later.

While the General knew Nuada would throw a fit, he was not, however, expecting him to say such a thing about his twin. Vryntil thought that, out of all people, Nuada would defend his sister - or perhaps inform the Council that she wouldn't be the right choice for the throne in a slightly more... loving way? Perhaps he was just letting his temper get the better of him, which was what the General knew was going to happen. He let the Prince explode, with the most evilest of smirks on his face, just waiting for his chance to speak again.

Expecting some sort of battle when Nuada came his way, his grip on his sword tightened, and he just waited for the moment that he needed it - but that moment did not come. Instead, Nuada came to stand by his side, ever so close, and whispered deathly threats in his ear. Of course, the General's smirk only widened, and he responded, in the same Ancient language, {"My dear Prince... I have already accomplished what I wanted."} And with that, he said not a word, but turned his gaze to the Elven Council, gesturing to them slightly with a nod of his head.

The Elven Council was, of course, heading into an uproar again. Some of the Elves sided with the Prince, and some of them sided with the General - or well, Nuala. Of course, the majority of them were leaning towards Vryntil's idea of Nuala ruling, simply because she had lived in Bethmoora all that time when Nuada was in exile, and she hadn't killed her father - but the ones that leaned towards Nuada's side were those that had some sort of military background, with troops at their command. None had such large regiments as Vryntil did, but they might pose a problem.

The General had set the detonator into place, though... Now all he needed to do was sit back and watch it explode. [/size][/color][/ul]

[King Nuada Silverlance]

Nuada’s golden eyes demanded to be met as he stared fiercely back at the General who denied him of his silent command. His shoulders rose with the forced heavy breath and the prince watched the council slowly deteriorate once again into disordered intransigence. It was falling apart before it could even be built. He knew the General could not be trusted but the venture of needing an army outweighed his natural distain for the elf. A necessary evil, one that he hoped to be rid of before the first battle cry fell. It was nothing to him to take the elder elves sword and drive it through his sawdust heart and be done with the annoyance but a delicate hand was needed, one that he was not sure he could offer.

“{Your lingering years are showing.}” His whispered voice strained and just as fast as his anger had risen it fell, ebbing away like water through a valley. The dangerous glint of his eyes hardened and he made a show of looking down to the bladed weapon that lay nestled at Imornthi’s hip and the prince curled his head slowly, letting the strands of silvery hair slid across an angled jaw line.

“You would dare hold a blade against your prince!” Nuada turned unhurriedly from General and faced the twins and his eyes settled on the female that had thrown her slipper. It would have been amusing in his eyes at a different time, now he casually bent and scooped the tiny item up in his hands and feigned interest in it’s color. The Butcher guards transcended immediately from their posts. It was effortless to forget that they were there until they moved, like monstrous statues they lined the wall of the council room. Their skin grayed like leather and hideous masks curved like a gnashing beak simply added to their frightening appearance. As a whole they raised the thick curving swords in hand and started towards Vryntil.

With his back to the guards, the elven prince turned the delicate shoe to reveal a small scuffed mark in the satin. Nuada started towards the couple at an easy stroll to the female and looked down upon her. Drawing a hand up, the Butcher guards instantaneously halted at his silent order surrounding the General at a distance. It was passion albeit perhaps a bit foolish, but passion to fling the footwear. Her resounding voice did not go unheard either. The elven maiden’s beauty was great but he saw nothing but his sister looking back at him. Nuala. The prince took an extended glance at the shoe before wordlessly held it out to Adara.

“{Abandoned.}” Lowering his smoldering gaze to the she-elf’s hands, the elven word fell like a wounded soul and his brow tightened. He twisted sharply, the edges of his jacket fanning out around his thighs and he coolly eyed the General, allowing him time to know. There was a inkling of surprise that slid through the prince, the Guards remained trustworthy to the throne and to those that inhabited it. “{Do not forget your place, General.}” The title was spat in contentment and Nuada crossed the threshold and through a space between the guards. They moved as one, tightening hands on weapons but when the prince raised his hand to dismiss them they fell away to return to their appointed spots. “{Beneath me.}”

“My brothers.” Nuada faced the council and the Chamberlain appeared from nowhere and apologetically bumbled to Imornthi, bowed and gestured to the sword he carried. The prince leisurely made his way closer to the ruling body of fae. “What has your Princess done? She has forsaken us for the very enemy that forces us to hide.” The prince furrowed his brow and slowly shook his head. “Hide, like weak willed cowards. What is that you desire?”

“We want peace!” A single voice cried out and others chimed in.

“And that is what I will return to you.” Nuada lofted a hand, gesturing to his words. “All of us. This world is ours and we must reclaim it and we can only do this through force. Too long have we sat in silence. My father did not fight for you, my sister…” His hand dropped to his side. “They were weak.” The voices stirred again, murmuring. No one had forgotten that it was by his hand their King had perished and the princess driven by his lust for the crown and to the prince’s ears, Nuala’s name remained on the tongues of his councilmen.

[Adara Peloquin]

Adara's icy gaze rested on the General for the briefest of moments, her expression clearly showing that she indeed thought him to be an idiotic fool. He had to be if he actually thought that the Prince would allow his sister to take over a throne she clearly did not want. In Adara's mind the Princess had relinquished any claim on anything in their world the moment she decided to live amongst the humans. It was traitorous and really, who is their right mind would wish to live in that world?

With a smirk still on her lips, she turned her attention to the Prince, her eyes widening ever so slightly when she realized that the General indeed had a weapon in a place where none were allowed. She hoped the butcher guards would do their jobs and cut him into tiny pieces. Her gaze slid over to her brother and she nodded her head, seeing that his gaze was seemingly glued to every movement the General made.

And then the Prince was standing before Adara, holding the shoe she had tossed at the General in a fit of anger. She swallowed, not quite sure if she would be punished for her outburst, and quickly lowered her gaze as not to see impudent. She was prepared to defend her actions, but the lecture she had perhaps been expecting did not come. Instead the Prince merely handed her shoe back to her, turned and headed back to the General.

Thalion moved a step closer to her, and Adara leaned against him so she was able to slip her shoe back onto her foot without falling. "He is most understanding," Adara whispered, watching as the Butcher Guards halted their descent on the traitorous General. "He should have di-"

"Hush Adara," Thalion whispered harshly, causing Adara to look at him in complete shock. "You have been most fortunate this day. Do not press your luck any further." He took a deep breath, shifting uneasily on his feet as the scene before him played out.

The council had once again erupted into excited whispers, each telling their neighbor what should and what should not be done. Finally a voice called out over from the back of the crowd. "Bring her before us! The Princess must be allowed to partake in these decisions!"

[vryntil]

[/i] whip out his sword and attack him - but he forced himself not to. His anger was shown clearly on his face though, though that didn't really work in his favor against the Prince's comment - as his brow furrowed and his scowl deepened, making his wrinkles more prominant. How he wished to simply strike down the Prince and let it be over with! Unfortunately, that meant the Princess would fall as well... And the General himself would probably be killed if he even barely began to unsheath his sword. All in all, it wouldn't be a good decision, and he let his grip loosen... Until Nuada called his butcher guards on him.

His fist tightened again around the hilt when the came at him in a harsh and fast movement - and just was he was expecting the worse - Nuada, amazingly enough... Called them off. The General was utterly surprised, and yet, he knew the Prince wouldn't want him to fall by his guard's hands... Nuada would want to kill the General himself. The thought brought a smug smirk to his face - which instantly disappeared when the damned Chamberlain suddened fumbled into him, asking for his weapon.

He stayed as tense as ever for a moment, casting a glance to the guards, Nuada, and the surrounding Council, before reluctantly unsheathing his blade in a quick movement - which caused the guards to take a step forward - and flipping it so the hilt faced the Chamberlain, finally extending it to him. The Chamberlain, managing out another apology and a thank you, took the weapon in his long, spider-like fingers, and was off to place it with all the other weapons he collected.

The General did feel less powerful without his blade, but no matter. He was not about to back down yet, and he watched with narrowed eyes as the guards backed off, and the Prince came his way again. His words caused the General's hands to tighten into fists once more, except this time, he was not grasping any weapons. He forced a mockingly respectful smile and bow of his head though, taking a few steps back from the Prince, and back to his seat, as Nuada addressed the Council.

Now was not the time to make rash decisions... The General, although he had a short temper, could be patient when he wanted to be... And when it benefitted him. It seemed, though, that he would not have to wait to get what he wanted for long - the seeds of doubt had been planted - and he now had Council members agreeing with him. Perfect. Silently watching the scene continue to unfold with a grin, he slunk back to his chair and sat down... His work was done... For now.[/color][/ul]

[King Nuada Silverlance]

The council would not bend and their unwavering alliance to his beloved doppelganger wore heavily in the air. Even so the General’s dour mood did not lighten his. The prince glared ruefully at the closest of his ruling body and a younger elf visibly flinched and averted his gaze to take a great interest in the butcher guards that returned to their post. The ageless face of Nuada remained stoic but inside it churned, churned for lashing out at his other half and burned for allowing him to wonder the damage that had been done. His inner outburst had been but a weak moment and he had shut the doors to allow her to see him twist. Drawing his shoulders back, the prince rested a hand behind his back, tucked against the curve of a hip. The singular voice reverberated with the entire councils decision and the exiled soul desired to crush the proprietor.

He turned away from them sharply and stalked across the open plaza, past the General, past the twins to his father’s throne. It sat unmoving to his unholy gaze, mocking him to sit upon the stone base though no crown adorned his brow. He had lost that to a lowly demon unfit of the title. The prince carefully reached down and brushed crumbling leaves from the ornate armrest before curling his arms behind him and clasped his fingers loosely as his gaze drifted up to the rusted and metal pipes. A long time ago the walls were once surrounded by trees taller then any building of Man, tall enough to reach the heavens and let two elven children wish upon them. Nuala.

His golden eyes disappeared as blackened lids fluttered closed. The earth around him sighed longingly to return to a time it once knew, where the scorched skies and burning fields were only a nightmare. I cannot stop. He stroked the pad of his thumb across his other hand as one would soothe an invisible wound and he imagined the hitch of her breath at his touch. It was a cruel circle, hurt her and then promise he would never do it and he would know that she would know. The council would not listen.

“{Very well.}” Nuada’s voice took a weighted and weary edge and he turned to his brethren. “{Very well, a messenger of my choosing will be sent to your princess. If she has not forsaken everything that she is, then she will return.}”