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Fantasy Into the Shadows - main

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Arlon Saradeux
Silence was all the filled the once bustling international airport. Through the last five centuries, there were many attempts to rekindle the flame between human and Erebora. His great-grandfather had even ordered the construction of Erebora’s first international airport after signing a trade agreement with one of the human countries. It seemed okay for a while as many businessmen and tourists payed visit but that plan went to shit soon enough, of course. Sherolan International Airport was just a ghost of a building now.

It didn’t help that there was a brewing snow storm in the midst, adding to the overall haunted atmosphere. The only true warmth in the place was due to Arlon’s mother. She’d ordered the place to be cleaned and for the heat to be turned on. Arlon, his mother, and his father, would’ve been fine without upping the temperature, but they had to appease the human woman.

“Smile, boy,” came King Manus’ gruff voice with a menacing glare. As much as his father intimidated him, Arlon didn’t. It wasn’t the occasion that called for a smile, even a fake one at that. He was too numb to really do anything at all really.

“Manus.” Queen Andra’s cooed, placing a delicate hand on her husband’s arm. The older man immediately loosened his shoulders and offered an apologetic half-smile. She never had to say much to put his father in his place or calm him down. Perhaps that was why they got along so well. Something he and his future Crown Princess would likely not. Getting along, that is.

Andra turned her attention to Arlon, eyeing his appearance to check for the smallest imperfection. It was advised he kept his attire a bit more casual so not to intimidate the arrival, so he chose a dark gray suit jacket, black slacks, and a black t-shirt. The outfit was put together enough that he could make a public appearance, but casual enough that he didn’t seem too uptight.

His mother had followed his example with a simple topaz sweater dress that matched her eyes and paired nicely with her dark blonde hair. His father, on the other hand, wore what he usually wore. A suit and formal tie, although this time he decided to bring a coat. As insensitive as Erebora were to weather, there were still such things as fashion trends and the like. Tedious if Arlon were asked his opinion.

“She’s here. She’s here!” Andra squealed like a schoolgirl, her 6’0” frame pushing Arlon’s 6’5” forwards.

Grunting, Arlon stepped forwards while his parents remained behind him. He kept his hands to either side of his body, fists clenching and unclenching with both anticipation and annoyance. When he was face to face with the woman, he greeted her with as much civility as he could.

“Welcome to Sherolan… Princess Eithne of Aiwreron.”
 
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Eithne Warin

‘You will marry him.’

‘You will secure your position in that family. You will stand at that creature’s side no matter what it takes, do you hear me?’

That had been the first time that Eithne had dared to stand up to her father – his insistent demands had been met with a single word, one that allowed no room for negotiation. No. Whereas for many that word was easy to throw around whenever it was necessary, for her it represented a boundary that she had never thought of overstepping when it came to the ruthless man she called her father. Yet, she had refused him in one of the worst moment possible. Thinking back to it, her refusal had been stupid and foolish. Words of her engagement to the Crown Prince of Sherolan had spread as wildfire long before it had been publicly announced through the media. Eithne had not been consulted in the first place and her futile attempt to change anything after all had been said and done was thoughtless.

Thoughtless and selfish. The marriage between her and the Prince meant peace for their countries, at last. New opportunities. A fresh start. In theory at least. She owed that much to her people, to… Eyvor’s memory.

Her cheeks ached at the thought of her father’s words, at the reminder of Eyvor. Of how he had grabbed her chin and left his nails to dig a little deeper into her flesh. ‘You live instead of Eyvor. You live. I will not have you live without a purpose.’

What purpose did she have in her father’s mind? She was a simple piece on the board of the greater game. Had Eyvor lived, had he been there, she wouldn’t have found herself on a plane to Sherolan, to be married off to a monster and wonder if she would not find him dead, one day, after she had a child to take his place. She did not know what to expect from her father, once he no longer found himself desperate. She did not know what to expect from those she would live with either. The uncertainty of her fate, of her future, fooled around with her mind, making her feel hopeless.

‘Do you understand?’

Eithne had been so immersed in her thoughts that only when she felt the violent shudders of her chair did she wake from her daze. Of course, the landing could not go as smoothly as those she was used to – they had, unluckily so, arrived amid a brewing snow storm. From what she could see from the plane’s small window, it would only get worse as time passed. She felt colder only at the sight of it.

Her distracted demeanor must have alerted Malma, for the older woman’s hand reached out to her own, squeezing it lightly. Malma had tended to Eithne since she had been sixteen, looking after her day-to-day appearances and studies. Eithne considered her more of a companion or an assistant, rather than a servant of the royal family. When her eyes met Malma’s dark ones, she could easily notice the worry hidden beneath a soft smile. “Do you need a moment?” The woman offered. “We could–”

“No,” Eithne interrupted. “I am fine, really.” She tried to reassure her. Malma did not seem to buy it in the least. “Really. We should not keep them waiting.”

The older woman did sigh but did not pressure her, as the Princess gave her hand a soft squeeze before moving it away.


As Eithne made her way through the gate, with her companion and Ambassador of Aiwreron right behind her, it dawned on her. She was truly in Sherolan. The day she feared most was no longer a distant future; it represented the immediate present. Her welcoming committee, situated not so far away from her position, only made it clearer that this was not a dream or her imagination, despite the atmosphere that would make one believe otherwise. It was too quiet, far too quiet; the sound of her boots’ heels on the floor made her uncomfortable in that silence. She was thankful for the warmth at least, even though she pulled her black winter coat tighter around herself. The white body-fit dress, which Malma had suggested for the day, was not warm enough for Sherolan’s climate.

But she could not think long of fashion, her surroundings or even the cold climate she had to get accustomed to. Her troubled gaze could hardly break away from the three figures that awaited her. She tried to force her lips to curl into a smile, but it was all in vain. They formed a thin line instead as she came to face the Prince.

Perhaps, if she had not known who he was, or, better said, what he was, she might have found his appearance charming even. She knew that this was a façade for the darkness underneath though.

Eithne had, shamelessly so, browsed through numerous pictures and articles of him through the media, trying to make herself believe that this may not be as bad as she thought it was. He was taller than her, far taller than she imagined, and she found herself needing to not only raise her gaze, but to tip her head back a little as well. Tall, lean and mysterious, as they all said. And cold, she imagined, by the way his silvery-blue eyes bore into her. They seemed colder than the storm outside, enough to make her hands tremble lightly at the thought that these eyes would gaze at her every day. She folded them neatly in front of herself though, and even if she felt like running out of the airport and never return, she responded to him – like the obedient princess, the courteous young woman she was meant to be. “Thank you, my Prince. It is a pleasure to meet you, at last.”

Her attention shifted to the other two alongside him. “As it is to make your acquaintance, King Manus. Queen Andra.” She offered them a faint smile. Even if her words were mechanic, her tone was as genuine as she could make it be.

“And I’d like to present to you Ambassador of Aiwreron, Derren Rahal.” She extended her arm then, towards the light-haired man at her side. “It will be his pleasure to assist you through the preparations of re-establishing the connection between our nations… and of course, through the preparations for the wedding.” He will be her father’s eyes and ears, as the King himself would not make his appearance until the wedding.

“I am at your service, Your Majesty.” The man bowed his head in respect as he was presented.

Eithne turned towards the woman at her side then. “I think you have been announced beforehand of the presence of my companion, but this is Malma Krynn. I thought that having someone from my country at my side would make the… transition easier.” Malma bowed her head as well, with a smile. More bearable, better said. "I believe I can speak for both of them when I say that it is an honor for us to find ourselves in Sherolan, in circumstances that promise peace and a... fruitful marriage."
 
Arlon Saradeux
The first few second were spent admiring the human princess. While she was considerably short compared to Ereboran women, at least her face was somewhat appealing to look at. He’d hoped she was uglier than the photos he’d seen online or on the news, but the media failed to bring her any justice. If only she were hideous--that would’ve made ignoring her all the more easy.

A small sigh escaped his lips as he continued to look her over, shaking his head internally at her attire. The woman wore a form-fitted dress, paired with a pair of heeled boots and black coat. It was very, very subtle, but he thought he might’ve seen a slight shiver. Whatever the case, even he was dressed more warmly than her and the cold didn’t faze him at all.

Humans, the male thought with a small grunt. There was so sense of self-preservation when it came to simple survival. It was no wonder their kind was declining.

Choosing not to respond verbally but instead with a small nod, Arlon stepped aside and allowed Eithne and her party visit with his parents. He took the time to examine both companions, noting they were both older with graying hair. For a second, he made eye contact with “Malma” and awkwardly averted his eyes.

“Ambassador Darren,” came the king’s low, rich voice. He offered the man a small nod before shaking hands confidentiality. “Krister, our Ambassador, and I will be calling you over to the castle quite often. I do hope you won’t mind the three hour journey from my son’s estate to the capital.” Manus shot his son a peculiar look, as if to say he should’ve have gotten a home so far away. Arlon only looked away, however.

“Well,” came Queen Andra’s chirpy voice not long after. She walked towards Eithne and Malma, taking both their hands into hers while towering over them. “We are so happy to have you both. I’m thankful you brought someone with you, my dear,” Andra continued but directed her attention to the princess. “I’m afraid the humans in Sherolan have all but passed, so assistance on our part will be difficult.” She smiled gently before patting the young woman with her hands. “You’re welcome to bring more company-”

“What?” Arlon butted in, his impatience appearing to grow.

Andra turned her head towards her son, squinting her eyes as she glared at the male. Returning her attention to the princess, she continued, “Arlon’s home is large enough for at least eight people to have their own rooms, and I would be happy to send my personal guard to escort them from the airport.” After smiling one last time, the queen returned to her king’s side.

“Well, I’m afraid this is as long as we can stay,” Manus sighed as he checked his diamond watch. “There are many things to do in preparation for changes as well as the… marriage,” he glanced at Eithne upon saying that, “We’ll have to part ways here, but we will see you on Friday for dinner.”

Both king and queen said their goodbyes, the queen more so than her husband. Arlon stood at the same spot with the same expression--nonchalant and somewhat cold. That was when his driver, secretary, and best friend coughed loudly before pointing at the eloquent, large gift bags sitting against the wall.

Glancing at his friend, the prince strolled over to the three bags and returned to face the party of three. “My eldest sister thought you and your companions might need something to combat Sherolan’s temperatures.” He pulled out three coats--one for a man and two for women.

They were all of the highest quality, possessing a slight dash of Sherolese’s magical essence. Powers in his country was scarce, but some people seemed to possess a special sense that allowed them to weave natural energy in the air into material things. Erebora couldn’t really feel the difference, but perhaps the humans could.
 

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