Folke ♥︎|| Folkelore

♥︎ 14 ♥︎

Derek leaves us at the door to the throne room. Voices and other noises float through the open doorway and my stomach clenches. I've never been socially awkward or anxious, but something about this situation just doesn't sit right with me. My intuition is telling me I'm not going to like this.

But I just roll back my shoulders, lift my chin and walk head high into the room with my husband by my side. All eyes turn to face us, and I feel like I walked in undressed. I slip on my princess expression and keep walking.

I am meant to be here. I am worthy of their attention. I am a Princess. One day I will be a Queen. Possibly Queen of all Extier. I am powerful and— that's it. That's all I've got.

I stop and my eyes wander around the room. For one thing, it's filled to the brim with people. The ceiling reaches as high as the eye can see, filled with alcoves and beautiful stone work that is dark and moody. Beautiful stone pillars line the walls adding to the ambiance. Steps lead to the throne, which is elevated off the floor, so it's visible from every angle of the room. A beautiful family crest hangs behind the throne where Queen Octavia lounges.

Suddenly, my eyes lock onto deep green almost black eyes that I know exceedingly well. Bastien. Is in Scle. He grins and makes his way through the crowd to me.

"Cousin, I was not expecting you to be here, but it is a very pleasant surprise," He greets me, hugging me tightly and kissing each of my cheeks before dropping his head and placing a fist to his chest in a sign of obeisance.

"What are you doing here, Bastien?" I hiss, and Apollo sets his hand on my lower back.

He glances around quite suspiciously before leaning in close. "Your parents sent me to scope out the court," he says, his voice dropped to a whisper. He steps back, correcting his posture and rubs his finger under his nose.

My mouth drops open in surprise. Father said he was away on business, but this? He couldn't warn me that I might see my cousin in the very place I wanted to meet him? Before I can question him about it, Derek comes and announces dinner. I find myself studying him as he leads the way to the dining hall. As he walks, I almost forget he's a servant. He walks with such grace and confidence, he definitely has some kind of formal background. And yet there is a humility to the way he holds himself.

It's not a far walk to the dining hall, and soon I'm sitting at the long table. Apollo goes to sit beside me, but Queen Octavia objects.

"Oh no Prince Apollo, your spot is here next to me."

He looks at the spot—the spot of honor—and then back at me. "I thank you, Your Majesty, but I would prefer to sit beside my wife."

He then sits, much to the room's shock and horror. The Queen glares daggers at him and if looks could kill, I'd be a widow.

"I said, you will sit here. That is Sir Harold's seat." A young, very young, man with an atrocious underbite steps forward. My eyes widen. Tierians usually possess perfectly sculpted features. It's only when one crosses species that things go wrong. If I had to guess, I would say Sir Harold's father was an ogre. An ugly one.

"Forgive me, Queen Octavia, but I won't be moving." Apollo then takes his napkin and lays it across his lap before taking a sip from his goblet.

My face heats, and I grab his hand, pulling him towards me. "It's alright, you can go sit by her. I'll be fine."

He winks at me and shakes his head. "Not a chance." I open my mouth to object, that I am perfectly capable of handling myself but he continues. "That I'm moving. I know you are perfectly able to eat on your own."

Queen Octavia scoffs, slamming her hand into the table. "I will take it as a personal insult if you do not move this instant."

"I do not mean offense, Your Majesty. I only mean to enjoy this meal with my wife."