Chapter 2- Occursum

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Occursum

Latin

Meeting

-

as he passed by he took the wreath from his head

and gave it to me.

And i stupidly took it

and bound it around my forehead

-

"I must apologise for appearing like this- in sweat and blood stained armour- but halfway through the journey, I realised that the rest of my party were exhausted and couldn't possibly be made to expend their energy- thus, I left with my horse, Philip- they, and the carriage with all my clothes and other valuables- even gifts for the Princess- will reach here in the next two days." Edmund, head bowed in respect and kneeling, spoke diplomatically to the High King of Rihaaya.

"A thoughtful Ruler." Sanya's father smiled, and motioned for the young King- so young, he thought, so very young- to get up. "Well, you're certainly punctual- my daughter is the one who's late- my wife should be here with her shortly. If you'd like to freshen up in your quarters, Your Majesty-"

But the older King's words were cut off, his wife hurrying down some stairs to join them at the dais.

"I apologise for the delay, King Edmund." The High Queen curtsied, cheeks flushed with exertion, as she joined her husband, taking his offered arm. "Our Sanya isn't very fond of being beautified, so was putting up quite the fight."

"I'm sure she's beautiful even without embellishments." Edmund smiled politely, before seeing a small boy- perhaps seven or eight- in a red tunic and a lopsided crown run down the stairs.

"Our youngest, the Prince." The Queen explained. "Greet him, Sameer."

"Hello." Sameer said awkwardly, bowing his head, his crown now in danger of falling off.

"Hello." Edmund replied just as awkwardly, inclining his own head of dark wavy curls towards him and ignoring the irritation he felt at the continuously delayed arrival of the Princess.

"Oh, Aanya is coming." Sameer suddenly announced, as the great golden gates in front of them opened slowly, dramatically, as if in a film.

Princess Sanya was nervous. That was one of the earliest things Edmund noticed- among other things, like her tightly coiled dark brown hair and tan gold skin, her average height, the breasts practically spilling out of her top as a result of her tight corset, her curvy physique, the bright turquoise necklace and earrings- and the fact that at this moment, she did not look sixteen. However aloof and bored her face was, her rubbing her fingers together and pulling her fingers into her palms showed her anxiety. When she had descended the steps and was closer to him, he noticed that her painted lips had been bitten and chewed and thus all the more red, that there was a pair of glasses tucked- almost inconspicuous- into her waistband, that there were trousers- riding breeches?- under her flowing skirts and that her ample cleavage wasn't merely a result of a too-tight corset, and- he might just have lost some of the murderous urge towards Peter.

He saw how she dug her fingers inside her palms and stopped her hands from shaking, a brave face projected forth, and immense respect for her blossomed in him.

Sanya thought that this must be how Psyche had felt when she had seen her husband, realizing him to be the God of Love, Eros, the handsomest of the Gods and mortals instead of a terrifying and evil monstrous creature.

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