The uncontrollable power lurking beneath Princess Alethia's skin can either be the savior of the Four Kingdoms or its destruction.
Princess Alethia was raised on three principles: (1) Mercy is for the weak, (2) Emotions are an unwanted distraction...
A/N: I think you guys are really going to enjoy this chapter :) It's broken into two parts since it's on the longer side. But please leave comments, I would love to hear what you guys think about it!
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Aydin stepped through the tent, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. He glanced up from the golden rugs laid across the sand and landed on the hooded figure standing next to a small table with white teacups.
The figure was almost his height and lean from the narrow draping of their blue cloak. Aydin cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck as the awkward silence persisted.
When the figure gestured with a quick hand at the black pillows around a low-standing grey table, Aydin moved to unstrap his spear and settle down. The person's cloak rustled as they added tea to two cups from a steaming pot before walking over to deposit one in front of Aydin.
He tried to peek under the hood but could only glimpse darkness and a hint of ice blue eyes. The person moved and sat on the opposite side of the table, grasping the teacup and taking a sip.
Aydin peered down at the contents. It was a murky green like the bottom of a swamp. He debated if he wanted to turn his stomach lining inside out or face the wrath of being impolite in front of his mysterious host.
The appearance of the tea made his stomach churn and he looked away from it, his decision already made. He had to agree with Ren on this one. Their tea was the definition of horror. He'd be damned if he drank even the tiniest bit of it.
At the thought of Ren, their brief conversation at the well resurfaced in his mind.
"The only redeeming quality about you is your fighting capabilities," Aydin grunted out reluctantly, refusing to look at Ren as he pulled on the rope to bring up the bucket of water. "I will give you that."
When he was met with silence from his less than talkative companion, Aydin sighed, rolling his eyes. "For heaven's sake, you need to loosen up a little bit."
"Every time you open your mouth, I want to shove my ax down your throat," Ren responded. "You're nothing but a damn alcoholic idiot."
Despite the way his words struck his pride, Aydin felt mildly amused. It was reminiscent of the way Sephirah had stepped up to him and told him the hardest words he'd ever had to hear. At the thought, shame and gratitude webbed together in his chest.
The thing with Ren was that as opposed to the political politeness of the court—the beating around the bush in an attempt to power play or kiss ass—he just said exactly what he thought in the rudest way known to man.
And Aydin had to admit, he generally liked it. At least, when he wasn't the brunt of the majority of his words.
He filled the canteen hanging from his hips with water before holding out the bucket for Ren. When the long-haired ax warrior grabbed it, Aydin reached over and clasped his shoulder, letting out a slight chuckle.
