Cinderella Wore Glass Shoes, So Priscilla Had A Tail And Scales
Chapter 2 – A Little Wine, A Little Fondling And We All Dance The Tango
A fireplace crackled loudly in the study of the Imperious King's chamber as he stood watching the second heir to his throne being fitted for his formal attire. Havel's Dragontooth rested like a giant's walking stick against the clean carpeted floors as Argon was jerked from one side to the next by the tailor in a golden suit, ready to pommel him back into the chair the King had forbade him from leaving unoccupied.
Today was the day of a grand welcoming of Ariamis. Every kingdom, greater or lesser, would be welcome with their respective monarchy's and heirs to bear witness to the glory of the empire to the North. It was a day Havel had been waiting for with much excitement swelling in his muscled breast and was no surprise that he was acting like a Dragon Scholar on safari in the Great Swamp. His flourishing land would be seen by those from far and wide, gods would cast their gazes upon the snow-lands splendour and drink from chalices of beautiful silver and gold.
But what grasped the King of the Rock by the firebomb's more than the thousands that would visit his prospering people was the fact that his prized sons would also happen to be on display. Argon and Lithecore had only come to hear of said news two moons before the event, which was the reason for Imperious King Havel's current presence with his second wayward son instead of making final arrangements with his royal guard in the ball room.
The King knew that many single princesses would be coming to Ariamis dressed in their finest in search of a suitable suitor. Although he had already promised Queen Izalith his second heir, that didn't mean he couldn't put the boy on display for all to ogle at both him and his elder brother of three minutes. Some would argue that such actions were below a King as noble as Havel. Havel, on the other hand, simply told whoever thought that to take a hike and let him manage his own children. What was the point of even having a pair of handsome identical twins if you couldn't use them in negotiations as mere flash cards?
"Uh, are you done measuring my shoulders yet?" Argon asked the tailor politely. "Sorry, its just that keeping my arms up for this long is tiring."
"Oh! Yes, by all means, Prince Argon but please… lower them slowly…" replied the tailor who was currently drooling behind said prince's back, whilst in front of the Imperious King himself. Argon merely sighed as he lowered his arms that were dressed in a thin cotton button-up.
"Now turn around, if you will." The prince did so and frowned when he saw the tailor wipe her mouth. He just wanted to finish up here, so he could prepare his mind and body to be feasted on by uptight princesses that would no doubt undress him with their eyes.
"Now take off your shirt."
"Wha? But I just did that twenty minutes ago."
"You did. It was lovel- I mean informative but I didn't manage to measure your waist properly. You kept squirming in my grip."
"That's because your grip kept directing itself down towards my waistband."
"Oh my, did it? Please forgive me, Prince Argon." The tailor replied in mock sadness and the heir ate it up like the idiot he was.
"Ah, its totally okay! Don't worry about it!" he said gently holding the tailor by the shoulders, his face etched in worry when tears appeared in the corners of the woman's eye. She looked up at him innocently and batted her lashes, making the poor boy gulp.
"Are… you certain its not a problem?" she asked meekly, and Havel saw Argon nod his head vigorously.
"Yep! Its not your fault, like you said I was moving around too much. We'll just have to do the measurements for what you missed again is all."
The woman in the golden suit smiled brightly and Havel knew his son had just fallen for the trap most clever woman were known to weave on a whim. She had spunk, the King could give her that.
"Thank you, Prince Argon!"
"Not a problem. What measurements did you not get anyways?" he asked with a sigh. She couldn't be blamed, he was rather ticklish around the waist anyways. He supposed he owed it to her to at least see it through to the end.
"Well… if I had to be honest… it would be everything."
"You got every measurement wrong?!"
"Is… is that a p-problem?" she began to tear up again.
"No, no! Everything's fine, peachy in fact! Please don't cry, we'll do the measurements from scratch."
"Great! Now please also removed your trousers." The tailor cheered.
"Um… pardon me?"
"Don't worry, you may keep your undergarments on if you so wish."
"Oh, well that's a relief- Wait! Why don't you measure my upper body first since I just took my shirt off?"
"My, my, Prince Argon. Don't you know that a tailor must measure her client from the ankles up?"
"Seriously? I've never-"
"Your trousers, please!"
"Aw, but it's so damn cold!"
A smirk decorated Havel's bearded face and he walked out of the room quietly, shutting the door behind him before striding out towards the main hall. If the sly tailor could see the appeal his boy presented and chose to try her luck with the oblivious fellow in front of her majesty's own eyes, then those Kings and Queens with their desperate daughter's would flock to Argon and Lithecore like moths to a beautiful flame. The Imperious King was no fool, he knew how dashing his boys were, they had inherited his looks and their mother's heart, after all. Well… maybe not so much Lithecore regarding the latter but it was his looks that mattered for now.
He would flaunt them like his Dragontooth for the world to see, allow various collectors of fine art to bid as high as they could for just one of his boys and allow the visiting kingdoms to be enthralled in a rivalry to obtain an alliance with Ariamis. Then, when all was said and done, he would announce that the more boisterous of the two was officially off the market as off a day ago before clamping his teeth down on the fish that had swam into his net. It was the perfect plan to establish peaceful relations with the various lands out there, plus it would be a benefit to those lands to invest in the kingdom that could potentially imprison their undead monarchs should they fall under the curse of hollowing somehow. Who wouldn't see the Undead Asylum as a powerful bargaining chip?
Now, if only he could find the other half of the pair of brothers and make him receive a pat down without severing any heads in the process. Lithecore may have been his son but that didn't mean he was the perfect example of a child of the Rock. The boy had an aversion to people in general and hated physical contact from anyone save Havel himself, Argon and his handmaiden's that dressed him daily. Then again, the older of the two had always been one to prepare ahead of time. The King of Ariamis wouldn't be surprised if Lithecore had already altered his suit for the event in advance, he was a sharp one in delivering necessary expectations when the moment arose.
"My lord Havel." The King turned on his heel and found his royal guard approaching from the wing of the main hall, panting for breath with scrolls bundled in his arms.
"Ah, Absalom! I was beginning to wonder where you ran off to." He replied and waited for his right hand to fall into step beside him. "I trust the invitations have all been received in good order?"
"Yes, indeed, Sire. Every kingdom from East to West have given their word to attend this eve."
"Any word from the Great Swamp?" Havel asked as they turned the next corner, nodding to a bowing servant rushing to resupply the cellars with this year's harvest of Frostbite wine, a specialty of Ariamis sold by the barrel full for millions of souls at a time.
"While the head disciple's have given word of their visit, it seems that Salaman will not be among them when the time comes."
"He's still off on another adventure, is he? That is a shame." The King muttered. Salaman would have been the perfect ruler of the free worlds to enlist a treaty with Ariamis. While the world saw Pyromancy as a heretical theocracy that was born from Salaman's desire for power, the Great Swamp was chock-full of useful allies that could dissolve waring nations in an instant.
"King Richard will also be attending, my Lord." Said Absalom, opening a scroll coloured red from the many bundled in his arms for Havel to read.
"The squirt is of age now. At least he'll liven things up if our festivities fail to impress those brooding gods filled to the brim with jealousy." Absalom showed him another scroll and the Imperious King's wise eyes skimmed the text before replying, "Ah, yes… perfect attendance from the Way of White. If I were a lesser man, I'd pick on the fact that they visit my kingdom almost religiously despite the fact they banish their undead from their 'clean' cities."
"I've also received word from Master Logan."
"Vinheim's greatest graduate?" asked Havel in bemusement.
"Indeed, Sire. He, along with Astora have requested private negotiations over an alliance after the festivities have ended."
"Interesting."
The King and his right hand exited the corridors and into a circular chamber with a large dais carved from glittering amethyst. Havel hesitated for a moment before entering it with Absalom and stood on the disk jutting out of its centre. The porter to their left bowed at their arrival before pulling a crack set into the wall. The dais clinked to life as chains, cogs, wheels and axles turned in unison, elevating Havel and Absalom towards the upper floor slowly. Havel did his best to stand firm against the uncomfortable feeling and tightened the grip on his Dragontooth for reassurance. He had always hated enclosed spaces, circular towers and rooms due to him being claustrophobic. It was only because of his late wife that he had even agreed to allow the servants in the castle to build this contraption his sons loved more than he did. Sure, it was a way for everyone in the castle to move quickly and efficiently but just because they all adored it didn't mean he did as well.
"There is also… one more thing of importance to note, Lord Havel." The royal guard said before handing him a scroll decorated in white and gold.
"Oh?" Havel raised an eyebrow and took it from Absalom's hands. "Why not show this one to me while we were downstairs?"
"Because it is from Lordran, Sire." Havel turned his steely gaze at his right hand as the lift stopped at the Throne Room, juddering to a halt and rattling the clamps that locked the dais into place.
"More specifically, I was given word that it came from Anor Londo."
Havel turned the scroll around in his palm and noticed the bright, golden wax sealing the letter with the Ancient Lord's crest upon it. The crest of the Lord of Sunlight. Now this was getting interesting.
"How delightful," the Imperious King stated as he and his right hand sat in their respective seat's before opening the letter itself. "It seems King Gwyn desires to bring his entourage to our snow-capped palace."
Absalom raised an eyebrow in curiosity and traced a finger against the hilt of his painting dagger absently. So, Anor Londo wanted to revisit Ariamis after what seemed like almost millennia. It was just a shame cursed wounds didn't heal fast enough. A shame indeed…
"Well, send them word of our open armed welcome. It would be wise to play along with their charade until we discover any and all ulterior motives."
"Understood, my Lord."
As night fell, the country of Ariamis erupted into a spectrum of shadowed beauty, displaying the stars in small bursts of golden sparkles and the snow upon the ground like filigree on a maiden's Sunday best. The frozen lakes and plant life chilled to a crisp texture captured the calming mood of the land whilst the natives both young and old flocked around their foreign visitors excitedly like they were heroes returning from an ancient war. There was a feeling of euphoria in the air that lightened the many King's, Queen's, heir's and servant's that entered the capital under the beautifully decorated arches above them, crafted as if by the hands of a thousand miniature sculptors with the amount of detail etched into the dark oak.
As each visitor walked through the white city lit by floating balls of azure flame, their nostrils were greeted with the rich aroma of freshly cooked meat seasoned in spices and aged red wine. Across from the crystalized lake that shimmered like blue diamonds in the light, pairs of scarlet and royal blue drakes stood upright with their rider's breathing streams and sparks of gold into the sky. The clouds that hung over the iridescent full moon seemed to absorb the cold and usher in a jolly atmosphere as every visiting human, undead, god, goddess and creature was guided into the alabaster castle of Ariamis.
Havel smiled broadly as he stood on the second floor to witness throngs of different beings flood the vast space of the ball room. This was the moment he had been waiting for, the day he had anticipated and planned for ceaselessly for more than a few centuries. Every recognised nation, religion and race had accumulated under his marvellous banner. It didn't matter whether the Clerics were still at odds with the Duke of Carim or if the men of Catarina had had too much ale to sup before arriving here, it was a pure miracle and joy that everyone had actually come – not to mention on time for once, Havel was certain he had just accomplished a world record today.
Now, his dream of establishing peace and friendly relations with the powers at large would finally come true. Since ancient times after the mishap between the Everlasting Dragons had occurred, Ariamis had not been in a position to announce their existence due to the frivolous mindset of people during the birth of the First Flame. Lord Ariamis, the founder of the snowy land, had fought with all his might to keep his home protected and invisible from the eyes of plunderers and greedy nobility that prowled the earth during that time. And so, the wise ruler and powerful artist had come up a solution to divert the world's attention from his home; the Undead Asylum.
But now, after the rise, fall and evolution of humankind and other species alike, after generations and eras had come and gone… the empire to the North was finally able to show itself to more than just a few acquaintances. Today marked the first time in the great annals that every civilization had come to recognise the Imperious King's domain. There would no more need to lurk in the blizzards, maintain the wards and illusionary walls conjured up by his ancestor. Now, all Havel would need to do was govern this prosperous land like the benevolent King he was. It was a momentous occasion, so overwhelming that the proud man of the Rock nearly shed a tear or two; nearly.
He turned his gaze to Absalom who nodded for him to proceed after everyone of importance had settled down below him and the Imperious King cleared his throat loudly, preparing for the words he would say that would set his country's name forever in everlasting stone.
"Welcome, all who have gathered here from the four corners of the world!"
A chorus of cheers and whistles erupted from the ball room and Havel allowed another smiled to grace his lips. This was almost like a sweet dream he never wanted to wake up from. If only his wife, his father, his great ancestor could be here to see the unity of the world in one room, they would all truly break down in tears. Such was the emotions leaking from the clean suit the Imperious King wore.
"While a select few have come to know this blessed land in the days of old, and others come to hear rumour of us from the Asylum we maintain, my people and I have treasured the peace and security we have been able to uphold with the world. From the humble beginnings of the skilled thereon Ariamis who crafted our nation with the brush of life, to my father, the elder of the Rock who cultivated this beautiful land into the glory you see before you, it is an honour to finally welcome, with open arms, our neighbours and friends.
"As Imperial King, I ask that you be spoilt by the works of our hands, spirited away with the kindness of our people and blessed by the love we share. May you be welcomed, and may our kingdoms grow together after the introduction of this evening…"
The applause and shouts that followed was almost deafening and Havel bowed deeply, revelling in the sheer pleasure his achievement had brought his kingdom. Now he could die with a smile on his face knowing that the seeds of hope would continue to sprout diligently even after his sons took the title of Imperious King – for it was only together that Ariamis would continue to prosper, not that either son would disagree even if they were polar opposites.
He snapped his fingers and his servants opened the doors to various areas within the castle as the musicians began to play and the chefs lined large dining tables with food and drink. The visitors below began to converse with the locals and other nations as Havel descended the stairs and onto the ball room floor. His Dragontooth was absent tonight as it rested comfortably inside his bottomless box, ready at a moment's notice to be drawn from a pouch on his hip in case anything went wrong – which he sincerely doubted since both his loyal Painting Guardians and Bloated-Heads were stationed throughout the castle and the city. That reminded him, he would need to thank his youngest son for the ingenious idea. Who know one could shrink the indominable size of those enormous chests to fit the curve of your palm?
The King glanced around the room, taking in the various divinity and their respective kingdoms. They were hard to miss really, being twice the height of any human or undead, and he noticed that the room was sparser than he had imagined. Rather, it was lacking a small army of about a thousand Silver Knight's along with the beings they were to protect until death claimed them.
'So, Anor Londo is going to be fashionably late as usual', Havel thought with a grunt, 'how typical of them.'
He was about to request a servant bring him a glass of wine when a feminine voice caught his attention, making him turn and open his mouth in surprise. He hadn't expected the hunting of his young scoundrels to begin this soon… oh well, when a woman was hungry she was untameable.
"Ah! Mistress Ella Cinder, what a pleasure it is to see you again." Havel said, putting on a large smile.
"Mistress seems a bit overdone, don't you think Uncle?"
The Imperious King could only smile wider. Ella Cinder's story was known throughout the entire world for her days as a lowly servant to her step-mother and sisters many years ago. Her account of how she had come to fall in love with a disguised prince and receive the blessing of the goddess of favour and protection to attend a royal ball had been – and still was – the dream of all maidens today. Who knew a single crystalline slipper could spark that much uproar in one country? Furthermore, who knew the famous prince that sought high and low for her was the Nameless King himself? It was a small world after all, although it was expected since the country Ella lived in was Lordran – before Gwyn had exiled his firstborn that is.
"It is a great joy to see you so well, dear. Look how much womanlier you've become!" Havel teased and received a playful slap on the shoulder.
"Oh, stop it already. I'm turning red."
"By this point, I'm certain you're used to it. That husband of yours is no slouch when it comes to the expressing the feelings of the heart, and a what a big heart it is, given his size… if I'm not mistaken you've four beautiful daughters now. Is the God of War just that fertile or are you just eager to snuggle during Winter nights?"
Ella Cinder stared wide-eyed at Havel before her pretty face flushed a deep scarlet. The Imperious King grinned triumphantly at this, it had always been a specialty of his to embarrass his god-daughter with the truth. When news had come about the woman's marriage Havel had rushed to Anor Londo, kicked down the infirmary door and embraced his long-lost child with unbridled affection and love. Ella's parents were his trusted friends before they had met their end, and Ella was almost like his own flesh with the way he cared for her as a wee babe. When that arrogant step-mother of hers and those atrocious imps called sisters came into the picture, they had taken her far away from his reach. Havel had been unable to care for her, protect her like he had promised, ensure she lived like the royalty she truly was before her home had been destroyed by war.
Now here she stood before him as the symbol of grace, elegance and benevolence. A true testament that sheer love and kindness could eliminate all troubles and usher in a new order of peace and prosperity. When the King of Ariamis thought about it properly, it was probably for the best that he hadn't found her. How would she have overcome so much, married the man of her dreams and inspired women around the world to be brave in the face of calamity if he had given her the lavish life of a Northern princess? How fate had a way of using people to better society at large.
"Speaking of the stoic fellow, where is Gwyn Jr. at this hour?" Havel asked as he looked around the room. He was sure he would have seen a god over ten feet tall wearing a golden ribcage and rags for armour anywhere. The boy was famous for never wearing anything besides that particular set of clothing.
Ella managed a giggle despite her embarrassment and covered her mouth with a gloved hand. "He doesn't like it when you call him that, Uncle Havel."
"He doesn't like it when I call him 'Nameless' or 'skeleton' either. The boy's so picky that he's starting to resemble someone with the exact same trait." Behind Havel, near a group of Dragon Scholar's, Lithecore sneezed before looking up at the falling snow and cursing the cold.
"I'm guessing he didn't choose to come in favour of a certain prideful god making an appearance tonight?"
"Yes," Ella replied and nodded once. "He's still not ready to face his father yet, although I feel that its because he may try and impale him rather than talk if they meet face-to-face."
"I don't blame him, Ella. What Gwyn did in the past cannot be easily forgotten… Honestly, I'm taking a gamble just by inviting that sad excuse of a father here in the first place." Ella placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and smiled sadly.
"You do your best to live up to the expectations of Aunt Carmella."
Havel looked at her and sighed.
"She would have wanted me to forgive and forget anyways."
To Ella Cinder, Havel's wife was like the mother she had lost. Carmella was kind, loving and thoughtful of others. Her soft smile could brighten up a sombre room in an instant and her voice was a soothing melody, a testament to the tranquillity of Ariamis and the gems it held amongst the falling snow. She was also a woman of unmatched intellect and wit, keeping her dear husband on his toes as she turned Ariamis' people into the welcome souls everyone saw before them today. She was the reason Ella's dear godfather was so comical when he spoke naturally. Carmella had been Havel's life, something more special to him that the Dragontooth he waved around. Her kind nature was the only thing that had changed the rugged ways of Havel, the Rock into the pristine and noble Imperious King Ella saw before her. It was a shame she had to leave so soon after giving birth to two beautiful sons that rivalled her in both wit and personality.
Speaking of Havel's sons, Ella glanced to her left to see a tall young man dressed in a fine black suit converse with a pyromancer from the Great Swamp. His long hair was pulled back against his scalp and the paleness of his skin contrasted wonderfully with the deep amber of his eyes. Ella's eyebrow quirked, and she turned around, catching Havel's attention before he looked towards the same direction.
"Ah, yes. I suppose you also came here with the intention of introducing my sons to your daughter's. Elise, Emilie and Ender, if I'm not mistaken?"
"They've been nagging me to bring them here ever since they were little. If it's not the snow or the drakes that catch their attention, then it's Argon and his infectious personality."
Havel smiled fondly at the memory, the boys had been no older than five when they had met Ella's daughters for the first time. While Lithecore had been the same, choosing to live in the library instead of mingling outside, Argon had been a small knight in alabaster clothing for the trio of sisters. Honestly, he had never seen the boy so happy when he had shown those little girls the entire city in the span of a day. Had it really been that long ago since they had visited?
"He's grown so much since then."
"That he has, Lithecore as well… although both stray far away from the opposite sex. Argon more so than his brother for some reason."
"So, the announcement of the arranged marriage between him and one of the Sisters of Izalith didn't go so well, I take it?" Ella placed a hand to her chin.
"Can a quick-tempered man be taught patience?"
"I see."
They watched as Argon laughed at a joke the pyromancer said before turning to a maiden in a scarlet corset that had just approached them. She had her silver hair tied up in the prettiest bun you would ever see, and her ivory skin almost looked like white marble – smooth and unblemished. They saw Argon smile with the pyromancer and both men took turns to embrace the maiden before conversing and parting ways, the heir of Ariamis pointing outside whilst the pyromancer and the maiden walked hand in hand in the direction given to them.
"The Witch and her daughters are already here?" Ella asked.
"They arrived at the same time as everyone else. They blend into the crowd well." Havel replied.
"Indeed, we do, Imperious King of Ariamis." A third voice agreed with him.
Havel and Ella turned around to see the Witch of Izalith standing behind them, a cowl over her breath-taking features as she smiled at the two of them. In one of her scorched hands was a glass of wine and she swirled it gently before gingerly taking a sip, moaning quietly at the exquisite flavour.
"Now, why didn't you come straight up to the second floor when you arrived?" asked Havel, as he embraced the Izalith Witch and kissed her cheek. "It would have saved me the trouble of sending a servant to find you."
"I don't enjoy being the centre of attention," she replied and took another sip from her glass. "besides, I wanted to mingle a bit more before I came to you. This is a ball, is it not?"
She was correct in what she spoke of. After meeting with him, the entirety of her night would be taken up discussing various topics dealing with their alliance from trade to produce. She deserved to enjoy the freedom this event held before he occupied her schedule. On the other hand, it wasn't like he was going to force her to sit down and talk about nothing but business and the wedding that was to come. He wasn't an old fart that devoted his life to sitting on his throne, he also wanted to enjoy the ball.
"I won't keep you long, Morwena. You of all people know that I'd much rather get drunk on ale than engage in mundane conversation."
The Witch smiled at this remark and took another sip from her nearly depleted glass of wine before turning to Ella and curtsying politely. "A pleasure to meet your acquaintance again, Queen of Cinder."
"The pleasure is all mine." Ella replied and curtsied. "It has been a while, how is your dear son keeping?"
Morwena hiccupped and steadied her balance. How many of those glasses had she had already? Havel knew she was a lover of good wine but any more from his cellar and she would fall into eternal slumber. There was a reason he only gave a single full glass of the aged batch to each King and Queen, it was just too potent to be supped twice. The King turned to her and scratched his beard. She had a strong constitution if she could still manage to stand and speak normally.
"Still clumsy, as before… he recently lost the enchanted ring I melded onto his finger and hasn't been able to revert to a more acceptable form. Lately the soldiers within the kingdom have begun to call him 'Ceaseless Discharge'. A fitting name since all he does is ooze flowing lava from the pores on his oversized body."
"Oh my, I'm so sorry." Ella said with a hand on Morwena's arm.
"Don't- hic - bother… at least he keeps the- hic - forges lit." She took another sip from her glass and frowned when she realized that there wasn't any wine remaining for her to drink. With a pout she turned the glass over as a small drop fell to the carpeted floor. The Witch of Izalith looked around for a servant to bring her another glass when she noticed someone a few feet in front of her before calling out.
"Argon?" said undead heard his name being called and turned towards the trio of King and Queen's.
"Argon! It is- hic - yooouu!" Morwena slurred and attempted to walk forward when she tripped on her black dress and fell forward. Argon's eyes widened, and he rushed forward, catching the Izalith Queen in his arms and sighing that he made it in time. He may have had reservations when it came to this whole arranged marriage business, but it didn't mean he wanted to see the woman face-plant in front of a plethora of other rulers. The heir's eyes rose to his father as he steadied the Witch on her own two feet and saw the man smile warmly. Argon smiled back, he knew his old man wouldn't have been fast enough to catch the falling woman. It was a good thing he had spent the last of his souls enhancing his reflexes prior to this event.
"Morwena, are you alright?" Ella asked in a worried tone, her hands gently resting on the Izalith Queen's shoulders as she mumbled unintelligibly. Wait, was that… four-year old Blood-Drop Argon smelt on his future mother-in-law's breath? No wonder she was a stumbling mess, a glass of that and you'd be smack-dab on the floor singing like a tired bard.
"You really shouldn't be drinking so much. Remember the last time you drank from Uncles vats and nearly died?" she scolded the older woman before an empty glass was shoved into her face.
"Here deary… bring me another- hic - glass of that delicious Blood Stopper!"
"Blood-Drop."
"Yes please!" she shouted with enthusiasm before placing the side of her face against Argon's chest and inhaling deeply. "Ahhh! Ever since old age you've shrunk, Havel." She dragged her burnt hands across Argon's front before feeling his shoulders, back and finally groping his backside, making the heir yelp and blush.
"Oooh! And you don't smell like an old man today!" Havel frowned and sniffed his arm. He smelt just fine, dammit.
Argon, meanwhile, continued to struggle against the Witch of Izalith as she embraced him tightly, rubbing her cheek against the waistcoat covering his chest as she mistook him for his father. Well, at least she was a vibrant woman that wouldn't bore the marriage he was being forced into. He should probably tell her who he was before she did something drastic in her drunk state, as it was she was currently approaching his face with her red lips all pouty. Who knew she had the hots for his old man?
"Um… Lady Izalith…"
"Hmm?" she replied.
"You're not hugging my father."
"I'm not?!"
"No, you are holding onto me… Argon. his son."
Ella and Havel watched as she brought up a hand to remove her cowl from her head. Lush, wavy hair spilled forth framing the heart-shaped curve of her ivory cheeks and she looked up at Argon with wide onyx eyes. Then, suddenly, she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck before gingerly rubbing her cheek against his with a large smile on her face, rendering the poor prince a stuttering mess as he tried to get the woman off of him.
"Havel!" she screamed, causing a few people to turn a look at her in confusion.
"Yes Morwena?"
"He's handsomer than I thought! Ooh! And so strong… Forget about him marrying my daughters, allow him to marry me!"
If it was even possible, Argon turned a shade whiter than his usual paleness and stiffly turned his head towards his father. Havel nearly burst out laughing at how pleading the boy's gaze was. Even Ella giggled behind her hand at the display, it was too much. The Imperious King, for his part, simply shook his head and grinned. Even the Queen of Izalith was willing to throw herself at him, a literal God of Life and he was still adamant to marriage?! Havel wished he had been that sought after when he was younger, then again, he would have still married his wife regardless of the path his life took. He just wished he had that much attention growing up.
"Now, Now, Morwena, you know I can't do that. It's not that I wouldn't mind you as a daughter-in-law, but you already have seven children. Besides, if I let you marry Argon where would our fluctuating chemistry go? I'd be green with envy, I would!"
"Let's not forget that you're passed the age of marriage now, dear." Ella put in.
"Phooey!" Morwena pouted and pressed her face against Argon again. The prince, who couldn't seem to decide whether to run or comfort the sad Witch, chose the latter and embraced the woman, awkwardly stroking the back of her head as she sighed and snuggled closer into his body. She mumbled something about him being warmer than her Chaos Flame-whip and he didn't know if she was complimenting him or not.
"Ah! Aunt Ella, its great to see you again." Argon said after he noticed her.
"Argon look how much you've grown," she replied with a warm smile.
"How are Elise, Emilie and Ender? I haven't seen them since we were children."
"Yes, Ella and I were just talking about that," Havel said. Now was his chance to tease the boy further, he rarely got the chance with his repeated attempts to avoid the topic of marriage. "They've grown into quite the beauties, I hear. And they nagged dear Ella here to see you, all three of them. They are of age, after all."
Havel mentally grinned when he saw his son gulp involuntarily.
'That's the stuff! How's payback taste, 'ya brat?!'
"Perhaps you should meet them!" Ella said excitedly, aware of Havel's childish jab. He really needed to act more like an adult but then again, she really wanted him to meet one of her daughters. Perhaps in doing so she could persuade her Godfather to change his mind about Izalith and marry Argon off to one of the children of Cinder instead?!
"I-I should?" Argon stuttered. Why were the odds never in his favour? "W-Well, I suppose it couldn't hurt-"
"Nonsense!" The Izalith Queen blurted out in her drunken state and pulled him towards the dance floor. "I want to dance now, and Havel isn't young enough to keep up with me."
Again, Havel frowned and looked over his muscular form. He wasn't that old… was he?
"A-Are you sure?!" Argon asked as he was pulled into the river of dancers and their partners by Morwena.
"Of course! And while we're at it you can tell me why you're so against marrying one of my daughters."
The prince's eyes widened as he fell into a fast waltz with a slurred Queen in his arms, earning him a few jealous looks from the other princesses that had been eyeing him from the moment they arrived.
"Quelaag really isn't that bad, she's just a Tsundere!"
"Wha? How do you even know what that means?"
"Shiva visits my chunibyo daughter from time to time. I learn stuff!"
"You need to calm down, we're going to knock into the other dancers!"
"I'm going to Heaven if you keep caressing my hips like that!"
"Woah watch out! Watch out!"
"Wheeee!"
Havel and Ella watched as the poor heir redirected the drunk Izalith Witch from smashing into a food table before guiding her into the proper stance as the music changed and they were forced into a faster tempo. They spun and twisted as Argon complained that all that spinning would make her sick, and Morwena simply laughed, stating that turbulence was her life… or something like that.
"Are you okay with this? She'll keep him to herself until he's spent."
"It's fine with me, Uncle."
"He won't be able to meet your daughter's if we leave them like this."
"They'll be furious with me but will understand. Let him get to understand that marriage isn't a bad thing."
"Even if it's forced?" Havel questioned with a sigh. Things would be so much different if they didn't require a marriage to settle this alliance.
"He'll come to understand… besides, my daughters still have your other son to keep them company."
Havel flinched, "Lithecore doesn't fancy anyone as company. You realize that, don't you?"
"And yet, Emilie and Ender still haven't stopped talking about him. In fact, isn't that him over there with Ender right now?"
"You really want to get one of my sons hitched with one of your daughters, don't you?" The Imperious King said with a thick eyebrow raised to her. Ella just smiled in reply.
"'Men of Ariamis treat their woman like prized titanite, close guarded to their hearts.' At least… that's what I've been told by a certain someone." She said and wiggled her eyebrows at him in reply.
"Carmella," Havel sighed and put a hand to his face. "Damn that woman and her lovable big mouth."
As the Imperious King was shaking his head, he felt Ella tug the arm of his coat with more force than necessary and he raised his head to question why she was behaving like a small child when he came face to face with a man he hoped never to see again. Havel couldn't stop a smile from growing on his face as he saw his side of the crowd part for the nobility of the Shinning City.
'About damn time they came. I was going to serve dessert by this point.'
"What took you so long? Couldn't fit through the painting with all those Knights in tow?"
"It's good to see your mouth hasn't lost its edge, Archbishop Havel. Too bad your body couldn't do the same, I fear I might feel bad if I swat you to the ground like I did in the old days."
The Imperious King's grin only grew wider and Ella stepped back as he suddenly took a step forward into the face of the great Lord of Sunlight.
"How about we test that theory?"
I didn't know what the Witch of Izalith's real name was, or if she even had a name. After checking on the fandom site and various wikis I still found nothing, so she has been blessed with the name Morwena since I couldn't think of a fancy name starting with the letter Q. Don't hate on me if it isn't up to Dark Souls standards because I couldn't care less about petty prejudices over a simple name. I had a lot of fun creating her personality and seeing her drunk let me in stitches.
Big old Nameless will make an appearance here for a few brief intervals (or longer depending on the escalation of this spin-off) and he'll be facing daddy-dearest to boot.
As you probably already guessed, Ella Cinder is the DS version of Cinderella. Her name was like a big red button I couldn't help hitting down with gusto and twisting to fit the story, and yes, she is Nameless' wife. Hit me with as much flames as you like for that if you want to… I honestly really enjoyed creating her, and the fact that her surname was Cinder just made her perfect for the role as Firstborn's honey-bunny.
The next chapter features our favourite cross breed and the Elite Knights of Gwyn, so stay tuned! We also get a sneak peak at what our shivering elder brother really thinks about marriage…