A/N: I totally forgot to mention that I've changed the whole fanfic from chapter 1. So those of you who followed it before and are confused reading from chapter 5, please reread from chapter 1 :D
Arthur has never seen his younger sister this apprehensive. The last time she did was when she thought she was pregnant. For one week she stayed in bed, chanting spells and hexes to see if she was, in fact, pregnant.
She wasn't.
Since there were only four of them who were coming down to Albion, it was necessary that the Albion party didn't scare them off with a number of people attending the meeting.
In the end, Arawn and Arthur agreed to only allow Ogam, Rhiannon and Octavia attend the meeting, without spilling anything of the meeting itself. Morgan and the elves had no clue as to why the grand meeting hall was strictly prohibited for the time being.
Octavia stood before the doors. The sunlight pouring in through the long windows has gracefully amplified the intricate design of the entrance. When she came here to meet Decimus and Arawn, everything was rushed and in a haze. She didn't get to note how detailed the carvings of the door were.
This was it.
"Judgment Day," she thought. Tugging onto her cravat that raveled her collar, sweat trickled down her neck as a silent Decimus buttoned her red vest. His towering figure bent his knees when the button neared her leggings. When he finished, he hopped up, saluted with a smile and stood at rest by the doors.
"I know you have not met them for a very long while," Decimus started optimistically. "When I met them last week, it was my first. With all honesty, they are very humble and caring. Thus, there is no need to fret, milady,"
"Don't address me that way," Octavia snapped. It was still astonishing how this cheerful man used to be Gaius' assistant. "How do I look?"
"Like a very young Atia," he said. Octavia stifled a chuckle before hearing a series of sharp footsteps. From a distance, she saw four people smartly walking towards her. Her heart made a drumroll.
They were here. Tall and slender figures, silhouetted by the enormous pool of morning shine, approached as they corrected each other's vests and capes.
Atia had her blonde hair tied into bun whilst leaving a few chunks of hair hanging by her ears. Despite being older than her mother, Octavia could hardly see a wrinkle on her skin. She proudly donned a black vest as the breeze fluttered a small red cape behind her.
Nero's attire was much like Arthur's new formal clothing. They both sported sleek coats and capes that were rimmed from the finest fur the nation could obtain. Octavia was amazed to see how his face has changed a lot since the last time they met. His unkempt blond hair was distinct as always. Atia tried to smoothen it several times but to no avail. He kept ruffling it back again, with much disgust.
Mark Antony and Claudia wore common uniforms. Both of them were perfectly groomed. Their dark hair weren't anywhere as messy as the young Emperor. All in all, they were basically in three colours. Black. Red. Gold.
"Wow," Decimus breathed.
Atia finally noticed her niece. Crimson eyes blinked.
The second she stopped in her tracks, right before Octavia, the group synced their halts, as expected from a family of perfectionists. For a long moment, they looked. Two meters separated the long awaited encounter.
From left to right, Decimus shifted his gaze, noting how he stood right in the middle yet away from their vision. "Good morning," Atia spoke. Her voice was a tad deeper than her niece's. "You… You look…"
"She looks exactly like Aunt Caesonia," Nero voiced as he cracked a smile. Ignoring the three speechless nobles, he stretch out his large hand, encased in purely white gloves. Octavia gracefully shook it with a nod. She did so with the other three. However, when it came to the handsome Mark Antony, he simply bowed low and pecked her knuckles.
"What a mistake I have made," he muttered to Claudia. The two shared a wink before giggling. Octavia made a face. She had almost forgotten how they were both very close to marrying each other. "Apologies, ma'am," He turned to Atia. "Shall we?"
She nodded, silently observing the wooden art of the entry. With a loud creak, the doors sprang open as Decimus gave a hefty push. The Demon King, Albion King, his sister and the elder wise mage rose from their seats as the four imperials briskly entered to stand by remaining seats.
Once they were comfortably at their places, Decimus swiftly closed the doors shut when Octavia curtly signaled.
"Good Morning, everyone," Arthur announced from the opposite side of the table.
"Good Morning," the four answered, synched again.
"Please, sit," Gesturing his hand, the King gave a friendly smile.
"Why, King Arthur," Nero snickered. Confidence was clearly heard from his tone. He folded his hands behind him, creating a polite stature. "We have caused so much of a ruckus for your party to organize this. The least we can do for our first act of sincere gratitude is for you to sit before we do," His fluency made Arthur's eyes flutter.
Coming behind the four, Octavia made her way to the last seat. "However, you are our guests," she said in a sleek voice. "And this is the Albion Kingdom. Must we insist?"
The Emperor gave an astounded look to Atia before turning back to his cousin. "If the lady persists," Octavia gave a smirk.
In a single swoop, the Emperor pulled the big chair as he sat, content. The other three followed after him, as did the rest of the people. Atia crossed her legs much like how Octavia had just done. Nero sighed.
"What a beautiful kingdom, I must say," the Emperor stated. He looked around to admire the many arches of the room. To his left, where the wide windows were, majestically hung four long knitted posters, baring the Albion's emblem.
"I've never seen so many colours," Claudia said hastily. They laughed at her remark. That was true. The empire had always been bland in their colours. Coming to Albion must have been an explosion of cheerful ambiance.
Arthur loosened his grip on his fingers, realizing how relaxed the four were. Still, their poised and perfectly synced mannerism was what irked the King.
The Albion Kingdom has never been one to practice formal gestures and phrases. So, when eloquent sentences spill out of the imperial's mouth, Arthur can't stop himself from getting momentarily perplexed at their existence. He was impressed.
"Shall we begin?" Arthur asked as the laughter died down.
"Excited, are we?" Nero said in a nonchalant manner. The young King didn't know why he felt a bit embarrassed with that tease. "Before I get to the main objective, I would like to simply ask of you, Albion people, whether you've heard of the Black Being," Everyone was quiet for a while, sharing confused looks at each other.
"Tales of the Black Being?" Rhiannon feebly broke the silence. "We've heard myths about it while we were children. Remember?" Arthur nodded at his younger sister. "Why?"
"Would you care to share a few things about it, my fair lady?" Mark asked curiously. Rhiannon trembled. His voice was too elegant to be that of a man's. Furthermore, this topic was so out of the blue that the fact she was not expecting it made her feel somewhat miniscule in the meeting.
"Well," she started. She paused to gather her thoughts. "The creature lurks at night to haunt villagers of their greatest fears. There were numerous stories about it but I doubt any of them were true. They were mere rumours to stop us from going out into the woods when we were children…"
"I remembered there was a man from our tribe who supposedly encountered it," Arthur chipped in. The gazes in the room spun to him. "According to him, it could change its shape and form to your fears," Arthur noted Nero's inquisitive looks that never left his eyes. "Forgive me. May I ask why you inquire on such an irrelevant topic?"
"It's not irrelevant," Nero snarled. "What you find as simply tales and myths to scare children seems to be the utter truth in our party… This being you call a rumour has been attacking our innocent people- villagers, farmers, harvesters and visitors. Hundreds reported injured. Thousands reported killed or at least, lost," The people around the table gawked in shock. Rhiannon just gasped. "You see- we have not the smallest clue as to what this creature is, let alone what it is capable of doing. Yet, you Albion people do…"
"Are you accusing us for your mishaps?" Arawn quickly questioned with a monotonous voice.
"No, no," Octavia groaned at the Demon King. How daft, she thought. She turned to Nero. "Such a simple task must be deemed impossible if you are currently seeking for our assistance, dear Emperor. Must it be that… this is not your area of expertise?"
Nero tried to hide his scowl at her. Arthur swallowed. "Straightforward as always, my cousin. Yet, able to deduce quite accurately," He tapped his fingers on the table before he took in a deep breath.
Octavia braced for the statement. She knew what was coming next.
"Albion, we would like to make an alliance with you,"