" SHE SPOKE OF TEMPTATION "

HIS MOVEMENTS DROWNED out the world that laid to waste around her, the sleek gold of his clothing catching the distant lighting of the cold room. The shadows that ate at the corners of the vast area dissolved with the radiance of the being, the Elves strides carrying the weight of a unknown stars.
Augustina's world seemed dimmed in the comparison to the movements of the Elven men before her, their soundless footsteps carried with the silence of the summer breeze. Their coordination practiced, for every footfall was in sync.

The throne room was quiet, the tension between the men evident as the King of Theadale tapped with impatient motivation against the armrest of the throne he occupied. Earning the greedy King a hesitant shift from Dorian, the Prince's emerald hued eyes drifting from his beloved father to flourish on the Elves that approached with a gust of silence.

Augustina felt herself drawn to the leader of the group, his appearance alone speaking volumes of his status.
The King of the woodland folk walked through the halls of Theadale's castle, his crown of twisted bark settled promptly against his cranium. His smoothed skin set aglow with natural enhancement, his slender nose straightened with the craftsmanship of unknown Gods.

The King of Mageía Forest, undoubtedly matched the appearance of man. His hair cascading along his spine, brushing across his shoulders to press against his hips in a straight line of the richest brown. The tattoos along the man's skin drew Augustina curiosity, for his forehead was decorated with faded ink of black, the design formatting the branches of a sprouting tree.

Starting between his dark eyebrows three elaborate lines danced upward, pushing outward into three branches with various lines attached. It was simply beautiful to focus upon, the type of beautiful that made you want to paint delicate strokes on a blank canvas. "King Almeric, I must say you are looking younger every year." The Elf murmured in the calmest of tones, his golden hued eyes focused on Augustina rather than the man he addressed.

Captured by the man's gaze, the raven-haired beauty found herself swimming in a pool of gold. Something was stirring behind those eyes, something that made her heart thump with a beat of hope. He had this look in his golden eyes, that made her wonder just how many men he had killed over the course of two hundred years. The serrated grin that slid into place along his slender lips, confirmed her thoughts. The Elf had lost count. "You are late, Osiris. But when is your kind not?" Almeric responded, spitting the Elves name from his parched lips.

Osiris' eyes slowly removed themselves from Augustina, his focus pinpointed on the man who cursed his name with a flick of his wiggling tongue. "When we find it important to be on time." Osiris simply stated, his tall figure coming to a halt before the stoned steps to the thrones. The guards who stood beside him pushing themselves two steps backwards, giving their King space rather than smothering him with their haunting presence.

"Important? What do you think this is? A tea party? We have much to discuss!" Almeric seethed through his teeth, his hand flattening against the armrest of the throne he was impatiently tapping moments ago. The words that left his lips forging a burning fire in the room, a fire consumed of anger.

Augustina felt herself grow in remorse toward the patient Elf, for the pointed eared King clenched his jaw in a motion of raging nerves. The Princess wanted to slap the King of Theadale for the Elf, maybe even break the chains that wrapped themselves around her mind. "We are only discussing the affairs of the Elves of Valerin, nothing more, nothing less." Osiris began, his voice calmed to the touch despite the rumbling behind his golden eyes.

Augustina pushed her attention reluctantly away from the Elven King, and upon Cato. His silver hair laid disheveled along his head, a few loosened strands brushing against his eyebrows with a rake of his hand. The Bastard seemed to be hid from the depths of the conversation, his frosted eyes glued to one of the marble tiles of the room.

Cato's eyes visibly rolled in annoyance, the embarrassment he held for his father devouring his quiet demeanor. "Father," Cato spoke up, the single word falling faint against the air. "The Elves of Valerin is our biggest concern at the moment-" Almeric cut him off with a stare of daggers, his hand raising to wave off the words that rested on the Bastards tongue.

"Your son is right," Osiris injected, glancing from the King and toward the Bastard. "They are our only concern at the moment." The Elf had always found the Cato smarter than the other two, for his mind seemed far more sane than the Royals that adored crowns of gold beside him. Then again the chained Princess beside the King had been the wiser of the two, her eyes of grey stormed with a brooding rain.

She had grown over the course of twenty years, her childish body becoming the one of a woman's rather than one of a playful little girl. Osiris found his gaze drifting back toward the Princess, his gaze devouring every aspect of her clothed figure. She was the spitting image of her mother, from the darkened waves that framed her face, to the mesmerizing curves of her body.

"Stare to long at our Chrysí fléva, and we won't need to discuss the affairs of Elves." Almeric murmured, his eyes constricting with a malice observation of the Elf. The title the man pressed upon Augustina made her temper grow, and her heated breath falter from her nose. She was a woman of another species, a species born from the ashes of the First Man, created to rule rather than serve. To hold the crown of her mother in her hands, and the amulet of her father.

"Have your fingertips danced with flames, Augustina?" Osiris asked with a softened tone, his gaze watching ravenously as the Princess dragged her attention away from Cato to center on him. The question would seem ridiculous to those who didn't hold gold in their veins, even now it sounded comical in the ears of the one the question was directed too.

"No, my skin as yet to burn with the flame of my kin." Augustina whispered, the words falling from her slender lips to caress the throne she was positioned by. Her wrists burnt with the golden restraints, her lungs burning with the touch of forgotten enlightenment.

"It will, and when it does the world will be watching." The King of Mageía Forest, lowered his head in lightened respect for the woman, the serrated grin that remained on his lips daunting beyond compare. His brown hair pushed past his shoulders to frame his matured features, his head tilting upward once more.

His movements were slow, and poised, every action filled with grace. The Elves of Mageía Forest were honored beyond compared, for they were the best archers and trackers in the distant lands. The footsteps never heard, or even seen in the thickest of terrain. "Shall we hold our meeting behind closed doors, away from the fleeting eyes of men?" Osiris asked, his slender figure moving backward to settle between the armored guards that walked in with him.

"Yes, we shall."

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A/N: Thank you for reading, I pray this chapter was far more entertaining then what I predicted.

What do you think of the Elven King?