Thank you so much for your fantastic reviews for Chapter 1. They made me very very happy! Here's chapter 2.
Chapter 2 -- A King's Arrival
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Two days pass since the notice that King Ronald will be arriving shortly. Harry sits in his study, groaning from the sight of fresh papers littering his desk that he cleaned the night before. He leans his elbows on the impressive wood, pressing his fingertips into his temples to soothe the tension building in the back of his neck.
The double doors open and the sounds of clicking boots reach his ears. He glances up to the men who enter his silence, and Harry keeps his fingers against his temples. The men stop at the front of his desk, and Harry motions for the news, for anxiety begins to build in his belly.
"My Lord, King Ronald has just arrived by horse, accompanied by fifty knights. He is downstairs in the banquet hall now Sire, awaiting your presence." One man says, and Harry nods to him. The man beside him stands straighter, as if to speak, but no words come from his lips.
Harry looks at the two men. They wear a complete suit of armor, ready for battle at any given moment if the enemy is to strike. The white metal gleams beautifully with a subtle hint of red. They are paladins, knowing the wisdom of healing while in battle by using the aura from their inner beings, and weilding the sword much more powerfully than a regular knight. The differences between paladins and knights are great, for paladins live many more years than a normal knight, taking out the possibilities of dying in battle. Paladin's bodies are much more impressive, which makes them less vulnerable to attacks. They are quicker on their feet, and can withstand intense environment conditions.
The paladins turn sharply on their heels and leave Harry's study. Harry stands from his desk, smoothing his shirt over his chest and stomach. He walks towards the doors, and they open on their own accord. The hall is bright and lively, for windows line the wall to his left. They are huge, elegant windows, with bleached white frames. Crimson tapestries hang beside them, a rich and deep color which stands out bold against the white.
His heels click as he walks on the marble, but the noise does not reach his ears. His mind is elsewhere while he makes his way through the entry hall, then down a different hall that has no windows, only a limitless amount of doors on either side of him. He strides easily down this hall, which is decorated much the same as the last one is, although some intricate paintings add more color. He admires the exceptional paintings as he walks by, eyeing his favorite that is just a bit further down the hall. When he reaches it, his eyes scan it quickly, then he passes on.
It is a painting of his father and mother before Harry was born. His mother Lilly he never had the chance to know. She passed when he was young, barely old enough to speak. His father raised and sheltered him for the greater part of his life. From what Harry was told, Lilly ruled right along side James, and she held almost as much power over the people and decision making as King James had. She was very persuasive and intimidating, though soft and delicate. Harry remembers when his father would often sit in the rose garden in the back of the palace, staring endlessly at the lively and beautiful scenary, though his eyes would be glazed over with no traces of happiness in them.
Harry never asked James about his mother. It was a delicate and upsetting issue for James, and Harry could clearly see that as he grew older. He never pressed it, but he always had a nagging thought since James's funeral, knowing that he should have asked his father more about his mother.
Harry rounded the corner to another hallway which is much wider and with gold rimming on the walls. The celing dips upward, and balls of glass hang to illuminate the area. Palace soldiers are stationed outside the double doors; one stationed on both sides. Harry nods to them, and they hasten to open the doors for their King, bowing as he passes.
The banquet hall is massive, much larger than his study. He feels small in a room which can hold five hundred thousand people at one time. Lengthy tables stretch to the farthest corners of the hall, while the floor is elevated for a stage with his elegant throne chair set up on the left. Elegant torches are scattered along the walls of the hall, giving out a ghostly light. Three immense windows are to his right. These windows are longer than his arm span, and they come close to touching the ceiling. They are beautiful, for their frames have epic battles carved into the hard wood. Those peering from the windows will see the rose garden, a magnificent lake that stretches ten acres, and a colossus mountain scaling the horizon. The scene never ceases to take his breath away.
"Harry!" Ron comes towards Harry, throwing his heavy arms over his shoulders and pulling him in for a bear hug. Harry gladly returns it, laughing loudly.
"It's good to see you, Ron." Harry says as they pull away. They are ushered to the King's table, which is infront of the stage. Ron sits as does Harry, and the hall empties of any other men by a wave of Harry's hand.
"How have you been?" Harry asks, opening a bottle of red wine that sits in the center of the table. Harry pours Ron a glass then himself. Ron gives him a thoughtful nod.
"Fantastic. The Wetsh have completely withdrawn, surrending the battle. It was futile to begin with! Their man count may be many, but their man power is weak. My army, yours, and Frocks crushed them in less than a week, and we were merely playing with them in the beginning." Ron's hearty laugh is boisterous. A low rumble vibrates Harry's chest as he listens to Ron.
"They tried to call for reinforcements near the end, and their ally told them they are screwed. Not at all pleased was their general, who came to tell me of their surrender. I laughed in his face! I told him that he will never stand a chance against us if he continues fighting like he does. He was not pleased. He had the nerve to spit in my face! Needless to say that he's lucky to be alive. If he had not surrendered, then I would have killed the son-of-a-bitch right there." Ron takes another long drink of the wine, slamming his glass down for more. Harry gladly refills his glass, and this time to the top.
"I don't understand," Ron shakes his head, obviously disgusted, "why they keep launching these so-called preemptive strikes. We intercept their messages and we see them sitting out, waiting to attack. They aren't at all sneaky. They must be planning something new." Ron holds his glass in the air, and Harry shrugs.
"The Juxert are not at all smart for allying with the Wetsh in the first place. Wetsh people are known for their ignorance." Harry points out, and Ron nods.
"I completely agree with you, my friend. Their retreat is our victory! How will we celebrate?" Ron asks, holding his glass in a toast. Harry knocks the side of his wine glass against Ron's, satisfied with the soft ting.
"A banquet will be held tonight." Harry announces. Ron grins.
"Lots of ladies?"
"Yes." Harry laughs, "What about your wife?"
Ron rolls his eyes and finishes his glass of wine, holding it towards Harry, "I could careless about the broad. Arranged marriages be damned." Ron spits, and then takes another drink of his wine, "The marriage was good for the war, and when the war is over, she will be properly disposed of." Ron sends a wink towards Harry.
"You're going to kill her?" Harry asks with surprise in his voice, and Ron shakes his head.
"No. I'll force her back to her country. Divorce is no longer illegal."
"What's her name again?" Harry asks, although their wedding ceremony took place within the past few months.
"Lavender. What a name, eh? She makes sure everyone knows she's exotic and beautiful. Right bitch, that's what she is. Prancing around the castle as if it was hers all along. Heh, she's in for a rude awakening."
"I knew that she was going to be a bitch when I first saw her, too." Ron continues his rant, "She had the nerve to tell me that I was not fighting this war as well as I could be. Soon as we were married she comes and tells me that, and then she tells me all these horrible things that could help me when I sit with the counselors. She even said that she'd come and sit in on the meetings! Like she knows what all the issues are, and all the little details. Bah. I've been fighting this war since the very beginning. I know everything." Ron downs the rest of his wine, holding his hand out to stall Harry from refilling it.
Harry thinks for a moment, his mind searching for the reason they are in the war, and he still finds no answer. He half ponders whether to ask Ron, but he decides against it, letting Ron continue with his drunken slur.
"I was your father's partner, you know. We were in it together from the very start. Yes we were. I fought along side him in battle. He was a great warrior, but he stood back many times. Not me, I tell ya, I like to be right up in the action. James told me to stay back with him, and who died first! Not me."
"He didn't die in battle." Harry says immediately, defending his dead father. Ron laughs loudly, throwing his head back to reveal his bobbing adam's apple.
"That's right! Poor old man didn't even die in glory. Great king he was. He ruled well. He fought well. Without him we would not have made it this far in the war. It will be over soon. Don't worry." Ron assures Harry, but Harry needs no reassurance.
"Quite odd, isn't it, that I became king before you." Ron says after a moment's silence. Harry nods, taking a slow sip of his wine. He stares at the red liquid between his eyes. He sets his glass down, slumping against the cushion of his chair.
"I always thought you would have been king before me." Ron leans his elbows against the table, peering into Harry's eyes. Harry keeps his gaze on his folded hands in his lap, ignoring Ron's persistant stare.
"Well, we're both kings now." Harry murmers, twirling his thumbs.
"Yes." A huge smile breaks out across Ron's face, and Harry looks up at him, "Remember when we were kids, and we would sword fight? We'd always do that dumb thing, sticking our swords through our armpits and pretending to die? We would get in so much trouble when your father found out. He did not want you to fight." Ron laughs, and Harry nods, remembering quite well.
"The man was paranoid that I would die in battle. I had to force him to let me join our army back when I was seventeen, and even then he was very cautious and made me stay at the back beside him."
"You can't blame him! You were his only son--his only kid! Of course he'd be overprotective. I grew up with three other brothers, all older than me, and all who refused the crown." Ron laughs some more, "They couldn't handle the responsibility! Fools." Ron reaches to the bottle of wine, pouring himself a full glass.
"You're the only brother I've ever had." Harry says, and stares Ron in the eyes.
"Don't get mushy on me before we celebrate. Oh that reminds me." Ron grins, "Your birthday is soon, isn't it? What shall I plan for you?"
"Nothing." Harry laughs, holding his hands in the air as a sign of defeat, "There will be enough celebration here when my birthday arrives, there will be no need for more surprises."
"Whatever." Ron rolls his eyes, "You've never been any fun, you know that?"
"What?" Harry looks at him wide eyed, "How can you say that?"
"You've always been like this. You don't care for surprises." Ron shrugs, "It's quite boring."
"I am not boring!" Harry counters, his voice rising. A small smirk forms on the corner of Ron's lip.
"Yes, you are quite boring."
Harry sits dumbstruck for a moment, "I swam naked in the lake that one time when you wouldn't. You thought some animal was going to bite your naked rear." Harry bursts into laughter recounting the moment he just described, "Frock's daughter agreed to kiss whoever would swim to the bottom of the lake and retrieve a stone, and you wouldn't do it."
Ron's face falls, and he simply waves his hand at Harry, turning in his chair.
"That's right. She gave me my first kiss. How old were we then?"
"Ten." Ron mutters into his wine.
"Ah yes. I got my first kiss before you."
"You're still a virgin." Ron is suddenly in his face, "Hah! You are. Don't try and tell me you aren't. I know you are." Ron giggles like a school girl, "You may have gotten kissed before me, but I got laid before you! That beats a kiss any old day."
Harry frowns at this, ignoring Ron's banter, "Well, what about when we traveled to Gervet, and you screamed like a small girl when you saw a faerie."
Ron laughs, "So did you. Don't get me started on the creatures. When you first saw a unicorn you wouldn't leave your room for weeks. You had to see a nurse because you swore it attacked and left a bruise on your stomach."
"Just forget that! I was going through a strange stage."
"You are horrified of the creatures still today."
"Am not."
"Prove it." Ron grins, "I know the forest, lets go."
Harry winces, closing his eyes and shaking his head quickly, "I'd rather not right now."
"Chicken."
"Shut up!" Harry sighs exasperatedly. Ron shrugs.
"Chicken."
Harry sends him a nasty glare, and the doors of the banquet hall swing open. The two men turn to see who has entered the hall, and see two paladins rushing towards them.
"Juxert soldiers are outside our walls as we speak. They are barging down the gates."
Ron and Harry exchange looks, and then stand quickly, walking beside the paladins as they make their way out of the banquet hall.
"How did this happen? Did the guards not see them from the lookout post?" Harry asks hotly.
"We do not know how they slipped past the guards. We must move quickly." The paladins begin to run.
Ron sends Harry a look, "So much for our celebration."
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