First Strike

[TickingTimebomb]

The older woman arched both eyebrows, placing her pudgy hands gently on her large hips. "It's not poison, dearie," she replied softly. The term wasn't used endearingly, but rather perfunctorily; she spoke to everyone that way, which was what made her fairly successful as a nurse. She didn't particularly care for Acaedians - she had never been to battle but had heard horror stories and had lost several acquaintances because of the war - but that was simply the way she spoke, regardless of the subject. Besides, she was used to responding to anger with gentleness and good humor: she had cared for Xavier when he was much younger, and he had certainly been a little ball of fire. Peter was a walk in the park compared to that.

Her eyebrows furrowed, however, when the brunette insulted her queen. "Now I'll have none of that," she responded, more firmly than before, wagging a finger in the boy's direction. "The queen has done nothing to you. Not yet, at any rate. But I would advise against speaking that way in Her Highness' presence." She could only imagine how that would go over, though she likely wouldn't be around to witness it. "But very well. If you do not want to eat, then you can just remain weak as you are now. Come." With that, she snapped her fingers, and the two guards still in the room moved over to Peter, grabbing him and forcing him off the bed. "Take you to her, indeed," the woman murmured as the four of them made their way out of the room and down the hallway.

A few minutes later, Peter was being tossed rather carelessly into the throne room - whether he was strong enough to remain standing or fell to the floor was for him to find out. Queen Aligale was still sitting there, albeit in a different outfit from before; she did enjoy fashion, like most queens of the day. The two guards remained by the prince's side, while the nurse hurried off. "I see you're feeling better," the queen said, more than a hint of sarcasm apparent in her voice. There were significantly more guards there than there had been before when Xavier had first returned with him earlier that day. They stood around the perimeter of the room, and it was fairly obvious they were there to protect the queen in case the Acaedian decided to try anything. "I assume by now you are aware of why you have been brought here?"

 

[Psychedelic]

He did not respond, he didn't even look at the woman any longer. Peter glared at the door, not with any particular goal in mind, he was just directing his anger at something that wasn't sentient. As much as he could, Peter was attempting to remain under control, and also not torture himself too much. His guilt was rather consuming, as was his rage at the evil race of people who now held him here. Of course, more than anyone else he hated Xavier, a man he had thought to trust - if only for a few minutes. As silly as it was, this young prince had thought there was still honour on both sides of the war. It was a steep learning curve, and hopefully he wouldn't run out of steam before cresting the top.

This little display of futile stubborn behaviour continued only a short while, as it wasn't long before the young prisoner was unceremoniously drawn to his feet. Although the boy made a vague attempt at a struggle, Peter was secretly glad of the unkind hands on him. In truth, he needed the support, as his legs were lacking any significant amount of feeling. It was very much like the time he had been taken ill as a child. The sickness had lasted almost a week, the boy had been bed ridden all that time. The day he had come to tentatively step from his bed, his legs and entire body had felt weak and wobbly. Of course, seeing as this time the sensations were caused by the magic still wearing off, there was no telling how long it would take to leave him completely, but he was an optimist - hoping that it would be sooner rather than later.

Unfortunately, he did not make a particularly dignified entrance to the throne room. The moment he was pushed off balance, and subsequently lost the support of the guards, Peter knew he was going to end up on his knees. Such was his effort to prevent this, a strangled, "Huwah." type noise escaped him, followed by the brief thud as the young man crumpled to the floor. At least he managed to catch himself with his hands, though his forearms shook with the effort. He really did feel drained. Still, this would not stop him at least attempting to appear a little more dignified.

Peter ignored the sarcasm of the queen, instead focusing on making his limbs work for him, rather than against him. It took a minute or two, but eventually the brunette got up one one knee, keeled to the side as the second foot made an attempt at touching the floor, recovered, overbalanced and then finally stood in place. His legs were trembling slightly, but Peter did his best to ignore this, standing there with at least a strong and dignified expression, even if his body betrayed him. "Because you have no shame, no honour." He finally answered, looking this monarch directly in the eye. He was afraid, but he was also a brave man - some of the time.