The Iron

Alaric knows this may be karma for his actions, but he didn't realize karma would be so mean.

Alaric knows he's a playboy at heart, I mean--look at all the beautiful women in the Kingdom of Orin. They have different assets, heights, and ways their voices sound when they whisper in his ear, nibbling his earlobe as he recites sweet nothings back that he memorized from some new romance novel one of his "fair-lady friends" liked-.

Okay, so he uses similar tricks for all the women he plays with consistently, but no one has taken offense to his actions (as of yet) because he knows how far he should take his little "romances" before he moves on to the next fair lady. He's a handsome bachelor, a womanizer who would never, ever say no to a damsel in distress (especially a very beautiful one) as that would completely go against his belief systems, and, well, maybe that's part of the catalyst that unfortunately caused the situation that arises today. 

Thinking back to the incident, Alaric knows when he goes to tea parties and balls, he is usually the center of attention if not for maybe a very beautiful woman here or there (that he always finds ways to attract and bring home one way or another), so it's not odd that many established officials and famous peoples derive from their conversations to fit into his. That evening was no different, a beautiful woman he hadn't seen before had her arm wrapped around a man Alaric was familiar with; he was one of the students of the old Grand Magia Master of the Mage Tower--(Elvin, was it?). 

Anyways, Alaric says his greetings, but his eyes consistently move to the beautiful woman on Elvin's arm. She is stunning, with her pale skin, hourglass figure, red hair, red eyes, plump red lips just waiting to be kissed, and forget about those breasts-.

Focus, Alaric, right? Alaric entertains the conversation as long as he can before Elvin bids him farewell, but it is the beautiful lady who unwraps herself from Elvin and stops to meet eyes with Alaric, and Alaric smirks, taking it as his chance to dip into conversation with her, which leads into slight flirting, heavy flirting, dancing at the ball in each other's arms and sharing canny small talk, and before Alaric knows it, he and his mysterious new woman are stuck in some random room in the large establishment, kissing and indulging in each other throughout the night before the last dance's instrumental can be heard through the thin walls. 

Alaric buttons back up his pants and shirt, fluffing his shoulder-length orangish blond hair and slipping back on his long white trench coat and familiar monocle on his right eye before he eyes the beautiful lady from beside him, who continues to eye him hungrily as he finishes dressing.

"Quite fun we had, pretty lady." Alaric chirps, rustling his collar as he oddly feels the woman's eyes glued to his back. "I must go before my entourage finds me. He can be a bit of a pain, you see-."

"Well then, we'll see each other soon, Duke Alaric." The woman said, drawing her words out as her eyes waned to Alaric's chest. "I believe today will be the start of our beautiful crossed destiny."

Alaric raises an eyebrow, confused with her words, but doesn't dwell too much on it as he hears his best friend yelling through each door, trying to find his whereabouts.

"A true pleasure, My Lady," Alaric said, nodding one last time before he ducks and sneaks out of the room, shutting the door lightly behind him and rushing forward to catch Quincy's beckoning calls.

He should have listened to the woman's odd words because now, now he's in this predicament due to his actions. 

...

He thought it is odd that the Queen of Orin called upon him for an unplanned audience.

Well, it isn't odd per se for him to visit the royal palace--his family is close to the current king and queen due to their friendship that began fighting beside each other in battle, and ironically enough, Alaric became sort-of-not-really-friends-but-allies with their eldest son, Prince Ravi, who as volcanic as his attitude often is, has an odd small soft spot for Alaric's reckless behavior, or that's at least what Alaric noticed.

So when Alaric walks into the palace, he strives through the halls with his hands behind his back, his usual white trench coat hugging his muscular shoulders and flowing with the wind, and his clear monocle residing on his right eye; he chirps hellos and greetings to the family maids and butlers within the castle walls.

However, there is one woman who idly stands by, as if she too is awaiting an audience with the queen. She's a bit older, yet still very beautiful with her jet black hair that is tied in a tight, perfect bun, her almost too-perfect hourglass figure, and her bright green eyes that face forward as her blank expression focuses on the first set of guard's who stands before the two doors that lead to a long hallway, and then the throne room.

Alaric shoots the beautiful woman a glance, but doesn't waste too much time as the guards open the door for him, watching him as he walks down the long hallway to in front of the throne room.

Alaric sighs, tapping his foot as he waits until the two guards bang their staffs to the ground and announce his presence. The Queen mumbles something under her breath, beckoning the guards to open the large golden doors, and Alaric doesn't hesitate to walk into the throne room. He doesn't skip a beat as he eyes the Queen with his usual confident statue, but then his eyes wander down to a familiar woman with long red hair, who kneels before the queen with a heavy blue, black, gold, and white mage trench coat hanging loosely around her shoulders.

Alaric gulps, eyeing the familiar-looking coat as he follows the woman's suit and bends on his knee, bowing to the Queen until she beckons them to stand up. 

The Queen, as older as she now is, still looks as if she's in her prime with her sulk skin and bright orange eyes. She holds her cheek in her hands as she eyes the two other members in the room, casually blowing a loose strand of blonde hair out of her face.

"So, soon-to-be Grand Mage of The Tower, Maggie Rosia." The Queen said, eyeing the woman who stood up almost too confident, bowing her head as a soft, yet haunting smile stains her pretty face. "It seems as if your words rang true. Is this the man that you've had your eyes on?"

Alaric confusedly raises a finger to his face, watching as Maggie reaches her slim fingers through the gap between his muscled chest and his arm and hugs his arm tightly near her big bosom, wrinkling his very expensive white inventor's coat.

"Yes, this is him!" Maggie said, all the happiness in the world laced in her soft voice. "I met him at the recent ball, and I have fallen in love, My Queen! I know I asked for a favor from you, and I'd like to be granted your blessing for me to take Duke Alaric's hand in marriage!"

Alaric coughs, so hard that he holds his free hand to his chest.