She took steady breaths as she looked around the room, her hands carefully laid upon the armrests of her luxurious seat. A throne that was not named as such, yet obviously served that purpose. Honestly, she would have preferred to sit on the tip of her seat, her legs ready to jump up and her hand on her weapon. But being seated in the throne meant to trust one's subordinates. Being on the ready herself would only serve to suggest she did not trust them with her life. Instead, she played the role of a calm ruler, keeping her emotions out of not just her eyes but her entire body language.

Not many in the room managed the same. So many people gripping swords, resisting the urge to whisper to each other. Sometimes eyes would flit towards her, then in shame quickly turn back to looking straight ahead, before flitting towards the main doors again. And when the knock came on those doors, about a third didn't manage to hide the way it spooked them.

The knights at the door kept their calm, quickly making the required exchange to open the doors. A ridiculous protection mechanism, but protocol when it came to guests that were either unexpected, undesired, or dangerous. And in this case, the main guest was all three. She barely caught herself when her hands were trying to grip the armrests tight, emotions flowing through her as a storm. Recollections of years past, both tender and sore.

The messenger came up towards her, wearing clothes that made clear no weapon could possibly be properly concealed within. At the appropriate distance he knelt, his eyes facing the floor as he made his report. "Duchess Verglas, I report that the heir of Duke Flameheart has arrived. He and his personal guard have surrendered most of their weapons and have submitted to peacebonding their personal blades. Marquis Flameheart has two swords on him, his personal longsword and a ceremonial greatsword, both bonded, as well as a sealed box with a gift for you. The Marquis has permitted his guard to stay behind and is awaiting your permission to enter."

Permitted. Not ordered. That choice of word mattered greatly here. She had no doubt the messenger was directly describing the situation. Which meant this meeting would be unlike any they had in the past years. Yes, he had met her alone occasionally. But that would have always been after a command, or a request, to be left alone. Never permission.

They all looked at her for her decision, fists clenched and knuckles white. And mouths all shut. Her call. She made her decision quickly, nodding once as approval. Cold, as expected of her. But the truth was that she simply didn't trust her voice yet.

The messenger sped off and her advisors quietly discussed the situation. She listened with one ear, while her mind raced faster than a hawk in a dive. Two blades this time. Ceremonial greatsword meant he was here for an official gesture. A gift box could be an assassination attempt, but he was neither that cowardly nor that stupid. Even with all the foolish faith he put in his damned father, he never would blindly deliver a threat to her doorsteps. So he was bringing her something important, a gesture as part of whatever negotiation he wanted to do.  And coming into the lion's den solo meant that for him, this was important enough to risk his life, as even hospitality wouldn't ensure his safety in this rotten war between their houses.

She thought of every encounter, discussion, negotiation, fight they had during the war. Considered every moment they had before, trying to find similar situations to help predict what he was about to tell her. All she found was heartache. She missed him. She missed what could have been. But there was no way that they could ever regain what they had lost.

There was a knock on the doors. A quick exchange later, the doors opened and he entered. His armour light, dull leathers well suited for travelling light but hardly suitable for one representing his house, still helped showcase his intimidating figure. His right hand held a gift box, leaving him without option to quickly draw his blade. His short red hair was still damp from the rain outside. And lastly, his eyes were as easy to read as ever, showcasing a dozen emotions, mostly matching the ones she hid herself. But there was something else there, and she had no idea what it was. It almost felt like... Pity? Remorse? She buried the thought and awaited his approach.

The knights at the door took the appropriate time to inspect him visually, plus a few more moments to be subtly rude to him without undercutting her. Then they waved him on, making sure to keep their distance so he couldn't make a move for their weapons. No point in peacebonding someone if you then offer your own arms on a silver platter.

She saw him scan the room as he carefully walked forward, his speed measured, making him feel inevitable. She knew four of the people in this room had faced him in combat and been captured before being ransomed off or exchanged. A quick glance showed their composure faltering, no doubt thinking back to whatever time he had approached them. Then she sent her eyes back to him. She wondered what formal pleasantries he would open with, before getting to the point. Perhaps thanking her for her hospitality, or being grateful she was well. Or mayhaps.

Her thoughts faltered as he came to a halt. Way too soon. He had barely even reached the middle of the room. No, to be precise, he was in the middle of the people, halfway the doors and the stairs up to her throne. Taking the center for maximum impact. The optimal position to be everyone's focus, and to engage them. She had barely thought the thought when her subordinates came to the same conclusion. She saw many of them drop out of attention, hands now clenching 

She looked him straight in the eyes, looking for a hint of his intentions. What she saw, seemed to be a growing resolve. And even more, he was not looking elsewhere anymore. Even with all the knights on the ready to charge him, his eyes looked straight at hers. As if nobody else mattered. There had been times where that focus was well received, but tonight, not so much.

He kept looking straight at her as he lowered himself a bit, just enough to gently put the box down. And as he slowly rose back up, he exhaled, and with his breath she saw his emotions leave his eyes. Another first. No. Nonononono. She had seen this before multiple times.