She wanted to believe he had been telling the truth. She wanted to believe he wasn't a monster, but the Queen in her told her she couldn't gamble the safety of her entire Kingdom on a feeling, on the word of someone she no longer truly knew. 

When she looked at him she saw only a glimmer of the man she loved hidden behind a veil of darkness. He had changed and she didn't know if it was for the better or for the worst.

What she did know was that she couldn't trust him. Not when he was the one killing her mages. Not when he was the one controlling an evil magic, when his motives were not clear. Not when she hadn't seen him in twenty years.

Islande looked up as a page approached her, a young boy of about fourteen with short brown hair.

"Deliver this message to the guards at the gate: Tell Tyros I will be arriving soon, and tell my maids to have my room ready for me to dress, I have a meeting I need to attend upon my return to the castle."

The young boy nodded and spurred his horse forward, the beast kicking up dirt behind it as he sped towards the castle.

She now had to meet with the most important lords and ladies of Crysinlor to discuss important matters throughout her Kingdom.

It was, in her opinion, necessary but incredibly boring. She didn't let those feelings come through however, she needed to be a proper Queen, and that meant addressing the problems of those in the cities.

Tyros knew how much she disliked these events, they were one of the things she wished she could do without.

When the party arrived at the castle stablehands took their horses, making sure they were cared for. Tyros met her in the hallway when she had gotten out of her armor and was in the tunic and leggings beneath it.

He didn't say a word but she knew what he was asking. She shook her head and Tyros nodded, leaving her to get dressed in an appropriate outfit.

Her maids chose one with layers of deep purple silk folding in on one another, blooming golden Sunroses adorning the hem.

She let one of the maids wind her hair into beautiful flowing curls that cascaded down her back.

Islande set the delicate golden crown upon her brow, its weight seeming heavier than usual. She thanked her maids with a strained smile, though they wouldn't notice.

She was a master at hiding her emotions if she wished to. Moments later she stood face to face with the heavy oak doors, a gilded image of the Oak adorning the dark wood.

She took a deep breath and the guards pushed the door open, revealing the Lords and Ladies that awaited her.

As she entered the Throne Room they all bowed or curtsied, the sea of extravagantly dressed lords and ladies bobbing like a wave through the ocean.

She smiled and hid what she truly felt, assuming the pose of a strong leader. She took her place on the Throne of Crysinlor, sneaking a glance at Tyros as she did so.

When she turned to the crowd of people filling the usually empty halls she saw the doors swing open, a figure silhouetted against the light beyond the Throne Room.

"Pity," echoed a voice, "I wasn't invited."

The voice was cold and hauntingly familiar, and the figure drew closer she knew why. This was the Shadowalker.

The sea of lords and ladies parted before the figure, whispers and gasps rippling through the crowd, their fear palatable. All at once the fires blazing in braziers went out, the only the light the misty rays from the tall windows.

Islande felt her people's fear like a sea of frightened butterflies fluttering in her mind.

His cold violet eyes locked with hers, a smirk gracing his lips. His form seemed to waver as if made of black smoke, the silver runes adorning his black armor shimmering in the darkness that had befallen the Throne Room.

"I haven't seen this place in a long time," he said, his voice gripping her heart with icy talons.

"Not since the Warrior reduced me to merely a soul drifting in this world of shadow."

Be paused, looking around him, then back to her.

"Where is your Warrior, Islande?" He asked, looking directly at her, seeing the pain in her eyes.

"I remember," he said, his voice almost dismissive, "you exiled him to the Drenzian."

He was at the foot of the dais now, hands behind his back.

"A mistake that makes my mission easier."

Islande watched Tyros and the Knights guarding the throne draw their weapons.

"Oh come now, you know any move you make to stop me is futile."

Islande knew this to be true, and she knew Tyros did to. No one needed to die. She silently told Tyros and her Knights to back down and they hesitated, unsure. They did as she commanded however and backed off.

A cruel smile crossed his face, his eyes predatory.

"You let me in Islande," he whispered, climbing the dais, pinning her to the throne with his calculating gaze.

Behind them the lords and ladies were still, silenced by their fear.

"You betrayed him," he whispered, his words reaching deep within her heart.

"You turned him away, the man you loved, the man who saved you from me."

He was so close that Islande could see the scar that traced his jawline, see the bitter hate that simmered behind his eyes.

The darkness she felt from him was like Viseron's power, but there was rage fueling this dark magic, not pain or grief.

This was pure, powerful, unchained hate, and it terrified her. He was out for blood, and he would torture her and anyone close to her until he got what he wanted.

"You shut him out when he tried to warn you," the Shadowalker said, "you shunned him, you treated him like a monster."

He now stood in front of her, watching her, seeing the emotions warring within her, the hate, the pain, the fear, but most of all the guilt.

"Your knight in shining armor is no longer here," he said, "your Kingdom is mine."

Then, all of a sudden, the doors to the throne room burst open and he was there, standing in the doorway.

"Viseron."

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Hope ya'll enjoyed! Hope you guys stick around for more!

~~Nightfury107