She took a moment to let that sink in, ignoring the uncertainty of her knights that grew with every passing second. A full surrender would be massive. He could get so much in return if he negotiated that. Could have gone for a vassal role, which automatically would have protected all he was now trying to negotiate. Maybe even link himself to her again... She buried the thought. Their relationship wasn't part of this negotiation, he made that very clear by not even making her treatment of him a part of the terms. He was right, of course, that she would never treat him unfairly. He had treated her troops with great respect in both victory and defeat, how could she ever treat him poorly, even without their past? But the respect and love she held for him were irrelevant here.
She returned to his terms. "You know our house. You know me. Your conditions change little to how your people would actually be treated. The only true benefit is that by making it explicit terms, rather than just proper noble manners, you allow me to state for the world to see that I will be a better person than your father. Those conditions do not really benefit you, they benefit me instead. Which means the only term of import here is that your personal guard goes free."
It was a trap. There was no other possibility. His behaviour, his demands, everything he said and didn't say, were all concealing a trap. Not one set by his father, but one he came up with himself, for his own benefit. That was why he was treating this as a battle, why he was hiding his emotions from her. Desperate to make sure she didn't catch on, didn't break out. And the worst part was that she was still so willing to dive straight in.
She idly tapped the armrest with her fingers, studying him and considering his acts. But no, she simply couldn't put the puzzle together. "Advisors. Ignore the suggestion of a full surrender. Focus purely on the deal and terms offered. Freedom for his personal guard. Leniency for all Flameheart troops. Respectful treatment of all people living in Flameheart lands. In trade for the cursed head of Duke Flameheart. We know he's trying to trick us. Does anyone see a reason not to fall for it?"
They pondered for a few moments, then all shook their heads. Still no emotion on his face. She stopped her tapping and clenched her hands, betraying her emotions for a moment before she too hid them behind a mask of ice again. A sigh. "Very well. On my name as Duchess Eirwen Verglas, I accept your terms. Now off you go, Marq-" The word died on her lips as she realised the last piece of the puzzle.
Of course. That is why he used so few words, all so he couldn't slip up his personal introduction. Because at no point had he used his name or title, that was all her. Her eyes flashed to the gift box, his weapons, his armour. Back to his face, where now that he had beaten her, he looked apologetic. As he bent down towards the box, his eyes no longer focused on her own, her mind raced once more. Given all she could see here, and his personality... Of course. The reason he wouldn't include himself in the negotiations, was that to him, there would be no tomorrow to negotiate for.
He untied the bindings and lifted the box's lid. The rest fell smoothly to the side, exposing its contents and answering everyone's confusion to her sudden silence. There it was. Eyes closed, washed, wax-treated. The head of Duke Flameheart. On an actual silver platter. He really knew her way too well.
His face was hard again, but his eyes were no longer focused on her, instead addressing the others. It was no longer her he was fighting with, it was the rest of the world, and they served as his witnesses. The bindings on his greatsword snapped with loud pangs as he easily drew it from its simple scabbard, showing its identity as the ancestral greatsword of the Flamehearts. He would never have lied with a fake scabbard, so instead he hid its true identity with an ordinary one. As the knights responded to him drawing a weapon, once more ready to cut him down, she cursed herself silently for not putting the clues together fast enough. If she had caught on in time, maybe she could have saved him.
He held the sword in front of him, pointed downwards, then used the iconic Verglas technique to make it cut through anything in its way. Not against the knights here, purely to slowly bring it down, effortlessly piercing not just the head but the floor. He didn't release the technique until the sword was low enough for him to comfortably rest his hands on top of the pommel, before addressing the room. Gone was the ice in his voice, now replaced with subdued rage.
"I, Aodhán Flameheart, seventh Duke of Flameheart, hereby announce that this afternoon I have taken the life of my father. The council has acknowledged my succession and authority over all of Flameheart territory. Under the authority of my name, for the sins of my father, I declare a full surrender to Duchess Eirwen Verglas. And for the sin of patricide, I forfeit my name and end the Flameheart line." A quick twist of his hands, and the sound of the sword snapping echoed through the room.
She couldn't see everyone's eyes, but their body language was clear. Utter shock, most of them dropping out of their stance. She took note of those still on the ready, still making sure they were ready to protect her if needed. Their numbers grew when he made three steps forward and channeled his powers to draw his personal sword, his eyes facing hers once more as again the sound of a shattering peacebond echoed through the room.
Part of her found it hilarious that they had even bothered binding his weapons. She knew from the very start that if he just put a bit of effort in it, he could easily tear through both the physical and magical restraints. All of the restraints, even all the knights ready here, were purely symbolic. If he had so desired, it would have required her own blade to help stop him, that she had known all along. Secretly many of them knew. A berserking Flameheart takes a lot to stop. Only her faith in him had let her permit him coming near her.
The other part of her feared what was to come, hoping that he'd still give her a chance to help him. Joy swelled in her for a moment when he got on one knee and offered the sword to her. She forced the feeling down as he spoke, his neck exposed as he looked at the floor. "Duchess Verglas. I surrender to you my sword, my life, and if you so desire, my neck."
A bitter taste filled her mouth as she put together the final part of the puzzle. Why did he bother asking for his men's lives? To make her explain what that meant, so that now all knew exactly what he meant with surrendering his life. Not saying she could kill him without even a trial, no, surrendering his freedom to her. Eternal servitude. He still explicitly gave her the right to kill him, but posed his servitude as the better deal. And he knew she wanted that. But once more, his offering her all she wanted still made her hate him for what he was forcing her to do.
Those looking at her still saw an expressionless face, but inside her rage was building. How dare he use her like this, trick her just so he could martyr himself. And even now his eyes were open, acknowledging she might have him killed despite all he meant to her. Because even when stabbed in the back or executed, a Flameheart dies with their eyes open. He actually thought she might. The rage built to a crescendo, eager to take control. And then she let it go.
"Take his sword and leave it in my office. Get him cleaned up and provide him with the grey clothes of the nameless. Provide his guard and their horses with food and water. They must leave within half an hour. Tell them to take his horse with them. What they do with it, is their decision to make. Now get him out of my sight, and get that head off my floor. Tomorrow, we announce the end of the war."
And tonight, she would mourn losing him.
