The nobles in the room immediately explode into action.
"Your Highness! You mustn't do this!"
"Please calm down, Your Highness!"
"Please let the marquess go, Your Highness. It will do you no good to harm him here." Marquess Rencalle places his hands out in a placating gesture, his expression stern but wary.
Ignacia looks desperately around at the ensuing chaos, finding Count Velloni just as shell-shocked as herself. They exchange looks, and the helpless look that Count Velloni throws at her only intensifies the feeling of anxiety bubbling away inside her chest.
"He will not listen to me, My Lady. Please, try to persuade him. You know as well as I that he has a soft spot for you."
With her heart thumping vigorously in her chest, Ignacia chews on her bottom lip, trying to figure out how to diffuse the situation.
Deciding that it's worth a try to talk him out of potential murder, she places her tablet down and slings her purse's strap over her shoulder. Gritting her teeth, Ignacia tries to speak over the raised voices in the room, struggling to make herself heard as she rushes to where Marquess Grisel was sitting.
Prince Aspen ignores everyone's panicked pleas, his golden eyes fixed solely on Marquess Grisel's rapidly purpling face and glowing with the promise of violence.
"Shall I make an example of you right here and slice through that insolent mouth of yours? With a personality like yours, I wonder how many people you've offended. A scar or two on your rat-like face would certainly be entertaining to your enemies. Perhaps you'd be better off in the imperial faction you claim to lead as a mute rather than a swine who doesn't know deference."
Marquess Grisel, who is usually cool and collected, claws as Prince Aspen's forearms, his expression twisted by suffocation.
"Y-Your Highness! P-Please calm-" he wheezes through his teeth, on the verge of losing consciousness.
"Calm down? How can I? After what you said, do not tell me you weren't prepared for this. If you are so desperate to pursue death, I shall gladly lay you to rest for eternity."
Ignacia's eyes widen with horror when Prince Aspen raises his other hand, as though preparing to make good on his suggestion.
She can see the veins bulging in the prince's neck. His scent is almost nauseatingly strong now, and his eyes are the brightest gold that they have ever been, overtaken by his rage and instincts.
"Your Highness!!" she yells, just in time for the alpha's hand to freeze mid-swing.
Almost at once, the commotion dies down inside the room. Silence creeps back in as the nobles gathering around the table shut their mouths, afraid of provoking another wave of anger.
For a split second, Prince Aspen looks as though he might continue with his quest to draw blood, but when Ignacia steps into his line of sight behind the marquess' chair, the terrifying glint in his eyes softens just slightly.
"Your Highness. Please put Marquess Grisel down." she speaks softly so as to not agitate him further. "What he said was indeed out of line. Count Velloni will make sure to report this to His Majesty for due punishment. Please, just calm down."
Ignacia pleads internally for him to settle back into a rational headspace, her hands trembling from the potent scent of an angry alpha. As she takes a look around, she notices that even the nobles who are alphas are covering their noses.
To everyone's relief, Prince Aspen lowers Marquess Grisel back down to his feet, until he's no longer choking on his own spit. But he still keeps a tight hold on his wrinkled collar, refusing to let him go.
"Why should I let the emperor punish this cretin when I can do it myself right now? The nobles in the capital know no bounds when it comes to what they should say and what they should keep to themselves. Killing him now for insulting me would send a warning to both the imperial and noble factions, would it not?"
Marquess Grisel splutters out a protest as he rubs at his reddening neck. "Insulting?! Surely, you jest, Your Highness! I was merely stating the facts from the report I received from my informant. At no point have I ever considered disrespecting you in the slightes-"
"Do I look like I am in the mood for jokes, marquess?" Prince Aspen cuts him off with a murderous glare, tightening his grip on his collar threateningly.
"As if it isn't bad enough for the noble faction to be plotting against me, you are admitting that someone of your standing and education level has no clue how to adjust the delivery of such revolting news to me? Is your brain merely for decoration? Or do you need me to make it clear once more how much I detest the use of those vulgar words you just spewed in my presence?"
Ignacia, who was waiting for the marquess to finish speaking, can only wince at the venom embedded deep in his voice.
Again, she tries to deescalate the tension. "Marquess Grisel, I do not think it wise of you to continue this argument. Please refrain from speaking from now on."
"...Alright, I shall." The marquess gives up on explaining himself, evidently aware that nothing he says will appease the prince.
Prince Aspen growls lowly, eyeing Ignacia with a peculiar expression.
"Your Highness," she starts, ignoring the way he's staring at her. "Please let him go."
"And what do I get out of that?" Prince Aspen growls again, his anger far from subsiding.
Ignacia sighs, recognising the petulant note to his words as the start to a very familiar chain of events.
At the very least, he's distracted enough to have a proper conversation. It's certainly an improvement.
She makes eye contact with Count Velloni, who nods at her in understanding and grabs her tablet to fiddle with it.
"I will schedule a sparring session for you with a martial artist of your choice, which you have been unable to make time for due to your campaign and the conferment of your new title."
Ignacia watches as the cogs turn in the alpha's head, contemplating and weighing the pros and cons of stepping down.
Ignacia knows this tactic like the back of her hand.
Over the years, there have been countless moments when His Highness Aspen lost his temper and blew up from all the unwanted attention and pressure he receives.
After a few months of being exposed to his explosive personality on the daily, Ignacia and Count Velloni developed a system in which they would negotiate with the furious prince to calm down in exchange for a momentary respite from his work.
It didn't take long to discover that the promise of a spar with some of the country's finest warriors or soldiers was usually effective in taking his mind off the target of his ire.
And so, the two of them have gotten more than used to these sorts of situations. But even then, it is always up to the prince himself to voluntarily take a step back and view his surroundings with a rational lens.
Ignacia waits with baited breath, hoping that it will work this time as well. She's never seen him so upset before, but it was understandable to the highest degree, for she knows how much Prince Aspen cherished his adoptive family.
Eventually, Prince Aspen relents with a scoff, shoving the marquess out of his personal space with a disgusted curl of his lip.
"Get out. This meeting is over. I shall assume that there are no other objections to my conferment, and will report to the emperor as such."
Marquess Grisel stumbles backward from the mighty push, supported by a handful of nobles as he climbs down from the meeting table. Viscount Cliden is among the group, his face ashen from the scare that everyone experienced.
"I am most grateful for your mercy, Your Highness. I-" Marquess Grisel coughs, stroking at his throat to soothe it. "I shall heed your reminder to be prudent about my delivery. I apologise for speaking out of line and causing any unnecessary misunderstandings."
Prince Aspen casts a dirty look back at him, before turning his back on the marquess and walking along the length of the table he's still on.
"Save your pretentious niceties. And get out of my sight."
At his words, the nobles in the meeting hall rush to exit, looking like a herd of desperate prey being ushered out by a ferocious predator.
Ignacia hurries after the prince as he stalks towards the seat he was sitting in. His polished leather shoes make loud, dull sounds against the table, and he hops down from it with ease. He gestures for both her and Count Velloni to follow his lead, and makes his way to the open doors.
Just before he steps foot outside into the corridor, Prince Aspen halts in his tracks.
Ignacia has to plant her foot down firmly to avoid smacking right into his back. Just as she is wondering why he suddenly stopped, the alpha turns his head to Marquess Grisel and glowers at him.
"I almost forgot. Both your and Viscount Cliden's behaviour today will be made known to the emperor. And, for daring to insult a member of the imperial family, you shall be barred from the palace for the foreseeable future. Any letters, messages and gifts will not be entertained, even if they are for your family. This will be carried out with immediate effect."
Marquess Grisel bristles at the punishment being dished out, but says nothing, knowing that blowing things out of proportion with a complaint would only be to his further disadvantage.
Prince Aspen whips his gaze back to his front, as though he couldn't be bothered to pay attention to him any longer.
"I understand that age may be catching up to you, marquess, and that you wish to leave no regrets behind before biting the dust. But you would do well to remember who is most suitable to sit on that throne you all covet. Do not think that your loyalty to the crown so far has earned you the right to be finicky about who you will serve in the future."
"...Yes, Your Highness. I shall keep that in mind from now on." Marquess Grisel reluctantly bites out, his expression full of false shame.
Ignacia has half a mind to make a face of her own just to counter his sickening facade, but she refrains. Instead, she lets His Highness Aspen do the talking.
"Well, until we meet again, Marquess Grisel. I do hope that you will be in good health long enough for that to happen."
With that, the alpha leaves the meeting hall in a flurry of frosty scent notes, taking large steps away from the venue like he cannot wait to be rid of the unpleasant memories that occurred in there.