Hehe, nice. Also, here's the second part.
Things were finally looking up for the elven fugitive. Now, having the queen herself as a confident, it was much easier for Blackwood to control his entourage. The courtiers quickly got used to the thought of having a self-appointed human noble around them, even though rumours of him being an elf spread wide rather soon. Sir Thil did not care. He rode along Torrid Lash’s borders, fighting off raiders and occasionally feeding on blood of elven prisoners.
It was remarkable that, after the first few month, Urist became fascinated with his story. She would often ask him personal, if not uncomfortably intimate questions. Being as cautious as possible, he told her of his flight from the elven lands. She listened carefully, clearly showing pity. Next time, she asked him of his family. He honestly told her he hardly remembered anything, also mentioning Iyathi, his very first master. Then, she moved onto his personal life, wondering if vampires ever live in couples. Such an assumption sounded pretty weird to Blackwood, as two vampires present in one place usually meant competition rather than cooperation.
Astoundingly, it was the first time Blackwood did ask himself about his “unlife”. Was there really anything more to it than a constant struggle for fishing spots? Of course, there were always his enemies among the elven nobility, but the general idea of seeking vengeance appealed to Blackwood no more. He knew that the existence of a vampire was already a bane for everyone around.
But then, things happened.
The year of 27 was grim for the royal family. King Rith fell victim to a rampaging bronze colossus. Two of queen Urist’s beloved sons, 11-year old Sakzul and 2-year old Edzul were kidnapped by goblin grunts, to be held prisoners. While army units were dispatched to apprehend the raiders, and while other children were being guarded around the clock by Blackwood and other pages, queen Urist started losing her faith in everything. She walked around, staring blankly at walls, slowly succumbing to madness. Sometimes she would come up to Blackwood, tie her hands weakly around his armor-clad chest and sob for hours. The elf put up with it, standing motionlessly like a statue to his former self, unmoved and unflinching. He was thinking.
On that day, he stood guard at the royal chambers along with General Tobul Toerope, a huge, hardened dwarf with a curly beard. Queen Urist was away, visiting the Cobalt Abbey. Basically, those two were “babysitting” with Prince Atir, his younger brother and sisters. Tobul, not willing to sit still, strolled around Blackwood, swagger-stick in his hand. “Bloody greenskins” He mumbled from time to time. It was silent around, as the kids were already in bed.
Suddenly, sounds of a commotion reached Blackwood’s ears. He heard somebody scream, a band of soldiers marching right under the windows of the royal castle.
“What on the earth is that?” Toerope roared, looking at the yard. Then, the doors opened, and a group of courtiers bursted in, carrying the queen.
“She’s ill” Somebody shouted. “Put her on the throne! Call the doctor, now!”
Blackwood springed to his feet, holding his cloak.
“What happened?” Tobul grabbed one of the guards by the shoulder.
“We don’t know, sir” The guard replied frightenedly. “Her Majesty looked perfectly well when she entered the abbey, but she must have collapsed inside!”
“Enough”. Blackwood pulled Tobul by his sleeve. “Tell everyone to get the heck out”.
Was it a steely note in Thil’s voice, or his own decision, but general Toerope ordered everyone out of the room. In a last second, Blackwood caught Urist’s secretary by his hood. “Wait here” he said to the courtier. “Were you in there with Her Majesty when it happened?”
“Yes!” The secretary replied, shivering like a madman.
“Did you tell anyone what had happened there?”
“No, I did not!” The secretary mumbled nervously. Blackwood casually put his hand on secretary’s shoulder, stretching his lips disgruntledly.
“Now, you tell me”.
“She…” The secretary swallowed nervously, looking at the tall page. “She broke Tumam’s cup with her hammer…”
“Well then”. Blackwood murmured softly. With a swift move, he drove his dagger right through secretary’s chest. With a quiet moan the courtier fell on the floor.
“What are ye doing, treehugger?!” Tobul yelled, reaching for his sword. The elf raised his hand. “We gotta keep everything under secret” He replied, carefully positioning unconscious dwarf on the carpet. “Do not worry, in an hour he will be okay, but won’t remember anything”. With a sigh, general Toerope sheathed his blade, as Blackwood dipped his finger into secretary’s wound and started drawing bloody figures on his face.
“I’m done here”. He announced after a minute. Tobul glanced at the queen, who was laying on the throne unmovingly. “Is there anything we can do?” He asked, looking around.
“I do not know” Blackwood’s masked face turned to the general. The page, who was much taller than Tobul, rose to his legs and started trashing about the room.
“I think I have an idea” He muttered finally. “Go find…” He snapped his fingers “That lady”.
“…Oh no”. Toerope stammered. “Are you sure?”
“I like this idea neither” Blackwood shrugged. “But it might be our only option”.
“Maybe you can…” Tobul sighed and waved his hand. “Oh fine. We’re already neck deep in shit”.
The general proceeded deeper into the palace in search of the so much needed “lady”. Blackwood looked at the queen. She was looking at him, smiling weakly. He approached her, bending to whisper one single word in her ear.
“Why?”
“…We will rule this kingdom forever…” She murmured quietly. “Forever together… Forever young…”.
Blackwood did not say anything.
"Nice job, Mr. Tomato Soup Lover" Her voice announced from the doors, soaking with irony. "Now you managed to get yourself a dashing bride. Even if she is to turn into a werecreature, you're still a cute couple. I might even write a play about that".
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Topic: (34.11 Succession) Clobbermountains -- The End(?) (Read 383552 times)