I
had expected someone with political or military weight to head the
party sent for the young princess, but I had not anticipated it being
my own father. I was
stunned, but elated when the information had filtered through my
network.
This
time I
would be the
one with the power.
The
one on a
throne
in
a land where his title meant nothing. I would be in
charge and dominating before the man who sealed the usurpation to my
rightful throne. My
body and mind hummed with anticipation of feeling triumphant and
greeting him holding a title he did not feel I deserved.
It
was not clear if he knew it was me leading the House Yser. From
my distant and fading memories, he had never struck me as someone who
cared much to know about the politics of foreign lands. He was a more
a monarch who leaned on the sword versus the quill. Not that I
necessarily found that to be an inherently bad tactic, but I believed
threats should be paired with cunning words and skillful diplomacy.
No
matter how much I reached into my childhood memories, I could only
recall him sitting as a dark cloud as the focal point of the room
while everyone else silently walked on eggshells until he would bark
out a word or two as an order. Even towards me he was not the kind of
parent to ask about my day or seek me out for conversation. I had
learned from very young that he did not need, nor desire my words,
and it was best to stay silent in his presence unless he gave a
command to speak.
I
hoped he had
no idea he was walking into and would be surprised by seeing me sat
in my glory on a throne. I wanted to see
see the realization wash over him. He
had not felt that I deserved to be a monarch,
yet I had defied him.
Mari
had left early in the morning to greet the entourage and guide them
across the stone. I
had asked her to be cordial and gracious to them, a request that she
had haughtily sniffed at but nodded her agreement. It was evident
that she hated the idea of bowing her head even a single notch to my
father, but revenge was best executed when the victim has no hints as
to what is to come.
"I
know it will be hard to resist,” Mistra
gently chastised, placing a well manicured hand on my arm,
“but it will likely benefit you not to start a war today. Soon we
will be powerful enough not to care, but for now, prudence dictates
we mind where we tread."
"I
cannot allow them to take the girl," I said, glancing
to her in the consorts throne. “Her destiny lies somewhere greater
than a child bride to an old king.”
"Of
course they
will not take her,"
she replied with a nod, "but no need to act with aggression from
the very start.”
She
paused and pursed her lips together, seeming to deeply contemplate
her next words.
“I
can only imagine the anger and irritation you must be feeling by
seeing your father again. You
have every right to feel nothing but malice, however we are not yet
prepared for an overwhelming and swift victory against your rightful
kingdom."
I
couldn't fault her for the reminder, there was a bubbling rage that
already wanted to spill from my lips without the traitor present. My
mind kept wandering back to the early days of my life when things
made sense and there was no talk about a future where I was not heir
to my father's throne. I could still remember the pride I felt to be
the king's daughter, that I would one day inherit the throne from
such a powerful and imperious
monarch.
While
I could not fault myself for being naive, now those memories made me
feel foolish. No one in that kingdom intended for me to end up as
little more than an eventual marriage bargaining chip. They
had known all along that my father would not stop until he had
managed to get himself a son to be heir.
There was no way that I would allow that fate to be handed down to
another poor girl under my control.
There
was a deep, distant rumble of the front doors to
the castle Yser
opening.
My heart pounded in my chest
as a million dark remarks swam through my head, all vying to be the
devastating first words I would say to my father after all these
years. None
of them felt the right amount of venomous or cutting to fully
articulate the hatred that had pooled in my heart regarding my
father.
Mari
had wasted no time for any tour or side paths
as a gaggle of footsteps pounded on the stone towards the throne
room. Mistra glanced my way again
with a
contemplative look on her face, but it quickly turned into a sly
smile and she patted my arm gently before leaning back into the
consort's throne
and training her eyes on the door.
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The
great door of the throne room was
thrown
open and men clad in swords and prepped for battle clanked their way
into the room, eyes distrustful of the room around them. Their
sword hilts and armor were
clad with the one legged hawk, the insignia of the Kingdom of
Vivaldi. All eight
soldiers
formed two lines
before turning to
face one another
and lowering their heads for the entrance of my father.
Leon
Vivaldi, my father,
entered through
the with
his chin in the air, looking about him with distaste, eyes narrowing
when they fell upon me. They
held no sign of
recognition or
familial love in
their depths.
He
had aged quite a bit since my last memory of him. I would not have
called him a young man by any stretch when I was a young child, but
now the years weighed heavy on him. His
hair had
gone from peppered to pure
silver and his
skin
was
furrowed with deep
wrinkles
across his face. He did not look frail or weak, but he no longer
looked like a monarch with decades of rule before him.
"King
Leon," I declared, raising my voice louder than I would normally
would. I wanted to set the precedent from the start that he was in my
realm and therefore I was in charge. "We have been expecting
you."
The
old king grunted and cast his glance between me and Mistra, his
eyebrows raising slightly, but not lingering long.
"I
am not here for general niceties," he grumbled.
His
voice tugged very gently at my heart. A long forgotten memory of
being bounced on his knee as a tiny child surfaced and played through
my mind. I could vividly remember the feeling of adoration and hear
my childlike
laughter.
As soon as the memory arose, it passed and my heart hardened once
more against him. Those
happy times had been few and far between and held no weight after his
treacherous removal of me as heir.
"I
suppose you are not," I said, voice unaffected by his bad
manners, "but I thought that you would at least have the general
dignity to give respect to a fellow monarch." I
refused to even broach the topic of family connections with him.
His
lips curled up into a smirking sneer and he waved away my words with
his hand. "Find her."
His
command was directed at the men he had brought with him and each
responded with a sharp nod of their head and turned towards the door
to leave. In a split second I opened my magical conduit and sent my
will into the stone floor, spiraling deep into the earth to the hot
core of the planet below.
I
had been honing my ability to seek the fiery depths and harness its
power at a word
of my command.
It was not but a couple breaths before I felt the heat rise and pulse
from the ground deep below the castle, lending me power.
I
stood and extended my hand, sending scorching force from my
fingertips, manifesting a searing wind which slammed the doors shut
before the men could leave. They turned in surprise, their stunned
gaze falling upon me. I must have been an imposing sight, many of
them reached for the swords at their hips.
"Witch,"
my father hissed through clenched teeth, "you will not stop us."
I
willed the tempest wind to plow through the men and the king,
knocking them to their knees.
"Kneel
before your betters," I commanded with a dispassionate voice. I
buffeted the blast before it reached the throne and it blew against
me gently, enveloping me in a warm heat and blew my long, dark hair
around me in a halo. "You are not in the safety of your kingdom,
you are in my domain, you hold no power here."
"A
little wind will not stop me," the king snarled. "I should
have known the kingdom of hags would try to pull parlor tricks."
"Parlor
tricks?" I bellowed.
I
willed
my
magical might
to my feet and utilized searing wind to lift me off the floor. I rose
and towered above their heads, my eyes trained
on
the pitiful man who sired me. He had no respect for me as a monarch
just has he had possessed no respect for me as rightful heir.
"Retract
your words and I will spare you," I
demanded dispassionately.
My
father let out a sharp snort and looked away from me, his jaw moving
in an odd way. He made direct eye contact with me again, then parted
his lips and spat onto the floor in front of him.
With
rage burning to an inferno in the pit of my stomach, I beseeched the
fiery depths for uncontrollable power and flung it from all around
me, the magic feeding the candles inset into the walls until their
flames grew bright white and escaped the tethers of their wick. The
room erupted into screams as the flames coalesced at the center of
the room engulfing the entourage in the inferno. I felt a shrill
laugh escape my lips, though it went unheard over the cries of the
damned and the crackle and pop of their bodies succumbing to the
blaze.
I
felt Mistra's hand on the back
of my calf and though she did not rise to join me, her voice echoed
right next to my ear, "Do
not over strain yourself."
Heeding
her words, I relaxed my power and sank back down to
her.
Begrudgingly,
the
flames receded from their white hot intensity to a normal blaze. The
more gentle crackle and pop seemed silent against the cacophony of
the roaring flames and desperate screams.
None
of the men stood, their bodies crumpled and charred, the metal of
their swords and jewelry melted grotesquely into their lifeless
corpses. The king was the most effected, his form reduced to nothing
more then a pile of ash and shards of remaining bone. I drew in a
deep breath and weakly leaned back onto my throne, body sapped of
energy from the display of strength.
I
watched the remaining fire burn, while
taking
in deep, steady breaths to calm and ground myself. I had not started
out intending to
kill anyone, though I had not expected to be so overtly disrespected
and disregarded. I
anticipated this not being a friendly family reunion, but there were
certain expectations and standards that monarchs observed in regards
to how we are to interact with each other. His total disrespect of
both my position and myself as his daughter was simply too much to
bear and allow to go unpunished.
Even
if he held no respect for me or my kingdom, he still should have
known there was danger in treating a Yser woman so poorly. It
seemed that the reputation of the Yser had to be corrected. Our
name should strike fear into their hearts. Perhaps
this would end up being an effective starting point.
The
door to the room opened and Mari stepped in, her eyes growing wide at
the dying flames before her. She
stepped around the charred corpses and sank into seat before the
throne.
"In
all the years of Evonia's rule, I don't believe she ever
killed someone so directly,"
Mari
said with a deep cluck of her tongue.
"Plan an assassination or order someone to be killed, sure, but
she was
never inclined to take matters into her own hands."
"It
had to be done," I said in a shaky voice I barely recognized as
my own, "they will learn to fear Toria Yser."
