The Scarlett Queen

A scream filled with agony and despair pierced the air, echoing through the halls of the ancient castle. Agthar hastened his steps and took the stairs two at a time being careful not to spill the urn he carried with great tenderness. His lifted his pages robes above his knees so he could move unhindered.
“Agthar! Where are you?” a voice called from the end of the hall.
Agthar’s skin prickled at the sound, but he broke into a trot nonetheless. When he came to a large door near the end of the hall he stopped and took a deep breath. He released his robes and let then flow into place before he reached out and opened the heavy wooden door.
“Here I am Your Majesty.” he said as he walked across the room toward an open window.
“What took you so long?” a voice said from behind a set of black velvet curtains. A slight breeze ruffled the curtains revealing the profile of a woman in shadow. Agthar stopped in the middle of the room.
“We had trouble drawing the blood, Your Majesty. The flyer is becoming weak.”
“That is no excuse! What happened to the blue dragon I captured?”
“She was heavy with eggs, Your Majesty, and close to her time to lay. She died last night.”
The room suddenly became charged with energy, the hair on Agthar’s head stood out from his scalp at all angles. The swords and helmets lining the walls began to shake and clatter together. A blue light wafted out from behind the curtains and made its way toward Agthar. When it reached him, he began to shake and his breath came in rapid and shallow gasps. The woman emerged from behind the curtain, the eerie blue light reflecting off her creamy skin. Her burgundy silk dress clung to her voluptuous curves like a jealous lover. A torrent of raven colored hair was piled high on her head held in place with a single ruby encrusted comb. To the untrained eye she looked completely human. But her eyes removed all doubt that she was anything but pure evil. A deep fiery red with bright golden flecks, they were the eyes of a red dragon.
         Gracefully, she floated across the room towards the frightened page. Her left hand extended slowly out towards her imprisoned servant, the blue light coalesced and seemed to stream from her very fingertips. It encircled Agthar and pulled itself tight like a snake around its prey. Her right hand rested on the crease of her bosom, looking at Agthar seductively, she pulled a gold medallion from between her firm breasts.
“Pour the wine, Agthar.” she said. Her eyes sparkled and flashed as though there were a fire behind them.
“And pour some for yourself.” she said and smiled cruelly.
Slowly gliding to the table resting against the wall, she watched as the page struggled to walk under her control. When he reached the table he clumsily poured the contents of the urn into two golden goblets. Tears were now trickling down his slack face. 
“Now, now, Agthar.” she said coyly. “Don’t cry. Drink, my darling, drink.”
The Scarlett Queen lifted her own glass and dropped the medallion into it. The liquid began to boil and hiss like acid. Agthar lifted his own glass and hesitated for a moment at his lips, his eyes imploring her for mercy.
“Drink.” she said in a tight voice.
Agthar obeyed stiffly, choking on the liquid in his goblet, spilling it down his face and robes. When he had finished, his features contorted into a grimace of pain. With a wave of her golden goblet, the blue light released the page and he fell to the hard stone floor. His body began to spasm and thrash on the floor and his mouth filled with blood red foam. His muted grunts of pain and choking elicited no reaction from the Queen.  She watched with a detached fascination, her head tilted as if to study him more closely. When the thrashing stopped, she turned to the table and drank from her own cup.
“Silly page.” she said into her goblet. “Dragon’s blood is poisonous to humans unless touched by deep magic.” She heaved a sigh and stepped over the body as though he were nothing more than a fallen log.
“Brae-ton!” she called.
The door burst open and a short, dirty woman entered the room.
“Get rid of this.” she said, motioning towards the dead page.
“Yes, Mistress.” Brae-ton said with a low bow.
“And bring my footmen. I feel like going for a walk. It’s such a beautiful evening, don’t you think, Brae-ton?” the Queen asked inhaling the night air deeply.
“Oh yes, Mistress. Very beautiful indeed.”