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Rated: 18+ · Fiction · Fantasy · #2136006
He came for her Crown. She left with his Head.

2/24/2017



A raging inferno lit up the quickly darkening sky from where the imperial gardens once stood. Delicate blooms wilted in the intense heat and trees more ancient the stones that formed the aging castle walls lay blackened and charred. She spared the scorched corpse of Daniel, the gardener an apologetic glance. His was surrounded by the bodies of several servants; all a quiet mockery of courage amidst the flower beds. They'd come running when the fire had first started to spread, tossing water on the blaze, but the invaders had started the fires with pitch and oil. A chorus of yells and screams echoed through the halls as the Queen's soldiers suppressed what was left of the rebellion.

"Forgive use! Please, we beg mercy of you gentle queen!"

Oh it was gentle queen now was it? Only a few hours ago she was the Usurper, a Temptress. The Whore Sorceress that had stolen the throne from their 'beloved' King. They'd come with their anger and torches and their ancient machines of war; forbidden relic of the past that blackened the sky and shook the earth when they moved. Blowing down the front gate and destroying the castle town below, they chanted, demanding she step down. They bemoaned the reforms and advances their new queen had ruthlessly ushered in. And of course they arrive under the banner of Prince Tseng Li An, the prideful agitator who believed the throne was his right. He'd led the charge through the city, charismatic as ever in his shining white-gold armor that she'd payed for. He blustered his way up the stairs and into the throne room, where he challenged the Queen in front of all of her courtiers.

"Murderess! Your unlawful reign ends here. You didn't even wait for my father's body to grow cold before you decided to warm his seat, did you?"

He'd been filled with righteous fury, sure in the rightness pf his claims. The Queen had smiled gently at him and stood up, her robes swirling gracefully around her as she opened her arms in welcome.

"Welcome back, My Little Prince, I have missed you all these long years. Come, can we not speak quietly and in peace about what ails you, Heart of mine?"

Prince Tseng's face curled up in disgust. He unsheathed his sword and pointed it at her. Startled cries filled the room as courtiers scurried out of the way, trying desperately to escape the violence about to ensue.

"I will not be taken by your falsely sweet words, nor will I allow you poison the minds of these noble people any longer!"

The Queens smile became sweeter even as her face crumpled into sorrow.

"Oh my sweet wayward son, how have I failed you? Did I not give you everything you could desire? Did I not allow you privileges befitting and even surpassing your rank? It is my fault you turned out this way I am sure?"

She closed her arms and slowly began closing the distance between herself and the Prince, her troubled countenance fading into serenity.

"Was it when I married your father after your uncle's death? Was it when I denied you access to the treasury or when I spared you the boring fate of War briefings and council meetings."

Her voice lowered into a whisper. Sensuously mocking, her words resounded around the room caressing the ear of all in attendance.

"Or maybe, it was when I banished you from my bed?"

The Prince's face contorted with rage and he rushed forwards swinging his vermillion swords with deadly accuracy, but his blade found nothing but air. Prince Tseng was no slouch when it came to swords play, the Queen had made absolutely sure of it; his tutors had been masters of their fields. Nevertheless he could not hit her, but when she finally lashed out, she hit him... Repeatedly. Blow after blow, the hands found the most hidden of weaknesses and exploited them. She crippled him, breaking his arms and crushing his liver and lungs in her assault.

When all movement ceased, the Prince was on his knees, struggling to keep conscious. The Queen gently stroked his cheek and cooed at him, before grabbing his own sword and using it to remove his head. Fear blanketed the throne room, as the Queen lovingly lifted up the head of her wayward son and walked out into the courtyard with him. The invading horde had been repealed, their war machine devastating as they were, feel apart inside the Queen magical barrier. What was left of the rabble quickly yielded when she held their leaders decapitated head high above her own.

Months later, the people were once again madly in love with their Queen, the imperial gardens were restored, a shadow of his former glory but no less peaceful. The palace was still being repaired as the Queen had prioritized the cleanup of the castle town to the ransacked farms instead. The Prince's body had been laid out for the carrion birds. His head had been preserved and displayed on the front gates of the city's wall, over it a decorated silver sign hung.

Let this serve as a warning to all who would assault the subjects of the Queen.





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