Success or Death.
Dark clouds loomed over the royal palace of Mindabaal. The distant rumbling of thunder forewarned the coming storm as it rolled over the far mountains, and heavy rain pattered the windows. Echoes travelled through the empty royal reception where a harrowed Crown Prince Donovan of house Andupaar sat alone on his throne. A terrible weight burdened his shoulders, casting him into premature age. His queen stood before him: The Queen that had slaughtered his entire family on the day of their wedding and corrupted his mind with her cancerous touch. She was not radiant or beautiful like the day they had married, but a dark and cruel creature that held his heart in her frozen talons. Though he sat upon the throne, it was she who ruled through her decoys and proxies. Now, she stood before him in her actual form. Eyes of burning embers set in a face of ash, staring at him under unblinking eyelids painted in the hue of soot and coal.
"My Prince. Mindabaal stands alone. The Sith have left."
Donovan raised his eyes under heavy eyelids and forced himself to straighten up in his seat. He was the ruler, the sovereign, yet he felt so powerless, so drowsy, so angry.
"I see still one remains: The fiend that feasts upon my dreams, saps my strength, stole my heart."
He clasped his chest, but felt his hand instantly fall into his lap. It took remarkable effort for him to sit up straight. His anger battled the synthetic love the serpent had injected in his mind.
"That is no way to speak to your queen, is it?"
With long strides, she made her way up the steps of the throne. Her left hand raised up in front of her, showing the ring she wore for this very occasion. It bound them by law and gave her rightful claim to the throne. It was a taunt to his legacy, his pride, and a painful reminder of the day of their wedding. Silence took Donovan as he looked away like a shunned dog.
"But it is not untrue; I remain for the moment. How could I leave without visiting my husband?"
Her words were poison. Donovan's face twisted in pain and with a push of effort he stood from his seat. His hands clenched into fists.
"What is it you want then, wife?"
She did not stop her stride, but carried on the momentum and put her hands on his arms. It was a gesture of comfort, but also a measure of security as she could now prevent him from lashing out with his arms.
"To say goodbye, my love. Am I not allowed such affections?"
He stilled, face twisted in confused pain, adoration, and disgust.
"You lie. There is no love in you, no affection. You are dead to your very core."
"I am hurt by your words, my Prince. You show such distrust, such anger. Will I have no parting gift? No one last kiss?"
"A kiss?" "A kiss - And I leave you in peace." "Peace."
His eyes grew heavy with her touch; his knees grew weak. She stepped up to the throne, standing face to face with him now. They leaned close, lips parting. A smile danced on the purple lips of the Queen, her eyes did not close.
[member="Mythos"]
"My Prince. Mindabaal stands alone. The Sith have left."
Donovan raised his eyes under heavy eyelids and forced himself to straighten up in his seat. He was the ruler, the sovereign, yet he felt so powerless, so drowsy, so angry.
"I see still one remains: The fiend that feasts upon my dreams, saps my strength, stole my heart."
He clasped his chest, but felt his hand instantly fall into his lap. It took remarkable effort for him to sit up straight. His anger battled the synthetic love the serpent had injected in his mind.
"That is no way to speak to your queen, is it?"
With long strides, she made her way up the steps of the throne. Her left hand raised up in front of her, showing the ring she wore for this very occasion. It bound them by law and gave her rightful claim to the throne. It was a taunt to his legacy, his pride, and a painful reminder of the day of their wedding. Silence took Donovan as he looked away like a shunned dog.
"But it is not untrue; I remain for the moment. How could I leave without visiting my husband?"
Her words were poison. Donovan's face twisted in pain and with a push of effort he stood from his seat. His hands clenched into fists.
"What is it you want then, wife?"
She did not stop her stride, but carried on the momentum and put her hands on his arms. It was a gesture of comfort, but also a measure of security as she could now prevent him from lashing out with his arms.
"To say goodbye, my love. Am I not allowed such affections?"
He stilled, face twisted in confused pain, adoration, and disgust.
"You lie. There is no love in you, no affection. You are dead to your very core."
"I am hurt by your words, my Prince. You show such distrust, such anger. Will I have no parting gift? No one last kiss?"
"A kiss?" "A kiss - And I leave you in peace." "Peace."
His eyes grew heavy with her touch; his knees grew weak. She stepped up to the throne, standing face to face with him now. They leaned close, lips parting. A smile danced on the purple lips of the Queen, her eyes did not close.
[member="Mythos"]