| Jan. 23rd, 2008 @ 01:55 am Because no one asked for it! |
|---|
Jussa sat in his throne with his fingers digging firmly into his temples, trying to block out the sound of the men and women shouting at each other from their seats in the royal court. Half of the crusty, bejeweled men and women who had almost all reached antiquity sat on the left side of the three thrones at the back of the room, while the other musty, decaying half sat to the right. They howled and cawed at each other, every one trying to lay claim to the throne for either himself or a son or daughter.
“It has been twenty years since King Pell has gone from us. Is it not time that we find a new man to sit in his place? I was his cousin’s oldest Uncle, therefore, my son has the right to the throne!” one man who appeared to be nearing eighty coughed.
“Who says it has to be a man? We should return to the old ways! The Nine Goddesses would want it that way! They did name our first ruler as Harathia, our Mother Queen. My granddaughter should take the throne and return the femininity that has been sorely lacking here!” a dusty old woman crowed from across the floor.
“If we were to put a woman on the throne, should it not be the standing Queen Myl?” a relatively younger gentleman, aged sixty-seven, asked. The old woman swung her cane at him, landing a blow right between his eyes. The man toppled over the railing and landed with a sickening crunch on the ground, thirty feet below.
Jussa sat on his throne, digging his fingers ever deeper, trying to find some way to drown out the sound of the old fools’ bickering. As the ancients continued to protest every opinion that was placed on the floor, Jussa sunk deeper and deeper into his throne until he could stand it no longer. He took a hold of his staff that had been leaning against his throne, the smallest and least ornate of the three and stood up. His throne sat humbly, yet noticeably to the right of the king’s which had stood vacant for the past twenty years. On the other side of the center throne, stood the queen’s, which had been abandoned when Jussa thought it best to hide Myl away in a tower, safe from those who wish her ill will. Jussa raised his staff high above his head, and when that didn’t work, “Silence! Please, my lords and ladies! Silence I pray you!”
Many of the fossils were shocked into silence, but some of the old, more ornery ones continued their squabbles. Fed up, Jussa slammed his staff on the ground three times. The impacts echoed painfully throughout the grand hall, silencing all other noises. As the echoes died out, Jussa began speaking again, controlling the entire hall with his presence. “My dignified personages, if you please, we must continue these discussions in a more civilized manner, or I fear no conclusion shall ever be reached. As I’m sure you are all aware, we have received news from the eastern border that the Ennedi are mobilizing. They gather an army twice the size of the one we lost King Pell to twenty years past. Our greatest strategists can foresee one outcome: the utter destruction of our land. The only hope, they say, is if we manage to gather our people under the throne again.
“Now, I realize that you all feel that you or your offspring has some sort of claim to this throne. However, unless we come to some sort of decision, Ennedi will surely send us to our ancestors. I suggest that we not leave until we have found some sort of solution, lest we be sent the way of our neighbors to the north.”
“If any one royal line gets their fingers on the throne, there will be no way to remove it, even after the war,” one elderly woman called from the back of the hall. Every voice in the hall echoed her sentiments.
“We would have no way of assuring that the chosen line would actually be the best one,” a man who could barely breathe agreed.
“I have an idea,” the youngest member of the court groaned as he stood up from where he had fallen, wiping the blood from the side of his head. “Since you, Grand Minister Jussa, are a neutral party, you could assume a temporary command of the kingdom, to lead us through this sticky situation, and when these hard times have passed, we can properly select the true successor to the throne.” The entire hall was devoid of any sound.
“Certainly you jest, sir. I am no leader. My sole duty on this sphere is to fulfill the will of the Nine Goddesses, a duty which is best accomplished from this seat, not this one.” Jussa gestured to his throne and the king’s in turn.
“Surely, you have the ability to lead us out of this predicament!” a full minute passed without a single soul breathing. Then all present erupted into roars of agreement.
Jussa tried to protest, claiming that he, truly, was not the man for the job. However, as he turned to take his leave, a thin, maniacal smile spread across his lips. His plan had worked perfectly.
It was dark. It was always dark. The only light Myl had was that which managed to trickle its way in between the bars on her window which hung a good five feet over her head. She had grown rather accustomed to her solitude. She hadn’t seen her husband for twenty years, half her life. She held no hopes of ever seeing her true love again. Her son, however, was a different story. She hadn’t seen him since the boy had been born sixteen years ago. She still held the images of both her husband and her son fresh in her mind, as if she had just held them yesterday.
“One day I’ll get out of here and get my hands on Jussa. If only he knew what I could do to him with my bare hands. That poor little excuse for a man will wish he had never sat on that throne once I’m through with him.
“Although, I’m quite sure he knows what I could do to him. There is no reason why he would pretend to be protecting me by hiding me away up here.” Myl had taken to talking to herself in the long months in solitude.
“Yes, ma’am I’m quite sure he knows exactly what it is you can do.” However, this time, she was not alone. “We are nearly ready to set our plan into action. Intelligence tells us that within the week, Ennedi will move into position and begin their attack on Harath.” The figure Myl spoke with was clad all in black and was invisible save for its eyes in the darkness of her cell. The eyes were pure white, and shone brilliantly in the shadows.
“Do you think you’ll be able to handle everything?”
“We have taken precautions against almost every possible move from both sides of the war. There is no way that we will come out of this without being victorious.”
“And you’ll come and free me?”
“How could we not? You are an integral part of the plan.”
“I still don’t see how Harath will be able to battle the magic of the Ennedi. The Nine Goddesses would not show favor on us were we to use magic.”
The glowing eyes crinkled into a grin, “You could say that the Nine Goddesses aren’t always as unyielding as the Ministers make them out to be.” As the figure turned to leave, the shadows seemed to teem and swirl around its hands. “I’ll not be visiting again, it’s far too risky. We shall retrieve you two days after the start of the conflict. Farewell.”
“Farewell, Syral.” The figure froze, halfway through the wall.
“But how did you know?” his voice didn’t change, but Myl know he was shocked.
“How could I forget those eyes? I love you, and I am proud of you.”
“I love you too, mother,” Syral slipped through the wall and Myl was once again alone. |
|  |
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
psychodoom's journal
recumbent
cheerful
The Blue Monster
blank
amused
loved
Bitchin' Cake!