The War Against Aberon (Rough Draft #1)

Epilogue

*Note this is the second part of a double update make sure you read the last chapter before this!

**Trigger warning, pretty dark adult themes in here, especially at the start, not too severe but I felt it was necessary

***The italicized words under dialogue are translations

     A small girl with dark hair and dark eyes shook in her cot. Her tattered clothing did little to fend off the chill covering her body as she curled her body up to conserve heat. Why did it have to be so cold in her room? However, she wasn't stuck long before her door was slammed open and she leaped to her feet to stand statue still beside her bed. She didn't dare breathe as the Vàldeçhe came to stand before her. The large man stood glaring at the girl for a moment before gripping her chin with a force that would definitely bruise her.

    "Mirè lïeé dsüntï, çu parchïé dùr alcô mrûskéœ," he said it in a growl.

    "Get up, dsüntï, it's time for your fight"

     "Vàldeçhe, plücè Àl idë mœrlifé, plücè," the girl pleaded, tears beginning to run down her plump cheeks.

    "Master, please I'll do anything, please!"

    "Pütité, dsüntï, pütité À sudâ morlé dùe." He gripped her arm as she spoke and dragged her from the room as she began to sob profusely.

    "Pathetic, dsüntï, pathetic, I should kill you."

    "Plücè, plücè!" the little girl's cries did nothing to dissuade the man as he dragged her down hallways, getting closer and closer to a room full of noise. Shouting rang from everywhere as soon as they entered the space. Large men with big bellies and bigger glasses all screamed and raised their fists, spilling drink everywhere. They were doing this all while facing a raised platform that held two forms, a beaten and bloody boy of around ten, and a man with eyes lit in excitement. The boy was covered in cuts and bruises, yet his face remained studiously still his eyes shadowed with a haunted air.

    The man in the ring started shouting something that the little girl couldn't hear over all the shouting, but it made the crowd rowdier. Soon a space opened up in all the drunkards and she was being dragged by the Vàldeçhe to the platform. She kicked and screamed the whole way, but his grip did not loosen. Before long they were in front of the platform and she was picked up and tossed on. Her body landed with a thud and her whole side ached. She gasped and cried, but she was forced to stop by another grip on her arm. The man on the stage lifted her to her feet and set her in a corner of the square. He did the same for the boy before counting to three with a raised arm.

    She didn't pay attention to it as Vàldeçhe came beside her and whispered to her. She heard what he said even as the crowd roared, his words sending shudders through her body. "Dùe wùolé parchùnà." Just as the man swung his arm down and the bloodied boy came running at her with crazed eyes. "You die today."

...

    Amari smirked to herself at the memory and simply gazed around with a proud air. Servants ran before her getting the ballroom of the castle prepared. Decorations are being put up, food is placed on tables, and the stage for the musicians is being set up. It was a glorious sight compared to what Vàldeçhe expected of her. He would hopefully be here tonight, and she would rip his head from his body. Perhaps it would be placed with another great piece of décor she placed herself.

    Amari sat on the Aberon throne in traditional royal garb. An extravagant floor-length dress of maroon color and gold embellishments. It was skin tight and wrapped around her body beautifully, a contrast to her hair that was wild around her head, and the blood streaked across her left cheek. However, it was an even bigger contrast to the sword that stood beside the throne. It was to her left, blood across half its blade and it was stood not on a stand, but something far more sinister.

    The King's severed head was a great piece of decoration according to Amari as it was dripping blood down the steps that lead to the throne. Sword still in its top. The ex-kings face was permanently set in a face of surprise and it was the prettiest piece of art the new Queen of Aberon had ever seen. The glazed eyes and fearful look were ones she could admire for hours. She almost wish the sword embedded in it was different so it could make the picture perfect. The steel embedded already would have to do, the head of Vàldeçhe would just have to be the better art piece. She planned on putting an entirely unique blade through his skull.

    One with a cute feline face made out of jewels on the pummel. She did wonder where the Felipara had gotten it, she almost wished she had one all her own rather than the stolen one. However, that would make it less sentimental she thought. No, she'd keep the blade for herself and get a portrait made with it and the other sword beside her highlighting her on the throne. Amari wondered if any of the artists in her kingdom could get the expression she wanted to have just right. The Mad Queen hoped so. Her grin grew large on her face as she continued to watch the proceedings.

...

    Far below the castle in the royal dungeon two slumped forms lay on the cold stone ground. The floor was mildly damp and the smell of mold was rampant in the space. One form was snoring with large breaths as her head lay on her paws. Her companion leaned against her side staring at the large cell door. Her body was limp as her thoughts whirred in her head. Her dirtied clothing irritated her skin, and her mind fueled a fury stronger than any from the past inside her chest. Her tail swished at her side, and a hiss was on the verge of escaping her mouth.

    Key differences were in the figure and what she was like mere weeks ago. Her eyes hardened and her face gaunt. Muscle tone previously on her body was starting to sharpen as any spare weight not made from work or exercise was gone. However, all the physical change was nothing to the psychological differences. No, she was a new person entirely. Her yellow eyes had a new depth, one that was dark and focused. Her expression boiled down to a look of rage so powerful that it cooled all her features. Her mouth was set in a thin line, constantly bordering on a grimace. She was something beyond anger.

    Freya huffed in her resting state and Zaffre tried to calm herself down so as not to wake the Pumeon. It was difficult though when her brain kept replaying her last moments of freedom and the actions taken that got her here. Amari's deranged expressions often flashed through her thoughts. She focused on a few things to get her fury down. Her mom, dad, and the thought of revenge. She would destroy the Mad Queen and she would make Aberon pay. For all that they'd done. Blood would spill at her hand and she would relish in it.

    Freya made some more grumbles in her sleep and Zaffre began to stroke her side as she calmed the Big Cat down. Plotting the fall of a kingdom would take a lot of time, so she'd have to build some patience. As annoying as that fact was. She sighed to herself with the thought of waiting to take action, but she needed time. Time to plan, time to get stronger, and time to let her fury fester. She wanted to be beyond any sort of natural anger, she would be more. And she would see to it that the world around her burned. 

Word Count-1303

Total book Word Count-Including Chapter titles (Chapter One) 40,961!!!

A/N:

I WROTE A BOOK THAT'S SO INSANE!! Isn't that so crazy!! I know it's only a very rough draft, but I feel accomplished! Thank you all so much for reading! It means the world to me! I hope everyone enjoyed the first part of Zaffre's story! I'm sorry I had to leave it on Another cliff hanger. Especially since I don't know when I'll write the sequel. That just adds to the anticipation though right? Anyhow, I don't know what else to say other than thank you!

I'll talk to you all again in my next book!

Thank you so much, 

S