A Faery Tale - Finished

One Night With The Fae - Part Six

- Mirela, Queen of the Seelie Court -

Mirela observed her sister with interest. She knew that Brathnach would take care of the rest of her problems, but the Unseelie Queen was one she would have to deal with herself. Although it might not be as hard as it once was. Azarel seemed to be losing control.

As Mirela watched, Azarel twitched nervously in her chair, her wild gaze darting around the room. Interesting. The Seelie Queen had spent her entire childhood trying to provoke the insanity she knew was settled deep within her twin sister’s soul. Who knew it would become apparent when she only had to spend one night in a century in the same room as her sister.

Mirela almost laughed aloud at what her twin had become. She had always been the strong one, the leader. Her idea to kill their father had been almost perfect. How sickening it had been when Azarel had been the one named as Queen of his court. She had no choice, but to kill her mother to even the score and take back some control. There was no way she could let her insane twin have power when she had none to speak of. It was only right that she should rule too. It had worked out so well that in the end she took over the Seelie Court, but she wanted the Unseelie side too. She wanted everything, to end the courts and rule all as the old king had. She wanted her sister to have nothing.

Their mother’s death hadn’t concerned either of them too much. She had never been interested in them or their father, even when it was her turn to care for them. She had always been too busy with her lovers to bother with her offspring. Her marriage had been one of convenience, to stop a war, but it was more of an inconvenience to the previous Seelie Queen.

Their father was a different story. His death had been the beginning of the end for Azarel. In life, he had doted on her twin sister. The weak one. The crazy one. He had no time for Mirela even though she was the great one. He had protected Azarel from her sister until Mirela despised her.

And now it was all for nothing. Everything he had tried to seam up in Azarel was coming undone. It was obvious to anyone who looked at her that she was losing all control of herself. Even the bloodlust was going haywire. That would please Brathnach. He was her sworn slave. She had cursed him a long time ago to test his loyalty, and he had passed without fault. He was her puppy, one she liked to tease and toy with but he was, if anything, dependable.

She hoped he destroyed her sister’s bodyguard; the bloodlust alone would help him. She had always hated Wyla. Her father had shown more love to even Wyla, a servant, than to his own daughter. Wyla was the only reason her precious Azarel had kept it together for so long. Mirela had always suspected that her father had given Wyla some task concerning Azarel. Why else would she spend so much time protecting her?

Mirela suddenly realised that the room was on alert. The dancing had all but stopped. Only the few remaining solitary fae she had cursed were still moving on the floor. Their eyes focused across the great hall to a deadly battle. Mirela ran her tongue over her teeth. Her very own Brathnach against the repulsive Wyla. Perfect.

She leaned forward, anticipating a close battle. She almost rose to her feet when she saw that Wyla had drawn first blood, but the stupid faery didn’t take advantage of the strike and almost stood still, allowing Brathnach to slice her head from her body. Mirela’s lips curved upward in a triumphant smile.

She savoured the moment she watched her sister lose all control. She had been waiting for it most of her life, after all. An unearthly shriek from Azarel’s throat signalled the undoing of the Unseelie Court. She clawed at her face, the tears pouring from her eyes mixing with the blood. It streaked her face unattractively. She pulled chunks of her own hair out in her grief and despair.

“What a spectacle,” murmured Mirela, almost purring with contentment as her sister threw herself to the ground in her misery. The Unseelie Court Faeries tried to console her or at least to stop her harming herself any further. They were humiliated and ashamed, and yet they still stood by her side. Better that they kill her instantly, thought Mirela. She would have. And perhaps she should.

As she processed that thought, a scream curdled through the hall. One of the pitiful Irish fae, a banshee, proclaiming treachery. Mirela rolled her eyes, but even she was affected by the banshee’s mournful cries. They had lost the source of their real power, but they were still capable of powerful magic. Before the echo had ceased to be heard, an assorted group of faeries leapt up to face Azarel. Mirela watched with great interest as they took on her sister’s bodyguards fearlessly. Azarel appeared to be begging them to end her life. Mirela was ashamed to be the sister of one so pathetic. Noble blood wasted on a wretched coward who pleaded for death.

An UnSeelie pixie was the one who wielded the knife that killed her sister. The pixie’s hands burned from the iron knife she used. That stirred something in Mirela’s mind, but she was too busy enjoying her sister’s death to let it concern her. Azarel sank slowly to the ground, a peaceful expression on her face for the first time in years. Mirela waited until the last breath had been taken before she jumped to her feet ecstatically.

“I am the new Unseelie Queen! Bow before me, despised Court of the Dark.”

She was so caught up in her triumph that she failed to notice when both her footstool and one of her light carriers ditched their bonds. The sprite caught her by the hair roughly, making Mirela gasp. The sprite yanked her head right back before any of the bodyguards could react to the tiny creature’s action. The being that was once known only as the stool somersaulted in the air, knife in hand. The blade sliced once across Mirela’s throat, but that was enough.

She died long before her loyal puppy screamed in horror at the loss.