The Tributes (Sable)

The Black Queen

From what Sable could currently see, the Queen had leaned forward a little toward the man now, giving Sable the first glimpse of the Black Queen's face. A fair-skinned face with dark lips and eyes was all that Sable could make out though ... Along with the fact that she was smiling slightly.

"Calm yourself, Raoul," she said lightly to the minister (Sable knew it was him she'd addressed because he went rigid and pale in response), and her dulcet tones carried as much weight and danger as her laugh.

"Now, tell me then, brawler," she said to the grubby man. "What is it that you want as payment?"

Sable saw the man's eyes flash with something for a second. And she suddenly wished that she was closer to him to read it. For the impression she already had of his motives did not bode well...

"I don't know what the task is yet, Your Majesty," he responded, in the same flippant tone as before, although there was something strangely challenging and defiant underneath it. "But about ten thousand gold coins might suffice."

"Ten thousand!" shrieked the minister. "How dare you, you worthless scum! You are not even worth a tenth of –"

"Raoul," the Queen intoned lightly.

And the minister shut his mouth closed like a puppet whose jaw-string had been instantly pulled tight. Even the angry red color on his face abruptly drained to a pale white.

A guard situated about three feet to the right of the Queen's throne shifted slightly, catching Sable's attention. And, observing him, noticing how his hand was on the hilt of a dagger at his side, she realized that he had just readied himself to cut down the minister where he stood – should the Queen give the command.

Luckily for the now-frozen minister though, the Queen's attention was back on the "brawler".

"That amount," she drawled leisurely, "might be a price I'm willing to pay for a small kingdom. What makes you think you would even equal a task of that magnitude, ex-warrior?"

And just from the way the man suddenly tensed, and the way his eyes visibly darkened, Sable knew that soft, specific intonation had struck a raw nerve – exactly as the Queen had intended.

"Do not speak of what you don't know," he growled lowly, dangerously, not even noticing the way the guards shifted more rigidly around him. And there, just there in his eyes and expression, Sable suddenly confirmed what she had only guessed at before ... and her heart sank.

He was...

The Queen's lips twitched into a light smirk. "Who did you fail to save, former knight?"

The man snapped, lunging at her with an enraged howl.

But predictably, he never made it; the guards had forced him to his knees before he'd advanced even a step towards her.

The Queen flicked out her hand to stop the guards from doing anything more than restraining him. Then, her eyes glittering, she leaned forward further to meet his eyes, her lips parting in a knowing, mocking smile.

"You want to die," she said slowly, enunciating each word like a caress as she looked straight at him, holding his gaze. "Who is it that you wish to see on the other side? Who did you fail to save?"

"You witch –!" It was obvious that he wanted to rage at her, viciously insult her, probably even attack her. But instead, his voice cracked with anguish, and the defiance drained out of him like water through a broken dam.

"Who?" she went on leisurely, smiling, like a cat playing with a mouse it wasn't yet planning to eat, "A lover? A brother? A wife? A child?"

"Don't–!"

"A wife. I see."

He said nothing this time but merely glared at her venomously.

And if only looks could kill, considered Sable, the kingdom would have been rid of a tyrant monarch right then and there.

* * *

AN:

Prisoner: You royal idiots can't faze me.

Black Queen: Hold my beer.