Chapter 53 | Links
*
"I have belonged to you,
since the beginning of time."
-unknown
*
DARIUS
Darius had been stuck in his thoughts since leaving Aether, and it was beginning to show.
"What's wrong with you?" Vandor asked. It was an innocent question – his General was lounging indolently against the railing of the top deck, keeping Darius company while he was at the wheel. Not that Darius was fit for company right now. He was fairly certain that Vandor had been talking to himself for the last half an hour. He hadn't heard a word the other man had said.
"Nothing." He grunted.
Vandor raised one slanted brow. "What did the Princess tell you before you left?"
Darius's hands clenched on the wheel. "Nothing." He repeated shortly. His grey eyes scanned the open ocean, studiously avoiding Vandor's judgemental stare.
It was unfortunate however, that although he could ignore Vandor, he could not ignore the memories that resurfaced with the other man's inquiry. Darius clenched his teeth, a muscle jumping in his jaw. There was an odd throbbing in his chest, and he rubbed it in frustration, ignorant to the fact that Vandor's eyebrows rose even further with the uncharacteristic action.
Darius had yet to hear from Azrael. He had attempted to contact the lion but had received nothing in return. It was unusual, but not unheard of. More often than not, it meant that the lion was occupied, and in this case, occupied was good. Occupied meant that he was doing his job. Still, the lack of intel nudged at the back of Darius's mind, like an itch he couldn't quite scratch.
Rolling his neck to the side, Darius felt his bones pop. He grunted in satisfaction and rolled his shoulders as well. He had been finding it difficult to sleep – more so than usual – and was growing stiff. Sighing, he drummed his fingers on the wheel.
He wondered what she was doing.
"Did you hear anything I just said?" Vandor asked incredulously.
"No," Darius snapped, with a fierce scowl. "Because everything you have to say is utter rubbish."
"Tch," Vandor sneered. "Is talking about your precious Princess trash too then?"
Turning slowly, Darius sent his General an imperious glare. "Vandor," he warned lowly. "I am not in the mood."
"Oh, and I wonder why that is," Vandor hissed back.
"Meaning?" Darius asked dangerously.
He could see Vandor was considering it, but after a moment it seemed the General knew better. Hissing in annoyance, the other man pushed away from the railing and disappeared down to the main deck. Darius watched him go with narrowed eyes. It was unlikely that Vandor had seen anything on the day of their departure, but the General was too intuitive for his own good.
Tsking in annoyance, Darius looked back out to sea.
I love you.
Those words, spoken so plainly and without expectation, had caught him completely off guard. He had been able to do nothing but stare dumbly as she had gazed up at him, her silver eyes startlingly bright in the morning sun. The kiss she had pressed upon him had lingered like a current on his lips, long after he had rode from Aether.
And yet even though his desire had almost overwhelmed him, all he had been able to do was promise he would return. He could not give her false hope. His hands slowly clenched on the wheel. He had done the right thing hadn't he?
When he returned, he would find a way to explain to her – to explain that she was too good, too clean, too new to the world, for someone as battle worn and tainted as him. She was only young. And young love was fleeting and impulsive.
He told himself that it was only natural, after the affection he had shown her, that she had developed feelings. It was his fault. He should have held her at more of a distance. But he had been unable to at the time, swept up in his own selfishness. In fact, Darius was certain that the next time they met, her whim would have passed entirely. And that would be for the best.
It had been too reckless, confessing to her as he had in the room that day. But the sight of her, cowed and begging on her knees, in front of his council no less, had flipped some sort of switch inside him. The action had seemed too demeaning, too desperate for one such as she. He never wanted to see that look on her face, ever again.
'If the day ever comes, when you have the power to command me, know that I will gladly obey.'
It had been a long time since he had been so honest with himself, but in front of her, the words had come so easily. And the relief he had felt at finally confessing it out loud, admitting to the primal desire he felt to serve her – should she one day be capable enough to rise to the challenge – well the relief had been intense and overwhelming. He could not acknowledge such feelings to anyone other than her. His status would not allow it.
But in front of the Princess, just for a moment he had been free. She would not judge him- they knew each other too well for that now. And as he had sunk to kneel before her, he had been struck with a feeling a rightness. Her hands had carded helplessly through his hair, her touch gentler than what he deserved. The familiar surge of self-loathing had accosted him at that time, the voice in the back of his mind that reprimanded him for showing such weakness and told him that it was the bond that made him feel so vulnerable before her. That it was his inherited duty and nothing more.
Yet Darius could not fully ignore the ache in his chest that told him inherited duty had nothing to do with it ... and that he had already fallen well past the point of no return.
*
If asked how he knew war was imminent, Darius would say it was instinct that caused the hairs on the back of his neck to prickle – even though they were still some hours from reaching Elven shores. Like a deep-rooted warning that stemmed from ancestors long passed, Darius felt his blood heat for a battle he had yet to face, every nerve in his body tense and ready for the fight.
Outwardly he remained as calm as always, his strong hands turning the ships wheel as he adjusted their course by a few degrees- no compass needed. Arlo's ring clinked lightly against the polished wood – the others removed in preparation for battle. But Darius would take his brother with him till the last possible moment.
"My Lord."
Darius glanced to the side, noting the reappearance of his General. Vandor had been giving him the silent treatment over the last few days, but Darius had remained unaffected – used to his General's childish tantrums. Now, it seemed their cold war was at an end. No doubt the other Lycan had sensed the cold hand of death, just as he had.
"What is it Vandor."
Vandor did not reply, his light green eyes prowling over the distant shoreline.
Darius grunted. "You feel it?"
Vandor's scowl was heavy. "It has been decades since our last battle, but I would be a fool not to feel it." He said finally. "Do you think we will be too late?"
"I don't know," Darius said grimly, "but prepare to go ahead of the rest once we reach the shore. The others can follow behind and clean up."
As expected, his General's fierce scowl dissolved into a savage grin of pleasure. "It would be my pleasure."
Darius nodded curtly, before conveying the order to the rest of the fleet. He heard the chorus of agreement from the four ships in his wake and settled his gaze on the shoreline once more.
A fleet of four – Mizuki, Eden, and Ragnar in command of one ship each. Vandor at his side to lead the way forward. A number none too small, but neither was it his full force. However, it was all he had been willing to afford without leaving Aether unguarded. They were indeed going in blind – unsure of enemy numbers, and even of the kind of enemy they would be facing.
A fleet of four against a shifter force was enough to decimate. However, if that shifter force was spiked with the Unseelie ... well then things could become interesting. Darius was confident they would still come out victorious, but at what price? He was uncertain.
And if the fae called Eros was there ... Darius's thumb smoothed over Arlo's ring. Well. That was why Vandor was with him. So, if Darius fell, someone would be there to take his place.
But Darius had not brought to kneel since the day Orelion Titus had almost torn his spine from his back, and he would not yield again so easily. And certainly not to his brother's killer.
A sudden wind change rippled the flag high above, and Darius's gaze hardened.
At the same time Vandor snarled, his black gloved hands clenching the wooden railing as he stared ahead at towards the shoreline – from which the wind had come.
"Do you smell that?" His General was shaking, pale green eyes lightening to silver as the beast within him reacted to the scent on the wind.
"Yes," Darius said darkly. He felt his own body react to the stench, his muscles straining as he resisted the urge to shift. "It is the smell of blood."
*
Blood had a metallic taste to it, one that pierced Darius' senses and tinged his vision red. By the time they reached the shore, Darius felt saturated in it – in a way he had not for a long time.
The stench had only grown stronger when they landed, wafting towards them from the abandoned Capital City of Elysian. He strained his ears, sure that sounds of battle would accompany such a scent but heard only silence.
"Vandor and I will go ahead," Darius had commanded shortly. "Eden, Ragnar, waste no time and head straight for Elysian. Kill any shifters on sight. Mizuki, leave half your force with the ships and bring up the rear. Our role is to assist the Elves and protect the Elven Queen, but we will eradicate all Shifter forces and capture their leader if possible." His expression was cold. "It is time to put an end to this rebellion."
"Yes, Highness."
"Understood, my Lord."
Ragnar gave Darius a calculating look. "Remember your position," the old lycan said finally. "You are not expendable."
Darius nodded curtly.
"Let's go already," Vandor was bouncing on his toes, his hunters gaze piercing the treeline as though he could see right through. Darius had left his armour aboard the ship – it was only for show anyway, the pack liked to see him clothed for war – but Vandor wore his as always. The black obsidian plates gleamed in the sun; shoulder spikes tipped with gold. Black or red, were Vandor's preferred colours for battle. They showed the blood less.
Darius slipped Arlo's ring from his finger and tossed it to his General. "Go." With the single word, Darius unleashed him. "I will catch up."
Vandor caught the ring with a sure hand. He tugged off one black glove to slip the ring into place, briefly exposing sienna skin marred with thick scars. "Hurry up." He snarled. And then just like that, he was gone.
Darius turned back to the others.
"This scent does not bode well." Mizuki spoke quietly. Her dark eyes were solemn as she looked at her King. "Elven blood already drenches the earth. We may be too late."
"I know," Darius replied. "But if we are left with the clean-up, then that is what we will do. Send any Elven survivors back to the ships."
Ragnar's brows jumped. "You intend to offer them refuge in Aether?" He asked sharply.
"I intend to do what needs to be done." Darius said. "And I do not have time to hear your opinion," he added, cutting the older lycan off before he could start. "If there is an issue, you can bring it up later."
"Agreed," Eden sent Ragnar a hard stare. "Housing refugees is the last of our worries. It would be best to focus on the battle at hand."
"You don't have to tell me." Ragnar growled.
"Then you should go, my Lord." Mizuki looked towards the treeline. "Or Vandor will be uncontrollable."
Darius nodded. "Very well. We will meet together at Elysian. If the shifters have breached the Elven stronghold, the entrance will be obvious. Be aware that Shifters may not be the only enemy we are facing."
"Yes, my Lord."
Without further ado, Darius turned and loped towards the treeline where he knew Vandor had disappeared.
The green canopy enveloped him as soon as he entered the forest, muffling out the sound of his troops from the beach. The scent of blood was no less here though, and an eerie silence hung in the air. It was the type of quiet that came with the presence of a greater predator. When all wildlife around remained still in their burrows and trees, desperate to remain unnoticed.
Darius's grey eyes hardened as he increased his pace. The trees whipped past him, blurring into a wall of green as his stride lengthened. His body ached, longing to let go completely, but he restrained himself. Not yet. Not yet. With only he and Vandor, it would not take long to reach the entrance to the capital city. The rest of his force would lag behind, by another hour at least.
Vandor was not too far ahead, and after five minutes Darius caught up. Their pace had already eaten up a third of the distance. The other sent him a sideways grin despite the seriousness of the situation.
"Ready to play?" Vandor taunted.
"This is no time for play," Darius growled. "Be serious, or you'll get killed."
Vandor's grin became vicious. "I'd like to see them try," he laughed.
"Five ahead." Darius grunted suddenly.
"So soon?" Sounding pleased, Vandor adjusted his pace. "Where?"
"To the west." Darius said.
Vandor swerved off into the bush as Darius continued forward. After a minute, a howl of alarm echoed through the forest followed by a feral snarl and a savage snapping of bone. And then nothing.
Darius slowed by half a step, and another few minutes passed before Vandor came bounding back to his side, his sharp teeth bared in a grin, black gloves wet with blood.
"Feeling better?" Darius asked.
"Hardly," Vandor dismissed. "They were only scouts. Didn't pose much of a threat." Aside from his gloves, the rest of his General remained pristine, armour unmarked, not a hair out of place. Darius knew he would mostly remain that way throughout the entirety of the battle to come; while he himself would steadily become as blood soaked as the surrounding air.
"There are more ahead," Darius said curtly. "You will not have to wait long." He could hear the signs of battle now – an ever-growing noise in the distance that had slowly begun to consume the eerie silence from before. He was growing fidgety himself, eager for his own first blood. Sucking on his teeth he felt his canines sharpen.
"Do you think he will be here?" Vandor was suddenly serious. "That fae?"
Eros.
Darius remembered the fear on Iris's face when she had spoken that name. He remembered the nightmares that had torn her from sleep, that name spilling from her mouth, each letter-stained crimson red.
The fae that had murdered his brother. Darius had no doubt Iris would want his head for herself. But she would have to settle for Darius taking it instead. He was sure the Princess wouldn't mind. If she wanted, he would deliver the head to her feet. Or maybe he would bring her the heart instead.
"If he is, he had better cherish his last few moments on earth," Darius snarled. His control was breaking now, pushed to limit by thoughts of his brother's last moments, and of her suffering.
The bloodlust he had struggled to keep at bay began to consume him, vignetting the edges of his vision and swelling his muscles. He felt his clothing shred as he doubled in size, the fabric vanishing behind him as the forest whipped past. His legs lengthened into thick haunches, his stride extending further as he consumed the distance beneath him. His face twisted in a snarl as the monster just beneath his skin pushed its way forth, sharp teeth snapping hungrily from between brutal jaws.
His silver eyes burned through the forest ahead, picking out the traces of the now ruined archway that led into the main city of Elysian. It had not been long since he was last here, picking through the vestiges of the ruined city- but oh how things had changed. Darius knew little about where the elves had retreated to, when they had first run from the initial shifter attack on Elysian, but he was sure he would soon find out. And he had always doubted that these creatures, who placed such importance on lore and tradition, would have left their ancestral home so readily.
Obviously, Eros – if he was indeed the one behind this attack – felt similarly – and had persisted in his pursuit until he had succeeded in breaking whatever barrier the elves had hidden themselves behind.
"Don't kill him right away," Vandor's green eyes were silver, bright with anticipation of blood soon to be spilt. It was as close as his General would ever come to shifting after the torture inflicted upon him in the past. But it did not make him weak – if anything, Vandor was the most savage of them all. "Let's make him suffer first." His General gave a wicked smile that mirrored Darius's own.
"I was planning on it," Darius grinned darkly. The scent of shifter was strong in the air and Darius knew they were close. The sounds of battle had been growing steadily, but they were clear now- the clash of swords, the battle-cries of those desperate to live, the snapping of shifter jaws. They would be expecting an army – they would not be expecting the two of them. Darius wondered how many he could decimate before the backup forces arrived. "Now. Shall we?"
"Yes," Vandor laughed. "We shall."
Darius rolled his shoulders and welcomed the last vestiges of the shift. Stepping into his lycan form felt like coming home. Vandor shrank below him as Darius's height swelled until he fell forward onto all fours, the earth disappearing under his thick paws as though distance meant nothing. It had been a long time since he had unleashed with the intention to kill. The fur on his ruff bristled with anticipation.
He felt Vandor nimbly leap onto his back so as not to be left behind, his General remaining balanced with only a single bloodstained hand wound into the thick ruff around Darius's neck. With his other hand, Vandor drew his sword and thrust it to the sky. Tipping his head back his General unleashed a savage howl that echoed the promise of death and vengeance.
"For Arlo!" His General roared.
For Arlo, Darius agreed, his teeth brandished in a snarl.
And then together, they burst through the last of the trees ahead and into the fray.
*
The battle-field was as blood-soaked as Darius had expected, and they had charged right into the centre of the madness.
Darius leapt in with open jaws and closed them around the first shifter neck he could find. He felt bones snap satisfyingly beneath his teeth and he shook the limp body viciously before flinging it away.
Vandor gave a roar, leaping forward over his head, his sword swinging down to cleaver another shifter in two. His General wasted no time in swinging the blade around to decapitate another before slicing the chest of a third on the down swing.
"That makes eight!" His General crowed. "If you count the five in the forest. Hurry up, my Lord, or you're going to fall behind."
Darius snarled and responded by striking a shifter with one massive paw, sending the beast flying into Vandor's back. The unfortunate shifter met his end on the tip of the General's sword and Vandor's grin widened.
"Nine."
Don't get cocky. Darius warned, but he felt his own bloodlust rising and the command was less like a command and more like a taunt. He slashed another two shifters with his claws and bit the head off a third. Continue forward, he commanded. We don't have time to waste here.
"Noted," Vandor grunted. "Where are we heading?"
Good question.
Looking up, Darius scanned the battlefield critically. Their initial charge had brought them onto the main street of Elysian, where it appeared the two armies had clashed. The shifter force was larger than Darius had expected, but not so large as to pose a problem; although it seemed that the Elven forces were struggling.
What was strange, was that the majority of the Elven soldiers had their backs to the forest, from which Darius and Vandor had just emerged, while the shifter force stood between the elves and the mountain range Oroden Anar. By all means, the Shifters should have been the ones with their backs to the forest. But it was almost as though they had emerged from mountain instead.
Darius scowled as a shifter rushed him suddenly, white teeth flashing in the light of the dying sun. He opened his jaws to show the beast what real fangs looked like, not even bothering to dodge. Biting down, hot blood spurted from between his jaws, staining the silver fur on his muzzle a deep scarlet.
He and Vandor were beginning to attract notice now, as the two of them rampaged through the battlefield and Darius locked eyes with an exhausted Elven warrior. Killing those around them swiftly, Darius left Vandor to guard his back as he forced his way unceremoniously into the elf's mind.
Tell me, where is the Queen?
"Your Highness, you came." Darius' identity was revealed upon contact, and the elf knelt to the ground in barely concealed relief. "The sanctuary under the mountain was infiltrated without warning from the inside. They pushed us out and we have been trying to fight our way back in, but they number too many. Her Majesty is locked in her chambers within. We do not know if she is alive."
Darius's eyes tightened. So, the elves had been hiding within the mountain. He should have guessed. If they had been forced out, then that explained why they had their backs to the forest. But how had the shifters infiltrated the mountain in the first place? It didn't make sense.
Did you see the man who was leading this force?
The elf shook his head. "Not I, but one of the Queens guards may have. They fight near the front – the closest to the mountain." He pointed in a direction that Darius already knew all too well.
I understand, he said curtly. My forces will arrive here soon. Hold on until then.
"Yes." The exhausted elf staggered to his feet, leaning against his sword for support, but his eyes flared with renewed determination. "I will pass on word of your arrival."
It is best you do so. Darius agreed. We will head to the mountain first.
"Thank-you, your Highness."
Darius grimaced internally. Don't thank me yet.
*
EROS
Deep within the mountain of Oroden Anar, rabbit warren of caverns twisted and burrowed, their existence unknown until recently, by all except for those who sheltered within.
The throne room of the Elf Monarch nestled at the very centre, like a beating heart protected by flesh stone walls. The door to the room was sealed shut; outside two shifters prowled, their muzzles wet with blood, a carnage of elves trampled underfoot.
The scene beyond the door was no better. Death stained the stone walls and the opulent furnishings that lavished the room. The carcasses of elf and shifter alike lined the scarlet rug that led to the throne, and atop the throne sat a creature that had no right to languish there as he did, his head propped up by one lazy hand.
At his feet there were two.
Eros stared down at them silently, black eyes glittering. Waiting. Waiting.
The larger of the two broke first, his rough voice grating on Eros's nerves.
"This is not what we agreed to."
There was something far too pretentious about that statement for Eros's liking. He moved finally, leaning back in the throne, his fingers drumming an impatient rhythm on the arm rest as he stared down at the shifter.
Aramis Craten. The leader of the rebel shifter force. He had been instated by Eros's father – before Eros had been born. Eros looked over him once more, a soft sneer curling his lip instinctively. He had never thought much of this brutish man. Aramis Craten had too little self-respect for one who was supposedly a leader, taking orders from Eros's father far too readily and forever salivating at his feet for approval. Like a dog on a leash. Eros's sneer deepened.
"Oh?" Eros leaned his head on his other hand. His voice was like silk draped over a dagger. "Please. Tell me what you think we had agreed to."
Aramis opened his doggy mouth, but Eros flicked a finger up and the beast shut it again. The anger on his face was amusing and Eros smiled.
"You can't, can you?" He continued smoothly. "Because the Elven Queen kneels, does she not?" He gestured to the slight figure that knelt beside Aramis, a pretty crown of golden vines woven through her blonde hair. "And the Greyson Prince is dead – as you wished. So, it seems," Eros continued dangerously, "that we have more than fulfilled your request. And yet, I still do not have what I want. That is not good enough."
"You had the girl in your grasp, but you let her get away!" The shifter spat out tersely. "It was no fault of ours."
"Still," Eros's eyes gleamed. "The conditions were not met. Therefore, the agreement you had with my father is void."
It seemed to take a moment for Aramis to process his words, and Eros stifled a yawn as he waited.
"You," -the shifter spluttered in outrage, "-I demand to speak to his Majesty-"
"Oh for goodness sake," Eros interrupted loudly, rolling his eyes to the heavens. "How dense can you be?!" His gaze landed on the silent form of his sister, standing quietly by the double doors. "How stupid can he be?" He repeated, aiming the question at her.
"We have yet to find his rival," Vesryn replied monotonously, and Eros's expression animated with his sister's words of agreement.
"See?" He laughed gleefully, "even Vesryn finds you dull." His black eyes narrowed to slits as he studied the beast at his feet. "You're so besotted with my father, that you've failed to realise he has been using you from the beginning."
The shifter spat on the ground beside him. "Preposterous," he snarled. "I have served his Majesty diligently for decades. He would never"-
"Do not flatter yourself." Rising from the throne, Eros lifted a hand, fingers pointing downwards towards the floor. Aramis made a grunting noise as his head was suddenly forced downwards, as though he were being pressed upon by some colossal force. "My father," Eros drawled, "has never viewed you as anything more than a pawn in a much larger game." He watched as the shifter attempted to resist, palms flat on the floor, white knuckles bulging, his face twisted with fear and anger.
"We have helped you achieve your goals, and so far you have provided nothing in return. Your usefulness has run out, and my father has given me discretion to deal with you as I see fit."
"There is still time," the shifter bent further, his face now flat against the floor. "The girl, I can still retrieve her for you. And Darius Greyson, he will be coming here – I can kill him- "
"So can I," Eros drawled, "so you see, you are failing to convince me of your usefulness."
The shifter was scrabbling now, certain of his impending demise but desperate not to acknowledge it. "My army will not bow to you."
"Ah." Eros said delicately. "See, that is where you are quite wrong." He grinned. "They will follow me, if I kill you." His grin widened into a leer. "That is how things work with you dogs, after all. Kill or be killed? The dead do not have a choice in what happens after. And neither do the living." He tsked lightly. "What a barbaric world."
"You can't just-"
Eros surged forwards from the throne, his expression contorted with rage. He lifted a foot and brought it down on the shifter's spine, crippling the man to the ground. "When will you get it through your thick, doggy skull," he hissed. With a grind of his heel, he heard the satisfying crack of bone. "I can do, and will do, whatever I like."
Lifting his foot, Eros released the shifter from his grasp.
"Curse you, filthy half-breed," the massive shifter shook with rage, but with his broken spine he was unable to do anything other than glare up at Eros through hate filled eyes. "Perhaps I am nothing to his Majesty, but I'd still rather be me than you. I've heard what they say about you in the courts. The filthy faerie Prince, with the blood of a beast running through his veins. You think you are so much better than us but in reality, you, and I, we aren't so different. Who do you think will be the next to die, after I'm gone?" Aramis continued venomously. "You'll get what is coming to you. Just you wait."
The room fell into silence following his words, punctured only by the shifters laboured breathing. Eros stared down at the crumpled beast at his feet, his beautiful face impassive, black eyes wide and staring.
"Are you finished?" He asked quietly.
Aramis attempted to spit at him, but the saliva only dribbled down his chin. "Fuck you."
Silently, Eros turned. His steps echoed through the cavern as he walked slowly to one of the fallen shifters. Reaching down, he ripped a haunch off the main body, dropping it in front of Aramis with a wet smack. The shifters eyes widened.
"What are you doing?"
Eros's lips twisted cruelly as he stared down at the man.
"Eat until you burst."
The sheer terror in the other mans eyes, as his body began to move of it's own accord, brought Eros unfathomable pleasure. With shaking hands, Aramis lifted the haunch of his comrade, his mouth opening wide.
Eros watched the scene unfold with wild eyes. "This," he hissed, over the noise of retching and gagging, "is what makes us different. You are nothing but a beast, helpless before a command. Even my Father cannot command you as I do." He sneered. "But these words are wasted on you – after all, it seems your death is imminent after all. Perhaps the one that I choose to take your place will have a little more sense and self-preservation."
The sound of wet flesh being torn from bone made for a gruesome backdrop as Eros finally turned his attention to the other at his feet. "And now it's your turn," he crooned, "my apologies your Highness, for making you wait so long. But before you die, you will be providing me with some answers."
The Queen lifted her head. Despite the repulsive scene continuing beside her, her gaze remained unafraid. Her green eyes were filled with rage as she met Eros's gaze defiantly.
"You will suffer, for spilling so much blood on holy ground." Her voice remained steady, despite the blood slowly soaking the ground around her. "A curse will befall you, as it did my father."
Eros crouched in front of her, so that their gaze was level. "Oh, I doubt that very much," he smiled, "you see, I am already cursed."
The elf's jaw tightened. "Why are you doing this?" She spat out. "We had no quarrel with the Unseelie King."
Eros's smile widened. "Not you, specifically," he mused, "but it seems that there was another who held a grudge against the late Elven King and sought to bargain with my father for his retribution." His black eyes glittered. "Unlike our dear friend Aramis down there"- here Eros paused to cast a disdainful glance at the disgraced shifter, "-he completed his half of the bargain but died before his revenge was complete. So, I suppose you could say that I am finishing a job." He chuckled. "It really is nothing personal."
There was a dim flicker of recognition in the elf's eyes. "... his name," she whispered hoarsely, "what was his name?"
Eros enjoyed this part. He could practically see the elven woman's brain working to connect the pieces. Smiling smugly, he withheld the information, just for a little longer ... just long enough to tip her over the edge.
"What was his name!"
Her shout echoed around the empty cavern, like music to his ears. Eros gave a quiet, delighted chuckle.
"You'll like this," he whispered, rocking forward on his toes so that their noses almost touched. "The humans called him the Pirate King, when he was younger apparently- but you and I knew him by a different name. In our world, he was known as 'Zeus Gold.'"
She knew. Eros could tell. He watched the blood drain from her face as the name registered and his grin widened until it was all fangs and no smile.
"So now," he continued dangerously, "you can probably guess what question I will be asking you next."
The elf stared dumbly at him. Standing, Eros walked back to the throne slowly, giving her time to think it over. He flopped down into the seat and crossed his legs, cheek resting back on one hand as he considered the woman.
"Well?" He prompted finally. "Zeus Gold died on the top of this very mountain, did he not?" One dark brow rose in query. "Killed by his own son, how fitting."
"No," the Queen swallowed, shaking her head lightly. "No. That boy was put to death here. My father paid the price for that sacrifice. The boy is dead and gone."
Eros stared at her, rather incredulously. "You don't really believe that do you?" He asked in disbelief. His gaze snapped to Vesryn. "Sister." He ordered bluntly.
"Yes." Vesryn moved forward, ignoring the other woman's flinch as she rested her hand on the back of her spine.
Eros tried again. "Where is the son of Zeus Gold. The one known as Obsidian Bones."
The Elf Queen clenched her jaw. "The boy is dead." She repeated stonily. "Dead is dead."
Vesryn released her grip. "She believes this to be the truth." She announced.
For a moment, the cavern was silent, punctured only by the repulsive gagging of the shifter still gorging himself on the blood-stained floor. And then slowly, Eros began to laugh.
"Well, isn't this just grand," his grin held a touch of insanity. "You've been so busy hiding away in your little hole that you have no idea what has been occurring in the outside world – do you?"
"What do you mean?" The elf was shaking now, but despite the obvious pain she was in, her spine remained proud and straight.
Eros chuckled. "Poor, pitiful little elf. Your father's previous actions not only condemned himself to death, but he unknowingly laid the foundations for his people's destruction at the same time." With a lazy flick of his wrist, Eros pulled the hilt of a sword, seemingly from thin air. The blade emerged slowly, the air around it rippling, as though it were water.
Rising from the throne, Eros pointed the sword at the Queen.
"Obsidian Bones is dead." The elf seemed unconcerned by the immediate threat to her life, the slight desperation in her voice only seeking answers which Eros had yet to provide. "His Father, Zeus Gold, met his demise when he clashed against the Air Kingdom's Crown Prince."
"It is true that the Dragon Prince had a hand in his killing" Eros agreed. He descended from the throne, lifting his blade until the tip rested lightly on the Queen's collar bone. "But there was another who helped him. Obsidian Bones, rose from the dead – some time ago now, if my sources are correct." His eyes narrowed. "Which they always are."
"How is that possible." The elf breathed. "That sort of magic can only be performed by a-
"A dragon." Eros finished softly. "Finally, you guessed correctly. I am surprised, that even you do not know the full extent of magical potential that this hunk of rock commands," He waved a hand upwards, gesturing to the mountain in which they currently sheltered. There was a wicked gleam in his eye as the tip of his sword pressed lightly into fair flesh. A bright red bead of blood gathered around the broken skin; a gemstone set in the centre of a deadly necklace. "So, you see," he continued, mildly. "There really is no need to keep you alive anymore. Die now, or die later – either way, you'll end up dead soon enough."
The Elven Queen looked up to meet his gaze, her green eyes hardening once more. "You may kill me," she said proudly, "but by no means is this the end."
The defiance in her gaze was all too familiar, and for a moment Eros was reminded of another. She had glared at him with the same intensity- no, her hatred had burned more than this.
I will kill you. This I promise.
Eros cast the memory aside with a shake of his head. He had been in a rather good mood- but now that was ruined. Lips curling in a snarl, he thrust the sword forward without hesitation. He watched the silver metal sink deep into her flesh with a twist of satisfaction.
"We will see about that." He said.
*