His presence floods down the seal, and I can't help the feral grin that spreads across my face."Now."
I watch eagerly as Baelor's face goes from overconfident to guarded and hesitant, his diplomacy slipping when Rorin drags Pruella forward. "It looks like you happened to have misplaced your princess, and as the saying goes… finder's keeper's." I taunt, loosing a tendril and winding it around the girl's throat.
"You have some nerve—"
Pruella sucks in a sharp breath at his voice, keeping her stare on the ground as the fear floods from her pores. "You will stop your advances on the southern half of Allora and abandon your occupation in Evendell,” I repeat, “or else… I get to keep her pretty little head." I quip, tugging on the thread binding her, dragging her to my feet.
His breath hitches at seeing his daughter being manipulated on a string like a marionette, and he sucks on his teeth. "Tempting offer…"
"You can't be serious." Eiser scoffs, finally breaking his eerie silence.
Baelor throws out his hand, stopping any further arguments from the Vellaran king while he steps forward, "but it's not an even trade, I'm afraid. One girl, even if she is my heir, is a meager choice compared to ruling over all of Allora–"
"Let's not pretend,” I interject, “that the war you'll bring on your heads — if you dare try to come on my lands — will be one you survive."
I release another tendril, allowing it to slither along the ground like a snake until it reaches their feet. I fasten it around their ankles and root them in place.
Eiser doesn’t hesitate to fight against my Wield, sputtering incoherently, while Baelor only steams in his spot. "Now, you can take the deal and your daughter, return to Hadar quietly with your conquests over Mellant and Peverell as your consolation prize. Or I can see how well Pruella's head functionsseparated from her body; something tells me it won't work too well."
"Even if I agree, you've nothing to offer my friend here." He jeers, his slimy grin returning to his face, flicking his hollow eyes over to Rorin, "or will you be returningtwoking's heirs this night?"
"Mmm. Tempting offer,” I mock, “but no. Besides," I croon, walking across the clearing until we are nearly toe-to-toe, "I don't think I need to offer him anything anyway, do I?" I whisper.
Baelor's brows lift in intrigue, "is he a part of the deal as well? You gettwothings out of this?"
“It’s not like you need two kings to rule your territories, do you?” Black edges into my vision as I lock eyes with the king, "take the deal."
Eveera
"Harder, Brighton, I don't think my son quite understands. I don't think he's quite learned his lesson yet. Do you?"
"No, your Majesty."
I struggle to lift myself off the ground, smoke pooling out from underneath my palms as the priest rears his foot back. "OOF!"
"Look at your lack of control, pathetic. You are a stain on this kingdom. A sign of darkness!"
"It's not my fault." I cry out, wincing from the pressure underneath my skin. "I DIDN'T WANT THIS! FATHER, PLEASE!" I can feel my face beginning to swell as I scream, the split in my cheek stinging.
Disgust swirls in my father's blue eyes as he witnesses my most recent "cleansing".
"If you didn't want it, you would control it. Suppress it. But you choose to continue humiliating me in my court!" My father roars. "Continue, Brighton."
The priest nods, a horrifying smile growing across his lips, "of course, your Majesty."
He drops down to one knee, his hands wrapping tightly around my throat. The priest’s rough hold lifts my head off the ground, and with a vicious look on his face, he slams it back down onto the stone floor. Blinding pain shoots through the back of my skull, and an involuntary groan exits my throat. "P-please stop. I'll be good, I-I'll control it, but please please stop."
—
Rorin gasps out, his hand grabbing the stone wall as he scrambles to catch his breath. "That's enough now."
I nod, circling Eiser in the chair. My palms slam down on the king's shaky shoulders, and I lean in, my Wield leaking over his bloodied frame.
"Eveera." His voice snaps me out of my magic's pull, and the black clears from my vision.
Coaxing the tendrils into my hands, I step away, watching Rorin stalk across the room. His tear-stained face is twisted in agony as he hovers above his father’s hanging head.
The king flinches when Rorin grabs hold of his swollen chin, jerking it up to look into his eyes.
