TRYST // Philza X Reader

22

You could hear more fighting in the halls as you and Phil hurried to follow Tarquin directions - pacing down the hall and then turning left, counting doors as you passed until you stood in front of the door that lead to the king's quarters. The weight of the Totem in your pocket seemed heavier now that the king was on the other side of that door.

Phil tried the handle immediately, and didn't seem surprised when it didn't turn. "Of fucking course." He grumbled, digging into the pockets of his coat. "That coward's probably locked up in his room just letting those twins and Herobrine's kid do his fighting for him..."

A shout from around the corner drew your attention, and you peered down the hallway, nerves alleviating somewhat when you saw no one. You couldn't help but worry though... hopefully Tarquin and Deirdre would be alright... and Eret as well...

Finding what he had been rifling through his pockets for, Phil pulled out a small pin and jammed it into the lock on the door, maneuvering it carefully, listening intently as the lock made little clicks.

"Where'd you learn that?" You asked.

Phil didn't look away from the lock, but a smile graced his lips. "When you've been alive since the beginning of the world, you tend to pick up a few things."

He pressed the pin in one last time, and the lock clicked again as the door swung open. Phil tucked the pin back into his pocket as he breezed into the king's room, and you hurried in behind him, leaving the shouts of the hallway behind you as you closed the door.

Inside, the king's room was the most lavish you had ever been in. The room itself was at least the size of a whole house, with tiered balconies and a vaulted ceiling. Floor to ceiling windows allowed a complete view of the rolling countryside (which would have been lovely if not for the battle going on outside). A four poster bed took up one wall, with curtains draped around the sides for privacy. The room contained all sorts of extravagance - bookshelves and writing desks and armor stands and even an aquarium. It would have been lovely, if not for how torn apart everything was.

Clothes spilled out of the king's closet and onto the floor. Papers were strewn about the room like someone had been dropping them from the ceiling. In the midst of it all, the king himself, half dressed in his armor and futilely trying to buckle his own chestplate on. His eyes found Phil immediately as he entered the room, filling with fear.

"Philza." The king uttered, dropping the buckle he had been holding and letting his chestplate hand off one shoulder.

"Etienne." Phil returned, voice stony. "Don't tell me you're actually planning on going out into the field?"

Etienne's fingers twitched, and his eyes shifted away from Phil's over to his bed - where a half packed bag was sitting open, stuffed with clothes and other supplies. Phil's gaze shifted over, and the grimace on his face widened when he saw the bag and what was inside.

"Coward." Phil breathed, laughter just under his breath. "The captain is supposed to go down with the ship, you bastard."

"You would do the same." Etienne said. "You don't understand - they're coming to kill me Philza-"

"No I understand perfectly well." Phil cut him off. "You forget I've had plenty of assassins after my head as well - some of them sent by you, no doubt."

Etienne's eyes flashed with guilt, and he shook his head - a silent rebuttal.

"You've been clinging onto your last strands of life so long you're afraid to let go." Phil continued. "Afraid enough, that you would send for the help of one of your best friends sons - even though he's just a boy. Afraid enough that you have your advisors fighting in the halls. You let your army go on without you - without their king."

"You don't understand!" Etienne said again, anger present in his tone now. "You will never understand; as long as you have that damn Totem! You don't know what it's like to lose your strength as you get older until you can see everyone around you waiting for you to die!"

"You don't really think that's the only reason they're waiting for you to pass?" Phil taunted. "You're a fool, Etienne-"

"Do you not remember how those tribes murdered my people!" Etienne was shouting now, pleading with Phil. "They ransacked and burned and killed for years before I stopped them!"

"And you've done the same to them!" Phil shot back. "You're no better than them, Etienne, and you're delusional for thinking yourself so high and mighty!"

Etienne snarled, lunging forward and reaching out for Phil, hands poised to grip around his neck. Even though your own heart leapt into your throat, Phil didn't even seem phased, knocking Etienne to the ground with a sweep of one of his wings. The king clattered to the floor, looking up at Phil now.

A wealth of emotions swam behind Phil's eyes - some you had seen before, some you hadn't. Anger was most prevalent, especially in the way his jaw was clenched tight and his fists curled at his sides. But there was also something else, a certain sort of sadness in the way he looked down at his old friend sprawled on the floor.

Phil opened his mouth to say something, but the words never came out. Instead, the door behind you hit the wall, and everyone's eyes turned to the woman that had kicked it down, still standing in the doorway.

She was tall (nearly as tall as the twins had been) and her face was set with stony rage. Her clothes resembled those that mesa natives wore and stood out against her brown skin. Long braids adorned with beads partially covered her face, but not enough that you couldn't see her sharp features. Bright yellow eyes slipped past you to zero in on the king, and she flicked her wrist, letting a blade slip out from her closed fist.

An obsidian blade. An assassin's weapon.