Sweet Dreams | Finn Mikaelson (book 2)

8. The Puppet Masters (other)

A/N: This is the new version of this chapter that I wrote back in 2021, but with edits and some new info. Enjoy!

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City of Somnia, Kingdom of Lacertus, southern Italy. 1424.

The flickering candlelight made a strange, monster-like shadow appear on the stone walls of the throne room. Queen Valentina rested her chin on the table as her eyes analyzed the maps in front of her. With a click of her tongue, she moved a miniature of a knight, stationed near the mountains, to a new station, by the sea. She was about to take another miniature when her husband, King Pierro, barged through the great wooden doors, an open letter in his hand.

"Bloody finally," the Queen said, raising her head. "Is it done?"

The King smiled. "Yes, my love." he kissed her hand. "Alexander sent word. The Mikaelsons will leave Romania tomorrow. They should arrive by the end of the month."

"Good." she smiled, laying back against her velvet chair. "Tell the servants to make preparations."

"I already did, my love." Pierro took two glasses and filled them with dark red wine. "But we are shorthanded. Many of our peasants are fighting on the borders." he handed a glass to his wife.

"Never mind that." She scoffed, taking the glass to her lips. "Call the villagers, the farmers and gardens if you must." She turned the cup in her hand and watching the red liquid inside of it. "The Mikaelsons must not think we are weak. Or else that bastard boy might just get the inclination to usurp the throne."

Pierro grimaced. "If the boy is anything like his father, he might get the urge to do so either way."

"We have to make sure he does not have such an inclination." Valentina said, getting up. "Niklaus must only see our strength... He must think it was his brilliant idea to help us with our wars." She grinned, tilting her head to the side as her eyes swept through the maps.

"Yes... but..." King Pierro sighed, tapping his fingers on the table as his eyes tried to understand the mess of miniatures. "Are you sure Niklaus will enjoy going to war? And if he does, what makes you think he will be any good at it?" shaking his head, the king took a sip of his wine. "That boy is nothing more than a painter for all we know..."