"I don't need to tell you pricks anything, I have my own reasons for being here and they don't concern three idiots who won't-" I was cut off as a force came slamming into me.
I look up in anger at the man who was now towering over me, his nostrils...
After seeing the strange men under the mountain I remembered my main purpose.
Bring Ziven down.
It was a plan that would work out well for future me too for my father's legacy would carry to Cyrus then. Though he now hated me as he wasn't speaking to me after I put his image over Lucien's for the daemati to look at...I hadn't yet had the chance to tell him I appreciate him covering for me- even if it was involuntary.
I left my room with a rare spring in my step, practically skipping down the manor's frozen corridors. Tonight, I would dine with my father and his court — a rare occasion, but one that promised entertainment.
The hall quieted as I strolled in, the weight of everyone's gaze pressed on me. Unbothered, I took my seat and poured myself a large glass of wine. I drained it in a single gulp, then poured another, letting the liquid courage flow through me.
"What a surprise," my father drawled, his voice thick with mockery. "My daughter graces us with her presence this evening."
"Well your daughter has news for you father" I smirk, knowing that I was about to sign Ziven's death sentence.
His brows rose, curiosity flickering across his face. "Really? Pray tell, my girl!" His tone was light, but I knew better than to trust it. News of my powers or successes would be mocked. But this news? This news would shatter the ice beneath his feet.
I continued to play my part, lacing my words with purposeful false sweetness "oh father, your dearest right hand man—Ziven—is plotting to overthrow you! He wants your title sooner than you think." I beam at him.
He stills, confused as to whether my words are truthful and turns to look at Ziven.
Ziven attempts to cover it up "well she's obviously lying, still angry about that little pet doe I suppose sire." He chuckles out but turns to look at me, fury blazing in his eyes. A silent threat of 'shut up or I'll kill you.'
"Oh Ziven I thought you'd say so!" I chime in, riding out the pride I could feel coming on. "That's why I thought we'd ask Lythe!" I turn to the pale, dark haired daemati and give a silent nod as if to tell him I've dropped my shields.
He entered, I could feel the amusement dripping from his wet claws as they scurried through the memories of my mind. I see those same claws reach toward my father's mind to show him.
Fury races over his features, he doesn't give Ziven a chance to even defend himself as he pulls his sword out, ready for a killing blow. I cross my arms and roll my eyes as Ziven does the same acting as though he'd even stand a chance against my father.
My father is a cruel man, yes. But he fought fearlessly in the war in which I was born in, when he was a soldier and met my mother who nursed him back to health after each battle. The years since have made him cruel and unforgiving but he once was a great man. His sheer skills would disable Ziven in a heartbeat, I excited at the thought of one of my tormentors killing the other.
They begin to battle, swords clashing, powers being thrown around. Lythe and Cyrus knew better than to intervene, for whoever came out of the battle alive would be their new liege. We all knew it would be my father though, I could see Ziven weakening with every blow he'd try and hit and all the power he was using up.
My father's power held strong, and his cunning tactics had him now cornering Ziven who looked up in terror at him as my father disarmed his sword with his own and had him pinned in the corner of the room.
"Any last words traitor." My father crooned at the young male at the other end of his sword.
"Oh Heolstor, you have let yourself go with age." He smirks "did you really think fighting tactics are the same as they were in the war all those years ago? Pathetic." He laughs at the confusion on my fathers face and in a split second takes a blue powder from his pocket blowing it in my fathers face.
My father realises after it's hit and throws up a shield of ice that- doesn't show up?
"Wicked boy what have you done to my pow-" my fathers sentence is cut short as Ziven's sword slices through his heart as he summons ice to crush his brain from the inside out.
My father utters out his last words, his final words to me.
"Run Ziláa." He croaks out, barely audible. His first act of kindness to me in over a century.
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The energy in the room then shifted, meaning the manor had noted that he was dead, and Ziven was now it's leader.
