Beneath the Surface [ON HOLD]

Chapter Eight - A Tragic Ending

Chapter Eight - A Tragic Ending 

I remember thinking that the Throne Room was unusually empty. 

The room was still vast - just... empty. 

A lone chair sat on a raised platform, its faded gold handles marred with dust. Drapes hung from above it, enclosing it in a dust-filled cocoon. My nose wrinkled in disgust and I fought the urge to sneeze, instead I focused on Nicholas' back, glaring at it furiously. 

Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their wrought iron skeletons rusted and covered in a shroud of cobwebs. Cherubs and angels stared down at me from their perches, their smiles widening in delight and their innocent stares following my every move. 

I shuddered imperceptibly and moved a fraction closer to Nicholas who seemed to stiffen at our sudden proximity. 

"Why don't you make yourself comfortable?" Nicholas says over his shoulder, strolling towards the platform. 

"And you expect me to sit on the floor, do you?" I ask dryly. 

Nicholas pauses before whirling around with a grin, "Of course not! Where are my manners?"  

I bite my lip, stopping myself from uttering a scathing retort and watch in silence as Nicholas waves his arm, murmuring a few words under his breath. 

There's a loud 'POP' and a chair clatters down beside me, almost toppling over. Automatically I reach out and grab it, preventing it from falling, staring at it wearily.  

"It won't bite me, will it?" I ask tiredly, still staring at the newly appeared chair.  

Nicholas laughs shortly, "My, my. So you do have a sense of humour after all." 

I glare at him, "I was being completely serious Your Highness. I have no idea what Dark Magic is capable of." 

Nicholas laughs again, shaking his head, "Come now! Why must you judge me so harshly? I haven't even told you enough about myself to be judged." 

"I think I've witnessed enough to make a fair judgement." I mutter sourly. 

Nicholas pretends not to hear me and instead waves his arm yet again and the drape covering, what I assume is his throne, suddenly begins to fall apart, the pieces turning into light grey moths who flutter around confusedly before falling to the floor silently, their bodies turning to dust. 

I stare at the little mounds for a moment before raising an eyebrow, "Quite a show." 

Nicholas grins widely, flashing even, white teeth, "I'm glad you enjoyed it." 

I roll my eyes at his arrogance but say nothing and perch myself gingerly at the edge of my chair, silently praying that it wouldn't suddenly grow teeth and attempt to eat me. 

"Comfortable?" asks Nicholas innocently before flopping down on the plush seat of his throne, throwing his long legs over the arm rest.  

I force a smile, "Extremely." I say sweetly through gritted teeth. 

"Excellent! So shall I begin?"  

"If you wouldn't mind." 

Nicholas clears his throat and rearranges his facial expression into one of indifference, "Once upon a time there was a dashing Prince with mysterious violet eyes and skin so flawless that-" 

"Is this really necessary?" I growl impatiently. 

Nicholas sighs, deflated, "I suppose not, but you have to agree - it was an extremely accurate description and-"