My Dear Kingdom

Intro

"How was your meal today, Saragnim? Did my chefs prepare it to your liking?" The groomed voice of King Menein echoed off of the ancient stone prison walls, located in one of the north-facing towers of his sprawling castle.

"Their work was spectacular as always." The great Elf, Saragnim curtly croaked out. It was a lie, the two beings knew this well; those servants were forced to make the prisoner the same meals every day, with the same lack of seasonings, the same dull ingredients, and all with the exact same dishes, since his diet was so specific. They weren't the problem though, this the captured Elf knew-- if anyone was to be punished it ought to be the King, so without much thought he continued to let his thoughts be known to the noble standing outside his chambers, "However I cannot say the same of your life-lengthening potions. Their sweetness will soon punch holes in my stomach if your skills do not improve."

The warning actually did hold some weight in the air, because right after Saragnim had spoken his words a small coughing fit wracked his lungs, smattering the air with the broken breaths of a dying man. A man, that was absolutely not allowed to die... especially when Menein had a say in this matter.

The King felt a small vein in his forehead twitch in exasperation, "Of course, O greatest of Sorcerors! I will see to it that I tweak my recipe; we wouldn't want you dying anytime soon, now would we?"

A short, forced grumble of false agreement was heard from the darkness behind the iron grate that contained the elderly being. In all honesty the elf would like nothing more than to take a nap and be transported back to the place he'd called home... He was sure the Underworld was in disarray due to his absence, and the Elf's heart tore itself a little at the thought of his partner waking up to face the Afterlife without him.

"If this is all the time you have for cordial conversation, I'm afraid I must be off! If you have need of anything, you know to use that digitized chip we implanted in your arm. Oh!" As the King's loafers had pointed themselves towards the exit to Saragnim's tower, he seemed to remember something as he spoke, his honey-smooth voice becoming toxic in nature, "Make sure to keep up with the enchantments, alright? It's not like you have anything better to do, and I would hate to cause more suffering than necessary in your last few aeons of life, Sorceror."

And in the silence of that moment, with the King striding away nonchalantly, the Elf had never known a deeper yearning for his lover, Death, than ever before.

Many miles away from the noble and his captive, a bead of sweat dripped down the brow of a furious maiden as her form determinedly inched closer and closer to freedom. Focused on keeping her human form in mind, the girl grimaced as she felt the pointed ends of scales beginning to poke out of her arms and legs. The transformation was already starting, she only had a few seconds before she wouldn't be able to cross the barriers keeping her imprisoned! With this fear consuming her, her boots thudded vigorously on the ground as she made a mad dash towards the forest she has looked at for the past eleven years. However, just like all her previous attempts, she was too late; her bones had already shifted, her muscles had conformed to this wretched, pointy, bat-winged body. The usually invisible barrier that kept the shapeshifter trapped now glowed a sickly pale green, lighting up the night with blinding runes that proved indestructible thus far. Dragging her fearful, distraught eyes down to see what used to be her hands, she let out a pained wail that penetrated the surrounding skies like a knife through warm butter. Though there were countless people nearby in their assorted villages, no one would be able to understand her cries of grief and frustration; they would only pick up the faraway screeches and bellows of the dragon that was rumored to inhabit the Evertrique Woods.