Black and White

Chapter 44

As I turn to the crowd they erupt into cheers, some people shout obscenities at me, but they are largely ignored. Alaunus remains silent, head turned down toward his father. I leave him, steadying myself on my feet, trying not to slip in the pool of shining blood.

Blood I spilled, blood that coats the sword held in my hands, blood that glitters along my fingertips. The shine is rather beautiful, a thousand stars the wet, stickiness to my feet is not. I wade through the swamp, not bothering to pick my legs up as they splash the blood around the platform.

Some of the void like blood drips down the steps, and I watch some creatures move forward to collect it. They let it pool in their hands, let it run over their clothes, and though I hope it is a simple misunderstanding, I watch at least one creature take a drink of the blood they manage to collect. Shivering, I clear my throat and turn my eyes away.

At least it is not yours they feast upon.

I find my way to the corner, near the throne. Astrea is frozen next to it, her body still even though I have not touched her. The corners of her mouth lift. It is slightly comforting to see a smile that finally reaches the eyes of the beholder. She stands when I reach her, relenting her act.

"Astrea, your husband, your King, is dead. " I gesture loosely to the general area behind me. "I now present you with a choice," She breathes in deeply, her eyes shifting around the room.

"As the former Queen, I'd assume you are next in line for power, but I think this kingdom needs to be under new rule," I let the crowd scream for a moment, not bothering to wonder if they are for or against me.

"And I think the people agree with me," The crowd erupts in cries for blood, for the downfall of all things.

"So, you can agree to letting me rule, granted safety and remaining as a royal advisor under my name," The room is silent, the people trees in a forest so old they can no longer whisper when the wind trickles through their leaves. "Or you can put up a fight, and see if you win."

Something startling is hidden behind her eyes, hesitance, though it is hard to tell whether she is acting still.

My grip tightens on the sword, but I make no move to entangle her in my web. I can feel my grip weakening on those I already hold, I have no room in myself to force her to stay put. The only thing I can do is study the room around me and hope she is simply acting.

In the quiet I focus on the noise coming from behind us. A slight, barely there, whisper of a sound. Alaunus is crying, and for some reason watching his bent over shape shake with drawn out sobs moves something in me. His hand is gripped tightly around the King's, trying, much like I did, to force life back into the long dead.

I guess sometimes siblings just handle watching their parents be murdered the same way. Tears and disbelief, then emptiness. He acts as though he is my mirror. Terrible, echoing sobs that he tries desperately to quiet escaping from his mouth.

Sounds that seem to come deep inside him end up lodged in my own throat, my own ears. They bounce around my head, finally settling in the base of my chest, my heart, like a cold, uncaring stone.

Monsters are not supposed to cry. The storm inside my head rumbles greatly in the distance, stirred up by the realization that nothing is one dimensional. Monsters hurt others, they don't feel their own pain.

Stop. I swing the sword in one hand, waving the storm away with a lazy flick of my hand. Not now. The dark clouds continue to thunder just out of my view, enemy music when I have no idea where the enemy is.

The crowd chants, screaming, as I feel Alaunus' presence moving towards me. I duck, his fist heading straight for my head. Smiling, I launch myself upward, my head connecting with his nose.

Wet, sticky blood spills on top of my freshly cut hair. It runs over my head, down my neck, burning hot, sinking into the crevices of my skin. Alaunus flinches something violent, his eyes glinting with the tears he just spilled. Tracks are left on his cheeks, and midnight smears are left on my face where I wipe the blood. It mixes with the small amount of not yet dried blood left on me from Mama.

I move to knock him over but his claws dig into my skin, drawing blood from the deep trenches of my face. A deep, primal shout comes from within me, filling the air with my pained noise. His other hand is working on my sword, pulling it away from me.

Kneeing him in the stomach, I push him away, his claws detaching from my skin with a stomach twisting squish. He swings the sword at me, just missing my neck as I throw myself to the floor. My head hits the tile hard. Black overtakes my vision for only a moment. I push myself up into a kneeling position, ignoring the spots that crowd my eyes.

My muscles burn, my body screams at me, telling me to get away from this place. Mama's face swirls in and out of my thoughts, but it is much too late for me to stop now. My throat is singed with ragged breaths, but I cannot stop, and the power lends no help to me.

Alaunus moves to kick me, but I skitter backwards. He follows, naively, and I lunge at him, grabbing his ankles and pulling him down, grabbing the sword as it scratches along the floor. He lands in a crumpled pile on the floor.

"I assume you don't want the same deal?"

The power returns, a slight trickle as it forces him to kneel before releasing him. Electing instead to use the weight of my sword to get him to do what I want. The web of power has dwindled only to the guards, and though slight, I begin to hear the soft whispers of raging thoughts.

The voices surround me, in my head, in others heads, echoes of each other, consuming all in their path. They want more death, more death, more death, it is never enough. They fight to get toward where Alaunus is knelt, his dead father's sword to his neck, shining midnight blood spilling from his nose and into his mouth.

"Give the crown to me Alaunus," I sneer at him, just as he has done to me countless times. "There's no need for you to make it harder than it has to be." I refuse to bend to where he is knelt, electing to tower over him instead. He sneers at me, laughing, spilling blood onto the polished floors.

"I'd rather not," His voice is garbled by the blood. "Though we both know a killer like you wouldn't hesitate to murder someone like me."

I press the sword harder against his throat, "Be careful, my champion," The words are vile, I am not his. "The anger you feed on now is running out," I kick him in the stomach, watching him fall down the steps and enjoying each bounce of his body on the marble floor.

"Anger wasn't enough to save Diedre, wasn't enough to save your mother, and it certainly won't be enough to save you from yourself." He smiles, teeth stained black, eyes wild with joy.

Don't play his game, it only helps him. My entire being shakes with pent up energy, rage, and exhaustion.

"You're wrong."