Chapter Text
The throne room was spacious and as dimly lit as the rest of the castle. There was a large glass window overhead, but it seemed to be covered by encroaching moss. Below the window, a wide vertebra was wedged into the ceiling to the floor. A lone figure sat slumped in the wide throne, making it seem small. It didn’t move.
Marianne stepped quietly into the room, her movements precise and strong. Each footstep echoed in the wide expanse of the room, and the figure on the throne still didn’t move. She was out in the open, completely in view. Fingers felt for her sword, nestled safely at her hip, her wings brushed the ground lightly, stirring up small flecks of dust into the stale air.
The figure became clearer the closer she stepped. He was lanky, and covered in rough armour of some kind. His head was bowed, and a long scepter with a bright amber gem rested on the side of the throne. From where she stood, Marianne could see he was breathing lightly. He still did not acknowledge her.
She stopped eight paces from the throne, customary for a visiting regent. Sweeping her wings behind her, she gave a small bow indicating a modicum of respect.
“Greetings Your Majesty, King of the Dark Forest.”
The man scoffed. “Ah do not feel like much of a King, stranger.” He still did not raise his head. Disrespect. “Leave, Ah am in no mood to quarry with rabble this night. Be gone with ye.” He waved a long clawed hand dismissively.
Hot anger rose in Marianne’s throat. This was most unexpected. He did not follow any of the polite protocol expected of a ruling monarch, and did not even show her an ounce of respect! She forced herself to swallow the indignation and carried on.
“Your Majesty, I seek-“
“Ah do no’ care what ye want!” The King raised his head and looked her dead in the eye. Blue swarmed her vision. Blue like the summer sky. He showed no signs of acknowledging her regent status. “Leave!”
Marianne looked into those eyes, and saw painful familiarity. She recognized that look of tired anger, eyes strained to keep from crying. Those blue eyes held sadness and contempt, but no real anger. Dim eyes that were swallowed by love, and spat out like a bitter word. The king was in love. And he was heartbroken.
Within those eyes, Marianne felt a cold understanding. And she was furious.
“How dare you!” Fire pooled in her veins. “How dare you refuse me without hearing my request! How dare you sit at your throne like a wounded animal when you have no spine or sense to hear me out!”
The King gritted his teeth, but made no move to stand. “Ah am the King here, stranger. Ah do as ah please.”
Marianne’s hand found the hilt of her sword, but she did not draw. “I will not stand for this insolent behaviour against my person. You will hear me out!”
Still he didn’t move from his throne. “It is not mah wish to hear yer demands. Leave, or ah will have guards escort y’out”.
“So now you won’t even make me leave yourself? What kind of pitiful King are you?”
He growled. Marianne’s sword sang from her sheath. She pointed it at the vulnerable neck of the King.
“Stand up, you pitiful excuse for a ruler! Stand and fight me.”
Marianne took a threatening step towards the throne. The King slowly rose, grabbing the sceptre that had been leaning against the throne and pushed her blade-point aside. He was taller than she expected, the slumped form in the chair never looked this large. His height intimidated her briefly, but she only faltered for a moment.
“Leave!” He demanded, gesturing towards the entrance.
“Not until you make me.” Came Marianne’s gritted reply. And with her blade poised, the battle began.
The king was no real opponent. Even though he parried each swing of her sword with expert movements, there was no real power in them. His movements were sluggish and frail, only defending and not making any attempts to switch to the offensive. Marianne felt as if she was fighting a weary opponent.
“You move like an old man. I was expecting more.” Marianne stated.
The king grunted as he continued to slow. There was no power behind his parries, and the fairy began to bore. Marianne got in a good push and the king fell hard on the throne room floor. Blue eyes looked up at her with stark surprise, and for a moment he looked as if he was about to cry.
Their eyes remained locked for a moment before the king stood, with surprise still written on his face but with something foreign in his eyes behind the exhaustion.
“Come back when you are a true opponent.” Marianne spat.
The lanky King stilled for a brief moment, as if thinking. Then, without a word, he left.
Sheathing her sword, the sound suddenly louder than ever in the empty throne room, Marianne turned to sit down in the throne. She looked up at the covered skylight, small threads of moonlight trickling through the moss.
Well, she mused. I guess I’m Queen now.