#lich queen

[mizomei]

The Lich Queen and her Beast

Last few months I’ve been doing a mentorship with an MTG artist, and this is the piece I created! I had so much fun.

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

Nexus - Lich Queen by Divebound Studio

[reydeyflummyx759z]

The Lich Queen's Ally

(Prompted Response to a RP - Actual Writing Sample featuring a sneezy Lich Queen)

GIVEN PROMPT

The Regent created the Hopewell Pact, a pact that binds your country and a rival's country together by law. You humbly disagree with the ruling, but the other party wants to be friends with you. How would you respond?

-----

My Response:

(Placeholder Name: Loviatar)

Loviatar Deianira Vandenberg, the Queen of the Undead, sat at a crystalline dais in the most human form the phylactery can muster. She was beautiful, even by the standards of the Undead. Some even gloat Loviatar was prettier than some of the most endowed vampires in existence.

Even then, the only deficit - Loviatar's large, pointed nose - decided to make itself known to her. Springtime was beautiful in Mytherra's central capitol. Thanks to the properties of the phylactery, being allergic to anything that moved or grew was the downfall of all that beauty.

Her sinuses nipped - no - burned like twin suns in two elongated manholes. Her black curly hair tumbled in waves to her thighs, even though it remained piled in a braided, immaculate French bun. A few errant curls still framed her cheeks, giving Loviatar an elegant look of poise.

In spite of it all, she tried to remain calm... Tried to keep her mouth shut about the balderdash that harried her ears. Stymieing the inevitable sneezing attacks became a daunting task for her, her nose, and the entire communion. No, Lovi didn't fucking ask to be here. She was *fucking summoned*, by none other than her *least favorite maid*.

*Fucking Merlin DuPresse*.

Loviatar couldn't take the agonizing feeling of trying to stifle a sneeze, let alone a feeble yawn. All she wanted was no more than to leave this fucked-up shit show. Loviatar, unfortunately, was one of the main stars of the show.

And the Regent expected her to be angry at what he was about to announce. With a dry clearing of the throat, he looked at a scroll and announced: "I hereby announce, that effective immediately, the Hopewell Pact will go into effect."

*The Hopewell Pact... A fateful, ominous pact with more deception than even her hand.*

"And this humble pact--,"

Humble? The fu--

"Will have Reyes Lanticore, the King of the Fae, ally with Loviatar Vandenberg, the Queen of the Undead."

FUCK!

No! I don't want any of this!

While Loviatar's expression soured, she saw that fucking *tyke of a King* grin. He grinned as if Christmas was today and he got the most gifts.

No, Reyes. Today was a travesty of the highest order. Loviatar *yearned* to be with Rowena, the Queen of the Dragons... Hell, she yearned to be partnered with *her goddamn wife*.

Now, she had to face being in the same room with someone she not only felt horrible with, but she legitimately felt *sick to her stomach* that the people of the humans - of all forces - declared this meddling idiot to be fit for the throne.

Loviatar shifted in her seat with a wriggle of her expressive nose. Her nostrils flared sharply, but not to an oncoming allergy attack.

No - Loviatar was about to vehemently retort - and fiercely at that - about this so-called pact of peace. Fuck that handholding balderdash.

Loviatar's red-painted lips opened in preparation for a rebuttal, or even just to disagree with the Regent's word. Alas, she had to play fair like a kid at a playground, and she needed to *wait*.

Loviatar, unable to contain her discomfort, finally calmed down and slurred: "How provincial of you."

Reyes, who was about to express his kindest thanks to the Regent for choosing Loviatar to be his bestie, turned to face the Undead vixen herself. Sharp, calculating, olive green eyes seemingly gnawed - no - seared through Reyes' feeble expression.

Praise was far from what she was about to give. **"It's quaint to know you'll work with me."** As if to say...

"Oh, young boy, you don't know a *third* of what the government signed you up for."

[skatik]

Sketchy Vlaakith

/speech bubble is a meme phrase about an artifact from one russian game "gulman" which is quite legendary that this game is so bad that it makes it good

[sarandipitywrites]

writemas (day 7)

day 7's prompts, courteous of the lovely @agirlandherquill, made me think of necromancy (and a story that i haven't started writing yet about an aspiring lich queen). so that's what we're getting today :D

---

“If I were to die, would you try to save me?”

Nerisa jolted, her lover's voice yanking her back from fantasy, from the spiderwebs of shadow their entwined fingers cast upon the ceiling. The wind beyond the cabin walls moaned, reproving her silence.

“Would you try to save me,” Miri continued, turning her hand to better catch the lamplight, “or would you hasten my end?” The shadow grew and twisted; from the web, a monster emerged.

Nerisa clutched Miri's hand, stilled her fingers' tenebrous writhing. “I'd try to save you. You know I would.” What choice would she have? Who else could calm the dark clouds of Nerisa's mind with nothing more than a smile? Who else could listen to her endless ramblings about science and magic with the same infinite patience with which she endured Nerisa's silence? Who else in this town—in this world—would lay here, with her, like this?

“Do you promise?” The hitch in her voice drew Nerisa's eye. Miri lay there, arm stretched to the heavens, her jaw tight and quivering. The lamplight caught in her eyes, sunlight in dewdrops.

“Miri, what—”

“Promise.”

“Yes.” Tears springing to her own eyes, Nerisa drew Miri in close, tucked her lover's head under her chin. She held her, even as Miri's body shook with sobs. She held her, even as her mind raced to determine the cause of Miri's sudden despair. “Yes, of course. Of course I promise.”

That night, those words, that promise echo in Nerisa's mind now. They howl as loud as the wind, blinding as the snow in her eyes as she searches the blizzard. “Miri!” The storm steals her voice away, just as it stole Miri.

She'd said she would be back quickly—before the storm hit. A quick errand—just to check the fishing lines before they froze over. Nerisa hadn't wanted her to go at all; she should never have let her go alone.

That she finds Miri at all is a miracle. Only when she gets her lover's still and frozen body back home does she remember that miracles do not come in pairs.

Without Miri, Nerisa hardly eats or sleeps; the thought of comfort, of wellness nauseates her, drives her back into the musty world of books and potions. As she works, all the while, Miri sits with her, as patient and loving as ever.

Preserving a body, mercifully, is far easier than reanimating one.

She succeeds because she must—if what she achieves can be called 'success.' Miri's spirit is too far dead and gone to be retrieved in its entirety; a piece of Nerisa's own must do. When Miri awakes, it is as from a long sleep. She remembers some things, but not others; she remembers those nights in the lamplight, those spiderweb shadows on the ceiling. She remembers begging, pleading for Nerisa to save her, to promise. She cannot for the life of her remember why.

Miri loves and hates her by turns. Nerisa tries to dredge the void for the rest of Miri's spirit, to reform her into the person she used to be. Miri stops her. She doesn't want to go back; she doesn't want that utter devotion. She abhors it, just as she abhors the thought of leaving Nerisa.

Love, Nerisa once heard, is a blessing; blessings, she now knows, cannot but wither in her hands. If only she'd never felt love's light at all, perhaps she could have lived a harmless life. A dark one and a lonesome one, but a harmless one. If only she'd never met Miri.

If only Miri had never calmed Nerisa's storm with her smile.

[athame-san]

thanks to Chainmaker fic for my newfound love for Lich Queen Jaina

[creamsiclesquid]

today's warm up i drew Elora local Lich Wife and Queen and her boyfriend (no one talks about it) (everyone knows) (they've known since they were teenagers) (worst kept secret in the kingdom)

[thegreattarchive]