In history, they would say that the Mad King died first, still clasping onto the forgotten dignity of his name. They would say that his wife watched on, as heartbroken as any good wife would be. They would say that the brutish Antony Vitello had gotten everything that had been deserved, and as quiet as the sound of a last breath, their chapter in history would fade. What they would not say is how Alycia Vitello did not perish secondly; she died the instant her beloved left this world.
You are mine, and I am yours, she had vowed in their secret spot, long before the world knew their love, but the hidden truth beneath that phrase was that their fates were as intertwined as their souls. He died, and she ceased to be. ( Love and war; sin and absolution both; her and him. ) The head she had kissed so frequently was separated from the body she had worshiped so many nights, and it was the end of her. There were no tears, no begging, nothing. Her soul ended, and she walked toward the block of her own accord.
Golden locks were hidden beneath a cap so that hair would not slow the swipe of the weapon; her clothing was far more simple than she had ever worn before, but they would still make a goddess of her between the pages of history. They would remember her standing here, heartbroken and deserving of sacrifice, but that would not be the only thing they would remember.
She sang as she knelt in mock prayer of the long dead gods. It was a soft song --- a lullaby she offered to her children the last she saw of them. It reminded her of innocence, of a time before she knew this crushing blessing of love and hate and fear, fear, fear.
Alycia Vitello did not close her eyes.
The song reminded her of a world greater than this one.
Find me there, Antony, children, all the loves I’ve left behind.
A family waited for her across the veil already: a husband, a son, and her own spirit, come home.
Alycia Vitello did not pray.
It made no difference. The ax was swift and true in its aim.
In which Galen gets a spare hour to visit the free folk in the woods, plans are discussed, and everyone is in terrible moods. It’s a start, but there’s little closure for anyone. @neilsonrivers, @illiasrivers, @fortisvenxtor, @theoprophet, and @olenarivers.
Galen pulled the hood off his cloak as he stepped into the trees beyond the field. He'd said three days, but instead it had been five; it felt more like an age. ( The strain showed on his face. ) He went over the news he had to deliver, thumb dipping into his pocket to rub along the paper there. He walked a good while, until the field was behind him and the Keep was hidden by tree-cover---only stopping when he saw familiar figures up ahead.
Illias had been patrolling the edge of the woods since morning, watching for any sign of Galen. ( Three days; he had said three days, hadn't he? It had been more than three days, and Illias hadn't slept an hour since the mark had passed. ) The spear in his hand had returned to being an extension of who he was; he had forgotten how important such a weapon could be in the wilds, where every breath was a fight for survival. When he caught a glimpse of the figure in the distance, he motioned toward the others, and he damn near sprinted forward at the sight of the blond. Pulling the man into an embrace, he felt he could finally breathe again. "Thought you said three days."
Theo sat high up in a tree, legs dangling in a thick bramble of branches and twigs, leaves brushing against bare legs. Things were tense, of late. They could feel it in the wind, in the way Illias spoke, In the tight pressure of Olena's hand in those rare moments they left the ghastly heights to join the others. Their sight was rather crowded, lately, figures brushing past, faces they did not know coming up, and faces they had not seen in many years joining the fray of ones they knew and love. The sound of cracking branches, familiar scents. Theo carefully lowered themselves down lower and lower until they were just a dozen feet off the ground, then, they pulled their feet up and waited.
Neil hesitated a look at the approaching figure, fingers stiffening around the knife as his whetstone dropped to the ground. When the face was revealed, Neil slackened somewhat, brow furrowing in concern. He'd suspected the boy was lost, but somehow, he'd made it out. ( and to them. ) "All that matter is he's here," Neil cautioned to Illias, stepping forward with El at his side. Now wasn't the time for such reunions. Their moment could come later. "Galen, what news do you have?"
Galen returned Illias's tight embrace, smoothing a hand along his back until Neilson's voice broke through the moment. He pulled away from his mate with a nod, keeping a hand on the brunet's shoulder. His gaze was tired but alert as it flicked between the free folk, lips pulling into a frown. "Well, Illias was right, for one. Cullen Grieves was indeed the one who informed the King about you, though Pierce came to me to ask forgiveness and pledge his lasting alliance to you. Do with that what you will; I told him he'd need to prove it as a start." His frown deepened, jaw working as he remembered the next part. "I have a message from Grieves, but I doubt you'll... like it much."
Illias had to refrain from uttering a curse at the news. "Pierce knew then, and he wants to protect the man who could've killed us all?" It was a dangerous game the knight had decided to play, and anger ( anger marred by feelings of betrayal ) flashed in him once more. He couldn't protect the man; it was up to the group what they would do with him now. "I doubt we'll like it either, but we need to hear it all the same."
Galen squeezed Illias's shoulder at the sight of anger twisting his features, too irritated himself ( even days later ) to react. "He wrote you all a letter," Galen replied, pulling the folded-up parchment out of his pocket and raising it for all of them to see. If the other wildlings were as irritable about the subject as Illias was, he doubted this would be pretty. "In an attempt at pacification. I want to think this was just him being a fool, but..."
Theo slipped down the last dozen feet, carefully finding branches to catch themselves on each branch, until the reached the last one, slipping down the last couple feet, waiting for a moment, listening, before slipping down the last several feet, landing on something warm, and solid, brushing a hand up, they felt a long tangle of hair, "Thank you, Uncle," Theo said, voice soft, pushing the hair from their face, “You,” they said, hopefully facing Galen, ( in reality, he was quite a bit to the left, but Theodore’s visions had their senses a bit muddled of late ) “Are quite late.”
Neil narrowed his eyes instantly, lips drawing tight in pointed, hardened disapproval. "And this is the man who revealed us to the kneelers' king? Is this some joke to these men?" He asked, teeth bared. Neilson glanced away to gather himself once more, then spared a look to El and Illias, Theo and Galen. "Burn the letter. I won't deal with him trying to satisfy his conscience or pity us. We've no need of his words."
El didn't react much when Theo fell into his arms---they were light and he just nodded at their quiet thanks. But Galen's mention of a letter---and Neil's following rejection of it---had his lips curling into a snarl. "How the fuck is a letter spitting pretty apologies going to make up for the fact that he put all of our lives in danger? If the maids hadn't found Illias when they did---" He cut himself off, scowling.
Theo hummed, finding the ground easily, "A letter? Does the king forget we are not like him? We have a language of our own, we are not here to look at his silly words that most do not even know." They said, "Is he flaunting his crown? Does he think our bite will be less severe if he apologizes for killing us off?"
Illias stared in disbelief at the mention of a letter, lips pressing into a thin line. "He lied to my face -- said he wouldn't tell the King anything about us. He insulted me more than once, claiming we were all like the Vitellos. He put my family in harm's way, and instead of coming to us like the warrior he claims to be, he wrote a letter we can't even read?" If there was one thing he had to pick to describe kneelers, it would be this. His voice was quiet, far more quiet than he would have believed. "I'm with Da. Burn them."
Neil nodded as the others voiced agreement. "So it will be." What use were letters? Illias was right, if the man wanted to attempt to save face, he'd know them better than to write something --- as El put it --- pretty. Arms crossing over his chest, he glanced to Galen seriously. "Make sure he knows this, too. I won't have him believing he has the right to be of any use to us. We will remember this when our armies arrive." ( he imagined his own sword shoved in between ribs; a reminder to never fuck with the rivers. ) "What of that king?"
Theo lifted their fingers up, "Why have we not killed them all yet?" they asked, hands brushing across the bark of a tree, "I'm certain I've seen their blood in the streets before.."
Galen nodded, folding the parchment over. "Alright. Pierce said that it had information on the different families' military histories and such, but---and I hope you don't mind, but I was in a nasty mood when I received it---I looked it over and the information is..." He sighed, holding the parchment out for Illias to take if he so desired. "A good twenty years old, in any case. And I could have gotten you better knowledge off Astrid's records. He also wrote a couple of personal letters to both Illias and Orell, which I am assuming are full of apologies. I didn't open them." At the mention of the King, Galen's frown deepened; he ran a hand through his hair in agitation. "I don't know what he and the heads of the families planned, but I can wager some guesses. He's pulling everyone in for questioning, anyone who might possibly have had anything to do with the free folk. He got to me the first day and I'm positive he believed everything I told him---'I had no idea, it can't be true, I don't know where Illias went,' all that. No one's concerned about me, they think me a heartbroken fool. Judging from the whispers I've been hearing, they haven't gotten anything they can use. They don't know you're here, anyway; they're trying to figure out who's leading the free folk. I twisted your existence into a folk tale and bought some time by telling him to question the knights and kitchen staff. The girls don't know anything, and Pierce won't say a word. Believe me, he won't." Galen's frown deepened, and he averted his gaze.
El stared at the blond for a moment, brows raised. That was unexpected. "... Huh. Didn't know you had it in you, Vance. We'll talk about that letter later, I got some things to say to the fucker."
Illias would have given a proud smile if the news hadn't weighed on him. ( So this was what the kneelers thought of him now? Some sort of lying, abandoning coward? It was necessary, but gods, this was not what was meant to happen. ) "You did good, Blue Eyes," he answered, knowing Galen would have to keep doing it, keep pretending, keep putting on a smile for the people in charge. "Then nothing's changed."
Neil eyed Galen with approval. He hadn't expected such a response, such a loyalty. The hint of doubt was still there, seeing as how their record with the kneelers wasn't turning into the best, but the boy's work was appreciated. "Just keep your head low in there. Can't have you getting caught." There'd be no use then --- and Illias would be a wreck Neilson knew they couldn't handle. "If they continue to think we're not united, it could help; but with Illias already talking to Holden and Zion, they'd know we're serious now. It'll buy us some time, but I don't trust how much." He rubbed at his beard, glancing to El thoughtfully. "Them questioning each other could help us. Divide them up on the inside while we wait . . . "
Theo left to go find Olena.
Galen nodded distractedly, smoothing a hand along Illias's back. He'd toyed for a long time with whether or not he wanted to say as much in front of all of them, but... "They do seem divided. Ashlynn Pemberley found me the other day to ask after you, see if I knew where you were and if there was anything she could do to help..." His gaze flicked between Neilson and El. "She's worried about you, Orell. Seemed downright murderous, actually. I didn't tell her anything, but I pointed her in Grieves's direction."
El frowned, but nodded, not particularly wanting to draw too much attention to the statement. "She would be, aye. I say the girl's trustworthy. And it'd be good to have an in with one of the big families, see if we can get some information on her mother's plans. They seem close from what she's mentioned, I figure she'd tell Ashlynn what she wants to do." He glanced at Illias, nodding to him. "You know her. You agree?"
Illias rose his brows at the news of Ashlynn, shooting a look El's way. If there was one word he would never think to attribute to the woman, it was murderous. "Aye, I agree. I wouldn't think to use her as a spy, but if you're willing to trust her with that, I'm willing to do it too. Will Galen and Ashlynn be enough? I can return to the Keep if I need to --- help stir up the cause with the common folk. I need to be doing something besides waiting."
Neil didn't spare El a glance, kept his eyes steady on Galen when he talked about a girl. It was only when his brother spoke that he finally turned his eyes to him, scrutinizing the way he quickly diverted to Illias's opinion. "If you both believe she can be trusted, then speak to her. El's right. We need to know what the big families are thinking the same as we do with the Vitellos." Illias's offer pulled a frown. "You think the commoners'll be a problem? They all seemed beaten down to me. Too weak to put up much of a fight, even if they wanted to protect their homes."
Galen shook his head, sparing Illias a frown. ( That seemed to be all he did these days---frown. ) "Absolutely not. You'll be dragged in and interrogated or just immediately imprisoned the moment you step into the Keep. The commonfolk've rioted half a dozen times in the past year and they've never achieved anything, and now they're weaker than ever---the only thing we can do is shove them out of the way. They won't rise up, not properly."
Theo is back with Olena.
Olena barreled her way into the clearing with the rest of them, Theo in tow. "What in seven hells is going on?" She glanced around to each person, realizing she was the last to join -- even Galen was here. She eyed him a second longer than everyone else before she turned her back on him to speak to her family. "More shit news?"
Galen grimaced at Olena's back, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Really? Still?
Neil shot a look at Olena and sighed. ( never change, daughter, never change ) "We know the name of who told their king about us. We'll decide his fate at a later day; but for now we should focus on our next move." He paused to think for a few moments. "Illias, I agree with Galen. The people won't rise up when they're too beaten down, and they won't be anything but a mess. I think you'd be doing more harm to yourself out there than anything. I say we wait, see how their king moves. If he goes towards violence, we'll send for the army and prepare for war." The problem was, both Galen and the others had named several families who shouldn't be harmed. How were they to miss them, yet attack the Vitellos? "The families that have been spoken of before. Will they still step aside if the time comes?"
El crossed his arms and considered his brother's words. ( He was glad the others had struck down Illias's suggestion; otherwise, he would've dragged the kid away from the keep himself. ) "Ashlynn'll keep the Pemberleys out of the line of fire. Vance, can you talk to the Balors? I met with one of them---the one I got into the fight with, Neil---and he sounded like the hated the crown almost more'n we do. Met another who didn't seem fond of them either---Thorn-something?"
Galen pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to piece this all together. "It's no secret that the Balors hate the Vitellos, but the head of the Balors seems close to the king---he's his right hand right now and they look like they get along. He sat in on my questioning, staring me down like he was waiting for me to slip any second. I... I'm not sure what to expect, but I can ask Astrid about him. And he and Leanne Pemberley are together all the time, as are he and Lord Thornton, so... It may be worth looking into." He sighed. It had been a long damn week. "As for the Pemberleys, I'll keep them out of this even if I have to chain them up in a cellar. Asa's not a fighter, and Leanne... Gods, I hope I can keep her out of this."
Olena aimed her words at her father, "But do we wait and see or do we start planning in advance? And what? What's their face really did give us away?" She'd ask what Illias had mentioned but decided it wasn't worth it if shot down. She could guess anyway and if she was right, she stood by the majority decision. "Is there anyone that can't be trusted and can be taken out? Make this whole thing... I dunno, an easier victory for us?"
El snorted at the question, arms still crossed. "Aye. I still vote we get rid of Grieves, though I do wanna hear what those stupid damn letters of his say. He put the family in danger; he needs to be dead."
Olena: "Honestly, Uncle and I could easily take care of it. No one would miss him, we could even be quiet about it if that makes everyone feel better." Or drag him off where no one could hear him. She glanced back at El. "Letters? There are letters?"
Illias crossed his arms over his chest as the others discussed murder, allowing the possible plans to roll in his mind. "Killing him does nothing for us now -- and aye, Ol. The fucking idiot wrote letters to us, as if that'd make things right." Yes, this would end in death -- more death than he would have liked, but there was nothing else to do about it now. "We'll find out what we can about the little lords and ladies, but if they stand with the King when the time comes, there's nothing we can do for them."
Theo tilts their head to the side, "There's another one like me there, in the keep, someone who sees. I do not know who, or if she fights against us, but we must be wary, she may warn them of our plans, as I will warn against theirs.."
Olena: sneered, teeth bared. "What's it say? Oi, sorry I turned you over to the king, ruined your plans, maybe all your lives, best wishes, Elkballs Fuckerson? Killing him does everything. At the very least, he is out of our way and his mouth is shut forever." And it makes her feel better. She turned to Theo. "What? There's another -- shit." She ran a hand down her face. "Shit, shit, shit. What do we do about that? There's no way around the visions."
El clicked his tongue, brows furrowed. "It's not certain how clear her sight is, is it? Yours can be fickle more often than not; hers could be much worse. I'm more worried about the witch who killed Zion---if they have her fighting for them, then they can wreak all sorts of damage on our heads."
Illias frowned at the mention of a witch. "Do you mean Helena? She's on our side. She's fed up with the people of the Keep treat her and wants the freedom of the wilds -- hardships and all. She'll be fighting for us, if she fights for anyone. " For once, there was good news he could offer. "Maybe you should read the letters after all, Galen, or Olena'll go on a murder spree for him. 'Course, she might just do that anyways..."
Theo tugged on Olena's hand, pulling it into their own. "I haven't seen anything yet, no plans. There is a war coming, but they are waiting for us, I doubt the cowards will strike first."
Galen nodded and reached into his pocket to retrieve them both. He unfolded the one addressed to Orell first and began reading it with a frown as the older man walked nearer to listen. Impressively, considering how his temper had been with Grieves since the leak of information, he got through it mostly straight-faced with minor occurrences of irritated muttering.
Dear Orell,
While you will probably rip this letter to shreds the moment you hear it’s from me, I still hope you listen to it. I’m not writing to apologize, because I’m not sorry for what I did. It was a betrayal pure and simple, but I needed to do this, still need to in fact. I acted out of fear, and I am ashamed of that fact. After everything that Illias told me, I was prepared to let it go. I might have been angry at him for his revolution and how he spoke of it, but I honestly didn’t care, not until I found out that he involved the one person that I vowed to protect, as I was telling you before. Pierce is a son to me. I had nothing before he and Arthur came into my life as none of my knights have looked upon me as those two did. When I found out he was in danger, I decided rather selfishly that I would take on this burden alone rather than risking him or those he called his friends. I should have discussed it with you. Fear drove me from that, fear that you wouldn’t understand, fear that you would talk me out of this in favor of allowing the free folk their plans. While it is most likely no comfort to you, if the peace talks fall through for whatever reason, I am prepared to do what I must to assure the safety of the free folk. As we both know, I am no stranger to taking a life. Afterwards, if I am still alive, you will have final judgment over me. I won’t fight or beg, only accept what punishment you have in store. Before that time, though, I will try to pass on as much information as I can. Troop movements, raids, plans, I’m privy to much of it now as I’ve earned Holden’s trust. All I ask though is that you leave his judgment to me, which is a lot to ask, I know, but in the end, this may have always been my burden, since he is, after all, my brother.
My Deepest Regrets,
Cullen Grieves
El watched Galen like a hawk as he read off the piece of paper, his mouth pulling into a deeper and deeper frown as the minutes passed. He had a lot of things to say, things he'd tell Galen directly, but for now--- "There's no fucking way he gets to pass judgment on anyone. Who the fuck does he think he is?" El growled, raking a hand through his hair. ( He needed to fucking cut it. ) "He thinks he can soothe this with promises and help we don't even need? He couldn't even come talk to me face-to-face and he expects me to fucking---" The hunter cut himself off with another frustrated growl, clenching his hands as though he wanted to reach for a weapon. ( He did. ) "I understand his fear just fucking fine, aye. And he's going to pay for it in blood."
Olena took Theo's hand without even thinking when they reached for her, interlocking their fingers and squeezing. This was a mess. "So we have a witch on our side and Theo. They have a cowardly betrayer and a seer as well." She chewed on her lip in thought before she shot her brother a smirk. "Damn right I just might. He's no use. Obviously he can't keep his mouth shut, he's betrayed us already, who's to say he won't do it again?" Everything would have been just fine if this fucker hadn't opened his mouth out of - oh, out of fear. W e l l. "All that's a steaming pile of horseshit." She spat. "'Fear Uncle wouldn't understand,' how insulting."
Theo swatted at Olena.
Neil took a moment to gather himself, watching as his children and brother (and Galen) spoke. "Grieves doesn't know anything know. He is none of our concern at the moment. He will have no power over anyone's judgement --- not when that right is /ours/, and ours alone. Our people have bled. Our people have suffered." Who would pass judgement on Grieves himself, was up for debate . . . Neilson eyed El from the side. "The witch, Helena---?---" ( he looked at Illias for confirmation ) "---should be protected and kept away from the Vitellos at all cost. If /we/ know her powers, I'm sure they will, too. And we need to get her to safety first before they can touch her. The question becomes: would we prefer her here with us? or remaining in the Keep so the Vitellos won't become suspicious of her loyalties?"
Illias had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the letter -- there was no use getting angry about it now. ( He was still angry. ) "He won't get the chance to betray us again. He seems to think we're useless without him, but we don't need his information. What's his letter to me offer then?" His attention returned to Neilson, and he nodded his head in answer. "Either Galen or I can talk to her. If the Keep's watching her, she should stay, but if not, she should come with us. We can build strength, help her train, give her a reason to fight if it comes to it."
Galen sighed at Illias's suggestion as he folded the hunter's letter and put it away, opening Illias's to read instead. "I'll speak with her, it's no problem. We'll see what the best option is and go from there; it'd probably do well to get her out of the Keep. Some people are still looking at her like she's a monster." Turning to Illias, he began to speak---this letter was much the same as the last, and he got through it quickly to not test the other's patience.
Dear Illias,
This letter most likely will act as kindling, but I’m still going to try anyway. I’m sorry, not for my actions because I can’t regret what I did, but for my words. It’s odd how two people can want the same thing yet still fight as bitter enemies. Maybe I should have chosen my words better, not let the tiredness in my bones get the better of me, or maybe I should have never returned to the Keep in the first place. However, that can’t change what happened between us. You won’t believe this, as you never believe any of my words, but Pierce means everything to me. I’ve never been a father, but I came close to being one to Pierce and Arthur. I would do anything for them, anything to protect them. That includes this. I don’t care what plans you had. They involved him, and I couldn’t allow that. If you never had gotten him caught up in all of this, I would have let everything you told me go, and you could have done whatever you liked to Holden and the Keep. Now, though, I’ve decided that I will do this myself to protect him and his friends. You probably have several choice words for me right now about how this is your burden and my people wronged yours. I understand this, but he’s my brother, and I will be the one to judge him. I plan to provide you with information to keep the free folk ahead of the people of the Keep now that I have earned Holden’s trust. If he doesn’t continue with peace then know that I will do what I must, even that is to take his life and that of the rest of the families. Afterwards, if I am still alive, I plan on handing myself over to the free folk for judgment. I know you have no reason to believe me, but all I am after is peace and to keep Pierce away from the fighting. It’s selfish, yet I’m finding it hard to care about anything else currently.
I hope you let Galen read this far,
Cullen Grieves
Galen folded the letter, brows raised. He was almost amused. Almost. "Well, he clearly underestimated how much you like to hear me talking."
Illias 's scowl immediately returned, and even though Galen's faint joke elicited the barest twitch of his lips, he still tugged the letter from the blond's hand only to crumble it in his palm. The words made it sound as if he had coerced Pierce and Arthur onto their side, and he didn't want to hear them again. ( Was it not their decision to make? Who did Cullen think he was to take this freedom from the knights? Even if Illias was regretting their involvement, betrayal still a fresh wound, Cullen's decision sat uneasily with him. ) "Glad that's settled then."
Olena gently hip checked Theo. "He wants to keep Pierce away from fighting but he's the one that is headstarting this war. How does telling the king, but still fighting for us, make any fuckin' sense? He wants to keep his son out of it, why doesn't he understand that by doing this, he's made everything worse for him?" What a stupid, /stupid/ man. "And it sounds to me like he doesn't trust his son to make his own decisions. So not only a coward and betrayer, but a shite father as well."
El grunted in agreement with Olena's words, leaning back against a tree. He pulled out his hunting knife and the whetstone Neil had dropped earlier ( of course ) and got to sharpening the blade with a vague frown. "He'll be dealt with soon enough," he muttered, listening to the scrape of the blade. Idly, he thought of Ashlynn, of her moonglow eyes; he wondered what she looked like when she was angry, if she'd look at Grieves the way she'd stared down wolves she'd wanted to skin. Perhaps they wouldn't even need to deal with Grieves themselves. "It won't be a quick death for him."
Galen listened to the discussion with a faint frown. He understood the free folk, understood why they were so angry, but... it never made listening to plans for murder any easier. It wasn't in his nature. ( Probably. He wasn't sure anymore. ) With a sigh, he squeezed Illias's arm before pulling away. "Alright, I should go before I'm missed. I'll be back in a few days with more news, though I'm hoping that there won't be many more developments. Do you want me to bring anything back with me next time, or are you alright?"
Neil briefly looked to his children, finding himself agreeing with them. The man's words didn't make any sense to him, and he couldn't bring himself to respect any of the supposed justifications. "The news should be all we need, Galen," Neil said with a nod of appreciation. "We've got most of what we need around here; and the weather's warm enough. You just keep your head on right. Get the girl somewhere safe. You're doin' a fine job as it is."
Illias did not want to watch Galen go after he'd only just arrived, but he nodded his head in a curt reply. ( He was safe, safe, safe, and it was a reminder Illias needed. ) "Be careful, you hear me? Any news that's not in your favor, and you leave." It was the only thing the wildling needed from the Keep at this point -- that one last thing.
Galen offered Neilson a faint smile and nodded, then turned to catch Illias's hand and give it a squeeze. "I'm always careful," he replied mildly, leaning in to give him a kiss. "I promise. And you... Take care of yourself as well. Please." With that, he pulled his hood back up and went to leave. It was barely a couple minutes before the trees obscured him from sight.
you’ll see him in your n i g h t m a r e s ,
you’ll see him in your d r e a m s ;
he’ll appear out of nowhere, but he a i n ’ t what he s e e m s .
☩
Phillipe Vitello, once Poseidon, the proud Lord of the Seas, was dead. Iapetus knew this because he had just finished washing the blood from his hands.
Likely the only good thing about the terror that had swept through the Lion’s Keep was that its security wasn’t quite what it had once been. Almost all of the knights who hadn’t been turned to stone in the past month or weren’t currently guarding someone the King and Queen had deemed important were off watching the dungeon’s overflowing population of prisoners. (Which was really quite fair, because with everything that had been happening inside the Keep, none of the commomfolk who weren’t obligated as servants had any desire to go near the towering building.) This was good news for Iapetus, given that the tallest man this side of Westedell wasn’t particularly inconspicuous. Small victories.
The King’s uncle had, of course, been beyond distraught at the death of the heir. Distraught meant drunk meant easy to drag from his bed in the middle of the night. And what a fun time they’d had together after Iapetus had been reunited with his old friend.
Fun for him. Granted, he didn’t blame Poseidon for not enjoying their moonlit meeting as much as he had; after all, Iapetus has been planning it for centuries.
First went that silver tongue; then he knocked out the perfect teeth. (Not another word from you.)
Second went those blue eyes; then he shoved them down that gaping throat. (Never again to see the light.)
Then he broke each of those clever fingers (no more harm can they do); then he bashed that pretty face in (no more women can it deceive); then he shattered those strong legs (no more land can they cross). And when he’d dragged the whimpering wretch to sit beneath the King and Queen’s window and his guts were spilling red red RED across the green green grass, Iapetus took the man’s prized trident (never again to see battle) and shoved him down on it like a stuck pig. Fitting.
It was only after he’d left the scene, the night so very calm as the river washed the red from his hands, that Iapetus let his shoulders slump and his eyes close for a moment of respite. Of peace.
It had taken so long to exact revenge for the untold horrors his three nephews had forced upon his family that he thought it would never come. Finally. Finally. And even in his satisfaction, it didn’t seem like nearly enough---an hour of torture to match the centuries he and his sons had survived? A handful of injuries when he had survived millions? A single death when Prometheus had felt thousands? It wasn’t enough, but nothing would ever be after all they had seen and survived.
But Zeus and Poseidon were rotting in Tartarus, and Olympus was waiting for them.
(One more to go.)
His hands clean, he took a deep breath and returned to the Lion’s Keep. His family was waiting for him.
