"My husband said he saw it with his own eyes," the woman at the fruit stall murmured, fingers absently brushing over a pineapple. "Right at the base of the King's castle stairs—a pyramid of human heads, stacked high like some cruel monument." Her words hung in the air like a curse.
The women gathered around the stall gasped, their expressions a mixture of disbelief and dread.
"He said the heads were from the city—men, women, even children. Dead eyes staring at the sky. He couldn't tell if the king's head was among them, but—"
Drustan strode past the gossiping women, tuning them out with a scowl. It was his rotten luck to end up in Drakoria's capital today of all days, with tensions at their peak and rumors spreading like wildfire.
In recent days, the kingdom had grown desperate for supplies only found deep in the forests—giant bee honey, milk from the elusive forest grey cows, and other rare goods. It was good work for mercenaries, and they pay well, but then came the war. All mercenary groups refused to help the king, mostly because they were paid not to, and when the king unexpectedly won many were forced to leave Drakoria and it's environs in fear of what the king might do. When they procure the goods now they sell them to merchants for less than half the usual price, or if they are less capable they are hired by merchants for shitty pay.
Drustan has done both, without complain, until his group came upon a big score and the merchants were been unreasonable. His greed wouldn't let him part with it, and it brought him here, at the capital of Drakoria, at the day the king was attacked.
He swore under his breath at his luck.
He pulled his eyes back from following a bold-eyed, red-lipped dancing-girl whose skirt bared her brown thigh at each insolent step, and frowned down at a man who had bumped into him. As the man passed him, he yanked him by the hair and dragged him back. The man wanted to protest but Drustan held the hair tighter and the man winced in pain and desperately dipped hand into his clothes and gave back Drustan's money pouch. He collected it and shoved the man away roughly.
"You always make for an easy target" he heard a familiar voice say. He turned to find his mate, Jonas. A wiry, sun-burnt man with a straggling black beard, and his ragged garments. "Always so distracted."
Drustan scoffed. "You took all day"
Jonas shrugged, tossing a pouch into the air and catching it. "You think you are the only one looking to sell?"
"How much did you get?"
"Thirty-five silvers," Jonas said, smirking.
Drustan's eyes widened in shock. That's more than they have ever gotten, then he remembered the merchants and his expression changed. "Greedy bastards! To think they insisted on 13 silvers"
"I told you," his friend said, tucking the pouch away.
Once they heard the clank of brass-shod feet, instincts drove them to draw into the shadows of a gloomy arch while a squad of Drakorian watchmen swung past. There were fifteen of them; they matched in close formation, spears at the ready, and the rearmost men had their broad brass shields slung on their backs to protect them from a blade-stroke from behind.
"Where are the others?" Drustan asked when the watchmen were out of earshot.
"At the taverns," Jonas replied. "I gave them two silvers to celebrate. Lonell even found us an inn."
Drustan raised an eyebrow.
"Turns out he knows the owner—some old colleague who inherited the place. Lonell 'convinced' him to rent us rooms."
Drustan didn't know what to say to that. He was glad, but uncomfortable.
"Make sure to pay him twice the fee" he said.
"We don't have to do that"
"Yes, but do it anyway" he insisted. "This is his home, he is forced to take more risks than us. We stay a couple of days and leave when the politics die down"
┌─────── ♕ ───────┐
We left my room to another so as to give the slaves and servants space to clean up the mess. I sat on a worn divan, flipping through my grimoire, while Ophelia lingered near the bed where the elf girl lay sleeping.
"Keeping her alive is unwise," Ophelia said, her voice as controlled as ever.
"You've said that before," I replied without looking up.
"The shackle has no stone, it's a matter of hours, or in the hour before it shatters"
"You've said that too" I said. My grimoire puffed out of existence, and I looked at Ophelia. "Does she scare you?"
She acted like she was reluctant to answer, then finally said, "I don't recognize her"
My brow furrowed. "What does that mean?"
Before she could answer, the elf stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled—a childlike, innocent grin. For reasons I can't understand, besides her being slow, she likes me. Always running up to me like a child to a Dad, showing me new things or simply for hugs. She doesn't talk, but she listens.
I smiled back, brushing her hair aside to kiss her forehead. "Are you feeling alright?"
She smiled, nodding enthusiastically.
"That's good" I said, brushing her hair gently. "I need to talk to the other one."
She held my gaze for a moment, then gave me a single nod.
She closed her eyes, and right before my eyes she changed, almost instantaneously. Her face remained the same but her hair grew inches longer and they turned red. When her eyes opened again, they were red too. Beautiful, but instead of innocence, there were so much hate and violence. Rage burned redly in those upturned eyes.
I turned to Ophelia. "You will act as our translator" I said, then turned back to the red-haired. "Now what should I call you?"
That seemed to vex her but it's hard to tell because she already looked like she wanted to strangle me.
Ophelia let out a subtle sigh of frustration then began to translate before the elf cut her off rudely.
"If I have to hear his words two times, I'll gut someone and fry the pieces in their own blood," she sneered, then turned to me again, her tone shifting as she continued in a language I didn't understand, "Even from afar I knew there was something painfully familiar about you. She can't see it, but our eyes were never the same."
I turned to Ophelia for a translate and she did, though making it obvious she wasn't happy.
"Well we've been intim--" I was cut off by her sudden cry and attacking hand that forced me to lean back to avoid a claw at my neck.
"Shut up!" she screamed to her side, and it was obvious it wasn't aimed at me. I've seen schizophrenic people act the same but this time I knew it was real.
Her eyes were on me again. "You violated her! Right before me!" she spat. "No matter how much she speak up for you you will pay"
I was calm as I listened to the translation. "How is it a violation if both sides are okay with it?" I retorted. "Or do you think her less because she's weaker?"
Something cross her eyes and she leaned back. "You are a black devil" she said, "When I'm able to make sense of the familiarity she will see you as I do, and when that is done..." she trailed off.
When someone threatened you and you have have to hear it through a translation, it takes away the bite.
"Are you not the same?" I asked.
She was quiet, as if considering whether to answer or not.
"We are the same, yet different" she finally said, "One was created first, the other after. One was created from wickedness and evil, the other pain and desperation"
It sounded poetic when Ophelia translated but I already got an inkling of their story.
"Do you love or care for her?" I asked, "Not for her because you are included, but for her in particular"
There was silence, and I expected there to be silence.
"Are you not responding because you fear she won't like the answer, or she would know if you are lying?"
More silence, then she finally said. "Why won't I care for her? You are trying to get into my head."
"Maybe, but I've yet to lie, have I not?" I said, becoming more confident. "You say you care for her yet, you put me in a position where I have to take her life"
I thought I saw a semblance of fear in her eyes, but it was only momentary.
"Here's what I think," I continued, "I think you realized the collar has a time limit, a very short time limit, so you entertain me, long enough to waste that time so that you can have me at your mercy to do as you wish without the pesky disturbance of my knights, or the mistakes of before"
She was quiet, but it was in her eyes.
"And you know enough about me to know what I would do to what I consider a threat, no matter how much I may care"
"𐑒𐑺?" she spat, her voice laced with venom.
It was one word but Ophelia translated that she mocks the idea that I care.
"Why would she still be alive if I don't care?"
"For the same reason father kept her alive!" she spat.
Ophelia said something to her before she translated. She was curious and she threw the elf the question but only got a bad eye in response.
"I think I know who her father is"
I had my suspicions too for a long time. "What is he called?"
"Don't you dare!" the elf yelled.
She was trembling, whether out of rage or fear, I couldn't tell, but it was clear she either hates him greatly or fear him the same.
"You do not say his name" Ophelia explained. "Saying his name makes him aware of you"
Interesting.
"Who do you hate more? Me? Or your father?"
She just stared at me.
"It might seem like a silly question but it's of great importance" I said. "It's a matter of time before your father comes here. The gods of this world are counting on it and chose me to go up against him when that time comes."
She laughed abrasively.
"It might not make sense but even you must have noticed I'm not normal, I'm not like the rest." I went on. I can see it in her eyes that she was actually listening. "You just didn't understand how much different I am, or why. I am telling you why."
"You think you can stand before him? You?"
"I don't know" I said, "I don't even know him, but I'm thinking the gods of this world would. They could be right, or they could be wrong, but are you willing to take that chance? Do you hate me enough to aid your father?" I was quiet for effect. "I am all Thalia has. Take my life where else can she run to when he comes?"
The hate and rage in her eyes intensified but she kept her hands to herself.
I brought out the key to the collar and show it to her.
"If you are in my shoes, what would you do?" I asked, looking her dead in the eyes. "How special is Thalia for me to ignore the commands of my gods and the lives of hundreds of thousands?"
I noticed a crack in the collar but the job was more or less done. I was thinking about it when she was out of it. She isn't a recent invention and she bloody hates me, yet I'm still alive, even though I've met the elf girl, and fucked her too on several occasions. This means that Thalia might be weak and ordinary, but she's the original and has some form of control over her stronger other self. I need her by my side to at least not get killed by her stronger self. The other is a matter of time and I need her in a position where she has no choice.
"Is she worth it?" I continued, holding her hostile gaze. My hand move to the collar to unlock it. One of her eyes turned normal. The left one. "I think she has been through enough to at least be given the chance to live a normal life"
A tear fell from the normal eye, and the collar snapped open. I gave her a smile, but almost immediately a powerful force yanked me away abruptly.
I was suspended mid-air, close to the ceiling, and she flicked her hand at an attacking Ophelia and an invisible force pulled her and slammed her against the wall, burying her within, uncovered, but restrained.
"You think you are the first to try and come in between us?" she barked, getting off the bed. "I rather eat his shit than accept you!"
"I'm not asking you to accept me, I'm asking you not to be selfish." I said, hopefully calmly, but almost as soon as I said it she let a terrible cry of desperation and I was slammed against every part of the room--left, right, up, down. I was battered and I could feel the swell on one of my eyes already, but I knew I've won. I wasn't dead yet. Ophelia and the knights stayed out of it like I ordered.
She dragged me down, hovering few feet before her. I could only see through one eye and it was blurry but I could see the rage in her eyes and both were red now.
"You stink of father" she seethed, huffing. I could not tell if it was of rage or exhaustion but she was very angry and disgusted. But I wasn't dead.
"My patience is at its limits" I said, calmly. "kill me within the next ten seconds, or let me go. Go a second above that and the deal is off"
The rage in her eyes intensified with her huffings, but I kept my calm as much as I could in the situation. She was holding back, I could see that much, but is the time enough for her to be reasonable?
"You are in your last 4 seconds." I heard my big mouth say, but it seemed appropriate at the time. I needed to force her hand. "3...2..."
Another loud frustrated cry interrupted the countdown, and an even greater force suddenly slammed me so hard to the ground that I heard my skull crack. I maintained a hazy consciousness for a few seconds before it slowly ebbed away.