Chapter 89: 89
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Steeling myself, I turn to Ithuriel, soaking in the blue and red tones of his hair blazing with a mixture of sadness and an undeniable anger, my gaze half averted, not meeting his eyes. The warrior angel's mouth is agape, two toned eyes shining, beading up with the fresh tears of betrayal, washing away all hope, all of that long standing faith in me with one single trickle down his cheek. He looks utterly, utterly defeated. Shaking, I place my hand on his knee, but he completely ignores it.
"What do you mean, Serena. What change? I trusted you, Serena, I..." he breaks off, forcing himself to swallow down that welling sadness that clings to the back of his throat, breaking up his voice with a few heart wrenching cracks.
A part of me desperately wants to comfort him, to put my arms around him and console him as we always did when we were little- as he always did to me. But I do not need to read aura's to realise his is broken, that no amount of comfort would fix the hole that I have forged in his heart, or will mend the betrayal to come.
Sometimes, the best thing to do is to simply state the truth.
"What I mean, is this war has gone on long enough. I am tired of fighting a battle that is going nowhere, for hating creatures that you and I both know are only as bad as the council makes them out to be. Sure, Soren is a monster, a tyrant, I don't care what you call him, but he can also love. We have been under the illusion for thousands of years that vampires are the cold blooded creatures who only bring ruin and destruction in their wake, feeding off the lives of the innocent with merciless intent and feeling absolutely nothing. And maybe that does have some truth. But not all vampires are like that. Does Fangorn's existence not prove that to you?" I plea, my voice cracking upon the last syllable.
Ithuriel's face remains an icy block of disappointment and grief, body rising and falling with the heavy, tear stricken breaths. Kal, who has since finished his tea, comes to place a soothing hand on my shoulder, and I lean back against the chair, suddenly feeling exposed with having all my thoughts, ideas, plans in the open, ready to be picked apart by all that surround me. Fortunately, and much to my relief, Fangorn and Kal do not intercede, allowing the unaired conversation between and Ithuriel to play out.
Yet part of me wishes they would.
"So, what are you going to do? Tell him who you are? Expose yourself to the whole of the vampire kingdom? I am sure you know just how well that would go down," he sneers, and instantly, the crowd of faceless rabid vampires shifts into the front of my mind, jeering and hissing and laughing over my weakened form, floating up in the centre of the throne room, Soren's blood magic carving a stake through my heart. Grimacing, I shake off the vision.
I will not become another figure in an execution.
"I am going to tell him eventually, yes. What he chooses to do with that information, is a fate I will let myself reside upon. If you prefer, I am making myself a bargaining chip. If he chooses to accept me, he will marry an angel and a host of the soul of heaven, and have the Queen of the Angels by his side in place of the eternal flame. If he chooses to have me dead, he will suffer in isolation and lose the war with the loss of the flame. His race will then crumble."
Fangorn murmurs in agreement.
"This is a veritable plan. A plan decided on by chance, and the choice of a Prince. You are giving my people a chance to change their ways. I like you, Queen Serena. You have good morals- which is a lot more than I can say for most of the creatures that wander this world."
But Ithuriel, poor, dear, heartbroken Ithuriel, shakes his head in disgust, his hair turning a foul shade of monstrous green.
"You forsake your inheritance, your life, your people, for what? Love? For a monster?"
At this Fangorn looks ready to rip out Ithuriel's throat, but I hold up a finger, lulling him into silence at the realisation that I can handle this situation by myself.
"Do you not understand, Ithuriel?" I urge, balling my fists in an unrivalled frustration while I try to keep my voice level and reasoning, yet simultaneously finding it rather difficult with the golden glow beginning to assimilate around me, spiking the air with a poignant golden luminescence that crackles with years of unsaid frustration. "I am giving all of Faey a chance. A chance to be free of the dreadful miseries of war and the grinding fists of rulers who have lost all care for this word. That is what the souls were created to do. That is what I am meant to do. Can't you see this is so much bigger than a petty feud?"
Ithuriel rises from his feet, scoffing, splaying his wings out around him, the span of which is so large they threaten to knock the elk head right off its precarious position above the door frame. His lips peel back into a snarl, eyes glowering with an anger that could rival that of even the Scarlet Prince himself.
Once upon a time I might have been afraid of this Ithuriel, might have been cowed and subdued to his wishes by the unpleasant notion of going against his will and the consequences that might bring. But my days of battling up against a court of vengeful vampires, a Prince whose devilish nature has become a constant test of my revelry and forward thinking, and a white haired royal menace whose advances were always less than welcome, there is one thing I have learnt: to be a Queen is not to lay low and rule from the shadows in a world by those who seek to override you, no. To be a Queen is to fight, even if you are the only one left to do so.
With this is mind, it is hardly any surprise that the only look I can spare Ithuriel now is one of sorrowful pity.
"A chance! Tch. What sort of good is a chance? It's a suicide mission. You are being rash Serena, far too rash, you always have been."
I wince, doing my best not to take the bait and recoil from the bitter sting that lodges itself in my heart- for though I may not submit to his whims as I once did, that does not mean his words hurt any less. Of course, he is hurt, trying to pacify me into believing him, submitting to the future of me being a Queen on a throne in a world where vampires have been wiped from existence- the future he always thought we'd have-, to make me feel bad about my decision, the way the council would if a policy does not fit their rigid briefing. But I don't play by those rules any more.
I lower my eyes.
"I'm being kind."
Before any further arguments can ensue, Fangorn hammer's his fist on the table, bringing us all to an obedient silence. Our bodies freeze in unison.
"That is enough. I think the discussion is best ended here. I am not about to have my home torn apart by a headstrong warrior and an angel with the heavens in her soul. Queen Serena, I will help you. If you do as you promise, and give my people, everyone, a chance at redemption, then I shall honour you as my new Queen and you shall have my service."
He bows his head towards me, bringing his fist up to his heart- a symbol of allegiance amongst the angels. I smile gratefully, beckoning him to rise.
"And you a place in the new world. Your title shall be restored, and your honour."
Ithuriel glares between us, and then all at once that wall, that icy, impenetrable blockade against all emotions he had striven to keep up for so long, breaks. His shoulders slump as he falls to his knees, utterly broken, and utterly defeated, body bent over limply, cradling his face in his hands as if no longer has the strength to spare a glance towards me. His lips quiver on the verges of panic. The warrior's wings crumple behind him, his head hanging low, his bent form casting long and sorrowful shadows dancing across the floor.
"Tell her why," Fangorn says softly now, moving himself from his temporary seat on the table to linger behind Ithuriel, though he does not make any move to reassure him. Kal shifts uncomfortably behind me, muttering under his breath something that my ears are not quite attuned to hearing.
"Tell her why you don't want her to go," he says again, lowering himself on his haunches as he claps his great paw of a hand on the back of Ithuriel's back. Ithuriel screws his eyes shut. The fervent glow around me subsides as my anger, my frustration, melts away into the darkness of the room, washed away by a thick atmosphere of grief and heavy with the linger tones of despair. I arise from my seat, carefully treading my way round the room to come to rest in front of Ithuriel, kneeling before him like a saint in prayer. Ithuriel's eyes are wetted with tears, white lashes in clumps, his hair sinking to a gentle simmering blue combined with hues of a light pink, like a flower encapsulated by a bubble of crystalline water. He looks up at me, pain streaking across his face, in the red markings of his bear paw tattoo marked beneath his eye and the twisting of his face as his lips turn downwards to form a weary frown.
I cup his cheek gently in the palm of my hand and all at once the room fades around me, blurring out of focus until the only thing left is me and Ithuriel sitting shakily on the carpeted floor. A single tear falls from his cheek, and he leans himself into my hand, as if deigning to leach the warmth and comfort from my skin, if only for a second.
"Tell her, Ithuriel," Fangorn urges once more, his voice impossibly far away. Something works in Ithuriel's throat, a pained choking sound thrumming in the back of his throat as he fumbles for the words that have leeched on his heart for the long eternities of time.
He opens his mouth.
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Steeling myself, I turn to Ithuriel, soaking in the blue and red tones of his hair blazing with a mixture of sadness and an undeniable anger, my gaze half averted, not meeting his eyes. The warrior angel's mouth is agape, two toned eyes shining, beading up with the fresh tears of betrayal, washing away all hope, all of that long standing faith in me with one single trickle down his cheek. He looks utterly, utterly defeated. Shaking, I place my hand on his knee, but he completely ignores it.
"What do you mean, Serena. What change? I trusted you, Serena, I..." he breaks off, forcing himself to swallow down that welling sadness that clings to the back of his throat, breaking up his voice with a few heart wrenching cracks.
A part of me desperately wants to comfort him, to put my arms around him and console him as we always did when we were little- as he always did to me. But I do not need to read aura's to realise his is broken, that no amount of comfort would fix the hole that I have forged in his heart, or will mend the betrayal to come.
Sometimes, the best thing to do is to simply state the truth.
"What I mean, is this war has gone on long enough. I am tired of fighting a battle that is going nowhere, for hating creatures that you and I both know are only as bad as the council makes them out to be. Sure, Soren is a monster, a tyrant, I don't care what you call him, but he can also love. We have been under the illusion for thousands of years that vampires are the cold blooded creatures who only bring ruin and destruction in their wake, feeding off the lives of the innocent with merciless intent and feeling absolutely nothing. And maybe that does have some truth. But not all vampires are like that. Does Fangorn's existence not prove that to you?" I plea, my voice cracking upon the last syllable.
Ithuriel's face remains an icy block of disappointment and grief, body rising and falling with the heavy, tear stricken breaths. Kal, who has since finished his tea, comes to place a soothing hand on my shoulder, and I lean back against the chair, suddenly feeling exposed with having all my thoughts, ideas, plans in the open, ready to be picked apart by all that surround me. Fortunately, and much to my relief, Fangorn and Kal do not intercede, allowing the unaired conversation between and Ithuriel to play out.
Yet part of me wishes they would.
"So, what are you going to do? Tell him who you are? Expose yourself to the whole of the vampire kingdom? I am sure you know just how well that would go down," he sneers, and instantly, the crowd of faceless rabid vampires shifts into the front of my mind, jeering and hissing and laughing over my weakened form, floating up in the centre of the throne room, Soren's blood magic carving a stake through my heart. Grimacing, I shake off the vision.
I will not become another figure in an execution.
"I am going to tell him eventually, yes. What he chooses to do with that information, is a fate I will let myself reside upon. If you prefer, I am making myself a bargaining chip. If he chooses to accept me, he will marry an angel and a host of the soul of heaven, and have the Queen of the Angels by his side in place of the eternal flame. If he chooses to have me dead, he will suffer in isolation and lose the war with the loss of the flame. His race will then crumble."
Fangorn murmurs in agreement.
"This is a veritable plan. A plan decided on by chance, and the choice of a Prince. You are giving my people a chance to change their ways. I like you, Queen Serena. You have good morals- which is a lot more than I can say for most of the creatures that wander this world."
But Ithuriel, poor, dear, heartbroken Ithuriel, shakes his head in disgust, his hair turning a foul shade of monstrous green.
"You forsake your inheritance, your life, your people, for what? Love? For a monster?"
At this Fangorn looks ready to rip out Ithuriel's throat, but I hold up a finger, lulling him into silence at the realisation that I can handle this situation by myself.
"Do you not understand, Ithuriel?" I urge, balling my fists in an unrivalled frustration while I try to keep my voice level and reasoning, yet simultaneously finding it rather difficult with the golden glow beginning to assimilate around me, spiking the air with a poignant golden luminescence that crackles with years of unsaid frustration. "I am giving all of Faey a chance. A chance to be free of the dreadful miseries of war and the grinding fists of rulers who have lost all care for this word. That is what the souls were created to do. That is what I am meant to do. Can't you see this is so much bigger than a petty feud?"
Ithuriel rises from his feet, scoffing, splaying his wings out around him, the span of which is so large they threaten to knock the elk head right off its precarious position above the door frame. His lips peel back into a snarl, eyes glowering with an anger that could rival that of even the Scarlet Prince himself.
Once upon a time I might have been afraid of this Ithuriel, might have been cowed and subdued to his wishes by the unpleasant notion of going against his will and the consequences that might bring. But my days of battling up against a court of vengeful vampires, a Prince whose devilish nature has become a constant test of my revelry and forward thinking, and a white haired royal menace whose advances were always less than welcome, there is one thing I have learnt: to be a Queen is not to lay low and rule from the shadows in a world by those who seek to override you, no. To be a Queen is to fight, even if you are the only one left to do so.
With this is mind, it is hardly any surprise that the only look I can spare Ithuriel now is one of sorrowful pity.
"A chance! Tch. What sort of good is a chance? It's a suicide mission. You are being rash Serena, far too rash, you always have been."
I wince, doing my best not to take the bait and recoil from the bitter sting that lodges itself in my heart- for though I may not submit to his whims as I once did, that does not mean his words hurt any less. Of course, he is hurt, trying to pacify me into believing him, submitting to the future of me being a Queen on a throne in a world where vampires have been wiped from existence- the future he always thought we'd have-, to make me feel bad about my decision, the way the council would if a policy does not fit their rigid briefing. But I don't play by those rules any more.
I lower my eyes.
"I'm being kind."
Before any further arguments can ensue, Fangorn hammer's his fist on the table, bringing us all to an obedient silence. Our bodies freeze in unison.
"That is enough. I think the discussion is best ended here. I am not about to have my home torn apart by a headstrong warrior and an angel with the heavens in her soul. Queen Serena, I will help you. If you do as you promise, and give my people, everyone, a chance at redemption, then I shall honour you as my new Queen and you shall have my service."
He bows his head towards me, bringing his fist up to his heart- a symbol of allegiance amongst the angels. I smile gratefully, beckoning him to rise.
"And you a place in the new world. Your title shall be restored, and your honour."
Ithuriel glares between us, and then all at once that wall, that icy, impenetrable blockade against all emotions he had striven to keep up for so long, breaks. His shoulders slump as he falls to his knees, utterly broken, and utterly defeated, body bent over limply, cradling his face in his hands as if no longer has the strength to spare a glance towards me. His lips quiver on the verges of panic. The warrior's wings crumple behind him, his head hanging low, his bent form casting long and sorrowful shadows dancing across the floor.
"Tell her why," Fangorn says softly now, moving himself from his temporary seat on the table to linger behind Ithuriel, though he does not make any move to reassure him. Kal shifts uncomfortably behind me, muttering under his breath something that my ears are not quite attuned to hearing.
"Tell her why you don't want her to go," he says again, lowering himself on his haunches as he claps his great paw of a hand on the back of Ithuriel's back. Ithuriel screws his eyes shut. The fervent glow around me subsides as my anger, my frustration, melts away into the darkness of the room, washed away by a thick atmosphere of grief and heavy with the linger tones of despair. I arise from my seat, carefully treading my way round the room to come to rest in front of Ithuriel, kneeling before him like a saint in prayer. Ithuriel's eyes are wetted with tears, white lashes in clumps, his hair sinking to a gentle simmering blue combined with hues of a light pink, like a flower encapsulated by a bubble of crystalline water. He looks up at me, pain streaking across his face, in the red markings of his bear paw tattoo marked beneath his eye and the twisting of his face as his lips turn downwards to form a weary frown.
I cup his cheek gently in the palm of my hand and all at once the room fades around me, blurring out of focus until the only thing left is me and Ithuriel sitting shakily on the carpeted floor. A single tear falls from his cheek, and he leans himself into my hand, as if deigning to leach the warmth and comfort from my skin, if only for a second.
"Tell her, Ithuriel," Fangorn urges once more, his voice impossibly far away. Something works in Ithuriel's throat, a pained choking sound thrumming in the back of his throat as he fumbles for the words that have leeched on his heart for the long eternities of time.
He opens his mouth.
Steeling myself, I turn to Ithuriel, soaking in the blue and red tones of his hair blazing with a mixture of sadness and an undeniable anger, my gaze half averted, not meeting his eyes. The warrior angel's mouth is agape, two toned eyes shining, beading up with the fresh tears of betrayal, washing away all hope, all of that long standing faith in me with one single trickle down his cheek. He looks utterly, utterly defeated. Shaking, I place my hand on his knee, but he completely ignores it."What do you mean, Serena. What change? I trusted you, Serena, I..." he breaks off, forcing himself to swallow down that welling sadness that clings to the back of his throat, breaking up his voice with a few heart wrenching cracks. A part of me desperately wants to comfort him, to put my arms around him and console him as we always did when we were little- as he always did to me. But I do not need to read aura's to realise his is broken, that no amount of comfort would fix the hole that I have forged in his heart, or will mend the betrayal to come.Sometimes, the best thing to do is to simply state the truth."What I mean, is this war has gone on long enough. I am tired of fighting a battle that is going nowhere, for hating creatures that you and I both know are only as bad as the council makes them out to be. Sure, Soren is a monster, a tyrant, I don't care what you call him, but he can also love. We have been under the illusion for thousands of years that vampires are the cold blooded creatures who only bring ruin and destruction in their wake, feeding off the lives of the innocent with merciless intent and feeling absolutely nothing. And maybe that does have some truth. But not all vampires are like that. Does Fangorn's existence not prove that to you?" I plea, my voice cracking upon the last syllable. Ithuriel's face remains an icy block of disappointment and grief, body rising and falling with the heavy, tear stricken breaths. Kal, who has since finished his tea, comes to place a soothing hand on my shoulder, and I lean back against the chair, suddenly feeling exposed with having all my thoughts, ideas, plans in the open, ready to be picked apart by all that surround me. Fortunately, and much to my relief, Fangorn and Kal do not intercede, allowing the unaired conversation between and Ithuriel to play out. Yet part of me wishes they would."So, what are you going to do? Tell him who you are? Expose yourself to the whole of the vampire kingdom? I am sure you know just how well that would go down," he sneers, and instantly, the crowd of faceless rabid vampires shifts into the front of my mind, jeering and hissing and laughing over my weakened form, floating up in the centre of the throne room, Soren's blood magic carving a stake through my heart. Grimacing, I shake off the vision. I will not become another figure in an execution."I am going to tell him eventually, yes. What he chooses to do with that information, is a fate I will let myself reside upon. If you prefer, I am making myself a bargaining chip. If he chooses to accept me, he will marry an angel and a host of the soul of heaven, and have the Queen of the Angels by his side in place of the eternal flame. If he chooses to have me dead, he will suffer in isolation and lose the war with the loss of the flame. His race will then crumble."Fangorn murmurs in agreement."This is a veritable plan. A plan decided on by chance, and the choice of a Prince. You are giving my people a chance to change their ways. I like you, Queen Serena. You have good morals- which is a lot more than I can say for most of the creatures that wander this world."But Ithuriel, poor, dear, heartbroken Ithuriel, shakes his head in disgust, his hair turning a foul shade of monstrous green."You forsake your inheritance, your life, your people, for what? Love? For a monster?"At this Fangorn looks ready to rip out Ithuriel's throat, but I hold up a finger, lulling him into silence at the realisation that I can handle this situation by myself. "Do you not understand, Ithuriel?" I urge, balling my fists in an unrivalled frustration while I try to keep my voice level and reasoning, yet simultaneously finding it rather difficult with the golden glow beginning to assimilate around me, spiking the air with a poignant golden luminescence that crackles with years of unsaid frustration. "I am giving all of Faey a chance. A chance to be free of the dreadful miseries of war and the grinding fists of rulers who have lost all care for this word. That is what the souls were created to do. That is what I am meant to do. Can't you see this is so much bigger than a petty feud?"Ithuriel rises from his feet, scoffing, splaying his wings out around him, the span of which is so large they threaten to knock the elk head right off its precarious position above the door frame. His lips peel back into a snarl, eyes glowering with an anger that could rival that of even the Scarlet Prince himself. Once upon a time I might have been afraid of this Ithuriel, might have been cowed and subdued to his wishes by the unpleasant notion of going against his will and the consequences that might bring. But my days of battling up against a court of vengeful vampires, a Prince whose devilish nature has become a constant test of my revelry and forward thinking, and a white haired royal menace whose advances were always less than welcome, there is one thing I have learnt: to be a Queen is not to lay low and rule from the shadows in a world by those who seek to override you, no. To be a Queen is to fight, even if you are the only one left to do so.With this is mind, it is hardly any surprise that the only look I can spare Ithuriel now is one of sorrowful pity."A chance! Tch. What sort of good is a chance? It's a suicide mission. You are being rash Serena, far too rash, you always have been."I wince, doing my best not to take the bait and recoil from the bitter sting that lodges itself in my heart- for though I may not submit to his whims as I once did, that does not mean his words hurt any less. Of course, he is hurt, trying to pacify me into believing him, submitting to the future of me being a Queen on a throne in a world where vampires have been wiped from existence- the future he always thought we'd have-, to make me feel bad about my decision, the way the council would if a policy does not fit their rigid briefing. But I don't play by those rules any more.I lower my eyes."I'm being kind."Before any further arguments can ensue, Fangorn hammer's his fist on the table, bringing us all to an obedient silence. Our bodies freeze in unison."That is enough. I think the discussion is best ended here. I am not about to have my home torn apart by a headstrong warrior and an angel with the heavens in her soul. Queen Serena, I will help you. If you do as you promise, and give my people, everyone, a chance at redemption, then I shall honour you as my new Queen and you shall have my service."He bows his head towards me, bringing his fist up to his heart- a symbol of allegiance amongst the angels. I smile gratefully, beckoning him to rise."And you a place in the new world. Your title shall be restored, and your honour." Ithuriel glares between us, and then all at once that wall, that icy, impenetrable blockade against all emotions he had striven to keep up for so long, breaks. His shoulders slump as he falls to his knees, utterly broken, and utterly defeated, body bent over limply, cradling his face in his hands as if no longer has the strength to spare a glance towards me. His lips quiver on the verges of panic. The warrior's wings crumple behind him, his head hanging low, his bent form casting long and sorrowful shadows dancing across the floor. "Tell her why," Fangorn says softly now, moving himself from his temporary seat on the table to linger behind Ithuriel, though he does not make any move to reassure him. Kal shifts uncomfortably behind me, muttering under his breath something that my ears are not quite attuned to hearing."Tell her why you don't want her to go," he says again, lowering himself on his haunches as he claps his great paw of a hand on the back of Ithuriel's back. Ithuriel screws his eyes shut. The fervent glow around me subsides as my anger, my frustration, melts away into the darkness of the room, washed away by a thick atmosphere of grief and heavy with the linger tones of despair. I arise from my seat, carefully treading my way round the room to come to rest in front of Ithuriel, kneeling before him like a saint in prayer. Ithuriel's eyes are wetted with tears, white lashes in clumps, his hair sinking to a gentle simmering blue combined with hues of a light pink, like a flower encapsulated by a bubble of crystalline water. He looks up at me, pain streaking across his face, in the red markings of his bear paw tattoo marked beneath his eye and the twisting of his face as his lips turn downwards to form a weary frown.I cup his cheek gently in the palm of my hand and all at once the room fades around me, blurring out of focus until the only thing left is me and Ithuriel sitting shakily on the carpeted floor. A single tear falls from his cheek, and he leans himself into my hand, as if deigning to leach the warmth and comfort from my skin, if only for a second."Tell her, Ithuriel," Fangorn urges once more, his voice impossibly far away. Something works in Ithuriel's throat, a pained choking sound thrumming in the back of his throat as he fumbles for the words that have leeched on his heart for the long eternities of time.He opens his mouth.
