CHeSS
AN: This is just a little thought I had. R&R
Disclaimer: I don't own the Black Jewels Trilogy.
"Bustard."
"Prick."
The game board was set. The rules the same as they had always been between the brothers. Lucivar making the first move, as Deamon played the black.
"They are sure starting early." The Earyan scowled, watching the women move across the checkered ballroom floor towards the males, bishops and knights.
"Hum…" Deamon smiled his lazy smile as he too watched the pawns, gliding about unaware of their positions. He wasn't concerned with them, they couldn't touch him. They didn't have the power.
"I believe Lady Lori is speaking about you." Lucivar said from where he sat drinking wine beside his brother.
Deamon's smile grew lazier, if that was possible, as the wine in his glass iced over. "My dear brother,…" dark finger nails scraped slowly up the white king's neck, curling under his chin and turning his head to look at the black king's wickedly beautiful face. "I fear I am bored with this sort of play."
"Umm…" Lucivar nodded his agreement, as a bolt of ebon gray shot across the room hitting a black pawn, who screamed as she turned to dust.
The air around the brother's grew colder as Lucivar winced in pain from the ring of obedience.
"Prick?" Deamon's inquiry was laced in cutting shards of ice.
"How dare you!" the female voice ripped across the room, but the echo that reached the white queen wasn't a reverberation of her voice as black power escaped from the arctic King.
Another jolt of pain, this time to Deamon, caused the Black Queen to fall to another bolt of power from the ebon grey jewels. And without their most powerful pieces, the kings sweep across the board, gathering knights and bishops and adding them to growing piles that belonged to Lucivar and Deamon, for protecting the foolish pawns. The pawns, that didn't know they were pawns at all.
At last the two brother's stood outside in the gentle breeze, watching the rooks, a country home with stables a guest hoses galore, burn and crumble under the strain of the black power.
"Check…"
"and Mate."
Deamon and Lucivar grined at each other.
"Great game, we must play again sometime."
"I do conquer. Good night Prick."
"Good night Bastard."
