Just as a new day dawned bright, clean, and fresh, a scream rang out from
the castle of Xanadu. The queen was screaming, begging, and pleading for
mercy, while she helplessly watched her husband be brutally slaughtered.
The murderer smiled grimly as he went about his gruesome task. When he
finished with the king he moved to look at the trembling queen. As he
stood over her, covered in blood, his face began to become contorted with
all consuming rage. He brutally ripped off the tatters that were her
husband's nightclothes, made them into strips and began methodically
binding her to her bed. Her arms were turned to a painful angle as she had
a blood-soaked cloth stuffed in her mouth. Her murderer then tied her legs
open to the ends of the bed, pulling them until one bone began to crack.
His expression had gone from the all-consuming rage to that of a
professional doing nothing more then a job.
He raised his serrated dagger and plunged it brutally in her leg wanting her to enjoy the most excruciating death imaginable. His dagger danced across her skin, drawing pictures, seeking revenge for her father's crimes. He plunged the dagger again and again turning, ripping, tearing; her muffled screams rang out resonating on the castles thick walls. He began to speak, "Do you want it? Need it? Do you know why you die this day?" As he said this, his knife began to move across her feet, cutting the skin off in strips. His smile grew, "Death is knocking on your door my queen. Did you realize that this was to be the last day you lived?" he began then to slowly write on her leg, using some sort of magic to heal the cuts until they were but scars. He moved to her other leg and stared for a while, "Did you know that one of the most sensitive places on the human body is behind the knee?" With those words he shattered her kneecap with the butt of his knife, enjoying her pain. She attempted to thrash against her taut bindings. Her bones began to audibly creak.
"The more you fidget, the more you hurt." He punctured the back of her knee sawing at the bone. "There is no one to save you this time. Do you remember the last time you saw one of my kin?"
The queen being in more pain then any one human could manage, silently, lay taut stretched out because of her bindings. He began tightening the bindings on her legs until, with and almighty crack, he broke a bone. The queen couldn't manage more then a slight whimper while still tasting her late husbands blood. The brutal killer, still standing over her, let out a grim laugh. "I have heard it said, that the queen could be with child, now we can't let that happen, can we?" With a slight sneer on his mouth the murderer began making small cuts, little nips, on the queen's stomach. He began to dig the knife deeper inside of her prodding, feeling the queens blood spilling over his hands.
As her life's blood continued leaking out of her, the killer shared with her two last bits of information, "Your father did this, he killed you, and I am but the messenger." The murderer, smiling insanely told the queen, "Your daughter is next, and with her goes your country, there will be war for the throne." The knife in his hand began to shine as he held it up to the light, beginning to pant with emotion, he whispered the last words she would ever hear. "I think that you want death, it would make you happy." He slowly, shallowly slit her throat. She began suffocating. Her last sight was that of her killer disappearing.
Seconds later the queen's daughter, heir to the throne of Xanadu, skipped lightly into her parents rooms. She stopped, horrified, at seeing her mother suspended by red fabric above her bed. Slowly the child of ten realized that the red was not the color of the fabric, it was blood. The child let out a blood-curdling scream and fainted away. Little did this child know that this was the day that settled her fate, the day, part of a long chain of events, the catalyst to making her a legend.
He raised his serrated dagger and plunged it brutally in her leg wanting her to enjoy the most excruciating death imaginable. His dagger danced across her skin, drawing pictures, seeking revenge for her father's crimes. He plunged the dagger again and again turning, ripping, tearing; her muffled screams rang out resonating on the castles thick walls. He began to speak, "Do you want it? Need it? Do you know why you die this day?" As he said this, his knife began to move across her feet, cutting the skin off in strips. His smile grew, "Death is knocking on your door my queen. Did you realize that this was to be the last day you lived?" he began then to slowly write on her leg, using some sort of magic to heal the cuts until they were but scars. He moved to her other leg and stared for a while, "Did you know that one of the most sensitive places on the human body is behind the knee?" With those words he shattered her kneecap with the butt of his knife, enjoying her pain. She attempted to thrash against her taut bindings. Her bones began to audibly creak.
"The more you fidget, the more you hurt." He punctured the back of her knee sawing at the bone. "There is no one to save you this time. Do you remember the last time you saw one of my kin?"
The queen being in more pain then any one human could manage, silently, lay taut stretched out because of her bindings. He began tightening the bindings on her legs until, with and almighty crack, he broke a bone. The queen couldn't manage more then a slight whimper while still tasting her late husbands blood. The brutal killer, still standing over her, let out a grim laugh. "I have heard it said, that the queen could be with child, now we can't let that happen, can we?" With a slight sneer on his mouth the murderer began making small cuts, little nips, on the queen's stomach. He began to dig the knife deeper inside of her prodding, feeling the queens blood spilling over his hands.
As her life's blood continued leaking out of her, the killer shared with her two last bits of information, "Your father did this, he killed you, and I am but the messenger." The murderer, smiling insanely told the queen, "Your daughter is next, and with her goes your country, there will be war for the throne." The knife in his hand began to shine as he held it up to the light, beginning to pant with emotion, he whispered the last words she would ever hear. "I think that you want death, it would make you happy." He slowly, shallowly slit her throat. She began suffocating. Her last sight was that of her killer disappearing.
Seconds later the queen's daughter, heir to the throne of Xanadu, skipped lightly into her parents rooms. She stopped, horrified, at seeing her mother suspended by red fabric above her bed. Slowly the child of ten realized that the red was not the color of the fabric, it was blood. The child let out a blood-curdling scream and fainted away. Little did this child know that this was the day that settled her fate, the day, part of a long chain of events, the catalyst to making her a legend.