o-o-o-o-o

He plays by the rules, telling her the price, and even knowing that (knowing him - that he is not to be trusted), there is nothing the young Queen wants more than what he offers her.

When she tells her people what she's done, they weep or burst out in anger as it suits them. They follow her nevertheless, and they are rewarded with the perfection of the new world she has bought for them.

There is music and dancing like never before. Laughter and fine food, cavorting and reeling; merriment in style and splendour. The celebration carries on into the next night and the next.

He arrives before it winds down completely and she, in a fine mood, invites him to dance. His eyes quirk sadistically as he wonders if she's forgotten their deal. Annoyed, she says that of course she has not, but hasn't he come for his due a touch early. He leads her away from the party and back into the world she's left behind. Everything has grown so much since the last time she saw it that she almost doesn't recognize it.

"You see," he says. "Seven years. I made my deal with you here."

"Time passes more quickly...?" she asks, states, astonished, horrified.

"My tax, now, if you please." The view fades and she finds herself with her court once more.

Her eyes hollow and something vital dies inside of her as she picks from among them. He departs and soon after, so too do the Queen and her court.

Every seven years for ever more, the devil sends a minion to collect his tax - he has already made his point.

o-o-o-o-o

What to say... I am wincing at the lack of style - only perhaps there will be more and it will be better. It's trying to be of Fire and Hemlock-dom (profuse apologies to DWJ) which is probably where I went wrong and why I should just give up now.

Sally.