Author's Note: This is my response for the Men of Tortall Forum Challenge. B sure to leave a review! :D
January 2010 Prompt: "Fallen"
I am Not Tamora Pierce
My country will crumble.
My sweet, righteous dreams were shredded into memories, my beautiful Gift was tainted in the harshest of ways, my morals that were as strong as any knight's were defiled, my reputation of a proud and gracious man was in the ground, my life, my accomplished life, was taken at a bloody sword point, and my body is now in a tomb.
I have not been defeated.
She is still up there. Still up there preparing for my return. She'll get that foolish sorcerer, the one with the violet gift, the powerful one. Yes, he will do nicely for the country's final act. The powerful master being controlled by a dead man, oh how grand. She'll be there to help me take my throne, the throne that is not fit for any young boy.
If I can't have that throne. No one will.
My life was a constant rise. Always climbing to new heights. Always learning more. Always gaining more respect. I was meant to hold that crown, to tie my power to that of the land. Two worthy powers becoming one. No, it had to be taken from me. Now, now their lives will end. The land will fall into itself and be torn to pieces, its life will end.
Life, for me, will never end.
No, I am simply resting. Resting in this cold, dark place. Letting my limbs grow stiff, my skin pale, but my mind is growing stronger than ever. Soon, so soon, breath will return to my body, beating will return to my heart, and power pulsing to my hands. Yes, I cannot wait to feel that power coursing through my body and pouring into into my work. Until then my gift remains flowing through my veins, keeping life in my chest that even the gods themselves cannot deny me!
The power, the control, the rush!
She will help me. She is the closest thing I have ever come to needing anything. She will have my fool drain himself and everyone around him to bring me from my deep sleep. I know she can do that easily. While I rest, she plots. Bringing together her family's power, using her own deviousness for my wishes. Her ingenious intelligence, is fitting for her voluptuous visage. My brilliant, beautiful Delia.
After all every master must have his minion.
I am the man that will make the earth shake. I will force my cousin to fall to the trembling ground and beg for mercy. His blasphemous 'knight' that should be spurned will have her blood running in rivers around his knees. The nation will be shaken, until no one is left to stand in my way. They will not stand in my way.
If I fall, I will take them alldown with me.
I am Roger, the Conte Duke, and I may have fallen, but no one will prevent my rise.