A/N: So this is just another random drabble-ish thing that randomly came to me. I guess because I have been thinking about the insane, villanous characters in different series. I want to understand how their minds work. So, here goes.
After that fateful day at Jonathon's coronation, they did not even give me a trial; no, for "dire and irreconcilable crimes against the king," I was sentenced for life.
Had I been given a trial, surely someone would have asked the question that was clearly in everyone's minds; why?
And, in a way, I understand them. I was young, I was beautiful. Without effort, I had every boy, man, and even many of the women of Corus wrapped around my fingers. All it would have taken was a simple pout, or a shy smile, or even a flirtatious wink to get anything that I wanted. So why would I ever want anything more? Eldorne was a rich fief; my looks and charm could have given me anyone in the kingdom. Even Jonathon, no matter what that red-haired wench thought.
So why did I try for more?
Simple. Because I could.
Beauty, in my time, has been called many things. A trait, a trifle, a flaw, (by those stuffy Mithran priests in the city temples,) a virtue. But never has anyone else seen beauty for what I see it.
It is a weapon, one of the most serious and deadly kind. Because, with a look, a smile, a touch, a single night in a dark room, I can bend any man to my will, convince him that it is his own.
And once I discovered this weapon, how could I not use it?
And, once I learned how, the power was intoxicating. It became a game to me, seeing just how easily I could bend a person to my will.
But even that became too easy.
I needed something more… And I found it, in the shape of one Duke Roger of Conte.
He was everything that other men were not. Cold, calculating. Removed. And above all, infinitely in control of his own emotions and impulses. When he revealed something of himself, when he made any move, it was because he had carefully calculated his own personal benefit.
He was the challenge I had been seeking.
Oh, of course I knew all about him and that Thom of Trebond. How could I not? I was around them often enough to know that those late-night meetings became about something entirely different from magic.
But I was Delia of Eldorne. Nothing was impossible.
I had power. And I would use it.
That was what I would have told them, had they given me the chance. But they did not, and so my story will die with me, buried in this cold, dark cell.
Alone.
A/N: Review, please?
Update: I posted another drabble about Thom and Roger, as the backstory to this one. Check it out in the M section (its not explicit, I'm just being safe) it's called "Control"
MoD