Hello, pencil here. I'm still working on the parodies and Percydragon will possibly be delayed for a number of weeks, but this was an idea I got a few days ago and thought it would be an awesome fanfic. As the description says, Saint Dane made a promise, right? Well...who did he make the promise to? This is what I think would've happened if Saint Dane would've fulfilled his promise of killing the travelers and ruling Halla. I do not own Pendragon, and enjoy!
Saint Dane grinned as he looked around his palace. He had everything. No one could stop him from doing whatever he wanted. The world was practically his. Months has passed since the last traveler had died under his hand, and the Light Solara had disappeared into nothing. He felt somewhat sad to leave this life, but what lay ahead of him was a much more powerful position. He had made a promise to his Master, and now it was complete.
He closed his eyes and focused on an unknown territory. He had only been there twice. He laughed as he started to fade away and appeared in an unfamiliar land. He looked around, seeing nothing but blank, white walls, stretching into infinity. As he began to walk, random words and colors whizzed by. The world seemed to color itself before his very eyes. He walked along until an unrealistic but gorgeous palace appeared. Taking a deep breath, he sprinted up the stairs and went inside.
At the end of a long, winding hallway was a man sitting upon a throne. His face was hidden by the shadows of his cowl, but he looked impressive and very powerful. Dane knelt before his Master and bowed his head. "Master..." he began. "I have upheld my end of the bargain. You must repay me." The man nodded his head in approval. "Rise, my young Saint." he commanded. Saint Dane rose to his feet. The man stood up and approached Dane, his hands clasped behind his back.
"I understand. You have been loyal to me, so now I must appoint you as my partner. We will be the most powerful combination in all of Halla and beyond. No one shall dare challenge us without quaking in fear." The unknown Master pulled his sword out of his sheath and rested one side of the blade on Dane's shoulder. "You are no longer Saint Dane. Now, you are Master Dane." he said, as he re-sheathed the weapon. "You should be proud."
And he was. Dane beamed with pride, his eyes shining brightly. "Thank you." was the only thing he could say. His former Master chuckled. "Don't thank me, you earned it. Now, go and tell your followers." Dane, still excited, bowed awkwardly and ran down the hallway happily. Before he could reach the door, the man pulled a book out of his robe and jotted something down, uttering curses as he wrote. Saint Dane paused at the door, gasping with breath.
"Sir...what is going on?" he asked, clutching his chest as if he were having a heart attack. "Your time here is done." The man boomed. "You are no longer needed." "Curse you!" Dane cried, tears streaming from his eyes. "How could you be so cruel after all I've done?" With a shout of pain, he fell to his knees and glared angrily at the person who had deceived him. "You will rue this day..." he growled. "May the spirits of your past haunt you eternally." He uttered another curse before he finally collapsed. His body flickered a few times before evaporating into nothing. Saint Dane was dead.
The man laughed once again. "I have no regrets. I never had or never will. I am the sole ruler of Halla." he said out loud, pulling back his hood and revealing his face. As surprising as it was, the man was neither immortal nor a god. A mere mortal had defeated the once powerful Saint Dane without barely lifting a finger. His name was D.J. MacHale.
R&R!