...

A new rebel leader was rising to power. She wanted him dead. No one opposed her rule. While he still breathed her air, a permanent scowl would remain on her face. She had heard through the "grapevine" (in other words, a tortured rebel), that he was preparing an attack on her castle to murder her and all who followed her. She heard that the foolish man was calling her "his lady demon", and spoke of slaying her to save his country. Charity wanted a name to curse and it was only after threatening to maim a young child that a woman broke. Her first smile in the long winter months came that day. She had her name.

He was called Nathanial.

...

It had been a leisurely day and she lay sprawled out across a beautifully decorated lectus, a servant keeping her wine glass full. She'd spent the morning reading a thick book on alchemy, or more specifically, on human transmutation.

"Milady, the master thief Richardson sends a gift." A white-haired soldier called, his voice alluring and musical. It sent a thrilling shiver down her spine.

She glanced up from her book to look at the man with interest. "Send it in." Charity ordered. "And come here."

He nodded to the guards at the door before climbing the stone steps to her sanctuary. She crooked her finger at him and he ducked inside the white veil, pausing in the entrance. "Milady?"

Charity tossed the book carelessly to the floor and sat up, patting the soft velvet couch beside her. "What's your name?" She asked sweetly, a sudden flash of desire appearing in her eyes.

She held out her hand before he could sit and he froze, standing motionlessly before her. Tipping her head back, her lips parted as she examined him. She gained her feet and slowly began to circle him like a vulture waiting for its prey to die, patiently, with a hunger burning in her eyes. Dragging a fingertip along one thick bicep, she stopped at his side and repeated her question in a low, breathy voice.

"Trey, milady." His green-eyed gaze was sharp, unwavering. She liked that.

"Trey." Charity smiled and he nodded seriously. "My beautiful boy, how old are you?"

"You flatter me, milady." Trey gifted her with a heart-stopping grin. "I'll be twenty-four this summer, my queen."

Charity tipped her head to one side, pondering. "That's quite young..." She thought aloud.

He looked affronted. "You yourself are only twelve." Trey immediately bowed his head. "I apologize, milady. I spoke out of turn."

"You did." She agreed. "But you make a good point." The sly look was back on her face. "When did you come to us, Trey?"

"I've been serving you for eight months now, milady." He seemed to be having a hard time thinking straight.

She stepped around, back in front of him, her hands pressed against his chest, running over his firm muscles, enjoying the heat and strength that radiated from him. "And what family do you have?"

Trey captured her hands in his own, a bold move. She liked that too. "Milady, my thoughts escape me when you do that."

"I asked you a question."

He blinked, a forlorn expression appearing on his face. "My parents and sister were killed in the rebel's rampage last spring. They slaughtered our animals and burned our farm. My father had been a strong supporter of yours. My family was killed as an example. I was here, delivering our gift of wool when it happened."

"Poor thing." She cooed sympathetically. Freeing one hand from his grasp, she gently stroked the side of his face. "Poor darling."

"If I may interrupt." Avven's voice cut through the haze, a dangerous edge to it. "The gift."

She peeked around Trey massive shoulders and let out an audible gasp. She gathered up her skirts and hurried down the stairs, eyes wide. Charity approached the mirror, it's beautiful frame easily recognizable. The woman staring back at her wore a stunning dress of thin, sheer material, layered and magnificently draped across her body. The deep crimson colour flattered her pale complexion. Her hair was piled on top of her head, with several dark ringlets loose. She truly looked like a Queen.

"Who brings this to me?" She demanded sharply, ignoring the stare-down Avven had just won against Trey.

A handsome man suddenly stepped out from behind the mirror, a wide grin on his face. Had she stopped to study him, she would've realized that his smile didn't quite reach his Sapphire eyes. She glanced at him.

"You!" Charity pointed a finger accusingly. "Who are you? How did you acquire this?"

"Do you not recognize me, Penny?" He cried, arms thrown wide. "I am your lover, do you not remember the nights we shared together?"

She curled back her lip, retreating as he approached. "I repeat: how did you acquire this looking glass?"

"Don't you remember me, darling?" He seemed less than interested to discuss the gift. "You never gave me an answer to my proposal." Pouting his full lips, he still held out his arms to her. "Have you no kiss for our long awaited reunion?"

Charity halted, stiffening. "Your Penny is dead. Now I give you two choices: answer my questions, or die."

"After my kiss I will do anything in my power to please you, my love." He proclaimed loudly, still advancing on her. He stopped when his toes touched hers. A taller woman than most, Charity still had to tilt her head back to hold his gaze.

"You are deserving of no affection from me." She snapped, hands on her hips. "I grow weary of having to repeat myself."

He slid a hand along the side of her neck, drawing it up to cup her face. Leaning in beside her ear, he whispered: "I grow weary of your rule, Penny." His voice had a chilling bite to it. "I am here to take what's mine. The throne."

Her hands came up, palms extended, as one would push another away. His free hand easily caught both of her wrists and she made only a half-hearted attempt to free them. Charity knew she could overpower her captor, but she waited, curious.

"Who are you?" She narrowed her eyes.

He pressed his forehead to hers and a true, triumphant smile curved his lips. "My name is Nathanial." He introduced himself in a low, arrogant growl.

It took a moment for his words to sink in. When they did, she let out a snarl of her own. "Nathanial." She ripped her hands from his grasp but that was as far as she got before a blade was shoved between her ribs. Her mouth fell open and she looked down, she wasn't sure where her garment ended and her blood began. Gaze lifting, her eyes met his again before she went limp.

He gently lowered her to the steps, hushing her instinctive gasps and gurgles. Still with his back to her men, he pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at the blood that dribbled from her mouth. Dizzy and frustrated, her hand slowly crept to her chest and with a hard yank, she ripped the dagger from her body.

Nathanial smiled, the back of his hand stroking her cheek. "It'll all be over soon, Penny." He said soothingly, his fingertips delicately pushing her eyelids closed. "All over soon."

Her hand snapped out and gripped his throat, the pain having receded. A wicked grin spread across her face and the fog that had temporarily clouded her mind disappeared.

"How..." He choked as the colour was drained from his face.

With her other hand, she hooked her fingers into her ruined dress and pulled the hole, ripping it further. Her pale skin peeked out, stained but unscratched.

"You weren't betting on that, were you, Nathanial?" She sneered his name. "I told you, Penny is dead and has been for a very long time."

Charity loosened her hold but didn't remove her hand from his skin. A soft fuchsia light spread from her fingertips and his muscles began to twitch as his very life began to be drained from him. Eyes wide with fear and mouth agape in shock, he was frozen, all movement impossible.

Rising, her hand slid up from his face to caress his strong jaw before resting on his forehead. He was forced to remain kneeling at her feet.

"Milady!" Chin snapping up, she cocked her head in question, letting her hand drop to her side. Nathanial slumped into a heap and she stepped over him, staring at the large oak doors, which were now barred. While she'd been playing with her new friend, her soldiers had been facing some problems of their own.

Avven and the other guards had pulled their weapons, ready to protect their mistress from a new threat, but they had been surrounded by a strange gold glow. At first, Charity thought her eyes were playing tricks on her but it quickly grew more opaque and her men stared at it in confusion. They didn't know what it was, or what it for.

One of the soldiers, Elijah, a thin, quiet man of thirty, seemed to understand. For the first time that Charity had ever seen, he opened his mouth. "Alchemy!" He cried, dropping to his knees and producing a piece of chalk from his sleeve.

As far as she could tell, he was drawing an intricate circle on that floor. A transmutation circle, she believed it was called.

Pressing his hands to it, a explosion of yellow light and a loud BOOM echoed in her ears, throwing her to the floor. She gazed through the thick smoke and saw several figures helping her captive up and leading him away, disappearing through a servant's door.

Nearly to her feet, Charity was ready to chase Nathanial down and finish what she'd started when she was stopped. Avven stood, hand around her wrist, tugging her back.

"Leave him." He coughed, shaking his head. "I have to get you out of here, milady. We need to go."

She stared at the deep cut high on his forehead and recognized the urgency in his eyes. Charity nodded her silent agreement. Sending one last, longing look over her shoulder, she allowed herself to be ushered into hidden passageway.

...

Author's Note: SHOOT ME PLEASE. Hot damn, this took forever (as in a few days) to write, and I'm still not happy with it. The first two chapters were written back in July and now I'm all frustrated and- and- BLARGH. Anyways, I know it's pretty awful. Constructive criticism always helps but this may just be beyond saving. Either way, if for some reason you like it, or if you agree with me and don't, tell me about it.