Title: The Crucible
Prompt: Sympathetic!Achren, behind the scenes during The Castle of Llyr, somewhere off the coast of Dinas Rhydnant.
Words: 500
Characters: Achren
Disclaimer: I do not own the Prydain Chronicles.
The ship stank.
Muffled in her cloak, she strode up the plank onto the narrow, pitching vessel. The moon swam in and out of clouds as rain thrashed the deck in streaks. Magg had tossed the squinty-eyed captain a bag of coin and disappeared, anxious to avoid being seen in such disreputable company.
The crew, such as they were, stared at her sullenly.
"…'Tis bad luck having a woman on board…" one muttered.
Another had the audacity to spit on the filthy deck in front of her and she stiffened.
She locked eyes with the captain. One corner of his mouth twisted briefly and he turned away, looking over the railing at the grimy docks.
She sighed. So it was to be thus, was it?
Another test. No different from ever how it had been. An old, old memory flashed in her mind, from when she was but a girl, immediately after the battle that destroyed her home town. On a ruined street, several bigger boys had cornered her. In those days, she had been foolish and weak. She had still believed in the possibility of decency.
She had survived. And emerged tempered, purer. It had been seared into her that naught mattered but strength. Strength, and guile, and power.
She lifted her head and pierced the miscreant with her gaze. A quick gesture froze his muscles. Sudden terror flared in his eyes and a contemptuous smile spread over her lips.
"Fool," she whispered, her voice pitched so low she knew the others would have to lean in to hear. "You dare treat a queen thus? You filth are not worthy to grovel at my feet. Now… you will learn to your grief what it means to displease Achren."
She raised a hand, long fingers extended. His gaze sharpened in panic and she watched with satisfaction as his muscles bunched and flexed against the spell. She took a slow step forward.
At a twist of her fingers, the man gasped in agony as molten lead rolled through his veins. Shrieking and writhing, he collapsed to the deck. The others, terrified, drew back as she bared her teeth in a predatory smile. Abruptly, she closed her fist. With one long, ululating cry, the man's body arched on the rough boards, facial muscles convulsing. Then he fell silent and limp.
With a smirk, she strode forward, treading carelessly upon one of his outstretched palms.
"I trust there will be no more complaints?" she asked. Deathly silence greeted her. "Good." Without turning, she addressed the captain. "Have all the casks of rum poured out and replaced with water. There will be no drunkenness under my command. We sail with the morning tide."
Then she flung open the door of the aft cabin and slammed it behind her. There was no longer any need to see if her orders would be obeyed.
Fear. Fear would cauterize the weak, as always. It was her most faithful companion. Indeed, the only one left to her.
A/N: Hmmm, I guess she wasn't very sympathetic there, but at least she was in-character?