The Emperor's Hand

An X-Men Evolution Fanfic by Quill N. Inque

I do not own X-Men.

(A/N: Just so you guys know, I think the song "Path" by "Apocalyptica" describes Kurzan PERFECTLY. ^^ You can find it on Youtube, by a user named "senshizelda." Seriously, you should open a new tab right now and listen to it before you read any further. It's EPIC. XD)

Chapter 10: Revelations

Prologue

Hazar's Court

A soft, gurgling moan escaped the wounded man's lips as he crawled upon his belly through the ruin that had once been the resplendent Court of Rogues. His face creased in agony from the pain of his injury, the thief who had been the only survivor of the slaughter that had ensued here tried to pull himself away to safety, desperate to vanish into some dark crevice before his mysterious attackers caught up with him.

The Fell Blades, Brezin and Grenza, had fallen upon the Court with brutal swiftness. Like demons they had stormed the once-vaunted stronghold of the Thief Lord, taking Hazar's followers completely by surprise. So great had been the slaughter among the Court's ranks that the fetid water which flowed through the sewers of Rome became crimson with gore. Like wheat before the scythe, the Court of Rogues fell to the minions of Radagast the Cruel, and now blood bubbled from between the injured one's lips as he strained to escape-

A shadow fell over the wounded cutpurse's prone form, and he turned white with terror as Grenza the Savage grinned insanely down at him, showcasing the white teeth that had been filed to jagged points. Ribbons of drool hung from corners of the psychotic killer's mouth as he bared his fangs, his eyes bloodshot and sunken, his breath rasping and harsh. A sick, sick smile stretched the sallow skin over the Savage One's face, and he caressed the edge of a bloody cleaver lovingly before slowly, ever so slowly, licking gore from the weapon's tip.

Grenza's victim had time for one last, despairing scream before the maniac fell upon him and cut him to pieces.

The ground underfoot trembled as Brezin the Strong lumbered up behind his brother, his brutish face showing not the least concern for Grenza's psychotic actions. "All dead," the dimwitted giant rumbled as he hefted his massive, gore-stained mace, apparently unwilling to expend effort on uttering words with more than one syllable.

"That isssss point, yessss?" Grenza hissed, looking up from the mutilated corpse with a blood-spattered face. "To kill all? To sssslay all?"

Brezin gave a coarse grunt by way of reply, shouldering his enormous, spike-studded and bulbous weapon as he made to leave. He did not look back over his shoulder; Grenza would find his way back sooner or later.

After his mid-morning snack, of course.

The psychopath leered down at the shredded body of his victim, his tongue rolling over his teeth as he cast his weapon aside. "Good meeeeat…fressssh meat….yesssss….."

Now…

Every part of Katrina Placidae ached.

Katrina Placidae was utterly exhausted, but her aching muscles and bone-deep fatigue had no dampening effect on the good spirit that had settled about her.

Katrina found, as the lesson had progressed, that Kurzan's lessons, while arduous, were thoroughly enjoyable. Her protector was an expert with any weapon one could care to name, and his impressive knowledge of arms and armor had become vividly apparent to the princess in the course of his lessons. Katrina was ready and willing to learn, but she was pleasantly surprised to find Kurzan opening up to her more and more as the minutes had turned to hours. Before she knew it, he was speaking freely, casting protocol and propriety by the wayside, until the two seemed less like mistress and servant and very much like a young man and a young woman enjoying each other's company. Katrina, though she would never admit it, had been inwardly delighted that he had felt so comfortable in her presence. It had been a thoroughly enjoyable day that she had spent in the armory with Kurzan, but now that her lesson was over, Katrina found her mind and body beset by feelings unlike any she'd never felt before.

The princess blushed as she remembered one particular incident where Kurzan had checked her for thrusting a spear incorrectly. "You could break your wrist, swinging it like that," he'd said, placing his hand upon hers and molding Katrina's fingers into the desired posture. "Don't clutch it so tightly, either; your grip should be firm enough that the weapon can't knocked away, but loose enough to allow for dexterity."

Pleasant, tingling fire had crackled up Katrina's arm while goosebumps broke out where his soft, furry fingers had touched. Katrina's heart had nearly skipped a beat before its rapidly hastening beat had begun to pound in her ears, and when the assassin had pulled his hand away, she was astonished to find herself wishing that he would not remove it. Kurzan, for all his lethality, was so…soft, Katrina admitted. His fur was as soft and warm as a cat's, as snug and reassuring as the fuzz on a stuffed animal. The hands that had slain men with utter mercilessness at the behest of Caesar now treated Katrina with a gentility that would not arouse a kitten from its sleep, as if Kurzan feared that Katrina would break if he touched her too hard. The princess couldn't help but wonder what it might be like to have those strong yet gentle hands clasp her own…

Katrina's ears began to burn. Did Kurzan have some kind of magic, to dominate her waking thoughts like this? No man had ever caused her such confusion!

No one had ever made her heart race, as Kurzan did.

Katrina sighed, flopping like a fish onto her bed in the vain hope that sleep would give her a temporary respite from the turmoil that she felt….

Meanwhile…

Kurzan Vortigern was actually humming softly to himself as he finished putting away the variety of tools and training equipment that he had used throughout the course of Katrina's tutelage that day. There was a bounce in his step that had not been there before, and a smile, small but visible nonetheless, fractured the stony mask that the assassin so often wore.

Katrina, to Kurzan's secret delight, had turned out to be a fast learner. The young mutant's initial fears that his harsh method of training would be too much for the gentle princess had been proven to be so utterly wrong that Kurzan felt somewhat embarrassed for underestimating Katrina. The girl had taken to weapons like a fish to water, and Kurzan found himself enjoying the lesson more and more as her enthusiasm had grown. The assassin had given Katrina the full benefit of his unrivaled knowledge of arms and armor, and it was for this that he had earned the princess's admiration.

Kurzan had been so inwardly thrilled at this that, had he been a light bulb, he would have glowed so brightly that he'd have blown a fuse. That Katrina looked up to him for something, for anything, made him…happy.

She made him happy.

That thought, that singular conclusion, was so powerful that it made Kurzan pause for a moment before turning to exit the armory. When was the last time he'd been truly happy? When was the last time had he ever felt such joy and contentment?

The more he thought about it, the more Kurzan realized that he couldn't remember.

True, he was loyal and carried out his orders faithfully, but that more of a job or occupation than anything else. Kurzan made a habit of training every morning, too, and the exercise was far from unpleasant, but….

But it didn't make him happy.

No one had ever made him feel this way. Never had Kurzan Vortigern cared for someone as he did for Katrina, down to the last cell and fiber of his very being. Being with Katrina had made the young assassin feel so utterly complete, as if a long-lost piece of himself had finally been found again.

Kurzan made to shut the door, absorbed in his thoughts-

-And the wooden panels swung away to reveal the shadow of Radagast the Cruel, who had been hiding there all along.

The leader of the Fell Blades spoke just before the mutant had finished making his exit.

"Hello, Kurzan."

The assassin halted abruptly, stiff with shock, surprise, and fear at the sound of a voice he'd never expected to hear again. Something cold and sharp tickled the nape of Kurzan's neck, and Radagast's tone was pleasantly conversational.

"Don't turn around, boy. Don't try calling for help or for assistance. To do either would seal your doom."

"Radagast," Kurzan breathed. "So Tala wasn't lying, then. You are alive."

"Despite your best efforts, yes, I am very much among the living," Radagast chuckled. "Though by rights, I should be dead, seeing as how you were the one sent to kill me. I was supposed to be your first, correct? I was to be the first man to die upon your sword after you came into the Emperor's service. I'll bet not five minutes passed after you swore fealty to Caesar before he sent you after me."

"It was two minutes," Kurzan growled, "And you deserved no less, after what you did. How many people did you kill on the side in between your bouts in the arena, Radagast? How many died to sate your bloodlust?"

"Five men, ten women, fourteen children, seven cats, six dogs, and a rather nasty massacre of poultry," Radagast grinned. "But it's not as if you're any better than I, now is it?"

"I never killed anyone for fun," Kurzan spat. "Only at the command of my Master, and I never took pleasure in it like you do. Not once."

"You say po-tay-to, I say po-tah-to," Radagast snorted, reciting the rhyme in a disturbing singsong voice. "One should always find pleasure in his work, boy. I thought I taught you that, when you came to the Coliseum all those years ago as a runny-nosed, whiny little pipsqueak."

"And then you took me under your 'wing' and made me into a killer," Kurzan grated through his teeth.

"That's no way a student should address his old teacher," Radagast grinned before his gaze turned cold. "You would be nothing without me. I taught you everything you know, molded you into the glorious fighter you are today, and in return you tried to kill me. I would have died that night, you know, if Tala and the others had not found me shortly afterward."

"And then you used them, like you used me," the mutant hissed. "Tala died believing in your lies, Radagast. Grenza, Brezin, Veeku…Killers, all of them, just like you and I, but Tala…Tala was never meant to be like us. And then you took her and turned her into a monster."

"I am not concerned with Tala's fate, nor do I care greatly for Brezin and the others," Radagast's tone was bored. "They are merely tools, to be used and then discarded. Nothing more."

Two double-edged, sharply curved sabers abruptly closed around Kurzan's neck, and the villain made as if to decapitate his erstwhile foe-

-But then, quite suddenly, Radagast lowered his weapons, delighting in his enemy's confusion.

"I'm not going to kill you, boy, because I want you to be able to witness what is about to happen. I want you to be able to watch as everything you hold dear burns to ashes around you. Things are now in motion that cannot be undone, and it is only a matter of time before your entire world falls apart. Oh, yes, it will come to pass, Kurzan Vortigern," Radagast added, his voice a serpentine hiss as he leaned in the mutant's ear. "And no matter where you go…no matter what you do…no matter how you squirm…"

The villain enunciated his final message slowly, dividing one simple sentence into three broken fragments for emphasis so that Kurzan could hear the sincerity therein.

"There is nothing. You can do. To stop it."

Then as swiftly as he had come, Radagast the Cruel, Kurzan's oldest and most deadly enemy, seemed to vanish without a trace like smoke on the wind.

Kurzan stood rooted to the spot for several moments, and when he could finally get his legs to work again, he went to look for water.

His mouth was dry with fear…

Epilogue

Somewhere….

The Council of Nine, foreboding and ominous, stood in a flawless half-circle with bowed heads and evil sobriety in the solace of their hidden lair. Something electric and utterly malevolent charged the air around them, something so completely malicious and cruel that it made the birds fall silent and the wind lay still, and in perfect unison, the leaders of the Black Legion raised their hidden faces to taint the world with their nefarious intent.

Then they spoke.

"Our eyes and ears bring word. Hazar yet lives."

"It is of no consequence."

"He is of no concern to us now."

"His power is broken."

"The time has come."

"The hour is upon us."

"Our triumph draws near."

The statements were given with almost ceremonial solemnity, and now the Nine turned to the one who commanded their loyalty through fear, the Lord of the Black Legion who had for years plotted in the shadows of the void.

Slowly, deliberately, the leader of the Nine raised his arms to remove the cowl that concealed his identity.

"Send out the call," Sargeras, the palace healer, intoned. "Gather our followers to us. The Rising has begun!"

A/N: DAMN! I just knew something wasn't right about Sargeras! But will he succeed in his evil plans? Will Radagast take revenge on Kurzan? Will Katrina make it out of this mess alive? Find out in coming chapters! And PLEASE REVIEW! If you have ANY ideas or constructive criticism, LET ME KNOW!

Your humble servant,

-Quill N. Inque