Leviathan's Daughter
GoldenEagle
Chapter Five
Zanla gaped at the unconscious form that the two guards had brought in curiously. They seemed slightly annoyed, being ordered around by Persephone, a strange girl with such a low rank. As Zenla took the boy in, she noticed the emblem on the stranger's armor and her eyes grew wide in rage and fear.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" She screeched at Persephone as the two guards laid the moaning boy down on Persephone's bed. The girl that was covered in crimson blood, none her own, held only a cold face as she looked at the one she had rescued. Her eyes were emotionless, her tone without personality.
"Saving him."
The servant's eyes grew wide before she laughed out coldly. "Saving him, my ass! The moment Queto gets here, the boy will be killed! Did you not think about the fact that you were carrying in a potentially dangerous land's king?!"
"He's not the king. He failed to kill the dragon." Persephone muttered, trying to figure out what to do with the boy.
"Bah!" The servant threw up her arms.
Persephone recalled a meeting a few days ago. It had been long and tremendously boring, Dilandau even nodding off every once in a while, only catching himself when his head fell against Persephone's shoulder. They had been talking about new gadgets and trinkets of the Zaibach empire. Persephone slightly remembered something... A machine they had managed to get to work by will, as if moving your own limb...
"Call in Carmile and Gurstan. Tell them I need their skill in medicine and technology." Zenla knew what was coming by the tone in Persephone's voice, by the way she looked at the bleeding, torn boy below her. Zanla growled before obliging, sensing the underlying power of the girl and fearing her. Persephone knew that Dilandau and Queto would be called back soon, cutting their search for her short.
And when they returned, she knew she'd have to fight like hell to keep this prince of Fanelia from being destroyed.
******
Queto's sword zipped out, the tip of its blade pressing close to Persephone's neck. Her eyes lit up with that fire, that rage that was utterly inhuman. "You brought Fanelia's prince here?! I'll kill the bastard..."
"You'll do nothing of the sort." Persephone growled out, the hate overflowing her. That strange pain raced through her back as the intensity of this emotion grew. "He is my responsibility now."
"Put the sword down, Queto." The voice of a child said calmly.
"But, Lord Dilandau-"
Two guards stepped forward at the boy's command. Queto hesitated, his arms sagging and his sword lowering a bit. The fire still burnt in Persephone's eyes and she ran her finger tips along the edge of the half risen blade. Queto watched her coldly, her eyes aflame and the fire dancing in them, taking in the threat she was commencing in. The look she gave him was full of malice as she continued her fingers' travels along the blade, the metal cutting into her skin, the blood dripping to the floor, steaming unnoticed as it hit the cold surface. "He is mine." She purred out.
"Let her have the prince as long as she pleases." Dilandau said professionally. "She has asked for little since being here."
Queto snarled as he turned to the child. "You are letting your heart get in the way of our strength!"
Dilandau's gaze hardened and Queto fell silent at the festering look in the boy's eyes. "I trust Persephone." He met the girl's now blue gaze, it thanking him silently. "Besides, she knows that if she ever gets in the way of my conquest, she shall be killed." With that, the boy left, Queto following behind him, and Persephone's mind reeling at the threat.
********
The boy's eyes slit open a crack, his body overflowing with fever, his every limb aching indescribably. He saw the blurry form above him, a smudge of white and red and gold. "Wh-Where am I?" He croaked through cracked lips and a dry throat.
He was surprised to be met by a female voice, a coldness in it that whisked across him like an arctic breeze. "You are in my bed, in my chambers, on one of the many ships belonging to the Zaibach empire."
The prince felt a little tinge of panic hit him. "I have to go home! My brother, my mother, I have to go back-"
The feeling of two callused fingers on his lips interupted him and he closed his eyes, calming his breath. "Shh, child of Fanelia." A pause, and then she continued. "Drink."
He felt a cold liquid enter his mouth and he drank it fully. He coughed and sputtered at first, his throat so clenched that it was hard to swallow. When he could drink no more, he closed his mouth. The girl pulled the cup away from his lips.
"Who are you?" His voice was a little less ragged, a little less pained.
There was a hesitant pause. He opened his eyes, his pupils dilating and focusing in better, improving his sight. He saw her face, beautiful, like an angel, give a slightly nervous look before replying. "I am Persephone. And what name do you go by, Prince."
He licked his dry lips, calming his long, narrow face. "Folken Fanel."
The girl seemed to find this amusing for some reason, smirking down at him. "Well, Folken. Perhaps you should go back to sleep. In the morning I will wake you and you shall join me for breakfast." The suggestion suited Folken fine, his eyes already drooping with sleep. "By the way..."
He looked up at her, the face that had been fairly warm and soft before now a mask of cold sincerity.
"If you leave this room without my permission, I will kill you nice and slowly." With that, she left him alone to his nightmares of dragons and blood and angelic demons of fire.
Chapter Six
The Fanelian prince woke quietly, his eyes opening slowly as the sun shone down on him from the glass ceiling above him. He stirred, but was hit with a million different forms of pain, and he let out a cold groan. He gripped the sheets at his side with both hands, trying to remember how he had gotten here... To the strange empire of Zaibach...
It was slow in coming, but when it hit, it hit like a hurricane. The memory came of leaving Fanelia, his brother jumping in his arms to give him a good-bye hug, his mother looking at him with those sad eyes as if she knew... Knew the attack that had proceeded his failed attempt at slaying the dragon. He remembered the beast out of the corner of his eyes, the pain that stabbed through his arm. He felt the velvet like sheets below him and felt a little better, noticing both hands intact.
Then the girl had come. He had lashed out, tried to hide his missing arm before she had rendered him unconscious. He could still remember the terrified look on her face as she looked at his bloodied shoulder, the appendage that should have been there gone. But even now he could feel the warmth on his right hand. A cold feeling rushed over him as he realized that there couldn't have really been anything that could have saved his arm. He brought his hand slowly to his face, his eyes closed in fear at what he would see.
When he opened his eyes, his fingers dangling before his face, he let out a frightened cry, the early morning sunlight gleaming off the metal. "Oh, gods!" He yelped out as he stumbled off the bed, his arm clanging almost musically as it caught his fall.
"Don't be so afraid, Folken. I gave you back what you lost. I gave you what you lacked." A cool, female voice said behind him. He spun around and stood, but fell, still too weak to hold himself up steadily.
She was there, the girl who had saved him. The girl who he had first woken to. Her gleaming red and copper hair fell around her waist, thick and luscious. She had her hand on a curved hip, a cocky expression on her face, an eyebrow raised. She wore tight, tan suede pants which laced at the side, black feminine heeled black boots underneath. As a shirt, she wore a long-sleeved black turtleneck. A sword hung on her left thigh, ready to be pulled from its scabbard.
She was an intimidating woman. Folken flashed back on her scaring away the dragon, by some miracle, and then back to her threat as he drifted to sleep. Not just intimidating. Persephone, as she called herself, was a dangerous woman. A deadly woman.
Silence fell on the two of them and a flash of a look almost like nervousness crossed Persephone's face, but was quickly replaced with a nonchalant mask. "So, are you pleased?"
Folken was confused, still too muddled with everything. "Pleased? With what?"
Persephone looked annoyed for another nano-second before smiling warmly. Fakely. "Your arm."
Folken looked down at the metallic curse, despair coursing through him. "What did you do to me?" He asked without looking her in the eye.
Persephone took his question literally. "It wasn't really that hard. We just connected the main control centers to your nerve-"
"You should have let me die." He said, hard tears streaking down his face. Persephone looked at him, shocked, a slightly hurt look on her face.
The offended look was soon replaced by anger. "I save your pitiful life, give you back what you lost, and you wish to die?!" She yelled out. He looked up at her, surprised out of his self pity by her outburst. Her eyes were wide with an unrecognizable expression. She stepped forward and he shrunk back. "I risked my life to make sure my superiors didn't slice and dice your ass, even pulled a few strings to get your arm replaced. You ungrateful little brat!" She clenched her teeth, turning away suddenly and stalking towards the other side of the large room before she began to pace like a trapped cat.
Folken looked down at the monstrosity that was now his arm before the self pity returned. "I can't go back. I can't go home."
Persephone froze, looking at the boy so close to her age, maybe even a bit older. His head hung, her "gift" to him hanging heavily. She clenched her jaw tighter, trying to hide the familiar feeling of loss, the feeling she encountered when she looked back, trying to remember before the fire... She wanted to say she was sorry, but couldn't. Couldn't quite get it out.
Instead she stood stiffly, looking over her shoulder through her crimson hair at the boy on the floor. A part of her sneered at this side of the boy. Weakling, she thought. You will never survive Zaibach. But as he stood slowly, the mechanic fist clenched at his side, his eyes met hers and she shuttered slightly, seeing a power in his gaze which mirrored her own.
It wore her out, that look. It reminded her of the animal she had become. Lord Dornkirk and Lord Dilandau, her brotherly counterpart, had made sure to mold her into the beast she now was. Seeing that pained strength in another's eyes was almost too much for Persephone. Almost too heavy a burden for her soul. Her physical appearance was shaken, too, her shoulders slumping, her mouth drooping.
"Perhaps you want breakfast." She muttered, not looking at him.
"I'm not hungry." He stated plainly, unemotionally, walking to a window and staring outside at the passing scenery. Persephone immediately feared his strength.
She didn't notice the tears that slithered down his pale face before he wiped them away
GoldenEagle
Chapter Five
Zanla gaped at the unconscious form that the two guards had brought in curiously. They seemed slightly annoyed, being ordered around by Persephone, a strange girl with such a low rank. As Zenla took the boy in, she noticed the emblem on the stranger's armor and her eyes grew wide in rage and fear.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" She screeched at Persephone as the two guards laid the moaning boy down on Persephone's bed. The girl that was covered in crimson blood, none her own, held only a cold face as she looked at the one she had rescued. Her eyes were emotionless, her tone without personality.
"Saving him."
The servant's eyes grew wide before she laughed out coldly. "Saving him, my ass! The moment Queto gets here, the boy will be killed! Did you not think about the fact that you were carrying in a potentially dangerous land's king?!"
"He's not the king. He failed to kill the dragon." Persephone muttered, trying to figure out what to do with the boy.
"Bah!" The servant threw up her arms.
Persephone recalled a meeting a few days ago. It had been long and tremendously boring, Dilandau even nodding off every once in a while, only catching himself when his head fell against Persephone's shoulder. They had been talking about new gadgets and trinkets of the Zaibach empire. Persephone slightly remembered something... A machine they had managed to get to work by will, as if moving your own limb...
"Call in Carmile and Gurstan. Tell them I need their skill in medicine and technology." Zenla knew what was coming by the tone in Persephone's voice, by the way she looked at the bleeding, torn boy below her. Zanla growled before obliging, sensing the underlying power of the girl and fearing her. Persephone knew that Dilandau and Queto would be called back soon, cutting their search for her short.
And when they returned, she knew she'd have to fight like hell to keep this prince of Fanelia from being destroyed.
******
Queto's sword zipped out, the tip of its blade pressing close to Persephone's neck. Her eyes lit up with that fire, that rage that was utterly inhuman. "You brought Fanelia's prince here?! I'll kill the bastard..."
"You'll do nothing of the sort." Persephone growled out, the hate overflowing her. That strange pain raced through her back as the intensity of this emotion grew. "He is my responsibility now."
"Put the sword down, Queto." The voice of a child said calmly.
"But, Lord Dilandau-"
Two guards stepped forward at the boy's command. Queto hesitated, his arms sagging and his sword lowering a bit. The fire still burnt in Persephone's eyes and she ran her finger tips along the edge of the half risen blade. Queto watched her coldly, her eyes aflame and the fire dancing in them, taking in the threat she was commencing in. The look she gave him was full of malice as she continued her fingers' travels along the blade, the metal cutting into her skin, the blood dripping to the floor, steaming unnoticed as it hit the cold surface. "He is mine." She purred out.
"Let her have the prince as long as she pleases." Dilandau said professionally. "She has asked for little since being here."
Queto snarled as he turned to the child. "You are letting your heart get in the way of our strength!"
Dilandau's gaze hardened and Queto fell silent at the festering look in the boy's eyes. "I trust Persephone." He met the girl's now blue gaze, it thanking him silently. "Besides, she knows that if she ever gets in the way of my conquest, she shall be killed." With that, the boy left, Queto following behind him, and Persephone's mind reeling at the threat.
********
The boy's eyes slit open a crack, his body overflowing with fever, his every limb aching indescribably. He saw the blurry form above him, a smudge of white and red and gold. "Wh-Where am I?" He croaked through cracked lips and a dry throat.
He was surprised to be met by a female voice, a coldness in it that whisked across him like an arctic breeze. "You are in my bed, in my chambers, on one of the many ships belonging to the Zaibach empire."
The prince felt a little tinge of panic hit him. "I have to go home! My brother, my mother, I have to go back-"
The feeling of two callused fingers on his lips interupted him and he closed his eyes, calming his breath. "Shh, child of Fanelia." A pause, and then she continued. "Drink."
He felt a cold liquid enter his mouth and he drank it fully. He coughed and sputtered at first, his throat so clenched that it was hard to swallow. When he could drink no more, he closed his mouth. The girl pulled the cup away from his lips.
"Who are you?" His voice was a little less ragged, a little less pained.
There was a hesitant pause. He opened his eyes, his pupils dilating and focusing in better, improving his sight. He saw her face, beautiful, like an angel, give a slightly nervous look before replying. "I am Persephone. And what name do you go by, Prince."
He licked his dry lips, calming his long, narrow face. "Folken Fanel."
The girl seemed to find this amusing for some reason, smirking down at him. "Well, Folken. Perhaps you should go back to sleep. In the morning I will wake you and you shall join me for breakfast." The suggestion suited Folken fine, his eyes already drooping with sleep. "By the way..."
He looked up at her, the face that had been fairly warm and soft before now a mask of cold sincerity.
"If you leave this room without my permission, I will kill you nice and slowly." With that, she left him alone to his nightmares of dragons and blood and angelic demons of fire.
Chapter Six
The Fanelian prince woke quietly, his eyes opening slowly as the sun shone down on him from the glass ceiling above him. He stirred, but was hit with a million different forms of pain, and he let out a cold groan. He gripped the sheets at his side with both hands, trying to remember how he had gotten here... To the strange empire of Zaibach...
It was slow in coming, but when it hit, it hit like a hurricane. The memory came of leaving Fanelia, his brother jumping in his arms to give him a good-bye hug, his mother looking at him with those sad eyes as if she knew... Knew the attack that had proceeded his failed attempt at slaying the dragon. He remembered the beast out of the corner of his eyes, the pain that stabbed through his arm. He felt the velvet like sheets below him and felt a little better, noticing both hands intact.
Then the girl had come. He had lashed out, tried to hide his missing arm before she had rendered him unconscious. He could still remember the terrified look on her face as she looked at his bloodied shoulder, the appendage that should have been there gone. But even now he could feel the warmth on his right hand. A cold feeling rushed over him as he realized that there couldn't have really been anything that could have saved his arm. He brought his hand slowly to his face, his eyes closed in fear at what he would see.
When he opened his eyes, his fingers dangling before his face, he let out a frightened cry, the early morning sunlight gleaming off the metal. "Oh, gods!" He yelped out as he stumbled off the bed, his arm clanging almost musically as it caught his fall.
"Don't be so afraid, Folken. I gave you back what you lost. I gave you what you lacked." A cool, female voice said behind him. He spun around and stood, but fell, still too weak to hold himself up steadily.
She was there, the girl who had saved him. The girl who he had first woken to. Her gleaming red and copper hair fell around her waist, thick and luscious. She had her hand on a curved hip, a cocky expression on her face, an eyebrow raised. She wore tight, tan suede pants which laced at the side, black feminine heeled black boots underneath. As a shirt, she wore a long-sleeved black turtleneck. A sword hung on her left thigh, ready to be pulled from its scabbard.
She was an intimidating woman. Folken flashed back on her scaring away the dragon, by some miracle, and then back to her threat as he drifted to sleep. Not just intimidating. Persephone, as she called herself, was a dangerous woman. A deadly woman.
Silence fell on the two of them and a flash of a look almost like nervousness crossed Persephone's face, but was quickly replaced with a nonchalant mask. "So, are you pleased?"
Folken was confused, still too muddled with everything. "Pleased? With what?"
Persephone looked annoyed for another nano-second before smiling warmly. Fakely. "Your arm."
Folken looked down at the metallic curse, despair coursing through him. "What did you do to me?" He asked without looking her in the eye.
Persephone took his question literally. "It wasn't really that hard. We just connected the main control centers to your nerve-"
"You should have let me die." He said, hard tears streaking down his face. Persephone looked at him, shocked, a slightly hurt look on her face.
The offended look was soon replaced by anger. "I save your pitiful life, give you back what you lost, and you wish to die?!" She yelled out. He looked up at her, surprised out of his self pity by her outburst. Her eyes were wide with an unrecognizable expression. She stepped forward and he shrunk back. "I risked my life to make sure my superiors didn't slice and dice your ass, even pulled a few strings to get your arm replaced. You ungrateful little brat!" She clenched her teeth, turning away suddenly and stalking towards the other side of the large room before she began to pace like a trapped cat.
Folken looked down at the monstrosity that was now his arm before the self pity returned. "I can't go back. I can't go home."
Persephone froze, looking at the boy so close to her age, maybe even a bit older. His head hung, her "gift" to him hanging heavily. She clenched her jaw tighter, trying to hide the familiar feeling of loss, the feeling she encountered when she looked back, trying to remember before the fire... She wanted to say she was sorry, but couldn't. Couldn't quite get it out.
Instead she stood stiffly, looking over her shoulder through her crimson hair at the boy on the floor. A part of her sneered at this side of the boy. Weakling, she thought. You will never survive Zaibach. But as he stood slowly, the mechanic fist clenched at his side, his eyes met hers and she shuttered slightly, seeing a power in his gaze which mirrored her own.
It wore her out, that look. It reminded her of the animal she had become. Lord Dornkirk and Lord Dilandau, her brotherly counterpart, had made sure to mold her into the beast she now was. Seeing that pained strength in another's eyes was almost too much for Persephone. Almost too heavy a burden for her soul. Her physical appearance was shaken, too, her shoulders slumping, her mouth drooping.
"Perhaps you want breakfast." She muttered, not looking at him.
"I'm not hungry." He stated plainly, unemotionally, walking to a window and staring outside at the passing scenery. Persephone immediately feared his strength.
She didn't notice the tears that slithered down his pale face before he wiped them away