Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, they all belong to Tamora
Pierce. To continue on that, I do not own the story either, unlike other
fics, this fic goes back into the past and continues its way into the
future. Meaning, it's the same plot and idea except told by a different
POV, and with a few... variations.
~Never Doubt the Enemy still Lives~
The Duke of Conte smiled viciously to himself. Often he had miscalculated that boy Alan, never again. He swept down the long corridors leading to the library in the castle where is uncle reined over the land for now.
When he had been young and traveling he had been a fool. A fool who had finally realized that there was only one thing that was meant for him, to be king.
His plans had been perfect; he studied hard at his books and expanded his gift so that no one could surpass him. He then sent a sickness that was going to wipe out everything but the memory of the prince. He was full of triumph, certain that he only had to wait days and then he would receive the news that the young prince had been killed.
He had heard the news, but news he in no manner wished to hear. News that told of only the weakening of the darling queen who had never been an obstacle in his plans, for though she was barely that old she was not able to bare young, the news that trouble him was that of the savior of the prince. He had been discouraged as well as puzzled and when the messenger arrived from the king and queen to ask for his the safety of his presence in court, his luggage had already been half packed. He was going to find this minor restraint that blocked his path on the way to becoming ruler of Tortall.
And when he found this person who could wield so powerful a gift as his own, he had devised to destroy him with cruel brutality if it would be necessary in the future.
Even if this barrier was only an eleven-year-old boy.
~Never Doubt the Enemy still Lives~
The Duke of Conte smiled viciously to himself. Often he had miscalculated that boy Alan, never again. He swept down the long corridors leading to the library in the castle where is uncle reined over the land for now.
When he had been young and traveling he had been a fool. A fool who had finally realized that there was only one thing that was meant for him, to be king.
His plans had been perfect; he studied hard at his books and expanded his gift so that no one could surpass him. He then sent a sickness that was going to wipe out everything but the memory of the prince. He was full of triumph, certain that he only had to wait days and then he would receive the news that the young prince had been killed.
He had heard the news, but news he in no manner wished to hear. News that told of only the weakening of the darling queen who had never been an obstacle in his plans, for though she was barely that old she was not able to bare young, the news that trouble him was that of the savior of the prince. He had been discouraged as well as puzzled and when the messenger arrived from the king and queen to ask for his the safety of his presence in court, his luggage had already been half packed. He was going to find this minor restraint that blocked his path on the way to becoming ruler of Tortall.
And when he found this person who could wield so powerful a gift as his own, he had devised to destroy him with cruel brutality if it would be necessary in the future.
Even if this barrier was only an eleven-year-old boy.
