Before you get any ideas, I just want to say that, no, I do not like Delia. I hate her in fact. But I want to write a fic no one has ever written before (at least I THINK no one has writing a Delia fic. I hope not!!! *gives out apologies ahead of time*), and it seemed to be that Delia would be a good person to write about. Basically this fic will be all about why Delia was so cruel, why she did the things she did.
Disclaimer: I own no TP characters.
Prologue: Diary Entry
Delia of Eldorne dipped her quill in the inkbottle, paused, and then wrote the last words in the thick book. Finally she sighed and smiled, closing the worn book cover over the fading ink writings. She had not thought she would ever be able to hold this diary in her hands again, much less write in it once more. A wry laugh escaped her lips; even now, years from Roger's final death, she had been able to squeeze out some of her old charm for Jon and get him to grant her request for her old diary back from her run-down home, an inkbottle, and a quill. Sunlight streamed in the dirty window in dim rays. Delia bit her lip, shuddering. This was the day.
The day of her execution.
For a brief moment, she actually felt the slightest bit of guilt for what she did-did to that Alanna, Thom, King Jonathan, Alex.
Then that feeling passed, and when the guards came up to get her, she had her head high, and she was beautiful even in her ragged, smelly, filthy dress and in her old age. She held out the book, and one of the guards took it knowingly. It would be given to the king to read out loud to all who want to know the truth.
Delia was led down the creaky steps, and finally out the door. The stark light struck her, and she cried out blindly, throwing her hand up before her eyes. It had been years since she was let out to the sun, and now that she was she wished she never had been now.
As the guards pulled on her chains up to the executioner's block, she forced herself to meet the cold blue eyes of her king-her ex-lover. Once filled with adoration, they now had an unfeeling indifference in them that chilled her and shook her to the bone. Then suddenly her eyes met purple ones; Alanna, the ugly whore. There was gray at the younger woman's temple, a web of it that stood stark against the brilliant red of the rest of her curls. On her left was her big-nosed husband and two gorgeous children-a tall man with bright red hair and another boy with red-gold hair. Wasn't there another one? A girl? Who knows.Standing on Alanna's other side was an unfamiliar woman with straight brown hair down to her shoulders, and green-hazel eyes set into an impassive face. She held a child of no more than one, with large blue eyes and black curls, and a handsome man next to her. Was this perhaps Alanna's successor, Keladry of Masbolle, her husband, and child?
Bitch, Delia thought. Both of the knights. All of them! They put me here! It's their fault!
When her neck touched the executioner's block, she suddenly had the strange sensation that this was, perhaps, her fault. Did she put herself here?
She decided to let the audience decide that when they read her diary just as the ax blade contacted her neck.
~*~
Did you like it so far? Tell me what you think in your review (no flames, please). I know a lot of people coughmecough think that Delia's actions cannot be explained, but I want for people to see that maybe it wasn't all Delia's fault, that maybe something had happened in her past. That's what this is all about. R/R!
