A sea of foam surrounded Sabella as she sat in her tub. The bathroom was illuminated by the waltz of bright colors that came from the large stain glass window of numerous butterflies fluttering around blue, red, and purple wildflowers. This was the place she came to think and, of course, plot her next course of action.
Plotting was one thing that she learned to do over time. She had to in order to stay in the king's favor. After all, she was only a baroness of a small village of farmers in the mountains. Vox had stated this more than once. He was her primary enemy, not the Aquarians.
She sighed as she slid deeper into the ocean of bubbles. She had to always keep her enemies on their toes. Show no sign of weakness. Point out his own faults before he could find hers, but do it in a way that could keep her out of trouble. After all, blunt disrespect to a higher ranking noble could be twisted into treason, which would not do her people any good. Add the factor that two of the lead men in the king's army knew everything about her, and you could say that she had a difficult job ahead.
She despised the cruel and manipulative side of her that allowed her to do such things. But like it or not, it had to be done. Vox, in his blatant disrespect for all with religion, was hunting down as many believers in Apris as possible and executing or imprisoning them under charges of conspiracy. In such an unforgiving terrain, Apris was all that these people had. Apris and the other gods gave them rain, fertile ground, protection against the unforgiving winter, and a reason to exist. Or so they thought. Sabella was an atheist herself, but she often prayed with them to give them hope. Her citizens were her life and her love; nothing and no one would take them away from her without a fight.
She hated the fact that she couldn't trust anyone anymore. Woltar was too busy running his own brigade to protect her, and Albel had become very distant since that incident when he was fifteen. She couldn't even trust her king after he dethroned almost all the other noblemen. One false move and she could be powerless. If there was any shadow of a doubt that she was disloyal, then she could end up as vulnerable as her fellow countrymen. She was surprised how lenient she was being with her guest, if you could call him that. But since she had his weapon, she had him wrapped around her little finger. He couldn't escape no matter how hard he tried. Besides, he was her first guest in a long time, and being a noble, he could be quite useful. . .
She laughed out loud at the thought. If anything, he would be fun to play with.
Although the trees were almost bare, birds could still be seen chirping in them. There they sat, overlooking the stupid crappy village, singing stupid crappy songs. Even though it was too frickin' cold out side, they still sang. And that pissed Luther off even more because he was in no mood for happy songs.
The entire village seemed deserted except for those damned guards by the gate that kept staring at him and a couple of dipshit children bouncing a red ball back and forth in front of a bakery. Luther really hated little children. They were annoying, clingy, and ridiculously stupid little carpet lice meat sacks to him. Which probably explains why when one of the dirty little maggots came to retrieve the ball they lost with a dumb grin on his face, he kicked the ball in the opposite direction and smirked evilly. The look on the kid's face when he chased after it proved that revenge was sweet. No, this wasn't revenge; it was more like karma, or divine retribution. Of course, later he would never admit to thinking such melodramatic thoughts.
"That wasn't very nice. . ." a melodic voice chimed behind him. It was her. That woman who honestly thinks that she had incarcerated him. Her silky robes draped her lanky frame and her wet hair was pulled up with some primitive ornament. And she still had that blasted fan that hid the bottom part of her face as she glided toward him.
"It was terribly rude of you to kick that child's toy like that. After all, I'm sure you don't like your balls kicked, right?" her spidery fingers twisted around some of Luther's stray bangs and perverted smirk crossed her lips.
In one swift movement, he tightly grasped her hand, finding the pressure point between the thumb and index finger. For one second, she winced in pain and was off guard. "What do you think you're doing? You must realize that if you lay a finger on me, you'll be killed instantly. You have no way to defend yourself against my guards," she tried to keep her voice even, but panic bled through her words.
He bent even closer to her and hissed into her ear, "Impudent wench. Don't think you can control me. I have power beyond your comprehension, and I see through your act. You pretend to be tough as nails but deep inside your nothing but a narcissistic, manipulative, weak little girl." His voice dripped with acid, and he would have continued to erode her had she not smacked him.
The sound erupted through the forest. The happy fall birds ceased singing and soared overhead. Her eyes burned maliciously. "I don't know who you think you are, but it would be wise for you to learn your place," she growled, "Whatever power you may have outside of these walls dissipated the moment you were captured. Don't you see, Luther? While you're here, I own you. And you'd best remember that fact if you want to stay on my hospitable side, got it?" she stormed off, leaving nothing but a few stray raven feathers in her wake.
Sorry it's so short. I haven't been feeling too well the past few days, but I refuse to let that hold me up!