Magna's vision was going fuzzy again from the pain, and he couldn't fight, scream, protest or even moveas that frightening woman drew closer. The Witch Queen shot the bloodied duo another little scowl, and it was enough to make Boo drop the man; he hit the floorboards hard as his eyes went too bleary to see anything around him.
Though Magna remained conscious from his spot on the ground, the severely injured mage could only hear the racing of his heart— all else in the world fading to darkness from abject terror. Warmth dripped down his face as tears formed behind his glasses, and he was left to contemplate his fate.
Crap. I'm gonna die today, aren't I?
After a second ear-splitting explosion went off in the house just a few feet from where he lay, Magna's limp body was pulled up onto its knees, and he felt a calloused pair of hands stabilize him by the shoulders. The terrified man opened his eyes to see Boo slumped against a broken beam, and icy, blue irises gazing down at him.
Looking up with the last ounce of strength in him, he watched as the scariest woman on earth— theWitch Queen—asked, "Aww, did the mean lady hurt you?"
Concern dripped from her words, but the only response she received was a bewildered gargle, whereafter Magna finally succumbed to his injuries.
——————————————
Later that same day.
The ambassador awoke with a splitting headache, which he thought of as more typical in terms of waking up. Just like this morning, he was locked in that damn cage, still dressed in his suit, and still too confused to make any fuss.
Magna rose from the bed expecting the rest of him feeling as awful as his throbbing skull. Dumbfounded to feel none of his broken bones or lacerations screaming in protest, the manly man hurried to check the status of his body. His jaw hit the floor when he saw an absolute dearth of blood or viscera on his person— just some heavy bruising, and his beautiful white suit torn in enough places to resemble Swiss cheese.
Sticking a hand into his waist to remove one of his broken bones—don't worry, just a corset bone—he finally noticed the other person in the cage.
"Gah!!" The boy shrieked upon seeing the Witch Queen gazing out the window a mere three feet away.
Her Majesty turned to face Magna after his embarrassing yelp, and barely bothered with the affectation of a smile when she greeted him. "Ah, ambassador Wing, you're awake. I've been meaning to talk with you."
Even when she was being perfectly polite, Sangue's presence was overwhelming; her every movement resembled a tiger's muscles flexing with killing intent just under the skin. But if the Queen had wanted him dead, Magna would already have an obituary, so he choked down the fear and locked eyes with her.
Pacing his opulent prison to try and quell his mounting terror, the yankee barely made it two steps before hitting the bars. It utterly failed to calm him, and served as a reminder of why Vanessa cried on his shoulders on bad nights. The most inappropriate words Magna could say to the Queen were what left his mouth in lieu of a greeting.
"This is the room you kept her in. I know Vanessa— know how you locked her in here for her whole childhood." He said as he white-knuckled the bars, afraid that he might puke from fear of retribution, "How dare you think it's okay to just throw me, or anyone else in a cage!"
The stupid young man braved himself for the consequences of such impudence as he glared, but the Witch Queen's face didn't display malice; her visage turned somber, and she turned her icy gaze away from Magna before she spoke, "Of all the missteps I've made in my life, my treatment of my daughter is my greatest regret, but I don't see any problems holding you in here. Despite the bad memories, I couldn't bear to remove her old room…"
Her mournful expression shifted into a more neutral look, and she added with a shrug, "And beside that, it was the only spare room in the castle."
"Huh? Spare room?" Magna asked dumbly, his expression now matching Sangue's in blankness.
"Well, there were others, but this was the nicest one. The only quarters suited for an esteemed hostage such as yourself. It's outfitted with privacy screens, a magic deflecting exterior, and beautiful antique furnishings."
"An… esteemed… hostage?"
"You know, a 'hostage'?" The pink-haired woman said as though the definition couldn't be more self evident, "As in somebody you hold up in your house and give food to? A person you invite over knowing they'll stay over for at least a couple days?"
Magna was beside himself with shock. No longer able to keep his voice down, the spitfire shouted, "Do you mean guest?!"
"Ah yes, that's the word." The Queen popped a fist into her open hand.
"Wait…" the rusty gears in the noble yankee's head were turning as the inanity sank in, "Then what about when you called me a 'plaything'?"
"Plaything: A person that one might chat over tea or have a pleasant game of chess with."
After the Queen's two explanations, Magna was practically going 'blue screen of death' and had to sit down so he wouldn't fall down. "And what about your General? Attacking me like that? Trying to kick the crap outta me? I almost died!"
The Witch Queen looked like she was experiencing secondhand embarrassment at his question, putting a hand over her face while she explained, "She's… Boo is just like that. This will be the only apology you ever wrest from my person, but I'm terribly sorry about your ordeal this morning."
"Thanks, miss Sangue, I'm grateful you'd be so patient with my temper." The ambassador said, amazed that he still had a head attached to his shoulders, "So… what you're saying is I'm not in any danger, right?"
"Oh heavens no, you are in nearly unfathomabledanger; the Diamond and Spade Kingdoms would fear nothing more than an alliance between our lands, and to prevent that, their agents would do nightmarish things to you. Kidnapping, assassination, torture…"
As her banged-up guest paused, both aghast and silent, the Witch Queen added, "Not that there are any in our vicinity. You are safe for the moment."
"Well, that's a relief" Magna exhaled, amazed to discover his death or dismemberment wasn't imminent.
The way the ambassador slumped back in his chair with his legs spread like that, and the casual way he flicked back his hair, it was like he was trying to distract the Queen. But in that same movement to recline, Magnus hissed in pain and his hostess snapped back to the present, ready to exposit more to the still-injured diplomat.
Clearing her throat, Sangue said, "I could've healed the rest of your injuries had I removed your suit, but my company seemed too keen to see you undressed. Not simply due to unprofessionalism though, you smell like refuse— and my seamstress nearly fainted when she saw the state of your suit."
"Actually, that gives me an idea." The Queen mused with a finger on her sharp chin, "Having made such a mess of yourself, sir Magnus, you shall bathe with me."
"I could go for a bath… Wait!? We!?"
"Yes, we, both of us. Deandra will help you get undressed."
"Do you mean the same Deandra who tells those corny jokes?"
"The same. She is my least, er…" the pink-haired witch searched the air for an appropriate adjective and settled for, "libidinous, chamberlain. We haven't any males around to help with your dressing, but she'll likely do better."
"Wait, but—"
"—I tire of your questions Magnus, hurry to our bath, and that's an order." The woman interrupted while turning around, shooting her 'hostage' a glare that could peel paint off a barn as she left the cage.
His heart pounding like a motorcycle engine, Magna just sat and watched while her majesty left the tower, her shoes clicking unevenly on the marble floor he'd helped Boo destroy that morning. To describe the feeling in his stomach as butterflies would be a categorical understatement— something more akin to a starved wolverine was lashing about in Magna's guts.
He clearly hadn't a choice to remain where he was since it was an order, but that didn't mean he wasn't hesitant to rise from his seat. Nevertheless, the young mage got his boots on the ground and marched after her with only mild pain to hamper his steps.
There was a pair of guards stationed immediately without his quarters, and it wasn't until he'd hobbled past them that the man realized he had no clue where he was supposed to go. Magna couldn't fight back the oncoming blush of asking where the bath was, so he opted for an easier question for his poor, virgin heart to handle. Please pretend that didn't say virgin.
"Pardon, do either of y'all know where I might find Deandra Aviary?" He drawled involuntarily.
Both the guardswomen had the look on their faces that one might expect to see if they'd just told someone their dinner was going to be a deep-fried shoe with a couple raw poker chips on the side, but they answered all the same, "That nuisanc— er, sheis waiting just down those stairs."
After a nod of his head to give thanks, Magna shuffled his way through halls towards the blonde witch, who was practically bouncing on her heels at the foot of the tower stairwell. Fighting to keep his face a shade other than crimson, the man told her, "I am to bathe with the Queen."
"Oh yeah! She told me you'd be down soon!" Came Deandra's chipper response as she signaled Magna deeper towards the arboreal castle's retiring wing. "The Queen was all like: 'Make certain the boy hastens hither', so please follow me down to her majesty's bath."
His breathing fell into an arrhythmic stutter as he followed behind the goofy-serious girl until she posed the question: "Say, do you wanna hear a joke?"
The little blonde witch had the precise opposite effect of her queen: Settling the ambassador's nerves with her antics while she escorted him. A little smile found itself on the boy's mouth, and he answered her, "Lay it on me, Dee."
————————————————————
Over in one of the castle's many secret rooms, the Witch Queen and her top general conversed over imperative matters. The smaller, scarier woman's hat rested on a hook, and the pair were seated in austere chairs.
"Do you know why I'm punishing you general?" Sangue asked, her clawed fingers steepled. "Why I refuse to heal your injuries at all?"
With all six feet, five inches of Boo looking like a scolded puppy, the giant woman answered, "I'm being punished because I attacked the ambassador…"
"Not quite. You see, I woke up this morning expecting to have a simple talk with Magnus, but instead found a path of conflagration and wreckage stretching across nearly my entire kingdom. And at the end of that trail, I found the most important dignitary in the nation lying in a pool of his own blood." The Queen explained, gritting her pearly teeth, "The only reason I haven't executed you is because I understand you have new information on our hostage. Give me that report, and hasten yourself."
Boo pulled her head out from between her broad shoulders, and drew back to her usual stature before speaking up, "The man we know as Magnus Wing is a genius. His mana pool is without doubt the smallest in the forest, but his magic control is top class. He even developed a new technique during the fight— I can't understate how dangerous the ambassador is."
"Interesting. I already knew about his mana levels, but could you expand upon Magnus' rank and intelligence?"
"I can confirm that he's at the lowest rank a magic knight can hold, but my wife's current theory for why is that he was adopted by a noble family and trained to be a spy from youth." Boo explained, still doing her best to lean away from the leering Queen. "About his genius, Magnus got the drop on me at least three times during our fight, and even though every attack I used was meant to knock him out, he wouldn't stay down. Good grief, that bastard wouldn't go down."
Sangue nodded, a good sign compared to a lot of other gestures she could've gone with. "One more question, General… What does the boy fear?"
Lifting her dark brown eyes to meet the Queen's icy irises, Boo responded, "From what I've gathered, Magnus fears only two things: Death, and you."
"That's a comprehensive analysis, thank you, general. But it seems our hostage will be far tougher for me to control than I'd suspected… the boy mouthed off to me mere minutes ago. That says to me he fears neither myself, nor death." Sangue raised a finger to her angular chin as she rose from her seat. "Either way, General, I'm off to my bath."
The massive woman sighed in relief at her meeting's end, and left to go tell the rest of the guard their orders remained the same. "Oh, and one last thing…" The Witch Queen said, scraping her claws across the hidden room's threshold and freezing Boo mid-rise, "I didn't intend that execution threat, I've been meaning to cut back on those. But you're still being punished very harshly, make no mistake about that."
As Sangue slipped out of the room, she too slipped out of her bodice.
——————————————
In the antechamber for Her Majesty's bath, a couple of small idiots paced through a door into a smaller area where Magna was expected to undress. Deandra stood by the entrance with an arm prepared to accept the street punk's ruined clothing, but on the stall's interior, Magna was having troubles dealing with his situation. He knew he was in way over his head with this mission, but there was never any going back, so he untied his ascot and braced himself for the worst.
The chamberlain, however, had no anxieties or qualms. After looking from one end of the changing room to the other without moving her head a centimeter, Deandra leaned towards her hidden charge conspiratorially and asked, "Say, do ya wanna hear another joke?"
"I really don't. Not now." Magna replied as his stomach tied itself in anxious knots; though he was still unlacing himself from his perforated garments, the boy was antsy about it, "I'm still trying to wrap my head around this whole disaster."
"Kickass. Here's an amazing one:" the blonde witch began despite being declined. "What does a spoon have in common with a starved, rabid grizzly bear?"
She waited through several seconds of silence, and accepted a couple ruined pieces of clothing before delivering the punchline, "Surprisingly little!"
"Oh, that's just awful." Came Magna's voice between groans and chuckles.
Now completely undressed on the far side of the stall's short barrier, the ambassador took a shaky breath in and grabbed the door handle. Just as Magna began to walk out, a thought stopped his legs mid stride, "Wait a sec. When the Queen said we would 'bathe together'," he air-quoted, "what does that mean in old timey?"
"Oh, that translates to swimming— just beyond this chamber lies her majesty's aerobics pool, so please don these provided trunks."
Exhaling from so deep within his lungs he thought he might deflate, the yankee accepted the swimsuit and pulled it on; wincing only slightly as his hamstring protested the movement.
Why does everything the queen say sound like some kinda threat? How in the Hell does 'I order you to bathe with me' equal 'let's go for a swim?'Magna pondered as he walked out of the changing stall.
Hardly three steps out of cover, the boy was splashed from his thoughts by a wave of frigid water. "Gah!! Have you no mercy!?"
"We kindly ask you not to get dried blood in her majesty's pool." Deandra said, holding up an empty bucket with a mischievous smile on her face.
The ambassador considered giving her some choice (swear)words until he saw the filthy water at his feet, and honestly? Getting dunked on like that reminded him of home with the Black Bulls, so the fire mage just left to the pool wordlessly; hoping that the fancy garments he'd spent so, so much money on would be wearable again soon.
The Witch Queen was already swimming laps by the time he'd reached the primary bath chamber. And quite the interesting sight she was: An old-timey bathing suit patterned with horizontal stripes clung to her hips and reached the full distance to her knees as she exercised in the pool. The lady was for all practical purposes fully dressed, and unlike usual, she had her long tresses of pink hair in a single, loose braid. Her swimming form was flawless, and she seemed to be enjoying herself.
When the woman got to the end of her lap, she grabbed a goblet of merlot and tipped the thing daintily back for a sip. To Magna's chagrin, it was a sip that lasted for several seconds.
Isn't it like, three P.M.? This must be where Vanessa got her nasty habits.
The Witch Queen looked up from her chalice at the sound of Magnus' footsteps and saw the young man with a towel draped around his broad, muscular shoulders like a terrycloth shawl. Between the abundance of scars and muscles coating the ambassador's torso, she couldn't imagine the Clover Kingdom sending a more obvious spy, but she also suddenly had trouble imagining him with his shirt on.
In some bizarre combination of an order and invitation, Sangue said, "Hop in ambassador, I can't heal you from yonder."
In an even stranger cocktail of a bow and a salute, Magna agreed to her beckoning; diving into the pool, relieved to see this was just how terrifying, ancient, malevolent sorceresses got their exercise in. As he adjusted to the surprisingly comfortable water, the Queen backstroked past him to complete her set.
Growing tipsier by the second, Ms. Sangue started drifting closer to the man in her bath. Magna figured she had to get in arms reach to finish healing him, but that thought didn't stop him backing away from her; after all, that menacing aura was still coming off of her in waves. Struggling to maintain his poise as nerve turned his heart into a drum, Magna found himself backed into the water's edge, and the Queen brought herself closer to him.
"H-hey, you're not gonna get rid of any of my scars, are you?" He asked, finally voicing his fear, and almost climbing backwards out of the pool.
"Ohoho, there's nary a need to worry about that, Magnus." Sangue laughed in response, cheeks tinted a rosy pink. No longer inhibited all that much due to the cavalcade of alcohol marching through her veins, she draped an arm across his shoulders, "It's funny, actually, despite having the world's most puissant healing spells, I can't rid people of scars; they're simply parts of the skin that have already repaired themselves."
"Oh, okay… I'm just really proud of some of these." Magna sighed with half-seized lungs as the woman's hand traced across his battered torso. Everywhere her calloused fingers brushed was immediately relieved of pain; the large contusions vanishing in an instant by her magic.
"But do tell me Magnus," the Queen asked as she traced a finger north to his forehead, onto the blackened, vertical split of skin above his left eye, "How does a dashing nobleman such as yourself acquire a scar quite like this?"
"That one's private." Magna said a little louder than he meant to, backing his face away from the lady's inquisitive hand. Not wanting to upset his drunken, nigh-omnipotent hostess, the man added, "But you can ask me about any other."
Satisfied with his concession, the Witch Queen lit a single nail upon the ambassador's shoulder; eyeing the oddly shaped scar resting there, she let a tiny smile decorate her blue lips. "Then tell me about this one. Where'd you get it?"
In the back of his mind, Magna wished she'd asked about a different, cooler scar, but he wasn't going to lie about any of their origins. Barely able to breathe anymore with this brazen woman raptly inspecting his old injuries, the Clover ambassador replied, "B-baseball. Some punk kid was using his magic to pitch, and I caught it right in the shoulder."
What he got in response was a confused stare, and so Magna expanded upon the story, "H-his team was down by five, so he cheated, and the baseball split my skin. I couldn't get it patched before it scarred."
"Hold up." the scary lady asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "What's baseball?"
Before she could get an answer, a spot of bile rose up her neck; lipstick smudged slightly as her face tinted verdant green. With a voice calmer than an autumn breeze, the classy woman said, "Excuse me." Taking a few casual—if uneasy—steps out of her opulent indoor pool, the Queen found a nearby bucket and vomited into it.
Happy that her queasiness abated as soon as it began, she wiped a spot of bile from her mouth and turned to indulge in another lap. Then Sangue saw that the ambassador was looking right at her from the water's edge. Crap. That handsome chap just watched me throw up, didn't he?
Needless to say, the Queen's face became a few shades redder than the rosy tint the alcohol had given her. As their eyes locked in awkward chagrin, Magna's stomach growled so audibly that it echoed off the walls; sounding almost like an enraged tiger. Crap. You could hear that from the moon.
With that embarrassing exchange, both the most important figures in the nation were stunned into voicelessness, and tato-red in the face.
"Uhh… were you afforded the chance to have breakfast, ambassador?" the witch asked to break their palpable silence.
"Umm… not yet?"
———————————————
It was less awkward than Magna had expected, sitting down at the same table where he'd been suffocated just the night before, across from the woman he saw vomit less than an hour ago, but going over the details of peacemaking worked wonders on embarrassment for the two dignitaries. Especially over food. Also especially when they both had their fancy duds back on.
The Witch Queen had more or less said that drafting up a list of demands and concessions for an alliance or treaty would be his work, seeing as how he hadn't brought a proposal with him. She'd also reiterated on the importance of 'Magnus' staying vigilant and out of harm's way.
As servants carried away the dishes from in front of her seat, a lone guard rushed by and whispered urgently into the Queen's ear. One of her eyebrows quirked up, and the pink-haired woman dismissed both her scullery maids before turning back to Magna. "I've just caught word of Diamond Kingdom mages lurking around the border from my sentries, and not just the ones I've invited to the ball. Which reminds me, ambassador… for your own safety, you aren't ever allowed to leave the castle."
After a small while's pause wherein Magna's expression shifted from minor excitement to abject dread, the Queen amended her command with an important detail. "Not without a guard detail."
"Oh. Thank goodness…" the boy exhaled for the umpteenth time that day.
"And don't forget, the treaty can be completed only by marriage." Magna had managed to let that detail slip his mind, and the Queen's reminder froze him like an elk staring at an oncoming train.
"I'm aware you can handle yourself in a tussle, but I demand that you avoid any and all fighting. If anything were to happen to my bridegroom, or if he started acting out of line, I might have to take extreme action." Her words rang like a death knell in Magna's ears. It was as if time froze while the sheer depth of her threat sank in.
H-how could she possibly say something like that? What the hell does she mean 'no fighting'!? Why didn't she just say 'no food'!?
She grazed his chin with a graceful, taloned finger as she leaned in closer toward his gray eyes. "But please, enjoy your evening, fiancé. We needn't begin our work until tomorrow."